#inappropriate use of office furniture

[corruptedcaps]

Nurse Stacey

Stacey’s first day as an interning nurse wasn’t going well. How was she suppose to know she had to provide her own uniform? Although the rest of the girls from her class seemed to know as they were all dressed and ready for work. She knew it was somehow Bree’s, her bitchy classmate, fault.

Bree was clearly jealous of Stacey’s innate smarts and aptitude for the job but Bree also made it no secret that she was studying to become a nurse just so she could sink her claws into the richest doctor available. She didn’t want anyone taking any spotlight away from her in anyway so constantly set Stacey up to fail.

However Bree had ‘modified’ her uniform to make it so eyes were always on her anyway. Her tight uniform showed as much skin as was possible under the rules, so bullying Stacey at this point was just a bonus. By lunchtime on her first day Stacey was pulled aside by the head doctor, Lawrence, and told she needed to find a uniform that was white and red like everyone else’s by end of day otherwise she would be let go.

“I’m sorry Stacey but I’ve had complaints from some of the other interns that you aren’t taking your time here very seriously and it’s reflecting poorly on them so please find something appropriate to wear otherwise I’ll have to give you a failing grade.” He said leaving her alone to fume. Her? Inappropriate? Bree was the one with the ‘modified’ uniform, her tits practically dripping out.

“But by the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Stacey said to herself after Lawrence walked away.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Bree said cruelly chiming in.

Stacey stormed into the locker room to try and find some nurse scrubs, even dirty ones but came up empty. Frustrated she banged against the lockers but felt them shake more than normal against the wall. That’s when she realized they weren’t up against a wall, but a door. Curious, she pulled out the set of lockers to reveal the door. It had been painted over but it was clearly a door and even had a name plate too.

Sliding the plate off she scratched and chipped away at the paint until it revealed it read ‘Head Nurse’. It was only then that she realized that the hospital didn’t have a head nurse. It wasn’t unusual for a hospital not to have one but it certainly was strange for a hospital to have an office for one that didn’t exist. However Stacey also realized that this may be the solution to her problems. Any good head nurse would have a spare change of scrubs in case of emergency.

Pushing the paint covered door hard enough until it gave in, Stacey fell inside to find a long forgotten and dusty room. It was sparsely decorated and had little furniture. What furniture it did have was odd. For example it had a rather plush looking bed and velvety sofa. It looked more like a room to entertain than one to work in but her eyes were soon drawn to a clothes mannequin in the corner. This would be what she needed.

However as she got closer to it she saw that the outfit was far from what she expected. Instead it looked like some sort of slutty Halloween version of a nurses outfit. It was made of white and red spandex and was incredibly short and looked like she wouldn’t be able to breath in it despite it’s flexibility. Stacey would never wear such a thing even as a joke let alone for work but as the end of the day was looming she realized it was her last hope. If nothing else it could buy her time to get a proper uniform after work somewhere.

Stripping down to her underwear she eyed the outfit and realized that she would need to be totally naked to squeeze into it. Locking the door to the office she then removed the last of her clothes and stood for a moment looking at her reflection in the large mirror in the corner.

She was by no means ugly but she was certainly out of shape and unkempt looking. She just never had time to work out and primp herself due to all her studying. She had sacrificed a lot to be where she was and now she was on the brink of losing it because of some gold digging jealous bitch. Her anger spurred her on. She pulled the outfit off the mannequin and held her breath as she slipped into it and zipped it up.

It was the tightest thing she had ever worn and yet she didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was a certain safety she felt by having it close to her skin and yet at the same time it felt as though she were naked. It gave her a weird sense of power, like the outfit was a kind of armour. Taking a moment she looked at herself in the mirror and strangely didn’t think she looked silly as she thought she might have. She didn’t feel shy or reserved either, she felt sexy. Even the antiquated hat looked good on her.

“Wow a head nurse wearing this? I imagine all all the staff were eating out of the palm of her hand, especially the hunky doctors looking like this.” She said to herself in admiration of the previous owner of the outfit. She felt light headed wearing it, like she didn’t have a care in the world which she quickly put down to the outfit cutting down on the blood circulation. It wasn’t tight everywhere however as the outfit was clearly meant for someone with a much larger cup size.

“Even though I don’t fill it out perfectly I think this should keep me from being fired today.” She said to herself preparing to leave but suddenly hearing a voice in her head.

“Fired? Who would dare fire the head nurse?” The voice purred in her mind.

“W-who said that?” Stacey said looking around seeing no one.

“Why me of course, your uniform. I am designed specifically for the head nurse. That’s you of course, correct?” The voice replied. Stacey thought she was losing her mind. Maybe the uniform was cutting off more blood to her brain than she thought.

“Eh yes I’m Stacey, the new, eh, head nurse.” Stacey replied trying to humor her own delusion.

“Stacey? No no no that won’t do, that’s not commanding enough. No you will be Anastasia from now on. Now let me get started.” The voice continued.

“Started with w-?” Stacey began but suddenly felt an intense heat begin in her stomach and reverberate outward. However it wasn’t unpleasant and in fact was quite pleasing making her involuntarily moan.

“Whhhhaaaaat arrrreee youuuuu doooooing?” Stacey groaned as the feeling intensified.

“Why I’m remaking your body of course, didn’t you read your head nurse contract? It’s standard procedure for all new head nurses to undergo a bitchification process. You need to be strong and tough to have this job after all.” The voice said matter of factly.

Stacey felt the uniform crunch in her stomach and her body moulded to its sleek and curvy contours. Her hips flared out, her butt became plump while her waist shrank. It felt good.

And yet she knew what was happening was wrong, she wasn’t the head nurse and pretending to be one would only land her in hot water. She needed to take off the uniform even if it was the more pleasurable thing she had ever felt.

“Noooo stop, this isn’t right. I’m not the head nurse.” She groaned while the changes continued. Hot red nails shot out from the ends of her fingers as her lips inflated into soft kissable pillows. Her tits grew bigger and bigger until it felt as though they’d rip the uniform.

“Of course, it’s perfectly normal to feel that way during this process but the next phase should put you at ease.” The uniform replied to her in words and then in actions as Stacey suddenly felt a barrage of information be thrown at her mind.

Expert medical advice was downloaded in an instant to her mind, knowledge that would have taken a lifetime to learn was suddenly as simple to her as two plus two. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad she thought to herself, she could make a real difference with a mind like hers now.

Just as she was having this altruistic thought, however, she heard bitchy mantras and creeds echo in her head.

Profits over people.

Power is Queen, the Queen will have power.

Serving the hospital so you will be served.

Greed, beauty, excess, fear.

They repeated over and over again in her mind, it was clear that the head nurse wasn’t there to help the patients, she was meant to help the hospital. Stacey was disgusted but the more she heard the words the more she was nodding along. She tried to resist but the conditioning was too strong.

She didn’t want to become a bitch but the temptation was getting hard to deny. Why should she have to work so hard when sluts like Bree walked all over her. Thinking about what a spoilt bitch Bree was ironically sealed Stacey’s fate. Knowing she’d have the power to command Bree to do whatever she said made Stacey unbearably wet. She wanted that more than anything.

“Yeesss you’re right, I was just doubting myself. That’ll never happen again. Insecure nurse Stacey is dead, confident, gorgeous head nurse Anastasia has arrived.” She purred with a new bitchy tone. She expected the uniform to reply but it said nothing. Having completed its job it went back into a dormant state.

Anastasia meanwhile walked over to the upright mirror and took in her new form. She looked every bit the wet dream she felt. Her outrageous beauty was complemented by her steely cold gaze, a duo that would give her the ultimate power over the staff and patients of HER hospital.

However she needed to make it official and there was one person she knew who could rubber stamp her new position and she would make it so he would beg her to be head nurse.

The next morning, the staff of the hospital were gathered outside Lawrence’s office after being summoned there 20 minutes ago. They weren’t certain but some could have sworn that they heard grunting, moaning and spanking.

Bree arrived with her cohort just as Lawrence exited his office, with his tie askew. Bree looked around and was happy to see Stacey not present.

“Guess poor Stacey didn’t find any spare uniforms. Such bad timing that we had offered to wash all the spares this morning, we could have given her one.” Bree smirked satisfied to herself as her friends giggled knowingly.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I’ll make this brief. I’m proud to announce that starting today we have a long over due position returning. The position of head nurse!” Lawrence declared and the staff broke out into a murmur.

Bree and her friends broke into an excited chatter. This could be the stepping stone Bree needed to bag herself a rich doctor. If she became Head Nurse she would work intimately with the upper crust of the hospital. Sure there were more senior nurses but she had a way of getting what she wanted.

“After a long decision process I have decided to fill the position with one of our newest nurses. I know this might irk some of the senior staff but I believe a new position needs new blood.” Lawrence said and Bree felt his eyes land on her. Could she be getting her wish so soon? Of course, there was no other answer.

“So will you all please welcome your new head nurse, Anastasia.” Lawrence announced loudly as a brunette beauty strode out from his office. The staff were completely gobsmacked by the reveal of Anastasia, clad in the tightest uniform they had ever seen.

“Now that is no way to great your new head nurse, is it? Applaud. ” Anastasia said with a long stare that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. Slowly they began to clap and Anastasia basked in their fearful reverence.

“Now Anastasia will get reacquainted with everyone over the next few days but for now back to work.” Lawrence said and looked over to Anastasia for an approving look but finding only her cold withering stare. Nevertheless he became aroused and quickly left to do his rounds along with most of the staff. Most except Bree and her gang.

“You might have Lawrence fooled with these fake tits, and slutty makeup but I know you’re still a loser Stacey and I’ll have your job by the end of the week.” Bree said defiantly. Anastasia smiled at her unnervingly and slowly clopped over to her in her high heels. As tough as Bree fronted she soon cowered before her new head nurse as she was backed into a corner with her friends.

“That’s head nurse Anastasia worm. You can be as insolent as you like but I now control your passing grades. If you don’t do exactly as I say I’ll fail you, all of you, and blacklist the lot of you from working in any hospital in this country. No job, no hot doctors, no life of luxury.” She said bearing down on the frightened young women.

“But follow me, learn from me and I’ll recommend you as Head Nurses to our sister locations. They’ll be some ‘training’ involved of course but you’ll earn yourself a uniform like mine and the power that comes with it. Understood?” Anastasia said in a cold purr that had all of Bree’s friends nodding enraptured.

“Good. Now off you go, training begins tomorrow.” Anastasia said standing back and allowing the women to escape. But yet again, Bree stood in rebellious rage.

“Screw you slut, my daddy is rich and is on the board of the hospital, if you think your theatrics intimidate me you-” Bree began but was quickly silenced by Anastasia who grabbed the girl by her neck and lifted her off the floor with ease, the uniform granting her super human strength.

“Silence, I heard just about enough of you. I know about your daddy and the power he had over the hospital. Who do you think gave Lawrence the go ahead for my promotion? Your daddy is under my thumb now and he will do exactly as I command, something you’re going to learn to do starting now.” Anastasia cackled as she dragged the young nurse to her office and threw her to the floor.

“Now loser you’re going to clean this place too to bottom. I want all this dust gone by the end of day, if you don’t consider your future as a nurse ended.” The bitchy head nurse said smirking down at Bree.

“By the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Bree said to Anastasia who just looked at her as if she were an ant.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Anastasia said smirking cruelly at Bree.

THE END

[moonlightndaydreams]

Limbo - part 4

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader x Han Jisung

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Synopsis: Lee Minho is the mysterious new accountant at your workplace, and he seems to have his sights set on you. But things aren't so simple when your ex boyfriend Han comes back into the picture. Can you and Minho make it work, or will you get back with Han?

Spoiler: Happy ending, eventual poly minsung.

Chapter Summary: You and Minho work back, things get steamy.

MDNI / smut

Taglist: open.

A/n: this story may be familiar to some. It’s a rework of one of my older stories where I’ve now changed my fem lead to be reader.

CW: this chapter - workplace flirting, potentially inappropriate behaviour, alcohol (one drink), choking, using a tie as a collar, stripping, blowjobs, face riding, office sex, protetcted p in v sex, rough sex, tender sex, comfort, pet names, safeword (not used), sex where you could get caught, pet names (kitten, but that's standard for minho)

A few night’s later, you found yourself working back at the office again. You seemed to do this a lot when Binnie and Hyunjin were in full gossip mode, which was happening more and more frequently now they had more to gossip about. They made it their personal mission to keep an eye on Minho “keeping an eye on you”. They were certain he was infatuated with you. But all you knew for certain was that you weren't getting your work done.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night. You packed your bag and turned off the light to the office, closing the door behind you as you left your workspace. The hallway was dark, except for a light coming from up the hallway. Someone had forgotten to turn their light off, or, someone was working back. Other than yourself, who in their right mind would be working back?

As you got closer to the source of the light you could tell it was coming from the accountant’s office. Minho’s office. You stopped short. What if Minho was in there? You weighed up whether to go ahead and see, or to turn and run the other way.

"Come on y/n, get a grip. You’re a mature woman, not a silly girl." Your words did not snap you out of it.

But before your head could make up it's mind what to do, you were walking forward towards his office, catching a glimpse of him through the glass window as you approached.

It was indeed Minho. He was sitting at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, head in hands, fingers tangled through his hair. He looked stressed. Paperwork was strewn all over his desk and he looked fucking exhausted.

You stopped at the doorway and knocked.

Minho looked up, startled, a wry smile crossed his face.

"No singing and dancing this evening, Kitten?" he tried to tease, but his words held no humour.

You pretended you didn’t hear his quip and wandered into the room. Your eyes scanned all the documents around him. It looked like a mess. Minho looked tired and fed up, and he reminded you of how you felt when she thought it was a great idea to buy some Ikea furniture only to find yourself in the middle of her living room floor, pieces all about you, and no idea where to put them. It was only a lamp table for fucks sake. Although after that you became an Ikea whiz and could put a bookshelf together in record time.

You weren't sure what to say. “Are you okay?” you managed, sitting down in the chair on the other side of his desk. He didn’t answer, so you took one of the documents to see what they were about. You probably shouldn’t be looking, but Minho didn’t stop you. The look of despair on his face began to worry you. 

“What’s happened?” you looked at him closely.

Minho laughed manically. “It’s…” he began. He didn’t look like he was up for telling you, but he surprised you with his next sentence. “Can you help me, y/n?” He waved his hands, gesturing over the strewn documents.

You looked down at the documents once again, taking a closer look at what they were. It looked like a report of some kind. At least five hundred pages of report, each page had holes down the side as if they had once been spiral bound.

“It’s the annual report.” Minho’s face changed from bewildered to pissed off. “I found it on my desk like this.” Again he gestured over the mess.

“I have to present this to the board meeting tomorrow.” his brow creased as he frowned.

You knew what he was asking. He wanted you to help him put the pages back in order. You sighed and picked up a bunch of the paper, scanning them, and began to rifle through the other mini piles on the desk.

“If we can find the contents page then we can at least get some order going on.” 

He looked at you thoughtfully, seemingly approving of your idea.

You both spent the next several hours piecing together the report, tediously and meticulously cross checking with the contents page, and using your judgement of what looked like the right order.

After a while Minho sat back in his chair, loosened his tie and stretched his arms up above his head. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled fully. Then he rested his gaze on you.

“Have you been avoiding me?” he asked all of a sudden.

“Huh?” You looked up from your busyness. You thought for a moment. “Hmm…no.” You shook your head.

“I hope not. I just… I thought we’d have more interactions than we do.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. “Um, well I guess my department and yours don’t really need to interact all that much.” You shifted your attention back to the paperwork.

You could feel Minho’s eyes fixed on you. Your cleared your throat awkwardly and looked up. “What?” You queried. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You eyed him suspiciously. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Suddenly aware of the tension filling the room, you quickly averted your eyes back to the report. Your cheeks felt flushed and your mouth dry.

“Thank you… for helping me.” He said low, still watching you.

You smiled in return, meeting his eyes again. You didn’t expect a man like him to have asked for help, let alone thank you with such sincerity. “Of course.” You said brightly but your insides were melting. You needed a distraction. “You know what?” You looked at Minho. “I think it’s coffee time, again.”

————————————

The two of you had been using the smaller kitchenette on your floor of the building rather the main one in the communal breakout area. You boiled the kettle and Minho spooned out more of that dreadful instant coffee. You'd lost count of the number of coffees you'd had so far tonight.

Minho screwed the lid back on the jar and turned to you, smirking. “So, y/n, tell me,” he leaned in close to your face grinning. “do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” You shrieked. “What kind of question is that? Has no one taught you manners Mr Lee Minho.” You scowled.

Minho simply laughed. “Hey, I was only wondering if you had anyone at home who is subjected to your ridiculous dancing. That’s all.”

Your mouth hung open in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re such a shit stirrer? Can’t you just let it go about my dancing? Please?” You attempted to playfully punch him in the chest, but Minho was too quick. He grabbed your wrist, moving it back to your side, and gently pressed your back against the edge of the bench.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, kitten?” Not that word again? He stood so close you thought he was about kiss you. His eyes were fixed on your lips, like he needed to taste them. But then he pulled away at the last second to finish making the coffees like nothing had happened. You shook your head to try and bring yourself back to reality. Did you just hallucinate? Was he playing some weird game with you? Was he interested in you?

“Let’s go get this finished, yeah?” he called over his shoulder as he headed back to the office holding the coffees.

What the actual fuck just happened?

———————————-

You continued to work on the report deep into the night. Every now and then you could feel Minho’s eyes drift over to you and linger for far longer than they should. It made you feel self-conscious, and lose focus on the task at hand. Please don’t look at me like that, you thought and swallowed hard. When you felt he wasn’t watching you, you would steal a glance at his toned arms, licking your lips at the sight of the protruding veins in his forearms and hands. It kept on happening, this back and forth between you.

“Oh my God! I think we’re finally done!” Your face lit up. You jumped out of your seat and held up her hands for Minho to high five. Minho appeared more relieved than excited, but he obliged in returning your gesture by slapping his hands against yours.

“I need more coffee.” You slumped back down in your chair and looked longingly into your empty coffee cup.

Minho opened his desk draw and pulled out a bottle of rum along with two glasses. You raised an eyebrow. Minho scoffed at your expression, standing up and walking around to the side of the desk where you sat.

“Fuck!” You checked the time on your phone. “It’s four o’clock!”

“It’s too late for coffee. Here.” He stated holding a glass out for you, then filled your cup. He took his own empty cup and the bottle of rum over to the two seater sofa at the other end of his office. You felt his gaze still on you as he sighed and relaxed into the cushion.

He filled his own cup, then plonked the bottle on the coffee table and slouched back into the sofa. His long fingers loosened his tie further and then he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt with one hand, revealing part of his chest.

The entire time he stared at you with an expression that made your stomach flip and desire pool between your legs. You couldn’t break from his gaze. Fuck. He looked like he wanted to eat you. His parted lips making you part yours too, as intrusive thoughts of what it might feel like to kiss him entered your mind.

He patted the cushion next to him “y/n, come sit with me.”

“I’m quite fine. Thank you.” You coughed.

Minho shrugged as if to say “Oh well, whatever”, and took a swig of his drink and leaned back and closed his eyes. Was he waiting for you to go sit next to him?

You screwed up your nose. He could’ve tried harder to convince you, you huffed to yourself.

He opened his eyes again locking them with yours once more, and then cocked his head to side gesturing for you to come and sit next to him.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You got up and went and sat on his left, leaning the side of your body against the back of the sofa so you faced Minho.

“You know, it’s against the company rules to keep alcohol in your desk draw?” You eyed him quizzically.

“What? Does it really surprise you that I have this?” he took a sip of his drink and paused in thought as he studied his glass. “You know, I rarely drink to be honest. I only have one of these a week.” He said flatly looking into his cup.

You secretly felt relieved. Minho’s eyes narrowed as he tried to read your expression. “You really are surprised.” He repeated incredulously and put the glass on the table.

You snapped out of your thoughts. “Oh! Yes. Well…I thought accountants didn’t break rules, you know. I didn’t know they were capable of it, actually.” You teased.

Minho leaned forward into your personal space, his face merely inches from yours. “Accountants are capable of a lot of things.” He whispered low looking you up and down greedily, and placed his hand on your knee.

Your eyes flickered down to where Minho’s hand was on your leg and then quickly looked back up, horrified. “What? So they’re capable of workplace harassment are they?” You spoke sternly, but inside you were actually a puddle.

Minho threw his hands up in an I-mean-no-harm kind of way and sat up.

But you were intrigued, and feeling flirty. Minho was an attractive man. He wasn’t nearly as difficult as people led you to believe. Plus, it was the dead of night. That time of night where it doesn’t feel like reality. Maybe you could try something?

“Minho?”

“Yes kitten?” Oh sweet Lord. You felt ashamed at what that pet name did to your body. Your stomach dropped. You felt a another rush of arousal head south, and you swore to God you just soaked your panties. You were fucked, and you knew it.

“Hmm?” he prompted you to continue.

With as much fake confidence as possible you continued. “Show me what accountants are capable of then.” You sighed.

A triumphant smirk appeared across his face. Oh he likes this challenge, does he? You thought.

Minho’s hand was back on your leg, this time a little higher up your thigh, and his other arm gripped you by the chin tilting your head up so you were looking him dead straight in the eye.

“Are you sure you can handle it? Kitten?” his voice was deadly. His mouth a centimetre from yours. You could feel his warm breath against your lips.

“Oh trust me, I can handle it.” You dared him. Both his hands came to rest on either side of your neck, his thumbs grazing your jawline. “We’ll see.” He said and closed his eyes and took you in a deep, hungry kiss.

Your body was on fire. Minho’s mouth hot and hungry as his tongue quickly found yours. He pulled back checking in on you with his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful, kitten. You make me want to do bad things to you.” He gently kissed your collarbone and licked his way up to your ear. “Will you let me, kitten?” he whispered.

You didn’t know what Minho had in mind. What he meant by ‘bad things’. You didn’t know, but you wanted to find out. “Yes, Lee Minho. This kitten will let you do bad things to her.” You whispered back as adrenaline and desire overtook you.

Minho leaned back and smirked. “I want you to strip for me.” His hand skimmed over your breast and down your waist, resting on your hip. “I wanna see what’s underneath these clothes.”

Your eyes widened. “Like right here? Right now?”.

Minho nodded. “Yes, right now.”

You bit your lower lip and sat up to kick off your shoes. You downed your rum in one go and slowly stood. You were nervous about what you had just agreed to. You definitely didn’t feel like the seductive type, how on earth were you going to strip for him?

Minho leaned back into the sofa, legs spread wide and an obvious bulge where he was sporting an erection. You gulped. He was staring at you with such a hunger that you honestly thought he was actually going to eat you. His almost black eyes drifted down your body as though he was imagining what you tasted like.

Nervously, your hands found their way to your blouse, shaking fingers began to unbutton your shirt. One. Two. Three buttons, and your purple lace bra was revealed.

“Purple. My favourite, Kitten. How’d you know?” he growled.

“Lucky guess.” You raised an eyebrow. Minho let out a gasp when you finished undoing all the buttons and slowly pulled the shirt off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor.

“The skirt.” Minho stated impatiently. His hand palming himself through his black slacks.

You were beginning to enjoy how Minho was responding to you. He seemed to be slowly losing his composure and it made you feel powerful and sexy. “You want this off too, do you?” you teased.

“Fuck yes.” He hissed.

As you unbuttoned your skirt, Minho unbuttoned his pants, and as you slowly pulled your skirt down over your hips, Minho released his cock. His eyes were fixed on your matching purple lace panties. Your eyes landed on his dick, making your core ache with need. You stepped out of your skirt and stood there, waiting for instructions.

“Come kneel down in front of me.” His voice was raspy with desire. You didn’t hesitate. He placed a throw cushion on the carpet and you positioned yourself between his legs. He leaned forward taking you in a heated kiss, plastering saliva all over your lips and face, then he peeled away panting and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I’m going to let you to suck my cock in a minute. But first,” he kissed your forehead. “I want to touch you for a little bit. If you want to stop at any point, use the word ‘podcast’… otherwise, I keep going. And you keep taking it.”

You let out a moan as his hands came to rest on either side of your neck again. You felt so vulnerable in his large, strong hands. Keeping one hand clasped around your neck, Minho’s other hand traced along the top of your bra. You shivered at how gentle and tender his touch was. He cupped your breast and let out a low groan as he squeezed the flesh. You kept still for Minho, you loved this feeling of him taking control like this. You watched his expression as he explored your body. His mouth hung agape and his greedy eyes made you feel desired.

Minho’s grip on your neck tightened slightly while his other hand made it’s way down towards your panties, pausing just before he actually got there. “Let’s see how wet you are for me, hmm?”

You felt Minho’s finger expertly move your panties to one side and slide up between your lips. You moaned at the pressure and how smoothly his fingers slid through your labia. Liquid heat filled your body, and you closed your eyes, losing yourself to the pleasure.

“Look at me.” Minho demanded softly. You opened your eyes and looked at him. “You’re pussy’s so wet. You’re cunt’s already ready to be filled isn’t it?”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes!” you squeaked. Minho’s hand gripped tighter, almost restricting your airflow. “That’s 'yes Sir' to you.” And he plunged two fingers into you.

You felt like you were going to drip your arousal all over the cushion. You had no idea that you enjoyed this kind of dynamic, but you were loving every second of it. You could feel that an orgasm was building rapidly as Minho dug his curled fingers against your g-spot. You were getting closer, your hips automatically seeking friction against his hand. He removed his fingers and placed one in his mouth, making you cry in agony. “You taste so good. Here.” He shoved his fingers into your mouth. “Suck them clean, kitten.” He bit into his lip as he concentrated on your mouth as you sucked your own juices off his fingers. “I need you to suck my cock now.” He finally let go of your neck.

“Show me how much you can take, Kitten.” He moaned as you set to work on his cock. You teased him for a little while. A kitten lick here, a swirl of the tongue there, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. When you could tell he was getting impatient you finally took him in your mouth.

“Ahhhh… yes Kitten. Like that. Good girl.” He moaned loudly. “Fuck your mouth feels good.” You quickly built up a slow and steady rhythm, combining your hand and mouth to work his entire cock. He had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. Decent size, perfect thickness, and the veins made you clench your vagina with need. You were hungry for his cock, greedy even. You took him as far back into your throat as you possibly could, trying your hardest not to gag.

“That’s it sweetheart… Mmmm… Show me how much you love cock.” He thread his fingers through your hair and pushed down on the back of your head, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. You couldn’t help but make a choked, gagging sound. You worried that Minho would be turned off by the sounds of you struggling, but he seemed to enjoy it even more. “Ahhh… fuck…that’s it…take it.” He groaned.

You could feel tears escape your eyes, no doubt making your mascara smear and run down your cheeks. It was probably just the way he liked it. Noisy. Messy. Dirty.

“What I want you to do now is take off your underwear for me.” You made to release his cock. “Na-uh. You keep my cock in your mouth.” He said sternly.

It was awkward, but somehow you managed to slip off your panties and unclasp your bra, tossing them to the side whilst Minho forced your head down almost the entire length of his penis.

“Okay. You can stop for now.” He patted your head, urging you to lift your head. “Fuck, you’re even prettier with your make up all over your face and dribble all down your chin.” He kissed you again, this time deep and slow. “How are you so perfect?” he whispered and gently closed his eyes for a moment.

He opened them once again, lust in his eyes and with one hand he lifted his loosened tie over his head and straight over yours, slipping it around your neck. You gasped as he turned the tie so it was backwards around your neck, and pulled it tight so that when he was finished it resembled a collar and leash.

Your eyes widened in anticipation as you met Minho’s eyes. He looked deranged and you swore you saw him snarl. “Kneel on the couch. Lean on the armrest.” He instructed with a raspy voice.

You climbed onto the couch and positioned yourself exactly how he wanted you. Exposed, vulnerable and restrained.

“Don’t fucking move an inch. I’m just grabbing a condom.” He got up from the couch and rid himself of his clothes. You watched him as he sauntered naked over to his desk to find his wallet, pulling a condom from it. The man look like a fucking god. You couldn’t wait for him to fuck you.

You felt him come up behind you, but instead of penetrating you, he laid on the couch so that his face was underneath you. “Sit on my face. I wanna taste you.” He pulled your hips down so you were literally sitting on his face, his tongue immediately found your entrance, sending electricity through your body. The bridge of his nose perfectly positioned to apply pressure to you clit. You ground down against his face while holding onto the chair arm for dear life. You worried maybe you would suffocate him, but he gripped your thighs and pulled you down harder whilst he pushed his tongue inside of you as far as he could reach.

Your lower body tensed, your legs became unstable, your mind was soaring in pleasure. “I’m gonna come, Minho… Sir… I’m fuck-“ You cried out as your orgasm hit. Your thighs trembled, your vagina clenched and released involuntarily, tears ran down your cheeks and whimpers flowed out of your mouth. Minho hummed against your core as you rode out your orgasm.

He supported your legs as you lifted off his face and returned to an all four’s position. “You taste so fucking incredible, kitten.” You turned to see his face covered in your wetness, a stupid fucked out grin on his face.

“Turn back around” he nodded his head directing you to face straight ahead while he positioned himself behind you. A tear of the condom wrapper and a moment later you felt him rub the head of his cock against your clit.

Then, holding onto the his necktie that was around your neck he pushed his length into you, stretching you open, filling you completely.

Minho’s exhalation was more a hiss, the tightness of your cunt affecting him. “Fuck, y/n… kitten… fuck you feel good”. He withdraw almost the whole way, then slammed back into you with so much force you cried out. “That’s so deep…ah…” you winced.

“Y/n, I know you can take it for me. A good little girl like you, I bet you can take a whole lot more than you’re letting on.” He slammed into you again. He let go of the tie to grip your hips instead. He needed to hold you still so you couldn't wiggle away when he pushed hard against your cervix. “Use your safe word if you need it, kitten.” He reminded you, giving you an option to stop. But every deep thrust was bringing you closer to another climax. Every impact of his cock against your cervix turning into a deeper pleasure. You didn’t want to ever stop.

“Is this what you wanted when you were watching me in the meeting?” He accused. “Or when you dancing so fucking slutty in your office? Do you know hard it was for me to not walk straight in and rip your clothes off?” He growled increasing his pace.

“I’m close…Minho.” You panted.

“Ya! It’s Sir, remember?" He dug his fingers into your flesh and delivered an even harder thrust.

“Sir!!!” You cried. “Can I come again? Please?” You were desperate now. You felt pathetic but loving every second of what was happening.

Minho pulled out of you entirely, flipping you over onto your back. He carefully, gently even, removed the tie from your neck then kissed you. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned at how erotic this entire encounter felt.

He pinned your legs up, almost folding you in half, and locked eyes with you as he sunk back into you. He leaned over so your faces were close, and brought a hand up to stroke your cheek. His eyes drifted from your eyes and your mouth like he couldn’t decide where to settle his gaze.

“I want us to be kissing while we both come.” He whispered softly. You searched his eyes, surprised by his sudden tenderness.

“Would that be okay, kitten? You think you’ll be able to come with my cock deep inside your cunt, and my tongue shoved down your throat?” His words were so dirty, but his tone was gentle.

“Yes, Sir.” You whispered.

Minho smirked and dove into your mouth with a wild frenzy, while he started to snap his hips against you. With angle of his dick hitting you in just the right spot, you dug your nails into his back causing him to cry out into your mouth. You smiled against him, knowing how you were driving him wild.

Minho slowed his assault on your mouth, allowing the kiss to morph into something more delicate. He rolled his hips as he thrust into you creating a different sensation to what you'd felt so far. His slow, rhythmic, deep thrusts coupled with the sensuality of the kiss threw you over the edge. You saw stars as your walls pulsed around his cock. You cried into his mouth and he groaned into yours as his hips hips stuttered and he filled the condom.

He remained inside you as he propped himself up on his elbows, and just watched you for a long moment.

“What is it?” You broke the silence. A warm smile spread over his face. “I’m relieved.”

Your eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“That you didn’t use your safe word.” He said. “I guess part of me was worried that I’d be too much.” He lowered his head.

“Minho,” You lifted his chin so you could see his face. “I’d never…had that kind of sex before.”

“I didn’t scare you did I?” His smile turned to concern. You shook your head. “I liked it.”

“Thank fuck.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure how I’d be able to show my face in front of you again if I I scared you…or hurt you?”

Minho withdrew his softened cock, and removed and tied off the condom.

“I need to get dressed.” You lifted your head to locate your clothes.

“Shhh… it’s okay. Don’t get up, I’ll get them.” He soothed. He helped you get dressed, slipping your panties and skirt back on. “I need you to sit up just for second.”

You silently obeyed, sitting up so he could help you put your bra back on and button up your blouse for for. “Lay back down. There’s still a couple of hours before work starts. Sleep.” He stroked your arm and got up, returning to cover you with his work jacket.

You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to him, but he was gone and you were asleep within a minute.

———————-

The next morning you sat at the conference table alongside Hyunjin, Binnie and Felix ready for another staff meeting. A hum of various conversations filled the room, while you waited for the meeting to commence.

“Hey y/n, weren’t you wearing that outfit yesterday?” asked Binnie looking you up and down.

You looked down at your clothes. You were a wreck. You didn’t even make it home last night. Putting the report back together took hours, and then, well. Oh fuck! You hung your head as you thought about the hot sex you had with Minho, on his office couch.

You went on to explain what happened the night before. The report, the sleeping at the office. You left out the sleeping with a co-worker part.

“That’s really odd. So he just found the report like that on his desk?” said Hyunjin. You nodded.

“Maybe it was a ploy to get you alone in his office.” Binnie poked, causing you to turn beet red.

“Nah. I don’t think so.” was Felix’s reply. The boys glared at him. “No, y/n. I didn’t mean it like that. You are beautiful and kind… It’s just…” Felix gestured for the others to lean in closer. He looked around the room and continued in a hushed tone “There have been some weird things happening here.” He looked around the room once more, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. “Seungmin in HR says that his files for the productivity report for the accounts section had been mixed up. Like someone had gone in and moved things around.”

Hyunjin laughed. “Come on, are you serious?”

“I am. Seungmin got in trouble for it, and because he couldn’t explain what had happened he was blamed for being careless. He’s spewing.”

“Hmmm.” Binnie appeared to be deep in thought, staring off. “Seungmin is meticulous. OCD style.” he paused while he was deciding what it all meant “I think it sounds fishy, Felix.” He concluded.

Felix pointed his finger at Binnie “Exactly!”

You took a sip of your espresso coffee. Your third of the day so far. It didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone bother to be so petty as to mix up files, tamper with reports? 

Just then Minho entered the conference room. Your heart skipped a beat. He looked dreadful too, his shirt still crumpled, his hair disheveled. Just having him in the same room as you made you feel nervous. To counteract how awkward you felt, you focused on the picture on the side of your coffee cup.

Felix leaned in to say something in Hyunjin’s ear, and then they both turned to you and looked you up and down.

You scowled at the pair and turned your attention back to the coffee cup. You hadn’t quite told your friends every detail of last night. You weren't going to tell them about how nervous you felt in the kitchenette making instant coffee with him. Or how he stood awfully close to you, calling you “kitten”. Or how you stripped for him before he fucked you on the couch. You felt yourself clench at the memory of his perfect cock inside of you.

You stole a quick look over at Minho at the front of the room. He was watching you, as though he could read your mind. You drew in a quick breath and felt your cheeks burn. Come on y/n, act professional.

———————————————

It was two in the afternoon and you were struggling to keep your mind focused. You poked at your computer keyboard trying to look busy, but you were fading away.

“You should just go home.” Binnie said from his desk.

“I know, but…” you shrugged. You didn’t want to go home. You wanted to see if Minho would reach out and speak to you about last night. Was it meant to be a one time thing never to speak of again? Was he expecting to do it again? Were you supposed to go talk to him? Thoughts of self doubt and confusion swirled around your tired head.

“Knock knock.”

The three of you looked up. Minho.

“Um… Hi.” You squeaked. Hyunjin licked his lips excitedly. Anyone would have thought it was Hyunjin Minho had fucked.

“I was just going to go down to the cafe, and wondered if you wanted to join me…maybe talk?” he scratched his head as though he was nervous.

----

“So…” Minho sat across from you in the cafe downstairs. “I want to make sure you’re okay. After last night.” He said.

You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes, but you knew he was watching you.

“Y/n?” Minho urged. “I need to know if what we did was okay?” You slowly looked up and met his eyes. There was concern behind them. He actually cared how you were feeling? What could you possibly say when you didn’t know how he felt about it? You didn’t want to presume anything and you didn’t want to look like a silly, desperate fool.

“I fucked up didn’t I?” he concluded from your silence. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and looked around the cafe.

“Minho, no!” You finally spoke. He returned his attention back to you. “You didn’t fuck up.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his hair.

“And I’m okay. Tired,” You laughed dryly “but… I enjoyed what happened.” A flicker of excitement flashed in his eyes. “Um…so yeah. I’m okay if we happen to do that again.” Oh fuck what did you just say? “I mean, either way, whether it happens again - or not - I’m okay.” You touched your cheek. You felt so flustered.

“I’d like it to happen again.” He said seriously, looking directly into your eyes.

You froze. “You would?”

He nodded. “Yeah I would, Kitten.”

———————————

You and Minho saw a lot of each other in the workplace. You'd make excuses to visit each other’s office, bringing the other coffee and sneaking little kisses in. Sometimes you'd do more, like the blowjob you gave him at his desk, or a quickie in the small kitchenette. He’d locked the door behind him, and took you from behind. He’d had a condom ready, and all he needed to do was lift your skirt up and pull your panties to side. You were ready for him. You always were. Just the thought of Minho made you wet and horny. You gripped the side of the kitchenette sink as he stretched you wide open and fucked you hard. Then he’d kiss you softy like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

Hyunjin would watch you suspiciously whenever you returned to your desk after a lengthy “short break”.

“You’re skirt’s crooked, girl.” He’d say and Binnie would roll his eyes.

Minho continued to call you “Kitten” in the hallway, smirking at how easily he could make you blush, and he’d undress you with his eyes in staff meetings, causing you to squirm in your seat.

You got to know each other in lunch breaks, sometimes chatting in the cafe, other times in the breakout area. You learned he came from SKZ’s rival company, that he volunteered several hours a week to some program, and he loved cats. But more importantly, you learned he was a kind person who seemed to have the best intentions for those around him.

You shared with him your love of podcasting and how you would use the company’s equipment for your own podcast. You made him promise he wouldn’t listen to it to, but you didn’t trust the look on his face.

It was truly a whirlwind office romance, and you felt yourself feeling happy for the first time in a long time. Maybe you were finally moving on with your life?

tag list : open

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @yaorzu-blog @drunkewok

[bringbacktim]

Anal? No one's doing anal

I'm having a Jschlatt brainrot rn so expect more imagines than anyone wants , feel free to request anything

Synopsis: schlatt and y/n are putting together a desk , but it sounds inappropriate to Charlie outside the room , he gets worried like any friend would

Warnings:mentions of anal , hurt , sexual intercourse, innuendos, a whole lot of whacky stuff , not proofread or edited

Word count: 806 words

The only things that charlie could hear from the outside of the OTK office/filming room were things that would definitely give him nightmares and make him avoid Schlatt and Y/n for the foreseeable future

Who said I can't put this fucking thing in that hole " schlatt said practically shouting out of anger

"Me ! , for the hundredth time it shouldn't go there no matter how much you ask" his girlfriend answered

"Tell me that doesn't look like it'll fit in there"

"I am not turning around , I know I'm right . Now hurry up before Charlie or Ted get back"

Charlie was torn between making some loud noise and hoping they'd stop whatever they sound like they're doing or running away and never speaking to them again

He did neither out of pure terror and instead pulled out his phone to text Ted to see if this was some skit or some prank they were playing or whether they were actually doing that in the studio where they filmed

'Hey dude, do you know what Y/n and Shclatt are doing in the studio?' He texted simply not bothering to beat around the bush

'Anal by the sounds of it , but I have no clue, didn't want to know to be honest'

Charlie really didn't want the first bit to be true , especially since he was only there to hold one of the cameras while they filmed stuff . He was getting way more than he bargained for

'Gross , don't joke about that or it'll come true' he replied a grimace on his face

'They've been at it for a solid half hour , they should be done soon don't worry man'

'Don't worry man ? You clearly aren't hearing this' charlie scoffed at Ted's audacity

'I escaped with minimal trauma thankfully' he could feel Ted's smugness through the screen

'And you didn't think to take me with you?'

'Didn't know if they wanted you to film it'

'You're disgusting nivison' and with that he put his phone back in his pocket and tried to plan what he was going to do next

"I fucking told you that wouldn't fit, are you done trying yet ?"

"It's going to fit I don't care what you say you god damn bitch"  at that charlie knew he had to do something for the safety of his friends

So he did what anyone would do and knocked on the door rather harshly to make sure he was heard

"Yeah , uh kinda busy" He heard y/n say

"I know you guys are in love , but that's a recording room . Also are you okay ?"

"Yeah fine just pissed at this furniture" schlatt admitted

"Schlatt!" Y/n said scolding him

"Are you both decent? Can I come in?"

"Yeah why wouldn't we be" they both simultaneously spoke

The situation he opened the door to was definitely not what he was expecting, but in a good way

They were just trying to put a new coffee table together to replace the one Schlatt broke in the previous recording

"Oh thank god" Charlie said with a hand over his heart as he breathed a sigh of relief "we thought you were doing anal"

"Anal? No one's doing anal , I'm not allowed to anymore" that comment earned him a firm slap to the chest

"Please stop talking, for my sake" charlie begged

At that charlie showed them the texts him and Ted had sent and they put the pieces together

"Oh charlie I'm so sorry you heard that , we just wanted to surprise you with the new coffee table before the next video" y/n apologised to her friend as her boyfriend loudly laughed next to her

"That's so fucking funny man , how did we not realise" he said wiping a tear from his eye "you look so terrified man" he said still laughing and using Charlie's shoulder as a stabilizer

"Is that why ted left?" Y/n asked shocked that everyone thought they were doing such a thing "this is so embarrassing and it's all your fault" she said pointing at her boyfriend who broke the table in the first place

"You have to admit that it's kinda funny" he said turning to face his girlfriend as Charlie called Ted and told him he can come back

"Charlie has the worst luck when it comes to us" she said sympathy evident in her voice "remember when he walked in on us in Ted's bathroom at that party"

"Be thankful it was him and not Ted" this earned him a middle finger in his direction

"What a wacky day it's been" Ted said entering the room they all were in

"You haven't been here for half of it " charlie accused as they chatted about what to film next

[002yb]

My heart???? I pove the amnesiac Jason being in love AGAIN with Dick. Please give us all your thoughts and Bruce and Tim and Damian and Alfred aaaaa

The trope of Jason having an undying crush on Dick Grayson is one that I'll shoehorn into every bit of anything I ever write, hahaha. I love it so much; it's so sweet. Thank you for following along with the secretary AU though. //u/// Here's some general thoughts for them:

Bruce

There are times Bruce has to do his job. Unfortunately, part of that job includes playing nice with his employees. A lot of people want to get in good with the CEO so that they'll be better favored for promotions. Rubbing elbows is part of corporate culture.

Only Jason doesn't give a fuck. Do you have an appointment? Of course they don't; Jason sure as hell didn't make one for them. Get outta here.

Just Jason being the most ornery secretary/assistant, an actual guard dog outside of Bruce's office.

Meanwhile Bruce just looking on from the glass panes separating them and being so smitten because look at his boy - small as he ever was and just as fierce as before. Viciousness being innately Jason and Bruce appreciating it in a way he hadn't before.

And when Jason finally shoos whatever bootlicker comes along, he sits back in his chair with a huff, before glancing at Bruce and smiling that ornery little smirk and Bruce loves him so damn much.

Unrelated: when Bruce can't stay on task, Jason moves himself to temporarily sit in Bruce's office with him. Just sitting across from Bruce at his desk and supervising because they've got deadlines, boss.

The above is a strategy Bruce employs to get Jason closer to him. It works up until Jason realizes what Bruce is doing, after which Jason withholds himself until Bruce does his job and Bruce is despondent over it, of course, but also a little humored and fond and affectionate because that's his boy.

Alfred

The way this man fishes for information on his grandbaby (Damian) being so next level. He laments to Jason about how he always wanted grandchildren, but... *sidelong glance to Bruce who straightens up in his office*

The joke being that Damian is actually Bruce's kid, only Jason still hasn't brought Damian around so they can't confirm anything.

Anyway, Jason shares pictures and Alfred adores them. Especially the ones that have both Jason and Damian in them.

And Alfred is a gentleman, a professional. He doesn't get cranky, only he does hahaha. Because he wants Jason home and he wants to meet his (great) grandbaby, Master Bruce. l<

Until they can sort that though, Alfred is very doting to Jason and Damian. He can't overstep, but when opportunity presents itself, Alfred offers up recipes that he knows Jason will like and that would be appropriate for a fussy child. He offers up little caretaking tips and tricks and bites back chortles when Jason jokes about trying them on Bruce.

Alfred startling when he gets a text from Jason one day asking for help with a sick child

And Alfred is halfway to the garage before he realizes how inappropriate that would be so he parks himself right beside the door just in case Jason requests him

Which he doesn't, which breaks Alfred's heart. But Jason does call and Alfred is able to talk Jason down and help him through whatever crisis Damian has brought on.

And later, Jason passing along a thank you card that Damian also contributed some baby scribbles to. Along with a little gift, a tea cup, that Damian helped pick out. Because they're really grateful and Alfred is composed about it until he gets back to the car and then he just holds this sweet note and gift and mourns how he wants his family back ahhhhhhhhhh

But Alfred is a strong person and bears the strain of it all and carries on.

It's his new favorite cup though ;U;

Dick

Dick uses the excuse of meeting Bruce and Tim for lunch all of once before he boldly asks Jason out

Bruce's jaw drops so fast. He's damn near tripping over every bit of furniture in his office and his own two feet, scrambling to the door where he falls dramatically against the frame with a lie that he needs Jason to fetch xyz thing from xyz area of WE

Once Jason is out of earshot, Bruce glowering so hard at Dick because don't lead their boy on; get those foul thoughts out of his head

And Dick just here without one impure thought in his head (yet) and being very l: because really, Bruce? Dick would never (only he will).

Anyway, Bruce cockblocking even the most innocent of interactions and Jason being a bit ._. about it because he's never so busy as when Dick turns up to say hi.

Just Dick surprising Jason at the office with drinks and food, little pick-me-ups. And here's the thing - Dick doesn't know Jason like Alfred does. He doesn't know Jason's favorites or things he doesn't. He's figuring it all out in the moment and he keeps making efforts and there's a level of guilt there for not doing this before, sure, but there's also enjoyment because it's Jason and ahhhhhh

When Dick brings by the pick-me-ups and leans against Jason's desk or pulls up a chair to sit across from him and loaf around for a few minutes, Bruce and Tim are just l: because really? Nothing for them?

And Dick laughs because, 'no, Jason's special.'

Which just slays Jason where he stands as he misinterprets Dick's (current) interests and intentions

Something something Dick picking Jason up after work on his bike. And both Bruce and Alfred send death glares Dick's way, but Dick just smiles that cheeky Robin smile at them before helping Jason up behind him and telling him to hold tight

Alfred relents with his petulance immediately if only because his boys look so happy; this is how it should have always been

Bruce, on the other hand, is getting into the car and telling Alfred to follow them immediately, don't lose sight of them! D<

Tim

Copy room meet-cute scenario. Where Tim is about to commit property damage because all the copiers keep jamming on him and he doesn't have the fucking time; he's got a meeting in x number of hours and he needs to prep all the materials and the interns aren't there to help because Tim didn't finish the reports until x o'clock and he's stressed and just got off of patrol he doesn't have time to fight and be bested by a fucking copier and-- 'here, let me help.'

It's Robin. Jason. It's Jason. And Tim feels Jason looks as heroic as he ever did back when the mantle was his to wear.

Jason doing the copying for Tim and brushing off the gratitude. 'I'd rather not explain to the boss that all our copiers were thrashed in the midst of someone's corporate rage ¬‿¬' before it settles on a shrugged, self-aware, 'you take over a lot of boss's work, so it makes sense that I help you, no?'

The stress leaving Tim slowly but surely as Jason and he work side by side to put together Tim's meeting presentation materials for all of the board members/xxxxxx department heads/etc.

Not much chatter, but at the end after Bruce turns up and causes a scene (because Jason is missing from his desk and 'where is he!?') Jason turns to Tim with a crooked smile and insists that if Tim needs help with anything, Jason's there.

And Tim is left there being all awestruck and a little flushed

Plenty of casual interactions after that. Just casual greetings in the morning. Teasing from Jason that disguises blatant check-ins to make sure Tim is good. Which he is. Tim's embarrassed about it, but he notices Bruce taking back some of the work he pushed off onto Tim and...it's better.

So much banter though as they get comfortable. And Tim still sees Robin, but he starts to see Jason more and he likes him a lot.

Tim going to see Bruce and Jason knowing Tim is cool, but tormenting him anyway with the whole 'you got an appt, sir?' shtick

Jason sneakily switching out coffee with water and snickering when he catches Tim grimacing, head snapping to look Jason's direction while Jason gives a cheeky wave

Tim being teased as the next Brucie because of the supposed 'flirtiness' of their interactions; it's a scandal waiting to happen, he's following in Bruce's footsteps, etc. etc.

Tim is embarrassed about the rumors that start to circulate. He doesn't even flinch when Bruce looms over him with a rough demand of, 'what are your intentions with Jason?' like Tim is doing anything uncouth, come on man

Whether because Tim is genuinely interested or he wants to mess with Bruce (in retaliation for the copious amount of work Bruce has passed on to him), Tim pointedly asking Jason out. Right outside of Bruce's office.

Damian

Weeks later, Bruce still creeps outside of Jason's apartment. He hates the neighborhood. Crime rates are too high and the apartment isn't up to code, but he hasn't figured how to tell Jason to move yet. Telling his boy to come home would be inappropriate, as would buying the property beside the manor for Jason to have. He'll figure something out, but before that--

A flutter of sheer curtains and movement in Jason's apartment.

Bruce being persistently curious about the child, Damian, but not having much information outside of passing commentary from Jason (but mostly shared stories from Alfred).

The child is always well-guarded. Regardless of how Tim has tried to get close, the tutors that are with Damian are always very alert. Which is...good. But not conducive to the answers Bruce wants.

Anyway, Bruce being a creep outside of Jason's apartment. Listening in on recently placed bugs and startling because Damian talks.

Apparently Damian has aspirations to be Batman. And Jason humors him even as he laughs under his breath because why.

And to sucker-punch Bruce in the throat, Damian makes a proclamation that wounds Bruce deeply: 'To protect you.'

Jason being all endeared and sweeping Damian up off the ground to hold on his hip and smacking his head with a kiss

'Why not Robin?'

There's a pause, but Damian is quick even at such a young age and proclaims, 'Because you will be my Robin.'

And Bruce just cries on the inside a bit because ouch.

What started as a Damian section became a Dickjay with a Damian cameo section. Truth be told, idk how hold Damian should be.

Where the first member of the batfam Damian meets is actually Dick

Jason invites Dick up after Dick brings him home one evening

And Dick is so happy to be welcomed into this private part of Jason's life - smug because Dick is the first of them to be welcomed and this is an enormous step up from always being the last to know anything

Jason switching off with the tutor (LoA assassin lol) and the assassin and Dick eyeing each other up as they pass one another by because they both sense something's off about one another, just not what

Anyway, Jason locks up (extensive; perfect for the neighborhood, but also hopeful of all that Robin training having lingered in the back of Jason's head) then excuses himself to check that Damian was put to bed properly

Dick taking the opportunity to look around and being so enamored with every detail. There aren't many personal belongings, but there's enough. Used books and well-loved art supplies; second-hand furniture and a half-knitted blanket. There are drawings posted up on the fridge that Dick looks over fondly: depictions of Damian and Jason and few others that make up his family (which spoilers is gonna include Dick once Damian and Dick come to an understanding about Jason)

Anyway, Jason is so proud of Damian's artistic endeavors - a new hobby that Jason encouraged because Damian is otherwise so serious and morose for such a little guy. And Jason's smile when he talks about it, fuck. It's devastating. Dick could listen to Jason talk about this forever - he would love that.

Instead they talk about other things while they have a nightcap. They keep their voices low. Hushed so they don't disturb Damian in the next room.

By this point Dick would be well aware that Jason is still a sassy, ornery little menace firecracker, but it's still a joy to experience it. To trade quips, to banter. Keeping up with Jason's wit and playing a playful game of who has the sharper tongue.

It's them curled on either end of a stubby, narrow couch. Where Jason reaches out his sock-clad foot to shove at Dick's leg and Dick catches him and squeezes and holds on, a mindfully mindless point of contact - tentatively intimate.

And Dick isn't aware of how intimate the moment is - how captivated he is by Jason until suddenly a kid comes between them, face pinched as they click their tongue (and oh, that's a habit of Jason's, isn't it? Cute), taking Dick's hand in the tiniest of grips and forcibly removing Dick from Jason

Then Damian buries himself in Jason's chest before peeking back to glare at Dick. The declaration is clear as anything: he's mine

Jason introduces him, but Damian having none of it because Jason's attention being on another man? In their home? Unforgivable.

Jason being flummoxed because what? He's allowed to have friends, Damian.

No.

Dick smiles at that. He might understand that desire to be possessive.

Introductions made, but Damian being very grumpy

Child rearing difficulties for Jason with setting boundaries and getting Damian to bed because he wants to spend time with Dick, but Damian doesn't want to share

And Dick wants more of Jason. Of course he does, but he's not going to put Jason in a position to pick. Never. So he calls it a night so that Jason can take care of Damian. That besides, it's late. They should both turn in.

Jason grumbling and being a little petulant about it as he sees Dick out at the door, Damian nestled in his arms and resting on his hip, arms wrapped tight around Jason's neck. But really? He'd stay up all night. It's been nice.

Their parting being all sorts of electric although there's nothing more than lingering gazes and slow pull aways and second looks over shoulders only to catch one another still there and sheepish, giddy titters ahhhhhh

Jason resting his back against the closed door while Dick sort of bounces down the hall, invigorated and happy and excited for next time

Next time being: just an hour later when Jason texts to see if Dick made it home safely

They proceed to text through the night and come the following day when Jason looks exhausted? Bruce is concerned. When Dick comes in later with Jason's choice caffeine, looking just as tired? Bruce quickly switches to paranoid because what's happening and why and how does he stop it? l:

Still waffling with how Damian should be, hence his section being a little scarce/vague. It'll get there!

[jrooc]

✨WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY✨

Thank you @energievie for the fun game. And @creepkinginc for the tag.

A little game for you today: imagine you're friends with both Ian and Mickey (I'm talking hanging out at their apartment, going out for drinks, the whole nine yards). Which one of them would you take with you for the following activities and why? No cheating 😅 Only of them because I promise you the other won't get upset.

But first...

Name: Jess

Age: A Nosho and a half

Location: Toronto, Canada

And now, for the activities:

Fishing: Mickey - 'Cause neither of us would give a fuck and would just skip to the drinking-on-a-boat part

Rom-com marathon in the park: Ian! Omg we'd get snacks and cuddle under a blanket and both identify with the awkward leading actor who can't play it cool and gossip about Mickey.

Clubbing: definitely Ian - I'm with Evie here. He'd be so much fun and great to look at.

Wine tasting: Mickey. Oh heck yes. We'd start out pretending to be serious. Swilling and sniffing and describing the tasting notes as 'fruity as all fuck' and 'I'm not fuckin' gay enough to drink wine that sweet' and then drink all the wine 'til we were giggling and facetiming Ian from the back of the wine tour mini bus.

Escape room: Mickey - I'm stealing Evie's answer here cause 1000% this: I mean, the guy escaped prison, a simple room would be no match for him.

A day at the spa: Ohhh this is a tough one 'cause both. But I guess I'll choose Mickey 'cause it'd be funny as fuck watching his reactions as they explain everything to him and you know he'd love a good pampering

Office Christmas party: Mickey - We both say inappropriate things but would make it fun so people would forgive us and just come sneak drinks with us from the bar.

Darts competition: Mickey. You know he'd be proficient at bar sports. He was playing darts and shooting guns before he was 10

Treasure hunt: Ian - Mickey would get frustrated and give up. Ian would work through the clues meticulously and be ultra-competitive.

Assembling IKEA furniture: Ian - Mickey would def not have the patience for this but Nosho's answer was funnier. And real.

Tags below the cut. Or here, have some early halloween candy 🍬:

@deedala @too-schoolforcool @thepupperino @runawaybrainsc @mickeysgaymom

@gallavichsuperfan @such-a-barbarian @crestfallercanyon @guinguin1984 @bluelightning00

@blue-disco-lights @spookygingerr @gallapiech @roryonic @spoonfulstar

@ian-galagher @transmurderbug @stocious @sgtmickeyslaughter @whatthebodygraspsnot

@francesrose3 @doshiart @look-i-love-u @rereadanon @palepinkgoat

@suzy-queued @vintagelacerosette @darlingian @samantitheos @sam-loves-seb

@mmmichyyy @annarowyn @look-i-love-u @ms-moonlight-inn @callivich

[stoneagedevil]

Always | Hannibal Lecter x f!reader

TWs: Slight mentions of cannibalism, homicide, serial killers, etc.

—————

The waiting room to the luxurious office was quiet, save for muffled conversation between two people she’s never met, one she was referred to as a condition to returning to one of her loves - investigating with the FBI as part of the Homicide Division. Y/N had grown to resent Jack Crawford for his overbearing nature, and his constant need to have things go his way.

She straightened herself at the thought of the man, her cold exterior revealing nothing.

The door suddenly clicked open, and her eyes darting towards a hand grasping the knob. Attached to the hand was a handsome older man wearing a three piece suit, his patient passing by muttering.

“We can expand on that lasting thought at your next appointment, have a good day.” He said. His voice was accented. He then turned his gaze to a woman sitting on his leather sofa in the waiting room. “Miss L/N?”

“Correct.” She affirmed, standing and reaching out her hand to shake his.

“I’m Doctor Hannibal Lecter, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Jack Crawford briefed me on a bit of a compromise between the two of you.” He took her invitation to shake her hand, noting how small it was in his.

“Compromise is putting it lightly,” she said dully, “he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.” She furrowed her eyebrows to emphasize her distaste for her superior. She even despised referring to him as above her.

He chuckled in amusement, “Yes, I understand. I work closely with him and another one of his colleagues, why don’t you come in?” He gestured inside the office, and she was met with the sight of more leather furniture, a wall of books, and many (presumably) expensive decorative pieces.

“Will Graham.” She stated, as she took a seat furthest away from Hannibal. He noted this too.

“Yes, Will Graham. Do you hold contempt for him as well?” He asked rather straightforwardly, taking a seat opposite her, and flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. A clean slate.

This was the part she hated. Sooner down the road she’d wish she said nothing at all. All the notes regarding her could be burned easily, but it was the notes encapsulated within the confines of the mind that was hardest to get rid of. However, she was nothing if not determined.

“Perhaps. I haven’t figured it out yet. He’s odd, but Crawford wants to keep him. I’m the same way, but was found easiest to let go.” She kept eye contact the entire time, Hannibal breaking it only to write about her in his notebook. “I hate that.”

“That you were easiest to let go of?” Hannibal asked while looking up, he presumed the answer would’ve been yes, but he was surprised when he was met with confrontation.

“The writing in the notebook thing. What happens when you die and someone else has everyone’s weaknesses in their hands?”

Hannibal sat back, setting his pen down onto the paper and clasping his hands over it. “Would you prefer I refrain from my note-taking?”

“You could write everything we discussed down after I leave, so I don’t think it matters much. I just need you to know that I hate it.” She shrugged, crossing her legs.

“Do you feel that I have ill intentions in regards to what information you give me?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But a time will come when I know. For now, let’s continue with this appointment.” She gestured to the pen and paper resting on his lap, and he took hold of the pen once more. Now everything was back as it had been.

“As I said before, Jack Crawford said that our meetings were a condition to be let back into the Homicide Division. Would you feel comfortable on elaborating on that further?” He lifted his leg to rest an ankle on his knee, once again sitting back in a non-threatening manner. Open, but not inappropriately so.

“I left because he didn’t see a use for me. Continued with another passion, but I’d gotten bored of it. Now I want back in, and Crawford obviously has his reservations towards me.” She explained briefly.

“Why didn’t he see a use for you?”

“Will Graham was the newest puppy to keep chained at his feet. He’s more digestible than I. My standoffish demeanor did me no favors in addition to that.” He jotted that down. It was his strong belief that she did harbor a sense of rage towards Will, and if he were being honest with himself, it delighted him to see such anger expressed so eloquently. She was aware of herself. He could appreciate that.

“And what was this ‘other passion?’” He asked.

“I’m an artist. I draw, I write, I paint.”

“How impressive. Are you in a creative block at the moment?” He wondered if the creative block was something she saw to be moved by her other occupation.

“Thank you, but no. I’m bored in the sense that I just need something new, but familiar. Being a part of the Homicide Division is the only thing I want to do besides painting from time to time.”

“And why is your heart set on that? Especially given Crawford’s apprehension toward letting you back in.”

“Simple. It’s exhilarating.” She smiled.

He raised his eyebrows, “Exhilarating how?”

“Do you want to digestible answer, or the truth?” She replied.

“Why not both? We have plenty of time left.”

“Digestible first then. I live and breathe bringing monsters to justice, and consoling families of lost loved ones through the closure of a killer’s sentencing.” She tilted her head.

“And the truth?”

“The truth is - I don’t particularly care about most of the people who are murdered. Children, of course, but if you look deep enough you’ll see that most of the cadavers I spend my time with had it coming.” This. This is what increased his interest tenfold.

“You don’t care if the rude die?”

“Rude would be - once again, putting it mildly. But no. I don’t. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. But I’m perfectly fine with that. I’m not going to act like I care about arresting someone who’s killed a predator.” He smiled at her monologue.

“Yes, I understand your point. But what about the few that are innocent?”

“Innocent or guilty, they’re still a mess for me to analytically dissect and trace from to whoever killed them. There was a time where I was bored with this job too. Another reason why I left in addition to Will Graham.” She stared indifferently. He wanted her to crack in some way. Uncover the ruthlessness he knew she harbored deep inside.

“And why were you bored?”

“The murders at the time. They weren’t- how do I word this? They weren’t dynamic and intentive. It was all too ‘heat of the moment.’ Not-“

“Artistic?”

“Yes. Lifeless, ironically.” She smiled once again, “There were a few serial killers I’d been on the team for, and I do believe that for them- this breed of human who enjoys killing, that they view killing almost as a hobby. And what do you do when you have a hobby? You perfect the skills it takes to do it and the impression it leaves on others. You take pride in it. I see no pride. I see, ‘I need to become the most prolific serial killer in the States, and to do that, I’ll kill anyone I lay my eyes on.’ It’s sloppy.”

His heart raced at her words. Those beautiful words falling from her beautiful lips.

“And what makes a good serial killer?” He breathed.

“I think you already know, Hannibal.” She raised her eyebrows and him and smiled knowingly. “Your secret is safe with me, of course. I couldn’t dream of stopping an artist in his tracks.” Despite being taken aback slightly, he was drawn in due to her earnest nature regarding his craft.

“You’re the other one, aren’t you? The Minnesota Shrew?”

“Our reputations precede us then, Ripper. I look forward to looking more at your work. If you’ll have me.”

Hannibal unknowingly untensed his shoulders at this. He could smell dishonesty from a mile away, when there was none to be found.

“It would be an honor.” He replied, as she stood and headed for the door.

“Hannibal, you don’t let them go to waste, do you?” She turned, sharp eyes looking back at him.

“They’re prepared meticulously, my dear.” He answered softly. Within the short time he spoke to this woman, he’d felt the ugliest parts of him had been scrubbed clean, that his soul had bonded to another of its beautifully terrible nature.

“Then I think I’d love a taste, if you’re willing.” A warm smile lit up the room, painted in deep red.

“Always.”

——————

Thank you to those who’ve read my last post, I sincerely appreciate your support. Let me know if you’d like more from me.

[norabrice1701]

Coincidence - Ch. 5, Pt. II

Dr. Alan Grant x Predoctoral Student Fem!Reader

Series Main List

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including protected sexual intercourse); older man/younger woman relationship (no underage); explicit language; dinosaur PTSD; pining and inappropriate crush; Alan Grant’s canon upper-body strength

It doesn’t take long to exit the car and duck under the small awning on the backside of the house. The door opens and warm light floods the space to reveal a functional, tidy kitchen. At quick glance, you can’t tell if its neat state is because he seldom uses it or he’s just clean with his habits - but having seen his office, you suspect the former. He toes out of his shoes and drops his briefcase beside them before padding down the small hallway, turning on more lights as he goes. You follow suit with your wet shoes and set your purse down before following him. 

The house glows with golden light that bounces off warm wood paneling and shelves, leather couches and plaid armchairs. Piles of books rest here and there, intermixed with other curios of exploration - a globe on a spindle, binoculars and a leather case, magnifying glasses and various fossil specimens. It’s obviously a bachelor’s home, but it’s far from slovenly - more just… comfortably lived in. The thought brings a warm smile to your face as you silently follow him past the main living room and into a large, adjacent room. 

A tall and wide bookshelf dominates this room, lined with more books, spotted with artwork, and… are those vinyl records? You can’t help but step closer, squinting to better examine the narrow spines, and your smile widens. You’re not sure if you would have considered him to be a music fan, but there’s quite a surprising collection here. Glass clinks across the room, and you glance over your shoulder to see him standing at a bar cabinet opposite the worn, plaid couch and leather armchair. 

Brown liquid sloshes against a glass as he pours and meets your gaze. “What’s your poison?” 

“How about… whiskey?” It’s not your favorite, but it’s popular at the dig sites and you’ve acquired a taste for it. 

A smirk of approval flashes across his face before he tips the already open bottle over a second highball, and more liquid pours out. With both glasses in hand, he skirts around the couch to hand you one. 

With another heavy sigh, he holds his glass out. “Well, I guess… here’s to your next adventure.” 

“Thanks.” You sound sadder than you would like as your glass meets his with a gentle clink. The whiskey is surprisingly smooth as it slides down your throat, warming you from within. He motions towards the armchair before he drops to sit on the couch, taking another long pull of his drink. 

The chair’s springs feel a little worn, and you think it matches the style of the leather sofa in the living room - and the sudden thought that he bought two living room furniture sets and mixed them together makes you smirk against the rim of your glass. Swallowing another mouthful of whiskey, you glance back at the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a big music fan.” 

His gaze follows yours to the bookshelf, huffing an amused sigh. “I don’t think I am, really. I inherited most of that collection from the couple that used to live here.” He taps a finger against his glass. “They were an elderly couple, downsizing… and they asked if I had any interest in it. Truthfully, I’ve barely listened to any of it, but it was less furniture to have to buy.” 

You nod in consideration. “I suppose that does make sense.” Your gaze continues to sweep the room, and it looks like his office away from campus - or more like a study, perhaps. A desk rests behind the couch, flanking the bar cabinet, and the plaid couch looks comfortably broken-in as if it’s hosted him for many long nights of intellectual pursuits. Another silence falls, and maybe it should be awkward, but somehow… it’s not. Somehow, it’s enough just to sit with him now. 

“Thank you.” He says at length, drawing your attention to his small, appreciative smile. “For what you did back there and not… not making a big deal about it. Or… asking any questions.” 

“Of course.” You easily reply. “You… you didn’t make a big deal about it, either. Or ask any questions that day… of the storm.” 

If possible, he looks even more world-weary as he takes another sip of whiskey. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt. With the amount of damage done to the main tent canvas during that storm, you would have been hurt had you stayed, and that would have been on me.” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” you counter genty. “I signed all the legal waivers to be there. If I hurt myself because of a fucking panic attack, then that would have been no one’s fault but mine for not… well, for not admitting that I was a safety hazard to the excavation.” 

“You’re not a safety hazard.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Not anymore than I am because I…” His words trail off with a sigh before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t know what I am…”

You wet your top lip before taking another sip of the heady liquor. “Well, who says that you have to be anything more than just yourself?” 

He goes still against the couch for a long moment before raising his head. His gaze finds yours as his brow furrows in deep contemplation. You can’t tell what he’s thinking behind those mesmerizing, slate-blue eyes of his, but you don't dare shy away from his gaze. In fact, you want to commit everything about it to memory as your heart starts racing. 

His eyes narrow with a familiar sharp, shrewd edge. “You know… out of all your peers, you’re the only one who hasn’t once asked me about it.” He tilts his head in further interest. “I know it’s not for your lack of curiosity - you’re far too bright for that - so, that must mean it was a deliberate choice on your part….” The corner of his mouth lifts with a knowing edge. “You’ve chosen not to ask me about the articles, the rumors, or about the island, about… any of it.”

Your mouth goes dry and you resist the sudden urge to fidget against the chair. “Because it’s none of my business. It never has been.” Your fingers tighten against the highball. “Ever since the dig was canceled - ever since you told us not to give any statements to the media - you’ve known more than what you’ve been saying, but if you’re not saying it, then there must be a good reason why. And asking you just seemed… disrespectful.” 

His shoulders sag under some invisible weight and he exhales another deep sigh before lifting his glass and draining it. His tongue darts out to catch a stray drop on his bottom lip as his eyes turn distant. “It’s worse at night,” he whispers solemnly. “The moving shadows, the flashing lights… yes, the T-Rex shook the ground when she walked, but she was adept at hiding it during the hunt. But the raptors…” his words trail off with a trembling sigh. “Both stunning - fascinating in their intelligence - and utterly… terrifying.” 

You forget how to breathe, shocked by the gravity of his words. 

He purses his lips, fingers clenching around the empty glass as if regretting its empty state. “There was one moment… the two raptors had us flanked, had the advantage… and there was nothing….” He shakes his head with a trembling breath and horrific memory. “Absolute death stared me in the face and all I could do was stare helplessly back…”

You wait on baited breath, speechless and dumbfounded. 

He gives another helpless shake of his head. “And, then when it didn’t come… and you find yourself back in the normal world - buying groceries, doing laundry, making small talk with the neighbors - but you’re still shell shocked by it, by all of it, by suddenly… coming face-to-face with creatures that have been extinct for 65 million years, that I’ve devoted my life to study-” His voice chokes up, suddenly pushing to his feet and avoiding your gaze as he returns to the bar cabinet. 

His sudden motion stirs you to action, and you swallow the rest of your whiskey before rising and joining him at the cabinet. He pours another measure for himself, and you hold your glass out for a second round. Your eyes linger on his profile all the while, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch him - to soothe his troubled brow, to wrap him in the tightest hug. 

Your heart beats so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. “And you’ve carried all of that with you since… since you returned? There’s been no one that you could tell?” 

“Ellie, of course.” He says before taking another hearty gulp. “But she was there, too - and we both… at first, we thought we could ignore it. But life never returned to normal, and neither did we.” 

Your heart breaks anew as the silence stretches. Too many thoughts run through your head and you take a big drink of whiskey to help clear your head. But the growing fog at the corners of your mind tells a different story. Emboldened with another drink, your gaze returns to linger on the handsome definition of his profile - the strong line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the sweep of hair across his brow. What would it be to kiss his cheek? To trail your lips down to his, hearing his breath catch in the moment before his mouth meets yours? 

With a trembling breath, you shake your head to steady your thoughts. “T-thank you for telling me.” You say softly, your voice thready in the silence. “I have been concerned for you these last months, you know. Watching you just lose yourself in your work, like… if you stopped, something horrible would catch you. And now… now, it makes perfect sense.” Heat rises in your cheeks and you take another fortifying drink of whiskey. “You bore all the questions and media scrutiny with dignity, though - you’ve never once lost your temper or told anyone to fuck off. Sounds like you’d be well within your right if you did, though. Hell, I think I would have done it at least once by now.” 

Another wave of exhaustion overtakes him as he looks lost for words. Clearly everything he’s been through has taken quite the toll and continues to haunt him - and goodness, how can you leave him now? Err, not that you should stay the night - certainly not uninvited - but how can you go to New Mexico and leave him alone? If you’re the only person who knows what he’s been through, then that does mean he really has no one else…? 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly, shaking his head with an air of shame. “That’s… a lot more than you bargained for tonight, I’m sure.” 

“No - please don’t apologize.” You reassure as your gaze roams freely over his face. “I think you needed the outlet, quite frankly. I’m just sorry that it manifested in a panic attack…” 

He glances over at you with a tired, lopsided smirk. “At least, I’m in good company - the best I could ask for, really.” 

Your heart warms at the sentiment and you’re helpless to hold back an answering smile as you all but melt under his gaze. “Same goes for you, you know.” 

Again, he holds out his glass to meet yours with another gentle clink before you each take another long drink. Endless questions swirl in the back of your brain because, seriously… what the fuck? Actual, living dinosaurs?! The how's and why's of such an impossible concept gnaw at your academic curiosity, urging you to keep asking him for details. But he looks so strung out and so tired, how could you possibly push him any further? In fact, maybe it's best if you just leave. Especially before you have the chance to do anything stupid  Swallowing the last mouthful of heady liquor, you take a deep breath. “Well, I should… I don’t want to be a bad houseguest and overstay my welcome.” 

“You haven’t overstayed anything,” he reassures gently. “It’s been nice to share a drink with you.” 

An appreciative smile curves your lips. “You, too.” You turn from the bar cabinet and thread back around the couch. The movement upends the lightheaded fog in your brain and your balance falters, tipping you towards the couch. You catch yourself with a steadying hand, and okay… maybe your meager dinner wasn’t enough for drinking whiskey. 

“Are you alright?” The gentle concern on his voice raises embarrassed heat in your cheeks as you try to offer a dismissive smile. 

“Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.” You try to ignore the dubious look on his face but your vibrato falters nonetheless. “Maybe just… my dinner wasn’t hearty enough for two glasses of whiskey.” 

An understanding look dawns on his face as he nods. “Well, if the dean would never forgive you for a car hitting me, then the dean would surely murder me if a former student gets a DUI on alcohol that can be traced back to my place.” His mouth curves with a suddenly shy, almost awkward smirk. “So, you can just… take my bed, and I’ll stay here on the couch.” 

Your mouth nearly falls agape as your cheeks flame. “Oh no, that’s… not necessary. You don’t need to be all chivalrous like that. I can just - the couch will be fine.” 

His eyes narrow with mild reproach as his grin sharpens. “Didn’t you just say that you don’t want to be a bad houseguest?” He taps a finger against his empty glass, waiting until you nod before continuing. “Then, stop refusing my hospitality.” 

Words choke in your throat as he starts to walk around the couch. Should you thank him again? Should you try to offer more protests? Your head spins as you suddenly feel deep in over your head and your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. 

“Just, uh…” He turns back around towards you, offering a small smile. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

You nod quickly. “Okay, thank you…” Your brain goes into overdrive, and, holy shit… you’re going to spend the night at Dr. Grant’s house. 

In his bed. 

By yourself. 

Nothing about any of that should be real, and truly, such thoughts are best left to your secret midnight fantasies… yet, here you are. You long for another steadying drink of whiskey - or, perhaps water, better yet - and you exhale nervously. There’s no reason for you to freak out about this - and despite your initial protests, he’s being the perfect gentleman about the whole thing - and really, why should you complain about that? Especially if it’s going to let you sleep in his bed. 

Looking for a distraction from your raging thoughts, you step back up to the wide bookcase and examine the spines of the vinyl record albums. Vaughn Monroe, Patsy Cline, Waylon Jennings, Dolly Parton - so many artists that you have passing knowledge about but can’t put your finger on any one specific song. It appears that the couple who used to live here had a heavy love of twangy country music. Was this their music room? Did they spend hours two-stepping or just listening and singing together? 

Somehow, you can’t picture Dr. Grant… Alan doing that. In fact, you can almost picture a grumpy scowl if the idea of dancing around a living room was even suggested. The image shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does all the same. 

The padding of bare feet on the hallway’s wood floor catches your attention, and you look up just in time to see him return. Gone are his clothes from the day, replaced with a soft looking white t-shirt, striped blue pajama pants and a bathrobe with a turquoise and brown Southwest-inspired pattern. It’s not the most coordinated look, but he seems perfectly at ease as he drops a pillow and blanket down to the couch. 

“The bed sheets are relatively clean - washed within the last two weeks,” he says softly. “And if you want to change, I laid out a clean shirt and shorts for you. Also, you’ll find a toothbrush still in the package and a new toothpaste on the bathroom counter.” 

Your heart warms with fond surprise. “Wow, uh - thanks. That’s all surprisingly thoughtful of you.” 

He tips his head, meeting your gaze from under his lowered brow with an almost teasing, admonishing edge. “Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean that I’ve always lived alone.” 

Your mouth curves to a soft smile. “I didn’t mean it like that… truly, I do appreciate it. I guess it’s just not what I expected…” Affection colors your voice as you hold his gaze for a long moment before blinking back to yourself. “Good night.” 

He nods in agreement. “Good night. If you need anything, please just ask.” 

You return his nod before stepping out into the hallway. Walking back to the kitchen, you retrieve your purse before disappearing into the bathroom. It doesn’t take you long to brush your teeth and get ready for bed - at least, to the best of your limited ability. His house is old enough to only have one bathroom in the main hallway, and you turn the light off, noticing that a faint yellow glow still shines out from his study. For a split-second, you debate going back to wish him good night again… but for what purpose? You don’t have anything else to say that hasn’t already been said. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you glance around at the tidy, cozy interior of his room. If he ran around in a mad dash to clean up the room or make the bed for you, it doesn’t show. In fact, the chair next to his closet still hosts an assortment of random clothing, and your heart warms at the knowledge that he didn’t make an attempt to be anything other than himself around you. A smile tugs at your face as you approach the bed, setting your purse down next to the nightstand. 

Your smile widens as you take in the quilted bedcover in shades of navy and maroon set against white sheets, along the clothes he laid out for you. Admittedly, sleeping in jeans and your shirt from the day doesn't sound comfortable, and you quickly shed your clothes. The cotton shorts’ elastic waistband rides low on your hips and his shirt hangs oversized on your bra-less shoulders, but they carry a clean, fuss-free scent that makes you even more eager to nestle under the bedcovers. 

Pulling back the quilt, you slide against the soft sheets before reaching to turn off the nightstand light. Settling against the pillow, your heart pounds in the darkness and you still can’t believe where you are… and who’s just sleeping down the hall. Though, that just makes his bed feel all the more empty. Especially as you drown in his scent, rolling onto your side and snuggling against the pillow. Your eyes drift closed as your fingers reach out against the mattress. 

What would it be to have him lying here beside you? To feel his body heat radiating under the covers and the promise of his skin within reach? Would his breathing grow steady as he falls asleep, or would it be heightened with anticipation, on the last verge of restraint like yours? And when your fingers find his arm in the stillness, would he roll towards you? Would his mouth find yours in a rush of unbridled desire as you finally learn the taste of his kiss? Your fingers would drift towards his waist, enticing him to settle atop you and let the weight of his body push you into the mattress while devouring each other. 

Your body comes alive with the runaway fantasy, gasping softly as your hips twitch with aching need against the mattress. Fuck, you want him in here with you - want to say whatever it takes for him to just fuck you with abandon. Not that you consider yourself well-versed in ways to drive men wild, but any of the scenarios that you can conjure sound so cheap and contrived - and you’re not just going to walk through his house naked. You want him to want you, too, and that’s a far harder thing to get. 

With a frustrated sigh, you roll over to your other side, gripping the sheet close. Before closing your eyes, you notice that no light shines under the door from the hallway. Perhaps it’s easier for him to just close his eyes on his couch and blissfully sleep, completely ignorant of the way you yearn for him. 

That thought doesn’t help you get to sleep any faster, tossing and turning to try and dispel the heat on your skin. When next you open your eyes, the room appears darker in the late unknown hour, and you roll over, drowsily snuggling back into the pillow. His scent wraps around you like a comforting blanket, and it’s easy to imagine that he’s spooned up behind you with the sleep-warmed weight of his arm draped across your midsection. But a faint glow of light from the crack under the door catches your attention. 

What is he possibly doing awake at - a quick glance to his bedside clock shows - 1:48 AM? 

Pulling back the covers, your feet connect with the carpet as you walk over to open the door. The light spills out from his study and with a quiet yawn, you do your best to ignore the hallway’s chilly wood floor as you approach. Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, you pivot around the corner and your brow furrows in confusion. The plaid couch is empty, but the pillow and blanket reveal that someone has at least tried to sleep there. You tilt your head to rest against the door frame and cross your arms as you suddenly hear the sound of running water in the dark kitchen. 

A smirk teases your lips as you glance over, watching him move in the shadows and emerge back into the soft glow from the study’s floor lamp. If possible, he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him, not helped as his brow furrows with questioning concern. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” His voice carries the rasp of recent disuse and nothing about it should ripple goosebumps along your skin. 

“You didn’t.” You say softly, as if anything louder would be inappropriate at such a late hour. “I was already awake and I saw the light…” Your words trail off as you take in his appearance, noting the disappearance of his rather unflattering robe before lingering on the careworn lines of his face. “Trouble sleeping?” 

“Yeah…” His mouth curves with a tired smile. “You could say that.” He raises his right hand to scrub across his face, and your gaze zeroes in on the dark mark high on his forearm, just beneath his elbow. 

A strikingly elegant, black-ink tattoo in the shape of a double spiral rests on his skin, and everything about it sends your mind racing. You haven’t given it much thought since glimpsing it that one afternoon in his office, but it just seems so out of character for him. Yet here’s undeniable proof staring you in the face. 

And speaking of staring… your cheeks flush as you finally look away, only to see the knowing expression on his face as he catches your obvious interest. 

Your mouth goes dry as you search for something not too horribly awkward to say. “It’s beautiful,” you finally settle on. “A symbol of a rebellious youth?” 

“Not quite.” Distant fondness tinges his voice as he glances down at the swirling lines of ink. “It’s Kirituhi - an art form based on Māori-style tattoos. A reminder of my second home.” 

The excerpt of his bio from the newspaper flashes in your mind. “New Zealand, right?” 

He nods slowly. “We had several people of Māori descent on Joan’s digs over the years - and their culture is just fascinating. Their connection to the past, to the present - to honoring what came before as a way to look to the future… well, that stuck with me considering that I spend my career digging in the past to build my own future.” He pauses to draw a breath as you listen with rapt attention. “And the spiral symbolizes the continuity of life - and, just as the dinosaurs had their time on this earth, so will the human race.” His mouth quirks with a sardonic grin. “I guess all we can hope is that our skeletons fossilize just as well as the dinosaurs’ to preserve our own legacy.” 

Your heart melts as it goes out to him. It’s far more insightful than you would have expected, and that makes it all the more beautiful. Unable to stop yourself, you push off the wall and close the short distance between you. Your fingers reach out to his forearm, turning it for a better look in the low light. The piece reveals far more delicate, intricate lines up close, and you sweep an appreciative thumb over the inked art. “That makes it just…" Your voice drops to a whisper thin tone as the air thickens. "All the more beautiful." 

You raise your gaze to his, wanting to drown in the azure pools of his eyes, and electricity crackles between you. The heat from his forearm curls through you to settle low in your belly. He’s so close now, and your long simmering arousal rises to a boil. Can he see it on your face? Can he see how much you want to kiss him? To have him wrap you in his arms and hold you close? To make the outside world disappear under the weight of him above you and the touch of him deep inside you? 

Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, maybe it’s the fire singing in your blood - but you let your hand trail up from his tattoo, up over his exposed bicep and the sleeve of his t-shirt. A shuddering breath runs through him as he breaks your gaze, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Your breathing quickens as you rise to your tiptoes and lean in, letting your breath skim the shell of his ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper, emboldened by the maddening scent of his skin as another shuddering breath leaves him. “Tell me that you want to go back to your couch, and I’ll go back to your bed.” Your voice trembles as you sigh. “And I’ll keep pretending that I haven’t been wet for you all night.”             

“Fucking hell…” His voice strains with the last thread of control as your fingers dance along the line of his shoulder. “You… we shouldn’t…” 

Your fingers find the fine hairs along the nape of his neck as the tip of your nose brushes the shell of his ear. “Stop looking for a way to make this wrong if this is what you want, too.” Your other hand searches out his left hand that’s clenched at his side. “It’s okay, Alan,” you breathe as you draw his hand towards you. “Touch me… please.”  

The sudden force of his kiss makes you dizzy as his arms envelop you with the strength that you've fantasized about. Your heart soars as it races, meeting his embrace head on, devouring him as you want to be devoured. You cling to the broad plane of his shoulders as he crushes you close, the heat of him burning through your - his - borrowed clothes. The heady thought sends more liquid heat pooling in your core and, God… why are you still in the hallway? 

You urge him forward, keeping the inferno of his body so close as you back towards the bedroom. His broad hands clench against the small of your back, groaning as he crowds you against the wall and the full press of your hips connect. The solid ridge of his erection makes your mouth water as you grind your hips forward. There's nothing about this man that you don't want, and you have no reason to hide. 

"You have no idea…" he groans with an intoxicating, wild edge. "What hearing you does to me…" 

Sparks shoot down your spine as your body burns. "Please, Alan," you whimper. "I need you."

The growl that rumbles in his chest bypasses all rational thought, and you nearly lose your feet as he pulls you away from the wall. Wrapped in his arms, tangled with his legs, trading kisses and nibbles and moans, your head spins until the solid weight of his bed appears behind you. 

You paw at the hem of his shirt until he lifts his arms and the fabric slides free. Your eyes widen with hungry appreciation, wanting to map each facet of his chest with your tongue but you burn too hot for that patience right now. He snakes a calloused hand under your oversized shirt, cupping your breast with a maddening squeeze and delicious pressure. Pleasure shoots straight to your dripping core, a needy moan echoing in your throat as you arch against him. 

"Please…" you breathe against his lips, gripping his waist to grind against his cock. "Fuck me… Alan." 

He groans and his arms clamp around your midsection, all but dragging you fully onto his bed. The force of his strength takes your breath away as you push at the waistband of his pajama pants and underwear. There's no grace in the kisses that dissolve to gasping breaths or the scramble of hands to reveal bare skin. And when the tip of his cock slides through your wetness, your tandem guttural groans echo in the stillness of the bedroom. 

"Wait, wait…" You manage to gasp, barely recognizing your own voice. "I'm not… we need -” your cheeks burn despite the intimate press of your bodies. "My bag has something, if you don't…"

He exhales a shuddering moan as if still struggling for control. Or perhaps he's embarrassed - a rational man of his intelligence so undone by his body. But then he skims his lips along your ear and his breath sears your skin. "And here I thought you were my innocent girl." The luscious, teasing rasp to his voice rushes more liquid heat through you. "Are you always so prepared, hmm?"

You struggle to breathe through the blinding surge of arousal. "A girl never knows when she'll meet the right guy…" Your nails dig into his back for emphasis, rewarded with his delicious gasp as you cradle his hips closer to yours. "And you've been the right guy for longer than I should admit." 

"Fuck, don't say that…" His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder as his hips surge forwards. The thick slide of him through your soaked folds nearly undoes you, but you paw at his shoulder with urgent need. 

"My bag… unless you have -" Your voice cuts off in a gasp as he shifts suddenly, reaching over you for the bedside table. The scrape of the wooden drawer and tear of foil heightens your anticipation before his strong, nimble fingers find purchase against your thigh. Following his coaxing movements, you spread your legs wide and wrap around his backside as he positions above you. His eyes blaze with wildfire as you lean up to kiss him, gasping as he eases forward in a slow, steady glide. 

Your eyes roll back at the thick, full stretch of him as your body adjusts to the delicious invasion. The kiss turns to a heavy, moaning breath as the connection threatens your sanity. You can't remember the last time - if ever - you've been so full of man, and your toes curl as you sink blissfully back against the mattress. 

"Having you in my clothes, in my bed… like this," his voice pitches deep as he drinks you in with dark, blown-wide eyes. "So goddamn gorgeous."

Words escape you as his hips roll back and surge forward, striking the deepest part of you. Electricity jolts through you as he thrusts again, and you surrender the last facet of your rational mind. Your body moves with his on primal instinct, driven to chase the euphoria promised each time he strikes your deep-rooted pleasure point. 

You cling to him as he moves over you, against you, inside you - and you’re so fucking close. The coil at the base of your spine winds tighter with each stroke that builds a rhythm to ruin you for life. His pleasured groans and grunts of exertion mingle with your staccato cries as your body goes taut, arching against him. Your orgasim hits hard, stars exploding behind your closed eyelids as waves of euphoria rock through you. His hips stutter to a stop as he buries himself in you with a strangled groan of relief.

The moment stretches to an eternity as you hold him close, wanting to burn the memory of him like this into your brain. Your lips trail along the defined line of his jaw as he nuzzles your cheek, and your breathing starts to settle out. His mouth finds yours for a long, lazy kiss as the afterglow deliciously numbs your senses. You hum contentedly against his lips. “That was so… beyond fucking good.” Every muscle relaxes against the mattress as your eyelids drop heavily with exhaustion. “I hope you’re able to sleep a little better now.” 

He half-sighs, half-laughs as the tip of his nose brushes yours. “Yeah… you, too.” 

You meet for another, slow kiss before you reluctantly let him go. It’s not nearly as awkward as you tell yourself it should be as he retreats to the bathroom, returns with a warm washcloth for you, and he steps into your - his - shorts before rejoining you in bed. You debate reaching for your discarded underwear but the hem of his shirt falls long enough, and a lingering thrill whispers through you as your bare lower half reconnects with his skin. 

In the room’s silence, he lays on his back as you snuggle up to his side. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you listen to the sound of his breathing, just existing with him as the waking world starts to yield to dreamland. 

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you refuse to let him go until you have to. 

Series Main List

[saytrrose]

Do you feel comfortable telling us what happened at your parents' house?

Sure! But be prepared for a long ramble.

My stepmom is a really conservative transphobic narcissist.

My housing plan this year is a tiny room freshman dorm and had a bed, closet and desk. I share it with my bestfriend, Kayla.

My housing plan NEXT year has been decided, I am going to move into a 4 room apartment style dorm, where we all have our own rooms, 2 people each share a bathroom, and we even have a living/kitchen area. I’m very excited!!!

I broke the news to my parents, and said that Kayla and I would share a bathroom on one half of the dorm, and our friends Micheal and Brayden would share the other side.

She expressed concern over two “girls” being with two “guys” and I told her it would be fine because both Brayden and Micheal are gay men, and are engaged to eachother too. To which when she heard this she was “oh okay.”

But then she brought up the possibility of the housing office not allowing us to be co-ed, girls and boys sharing a apartment style dorm together and I had Micheal’s permission to tell my mother that he was a transman, meaning he is afab, to ease her nerves. I explained that the housing office obviously did not care as long as we all knew eachother and agreed on it.

She then proceeded to rant on how gender is so confusing, and for 2 days straight refused to use Micheal’s name, instead referring to him as “the girl who wants to be a boy.”

I told her that it’s not complicated at all, and she asked me “So are they gay or straight?” And I told them they are gay men, which I had already told you prior. She then asked me “well has the wannabe boy had any surgeries?” And that’s when I started to genuinely get pissed off.

I said “First, that’s an inappropriate question to ask. What would you do if a random person kept inquiring on your genitals? It’d be an issue wouldn’t it?” To which she then interrupted me, saying “Oh so they don’t. Yeah I thought so. So they are straight until they get surgery.”

I told her that we are in COLLEGE and that’s a lot of money, time and healing to take into account and Micheal is infact on hormones and looks his gender, acts his gender, sounds like his gender, and so on. I then decided to de-stress, and promptly left the whole house to go on a walk which apparently to her, was very inconsiderate and rude.

On top of all that, she consistently helicopters over me, anytime I touch my phone she’s “what are you doing.” “Who are you texting.” “What are you texting them.” “Why are you doing that on your phone.”

One time I went to my room for a singular hour to go through some of the things I packed and got at the thrift store, just deciding what to leave home and take with me you know, nothing big. I walked out once dinner was done, and she loves to use a bitchy voice and say “look who came out of their room.” “Look who’s alive and decided to join us.” And when I try to say I was literally gone for a fucking hour she accuses me of being too “antisocial.”

Also, we have 5 dogs at our house. Almost all are abused. They live in kennels constantly unless they are ushered outside to potty. There is Jax, poor old man is 14 and has prostate cancer. He has severe arthritis as well and struggles to walk. There is Shepherd, he has one big tumor on his spine and about 5 itty bitty ones around it too- but all non-cancerous. Past his hip bones he is hairless due to skin irritation and scratching/biting. Then there is Mac, the golden lovely child of the house who is the only one not in a kennel ever, roams the house, only one allowed on furniture and more. There is Charlotte, a hurricane Harvey rescue who is a gorgeous and pretty cocker spaniel/poodle. She’s pure black for the exception of white paws and a white heart on her chest. She’s super sweet but gets screamed at everyday for whining in the kennel but good news!! My friend Kayla is in the process of adopting her to help get her out of the house and into a better home. Then there is Pickles, my poor baby that my stepmom hates the most. Just yesterday she was scolded for curling up next to me which was apparently “possessive behavior” so she took her shoe off and beat her in in face 4 times until she was whining and barking- and then got yelled at for getting defensive and snapping once at her.

It’s horrible.

Did I mention all of this is in the span of 24 hours?

More that happened, my stepmom asking me to constantly check the mail to see if my VA check has come in. It comes the first week of each month- sure, but calm down I don’t need to check 3 times a day. Also she only cares so much because my stepmom is blind, is jealous everyone else is putting an effort into their lives and is desperate for some ounce of control and wants us to give her money for her smoking addiction.

Also my check didn’t come in LOL but that’s alright, my awesome sister said she’ll swing but next weekend and snatch it up for me.

It’s just exhausting. Thats just ONE day there- I can’t imagine what summer is going to be like. My sister gave me the idea to get a job like my stepmom wants, but get it here in my college town so I don’t have to be home. Which is genius!! Pickles stays with me, safe and not getting abused. (She’s so scared of everything when she’s home, and it’s so hard to try to help her heal from ptsd when it’s recurring- ik if I do this it will be best for her.) AND I don’t have to be there which fucks with my own mental health.

Also, stepmom isn’t trying to get my money. That’s nice too.

Sorry guys this is more so a vent now, but hey if you read this far than thanks for listening 😭

[inappropriateuseof]

Inappropriate Use Of Office Furniture

[generalized-crowposting]

Hangman’s Joke Chapter 1

Hey! New chapter! The tragedy is here.

This chapter and the next were supposed to be one, but I’ve been hit with a strange form of writer’s block. Meaning this half is all done and ready to go, already longer than the prologue, but the other half is stuck in my brain refusing to go onto paper. But, there’s an easy break point here so I figured I’d go ahead and split the chapter in two.

Content warning for (canon typical) death

Hangman’s Joke Chapter One: Raining Glass

Officer Albrecht stared out the shattered window onto the scene below. He watched as the paramedics covered up the absolutely shattered body of the man who had, less than an hour before, been thrown from where he stood. He turned from the sad scene outside toward the ongoing situation inside the loft. The place had been torn apart. Papers and photographs were scattered everywhere. Furniture was thrown across the room. Some of it looked nearly as splintered as- he shook his head, clearing that thought away. This case would be stuck in his mind long enough.

“Sir!” One of the paramedics shouted from across the room. “She’s holding on, but we have to get her to the hospital!” He held the hand of an absolutely brutalized woman. A clear mask pumped her system full of desperately needed oxygen, but the pain she was in couldn’t have been more obvious.

“What the hell are you waiting on?! Do it!” He shouted back. They got to work without another word. The paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher as quickly and gently as they could and rushed her out of the room. A few of the other cops in the room looked at Albrecht with pity. He’d made the right call from a moral standpoint, but they all knew he’d catch a write up for it from the detective.

He turned back to the scene, ignoring his co-workers' stares. A nearly pristine paper in the pile of scattered memories caught his eye. He leaned down and picked it up. He quickly glanced over the paper and sighed sadly. It was a wedding invitation, dated for the next day at sunset. He held onto the paper as one of the cops called him over.

“What have we got here?” The man asked Albrecht. He gestured at the now blood-splattered wedding dress.

Albrecht looked away from the dress. “Eric Draven and Shelly Webster. The wedding was tomorrow night.” He looked around, now noting all the preparations scattered amongst the chaos. A bouquet of flowers and the vase they’d been sitting in were scattered across the floor, water soaking into the floorboards. A basket of matching boutonnières was knocked over, with several of the delicate flowers crushed.

The other cop shook his head, knocking Albrecht out of his observations. “Who the fuck gets married on Halloween anyhow?” He said, his voice carrying a level of judgment that seemed inappropriate for the situation.

He took another look around, “Nobody, I guess.” He replied, his tone not matching his colleague’s. He stepped out of the loft and down the stairs. Outside, the woman, Shelly, was being loaded onto a rolling bed to be taken to the hospital.

The detective was shouting at the paramedics, “I did not give you permission to move her!” He whipped around as Albrecht exited the building. “Is this the victim?”

Albrecht shook his head and layered sarcasm on thick, “No sir, it’s Amelia Earhart. We found her, you missed it.” He chuckled, relieved as the paramedics used the detective’s momentary distraction to start loading Shelly into the ambulance. Albrecht ignored the detective’s biting remarks and rushed over to her side.

Sarah rolled up on her skateboard and froze, seeing the scene in front of her. She ran over to Shelly’s bedside. Shelly groaned and spoke, despite the oxygen mask in her way. “Where’s Eric?..” she asked, her eyes darting around, looking around for any sign of him.

Albrecht’s eyes wandered to the sheet-covered body still laying on the pavement for a split second before he shook his head. “Look, don’t worry about him right now.” He did everything he could to keep his tone neutral and calming. He helped the paramedics lift the bed into the ambulance.

“Tell him to take care of Sarah!” She said, her voice edging on panic. Albrecht nodded acceptance of her request, which seemed to calm her down just a little. The medical personnel piled into the ambulance and closed the door.

The officer stepped off to the side, pulling the teen away gently. “Are you Sarah?” He asked. Her slight nod was all the confirmation he needed. “Look, your sister.. she’s gonna be fine-“

Sarah cut him off. “She’s not my sister. Shelly just takes care of me. Her and Eric..” her words lost their bite as she glanced back over at the sheet. The wind from the storm rolling in had blown it back just a tiny bit. His cut and bloody hand was partially visible. “..You’re lying to her about Eric.” She turned back to the cop, still not meeting his eyes.

Albrecht kept his voice as gentle as he could. “I had too.” He internally winced at how patronizing that sounded, but rolled with it.

“And you’re lying to me about Shelly.” She said with the certainty of a child who’d already seen far more bad in their life than anyone should have too. “She’s going to die too, isn’t she?”

He couldn’t think of a true response that wouldn’t sound like a lie. “We’re going to do everything we can.” He said, knowing it was a half-answer at best. He shook his head and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You said they took care of you.. is there anywhere else you can go? Anywhere I can send word if she pulls through?”

Sarah nodded and wiped tears from her eyes. “Yeah..” her voice shook. “They’ll want to know what happened too.” She couldn’t help her eyes from wandering to the scene again. Eric’s hand had been re-covered. Her eyes instead wandered up to the shattered window that all of them had gathered around so many times to watch the few stars that shone bright enough to peek through the city lights. “I don’t know the address, but I can get there..” she forced her gaze back down to the officer.

Albrecht shook his head. “You shouldn’t be out on the streets by yourself.” He looked around, knowing he had to get back on the scene. “Look,” he pulled out a piece of paper from one of his pockets, “I don’t like you being alone, but I have to find out who did this. If you need anything, let me know, okay?” He handed her one of his cards from his days as a detective. The number on it was still good, even if the title was inaccurate.

Sarah nodded and shoved it in one of her jacket pockets. “Thanks..” she took one last look at everything and turned away. Partially because she knew she needed to leave and partially to hide the tears threatening to fall. She walked for about a block, trying unsuccessfully to force herself to calm down, before she put her skateboard on the pavement. The rain began to pour as she headed toward Gunner and Brion’s place.

~~~

Gunner raised an eyebrow when a knock rang out. He glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers showed that it was after midnight, nearly one am. He rolled off his spot on the couch and over to the door. The chain lock jangled as he pulled open the door a crack. “Sarah?” He said, a little shocked. She was clearly soaked to the bone. “What are you doing here? Give me just a second.” He closed the door and undid the lock before throwing the door back open. “What’s wrong?” He ushered her inside and locked the door behind her. “Brion, get a towel!”

Sarah dropped her skateboard and bag in a heap. She collapsed on the couch, her whole body shaking from the cold rain and the tears that she finally felt safe enough to let fall. She opened her mouth to try to explain why she was there, but all that she could manage was a croak before she had to curl back in on herself and sob.

Brion stumbled into the room. His glasses were off-kilter on his face like he’d just slapped them on. He flipped the light switch on, flooding the room with a warm yellow light. It took him a second to process what was going on in the living room. As soon as it hit him he rushed over. He wrapped Sarah’s shoulders in the towel and a hug. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” He paused when Gunner sat down on the other side and pulled the couch blanket over her lap. “Take your time, we’re here.”

The three of them stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, but the clock claimed was less than an hour. Sarah crying it out, trying to compose herself, and Brion and Gunner doing everything in their power to help. They held off asking her anything again until her breathing finally got closer to even and she stopped shivering.

Gunner was the first to speak. “Are you okay?” He asked. Sarah nodded, then, after a moment, shook her head no. “Are you ready to talk, or do you still need chill time?” His voice was gentle, much more than usual.

Sarah took a deep, shaky breath. Then another. On the third she felt steady enough to say, “I’m sorry for waking you guys up..” she shivered, though it was less intense than before. “Especially like this..” Thunder rolled outside as the rain continued to pour. She couldn’t help but think of how hard it would be to track anyone down in this weather.

Brion let her go enough to look her in the eye. ��You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” He let her go the rest of the way, but stayed close, just in case she still needed a hug. “Our door is always open. Though I have to ask,” he glanced at Gunner for a second, who gave a small nod, “Why’d you come here in this storm instead of going to Eric and Shelly’s? They’re closer, and you know how dangerous it is to be out tonight. It’s Devil’s Night.”

Sarah winced, biting back another round of tears. They needed to.. they deserved to know. “I..” she started, “I know it’s not safe.. but I couldn’t stay there.” She had to stop herself.

Gunner’s mind immediately began running through possibilities. “Why not?” He asked carefully. “You know they would never turn you away. And even if those night owls were already asleep, you’ve got a key to get in..” he watched Sarah’s face closely as he spoke, trying to figure out what had gotten the usually unshakable teen so upset.

She nodded. “I know.. I couldn’t stay there because.. because it’s a crime scene…” She stuttered. She took another deep breath. “Because Eric’s dead and Shelly’s probably not going to make it!” She blurted out. The shocked silence that followed was palpable. She began shaking again as the two beside her processed.

A few times Brion opened his mouth to ask if he’d heard her right, but the tears beginning to fall again told him everything he needed to know. “..what?” He said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was barely a whisper. He tried to meet her eyes, but she had them closed, trying to block out the world for a moment.

Gunner stayed frozen for nearly a full minute longer. When his brain finally caught up with him, he said nothing and stood up. He moved robotically to the phone mounted in the wall. Without even having to look he dialed the number for Tex and Moe’s current place. Despite how often they had to move, he always memorized the number. If his mind could have more than one thought at a time in that moment, he would have thanked himself for that. The phone rang for quite a while. Well past when he normally would have given up on getting ahold of them.

On the other end of the line, Tex rolled off the lumpy mattress, having been awoken by the phone. Moe was still passed out. That man could sleep through anything. He picked up. “Who the hell is calling this late tonight of all nights?” He said, his tone short and groggy.

“Tex. It’s Gunner.” He kept the shakiness out of his voice, but only barely. “You and Moe need to get your asses over here. Right now.”

Tex raised an eyebrow. He glanced out the window just as lightning flashed. “In this weather? The roads will be soup! What the hell could be so-“

Gunner cut him off. “Something happened at the loft.” His voice broke, unable to keep himself composed any longer. “Sarah saw the aftermath.. Eric is dead. Shelly’s hurt really bad, too.” He took a deep breath.

The line was silent for too long of a moment. “No, no there’s no fucking way.” His mind raced. “Moe and I are going to go by the loft first. See what’s going on.” He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “Maybe.. maybe she didn’t see what she thought she did.”

“Please just get here. We’ll go together.” He practically begged.

Tex pulled the phone cord as long as he could and reached over to Moe to shake him awake. “Fine. But I want you all ready to jump in the van the moment we pull up.” Moe began to stir, his groan audible even over the phone. He went back over to the phone hung up without another word.

The line went dead. “Fuck.. fuck.” Gunner paced around the room. He shook his head. One of them had to be practical here, and judging by the shaky hugs happening on the couch and Tex’s reaction, that job fell to him. He made his way back over to Sarah and Brion. “Hey..” he said, his voice gentle. “Moe and Tex are on their way.” He looked at Sarah, “I’m so sorry, I know this is a lot, but I need to know. Is Shelly still there or have they taken her to the hospital?”

Sarah looked up at him. “H-hospital..” she wiped her face on her sleeve. “They.. they were putting her in the ambulance when I got there..” she wrapped the towel and blanket around herself further.

Gunner nodded. “Okay. That’s good. There’s a chance she’ll pull through.” He paused. He took a shaky breath and braced himself for the answer. “..and Eric?”

Sarah buried herself further into Brion’s arms. She shook her head, needing a moment to form more words. “He..” her voice was muffled, “He’s gone..” she gulped in air. “..he was on the street in a pile of glass.. the window was broken.” With that her voice gave out into more tears.

Brion pulled her in closer without saying a word. His own face was streaked with tears, but he was doing his best to stay strong for now. He picked her up and stood from the couch all in the same motion. The towel and blanket were still wrapped around her. He looked at Gunner. “Grab a couple extra blankets..” His voice was nearly as unsteady as Sarah’s. “She’s still freezing.. and we could be in the hospital for a while.”

Gunner nodded, quickly ducking into the bedroom. He glanced at the pair of secondhand suits he and Brion had for tomorrow’s wedding hanging in the closet for just a moment. He bit back the wave of pain that threatened to break his composure and forced himself back on task. He grabbed several spare blankets and slung them over his shoulder. He pulled a couple more towels from the bathroom cabinet as well, just in case. He went back to the pair. Brion still had Sarah held to his shoulder. He couldn’t help but think about how terrible the scene must have been for someone with as strong of an independent streak as her to allow herself to be held like a child. He pushed the thought out of his mind for now and added her things to the pile in his arms. He sighed and unlocked the door. “C’mon.” He said as he held the door open for them. Brion shuffled through the doorway, careful to keep Sarah from bumping on the frame. Gunner followed and locked the door behind them. He double and tripled checked the locks. Worrying about their apartment getting broken into was low on his current list of priorities, but it was always a possibility.

The trio stood half in the doorway, half under the entryway awning as they waited for the telltale rumble of Moe’s van. They didn’t have to wait long. Tires squealed as Moe took the corner far faster than usual and slammed into a full stop in front of the apartment.

“Shit.. he wouldn’t drive like that unless he’s seriously pissed off.” Brion muttered. Only Sarah heard him over the rain, but Gunner was thinking the same. They all rushed the few steps through the rain and into the back of the van. They half expected for Moe to peel off the moment the door shut behind them. Instead, the interior was uncomfortably quiet. No radio played. The only sound was the rain hitting the metal roof and the click of seatbelts.

Once they were all in, Moe finally released his white-knuckle grip on the wheel. He shifted the van into park and turned around. Anger was clear on his face. “What the hell happened?” He said, his eyes on Sarah. “Who did this? Do you know?” His shoulders shook from the tension in every fiber of his being.

Tex placed a hand on his shoulder as Sarah shook her head no. She curled in on herself a bit at his tone. “Moe, Gunner said she only saw the aftermath.” Tex said as gently as he could. “Don’t take this out on her.”

Moe unwillingly relaxed his shoulders a bit. “I’m sorry.” He forced his tone to be as calm as he could, but it wasn’t much less than it was before. He turned back to the wheel, “Let’s just get to the loft. Maybe one of those fucking cops will actually make themselves useful.” Finally, he shifted the car into gear and sped off.

[joellesolo]

So this past weekend, I listed this vintage school desk we've had for over five years on marketplace finally (it's a really long story; basically, I told my mom, do not give it to Peanut, we don't have room for it, we don't want it, she's never going to use it, don't you dare bring it over... guess what she gave Pea for her second birthday 🙃 anyway. Pea is seven, now. So, it's been over five years and this stupid fucking enormous desk has just been taking up space in the guest room, which then turned into Michael's office, and then eventually became Lily's room, annnnd here we are today...)

I am most likely not going to get my asking price of $200 (even though they go for $400-$700 in other cities), like, whatever, I'd be happy if someone offered me half of that, and just fucking took it off my hands at this point, I just want it GONE, thank you?!

(Oh, also, important to note! Please keep in mind: been SUUPER fucking manic for two weeks, med changes and shit, and then unmedicated since Monday; just, you know, VERY unstable and crazy and out of my mind, it's probably contributing to the pure rage I feel right now, just, an general fyi!)

Anyway! On Thursday morning, I get a message through marketplace and... well, uh, I don't really have words, so, here you go!

Uh... really, Justin? ARE you sorry to bother me? Because... it feels like IF you didn't want to bother me, you could have simply... not sent the message?

Like, damn, bro! So, obviously I get instantly enraged. Because who does this? Why is this okay? This guy is sending a literal STRANGER a message through FACEBOOK MARKETPLACE, of all fucking places, and he KNOWS it's inappropriate so he's trying to soften it?!

Also, I have my facebook privacy settings so if you aren't my friends, pretty much the only things you are able to see are my profile picture (if you go the my "my face" tag on my tumblr, it's my most recent post), my cover picture (a picture of the girls from a couple Valentine's Day's ago), and that I'm married to Michael. So if he attempted to look through my profile (which... probably 😒) he KNOWS I'm married. With children. And still sent this message anyway?!

But let's give him the benefit of the doubt? Even IF he didn't look at my profile, and DIDN'T KNOW I was married with kids, like... why would he think this was an okay thing to send to someone just trying to sell a fucking children's desk?!

... okay, I just typed that out and realized I take back the benefit of the doubt; he must know I have kids, because I am fucking selling a goddamn kid's school desk 😒 (yeah okay sure MAYBE I could be some vintage furniture collector but, I'm not buying that...)

Anyway. That was Thursday. I was super pissed, and raged about it to friends and family, and then because of my severe mental health crises, more or less forgot about it, and, yeah. Here we are now. Saturday.

So, JUST IMAGINE MY SURPRISE, when my phone goes *ding* and I pick it up thinking it's a mom friend or something, and instead I see the following:

... okay, like, I thought I was pissed the first time?!

Ha. Uh, ha, no? WHY DID HE THINK MY SILENCE WAS AN INVITATION TO SEND ANOTHER MESSAGE?! LIKE WHAT THE FUCK??!

I have no doubt this is one of those "your body, my choice" fuckers. NO DOUBT AT ALL. This is absolutely what the people chose. They have been emboldened one hundred percent. It's absolutely just... ugh.

I told my friends, and they're all like, wtf 😡🤢🤬 I told my family, and I get, "well Joelle, why didn't you just block him!!"

... yes. Because this is somehow all my fault? I totally asked for these unwelcome messages in the first place by posting the desk, like, oh wow, how dare I?!

🤦🏽‍♀️

No, stfu, get out of here 😒 My next step is figuring out how to report him to facebook, obviously, so he doesn't send me any other goddamn messages. Because I feel like they would just get worse?

BUT. He's going to know it was me! Unless he happens to be sending messages to women selling stuff all over Reno? Because I will just not show up in his messenger any more... but he has my name? He can just try to google me and find me?

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I JUST GOOGLED MY OWN NAME AND THERE'S A GODDAMN WEBSITE AND IT LITERALLY HAS MY FULL FUCKING HOME ADDRESS ON THERE, SEVERAL PREVIOUS ADDRESSES, SEVERAL PREVIOUS PHONE NUMBERS, AND MOST OF MY GODDAMN RELATIVES, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS TRUE PEOPLE SEARCH AND HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET ALL THIS PERSONAL INFORMATION ABOUT ME?!!?!!?

okay well this is a fucking great turn of events now i'm scared to report him because what if he fucking GOOGLES ME AND COMES TO MY HOME AND TRIES TO HARM ME OR MY DAUGHTERS FUCK THIS

AHHH JESUS

sorry for having a goddamn literal freak out midpost

but FUCK TRUE PEOPLE SEARCH WOW

guess i need to figure out how to get all my information removed off there FIRST and then report the creepy fucker on marketplace?!!??! so much for resting today.... wow 😭😭😭

NONE OF THIS IS OKAY ABSOLUTELY NONE OF IT

[casonyawilliams]

Accommodating Persons with Disabilities

Disability varies in severity, duration, and impact. Some people manage to power through life with their disabilities; others need support. Accommodating and supporting people with disabilities makes them feel seen.

One of the ways to make people with disabilities feel welcome is to prioritize universal design. Universal design makes products, services, environments, and structures accessible to all persons, regardless of their abilities, age, or situation. Universal design isn't about just people with disabilities. It also benefits children, pregnant women, and older adults.

In a perfect world, accommodative features are built into things. In the next best world, reasonable adjustments are made to existing things to accommodate persons with disabilities. Adding subtitles to a movie and remodeling an office complex to include a ramp to make it accessible for persons with disabilities are just some of the adjustments that make people with disabilities feel included.

The rate of people with disabilities in the labor force increased significantly (by 1.2 percentage points) between 2008 and 2023. Still, the unemployment rate for people with disability doubles that of people with no disability. Additionally, people with disabilities typically earn significantly less than their counterparts with no disability.

Employers must recognize that people with disabilities are just as ambitious and want to work. That starts with seeing beyond the disability and focusing on skills, not the disability, as they would with other candidates. By treating candidates with disabilities as assets, not liabilities, organizations will find it easy to make the necessary adjustments and support them to make them feel welcome.

Hiring a person with a disability for a movie role because of their disability may come across as inappropriate. But then, there's having a non-disabled actor play a character with a disability. Casting more disabled persons for such roles will encourage others. Besides, someone with lived experience would understand better what it's like to have a disability.

The workplace and movies aren't the only areas where people with disabilities are underrepresented. There are not many political leaders with disabilities. One way to encourage political participation of people with disabilities is to reconsider what constitutes a disability. Words like" incapacity," "inability," "competency," or "illness" could potentially lock out candidates with disabilities.

Accommodations aren't limited to what institutions can do. People with disabilities do have friends and relatives without disabilities. While homes do not have to observe Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) guidelines, going out of one's way to accommodate a person with disability is always a welcome gesture.

If expecting a visitor who uses a wheelchair - while installing a ramp may not be feasible- consider moving the furniture around to ease movement. Also, rugs and liners should be removed to ease their movement around the house. Move things around to create mode legroom and put essential items within reach.

If living with a person with a disability, make the necessary adjustments. Permanent modifications may be needed. To accommodate a loved one with a disability, consider installing things like ramps and grab bars and ensure the bathroom is spacious and hazard-free.

A disability is not a deficit. People with disabilities have desires, hopes, and dreams as everyone else. When dealing with someone with a disability, the focus should be on what they're bringing to the table rather than how much help they require.

[subhambiswas287]

Revitalize Your Space: Innovative Solutions from a Rajarhat Interior Designer

Interior design can sometimes feel like a puzzle, especially when faced with common challenges. However, with a bit of creativity and know-how, these issues can be transformed into opportunities for enhancing your space. Let's explore some typical interior design problems and their efficient solutions:

Compact Chaos in Small Spaces: One of the trickiest issues is managing small spaces. The key is to create an illusion of space. Use light and pastel colors, glossy textures, and multifunctional furniture. Also, optimize natural light and consider clever storage solutions​​.

Budget Constraints: Redesigning on a tight budget? Focus on repurposing existing furniture, using paint or textures to mimic luxurious materials, and seeking budget-friendly products. Simple fixes like repainting can bring significant change without a hefty price tag​​.

Outdated Features: Dealing with dated elements in your home? You can either remove them or integrate them into your design. Modernize outdated features with contemporary updates like reflective surfaces, stylish lighting, and biophilic design elements​​.

Clunky Accessories: Accessories should complement, not clutter your space. Declutter first, then selectively add items that enhance the space's aesthetics. Mix textures, shapes, and scales thoughtfully to avoid a cramped appearance​​.

Poor Acoustics and Lighting: In office spaces, soundproofing and lighting are crucial. Choose furniture that absorbs sound and aim for a balance of natural and artificial lighting to create a comfortable work environment​​.

Low Ceilings: To combat the cramping effect of low ceilings, use vertical patterns, all-white color schemes, or large mirrors. These tricks can create the illusion of a taller and more expansive space​​.

Inappropriate Furniture Placement: Ensure your furniture is in proportion to the room's size. Avoid overcrowding by selecting quality, less cumbersome pieces that leave ample open space​​.

Mismatched Color Schemes: When choosing colors, think in terms of color families. Avoid painting walls first; instead, match your furnishings and fabrics to your chosen palette​​.

In conclusion, these strategies offer guidance for various interior design challenges, suitable for both minor updates and major renovations. For those in Rajarhat seeking professional assistance, collaborating with an experienced Interior Designer in Rajarhat can offer innovative, customized solutions. Such expertise can significantly enhance the transformation of your space, ensuring both functionality and aesthetic appeal.

[uraverageemodrainergamerbf]

the muppets. (2015)

I'm currently watching one of the more recent show starring my favorite puppets, and I have to say I'm really pleasantly surprised by this one. Most of the post 90's muppets content, following the early death of their creator Jim Henson, has been kinda rough. Each time it's very lacking and misses a lot of soul, especially the disney + productions, which just consists of way too mich guest stars and not enough muppet magic ( more on that on another post) but this one is different.

Starting it I had no expectations, but it quickly became more than I hoped for. First of all the show concept is really fun, it's a show in the form of the office, where we see the backstage and production of a late night talk show starring miss piggy. There's no music, it's very mundane most of the time it's just people trying to work and I just love it. Seeing Kermit slowly becoming crazy while trying to hold together this crew of completely chaotic maniacs is really entertaining. The one on one interviews a la The office is a great idea to focus for little moments on each character.

But I had some problems starting the show. Some jokes are just really not appropriate in my opinion (weight jokes are just terrible) and a bit toxic sometimes, especially at the start of the series. It's also very cynical and kind of cold at first, everyone is pretty mean to each other and I hate it, the muppets just don't act this way for me and it's pretty infuriating to see them mocking other on their insecurities

So the show's humor is kind of a mixed bag at the start, it's more oriented toward an adult audience than your usual muppet show, while not being shocking or totally inappropriate. And they walk that straight line pretty gracefully most of the time, if you ignore the sexist jokes

But GOOD KNOWS WHY at the middle of the season everything changes. The characters start having a lot of compassion and try to help each other more and care more, while still making fun of each other, but in a more respectful and gentle way. The plot thickens for a few characters, and the friendship just starts to shine. Kermit starts to actually support all his old friends and that's super cute. And even after that the story takes another great turn (spoiler warning) : the network tries really hard to change the show by sending a hipster jackass to modernize it, and the muppets just decide to stick together in front of adversity and try to come up with new ideas to satisfy the network. And they have trouble so Kermit leaves a meeting at one point. But then they start making the muppets show opening with office furniture. And it's so cute and Kermit comes back see them and says "i know what to add to the show: our friends" cause you see in this series they are not performers but work for Kermit and the only muppets really performing is Peggy. And so they literally transform the show into the muppet show and it's so sweet. They start to sing together on stage, playing old bits they use to do and you can just feel the love they have for their show and crew (watch me talk abt them as if they were real). And they also lose the problematic jokes or at least there are way less than in the first 5/6 episodes

The guest stars are really neat too, most of the stars are being real assholes and are quite funny, I especially loved the drums duel between animal and dave grohl

So despite a pretty rough start, if like me you're very attached those very loveable characters, i'd say the show is worth your time, if you can overlook some really bad jokes and storylines, the concept is really fun, the jokes are really funny most of the time, there are great storylines, especially in the second half of the season, and I'm now very sad they couldn't build on the momentum and had to see their show cancelled, it's a shame

[chubbycaucasianchristiancloseted]

Remember this is what a peaceful transition of power looks like!

Remember this is what a peaceful transition of power looks like! $14,000 in damages of federal property by the blameless and righteous Democratic administration, who then said “The real scandal” “is how much time and money” was spent during the investigation.

Direct Quotes:

an investigative arm of Congress, said today that ''damage, theft, vandalism and pranks did occur in the White House complex'' in the presidential transition from Bill Clinton to George W. Bush. The agency put the cost at $13,000 to $14,000, including $4,850 to replace computer keyboards

Glue was smeared on desk drawers. Messages disparaging President Bush were left on signs and in telephone voice mail. A few of the messages used profane or obscene language.

Six White House employees told investigators that they had seen graffiti derogatory to Mr. Bush on the wall of a stall in a men's room.

''Any intentional damage at the White House complex, which is a national treasure, is both inappropriate and a serious matter,'' the report said. ''The theft of or willful damage to government property would constitute a criminal act.''

Bush officials said they had found offices full of trash, broken furniture and filthy carpets. Clinton administration officials insisted that the dirt and damage reflected normal wear and tear.

The accounting office confirmed that $9,324 had been spent to repair or replace various items and to clean offices. That included $4,850 for 62 keyboards, $2,040 for 26 cellphones and $1,150 for professional cleaning. In addition, the White House and the General Services Administration estimated that it cost $3,750 to $4,675 to replace missing doorknobs, medallions and office signs and the large presidential seal, the accounting office said.

'The real scandal here,'' Ms. Palmieri said, ''is how much time and money the Republicans have wasted in a vendetta against the Clinton administration. It's troubling that the White House cooperated so enthusiastically with this investigation, but refused to provide the G.A.O. with records of the energy task force headed by Vice President Cheney.''

#USA #TheChubbyCaucasianChristianClosetedConservative #BillClinton #GeorgeBush #VoteRepublican

[aki-bara]

I'm responding to this with my take on the book as requested by @iamnotadumbdonut Not trying to start an argument. Also please keep in mind I do not currently own a copy of Chalice of the Gods so everything I'm talking about is just from my memory and may be inaccurate.

My overall take away from the book was that Percy is depressed and dealing with it poorly.

What first struck me about the book was Percy's general tone. In many of the books you could describe Percy's narration as irreverent, flippant, or teasing. Despite this there's a sense that he genuinely cares about what is happening and about making sure his actions have a positive impact on events as they unfold.

In this book the flippancy is there, but we begin to see a lack of genuine empathy, even for characters Percy has a close emotional connection too. This detached style of narration feels unique to this book and to me reads as apathy on Percy's part. The way Percy describes the more dangerous parts of this quest lack a real sense of danger and Percy seems to almost never panic in the moment, unlike in earlier books. Many consider depression to be an absence of feeling, and to me that seems to be what's happening here.

Let's take a look at the beginning of the book. If I remember correctly we start at Percy's school where he has been called to the guidance counselor's office. Percy isn't a big describer in previous books, but he spends a lot of time here describing the school, the counselor's office, the counselor herself, and a frog painting. The focus on the superficial here read (to me) as an attempt by Percy to distance himself from the emotions of this moment. Percy as a narrator is someone I feel dislikes talking too much about himself, but the lack of insight we get here feels especially pointed. Whether this was an intentional choice on Percy's part to distance himself from the reader or subconscious is up for debate.

The feeling that comes through strongest on these pages in my mind is disdain. Percy hates this school. He doesn't want to be here. It's clearly a place they put "rejects" or people that don't fit, and what better way to emphasize that than by literally focusing on the ill-fitting furniture and inappropriate murals. The school doesn't care, and in turn the students don't care. Percy wants us to believe he doesn't care either. Whether that's true or not, isn't particularly important. What is important is how this is communicated to us.

If I remember correctly Percy never outright says anything negative about the school or mock it. In past books whenever he's disliked something he hasn't held back on mocking whatever it is or explaining just how and why he dislikes it. Despite a lack of mocking here, it's clear Percy doesn't care for the school and his lack of comment communicate this just as effectively as any cutting remark. This results in a feeling that Percy both hates his school and is too tired to mock it. He doesn't care enough, he can't think of anything to say that can't already be said in the simple description we're offered.

Now I'd like to talk to you about the frog mural. Percy has a strange fixation on what he describes as a picture of a "sick frog" because apparently this used to be the school nurses office. Why is this frog here? Why is Percy fixating on it? Of course the in-universe reason for the frog to be there is because its a bad school wall mural, but why did Rick decide to write that there is a sick frog on the wall in this office? Throughout the conversation with the guidance counselor Percy continously empathizes with the sad frog, and while it's definitely a joke, there's a sense of truth to the humor, a sort of genuine spark of "Percy" we don't see in the previous pages.

Next Percy gets flushed and sees his dad. While Percy's chapter titles have always been sarcastic, this one feels especially pointed. (No actual help occurs, or something like that) Percy is one of the few demigods that I would consider to have a positive relationship with his godly parent, yet Percy comes into this encounter ready to fight. He mocks his dad's fashion choice. This isn't his first time describing his father's "look," but it is the first time he does so derisively. He also implies his dad seems to care more about his home rennovations than anything else. Reading this scene I was left wondering, did something happen between these two? Or is it that something "didn't" happen?

The animosity Percy brings to this conversation feels excessive. Remembering the last time that he and Poseidon spoke (to our knowledge) was at the end of the HoO series, I was left wondering if Percy's resentment in this scene was a result of Percy wanting his dad to do more for him. I think Poseidon actually offers to flood Percy's school at some point during this conversation? I could be remembering wrong, but to me this seems like Poseidon is genuinely trying to make a caring gesture. To us it's obviously a completely inappropriate response, but this attempt at kindness only seems to irritate Percy further.

Now, this could be a me thing, but when I have my worst depressive episodes I start to engage in an activity I like to call "bridge burning." I think the reason I (and likely others) insitgate this behavior is out of a false sense that we've been wronged. When you are depressed, you're hurting. The people who you expect to help you in these moments are your friends and family. The problem with clinical depression is that your friends and family can't help you. If you haven't realized this, you may begin to feel increasingly frustrated as being with the people you love continuously fails to alleviate your negative feelings. This is when the lashing out begins. Depression makes you think people don't care about you. Lashing out at people is a way of "proving" this to yourself. It's simultaneously a call for help, like many self destructive behaviors are. And I'm the depressed person's mind it is deserved for the reasons previously stated.

My sense in this scene was that Percy perhaps feels like his dad is not doing enough for him. (No actual help occurs.) Whether that feeling is justified or not, we can't be certain. Either way it feels clear to me that Poseidon DOES care about Percy. He is trying to help him, even if the way he goes about it isn't in the way Percy wants or needs. Percy understandably comes away from this encounter feeling pretty crappy, but notably unlike Annabeth and Grover, whose reactions are of outrage and dismay, Percy's own feelings are just more tired frustration, like an "of course this would happen," reflecting a cynical self-defeating attitude typical of individuals suffering from depression.

Now lets focus on the plot of the book, and of the series overall. Percy is told essentially, that he has to "make up" for his continued existance. It goes without saying, but this is a REALLY crappy thing to say to someone. Can you imagine yourself telling ANY person that they don't deserve to exist? That they shouldn't exist? That they need to do something to prove they deserve to exist? Percy is rightfully upset at being told he needs to do these quests, but he seems to be upset because he's ALREADY done so much, not because the idea itself is insulting as hell. This leads us to wonder, does Percy actually feel he needs to prove his right to exist?

Obviously regardless of if he believes that, he clearly feels he's already proven it. But if you define the value of your life in terms of your usefullness to others, you are quickly going to run into trouble. For most of his life Percy has defined himself in tems of his relationships to others. Sally's son, Grover's best friend, Annabeth's ???? (didn't have a definition for this one until recently). Now he's heading into adult life and his goals are going to stop being defined by other people. He's going to have to find his own way forward. This is a time in many people's lives where they are left to wonder what they want to do and why they are here. Percy is literally presented with this question through Zeus. He is asked to define his own existence, and his rejection of this goal speaks to me of a clear lack of certainty regarding the future, regarding the reasons for his own existence.

The next significant moment in the book to me in relation to this theme is the aftermath of heebie jeebiesm which I may have spelled wrong. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover become little kids for a moment. Grover and Annabeth are understandable freaking out and begin to act a bit childishly. Percy, however, seems to act the same way he always has. While this is a pointed reminder at Percy's inability to be a child during his own childhood, it also reminds us these are the situations in which Percy is most comfortable. IE, the dangerous ones. Annabeth and Grover panic, but it feels like this is Percy in his natural element. And yet it's in the middle of a dangerous quest, something he actively does not want to be doing any longer.

There's a moment in Sea of Monsters where Percy says he's disappointed to have found that something he's really good at (sailing) is a useless skill. I wonder if he feels that way again now. He shines in these panicked moments of danger, but these dangerous moments have also caused him irrepairable harm and he rightfully no longer desires to engage in such activity. But what does he want to do? Annabeth sort of saves the day here with her chicken plan. and they are all restored to normal, but Percy leaves the encounter shaken. And he's shaken in a way I didn't anticipate and to be honest, didn't fully understand.

The scene with his mom on the balcony really shook me. Percy so rarely allows himself to be vulnerable around others. His mom is one of the few people he's comfortable showing weakness too, but he still resists that temptation nine times out of ten. Now, what happened to him earlier that day has shaken him so much that he confides in her, and nearly starts crying when she affirms that he's a good kid. Low self-worth is a key symptom of depression, and honestly this whole experience felt so innocous that I was surprised by how much it triggered these negative feelings in Percy, to the point where he even grew tearful about it!

This isn't the only time Percy gets tearful in this book either. The second time it happens? When his father tells him over the phone that he is proud of him. Both times Percy became emotional in this book it was because the people he loves and respects affirmed his self worth to him. This boy is struggling to see the positive things in himself and these two moments really sent that home for me.

The final thing I want to mention is the "battle" Percy has with the river spirit whose name I can't fucking remember. Percy seems to really give no shits about what happened in this encounter and considering he almost fucking died that seems WILD to me. He goes into the encounter with no plan, says some shit, gets the crap beat out of him and then nearly kills the river spirit in retaliation. Annabeth somehow is calm throughout and even brought tea. Did she plan for this? She didn't tell Percy the plan if so, or maybe she did and he just didn't care enough to relate it to us or even pay attention. The overall vibe throughout this whole scene is that he just doesn't care about what's happening, and again, that's that apathy I mentioned.

Jesus christ I wrote a lot. Sorry. @iamnotadumbdonut This is my real response, the other one was a mispost. I hope what I said makes sense!

some observations about the changes in Percy's personality in the chalice of the gods because im a fucking dumb fuck

if you've read chalice of the gods, (and if you haven't then just go and read it PLZ), it's pretty obvious that Percy's personality has become more "bby girl" sassy than his original "angsty skater boi" sassy. now i know I'm probably making excuses for rick's writing still, which changed considerably after writing 5 whole books from apollo's perspective, who is the canon bby girl btw, but some of his sass has transferred into Percy's personality. this could also be because of the natural change in Percy tho. for starters, he's growing up now. leaving the angsty angry teen years behind. obviously, his emotions are more in control. in chalice of the gods, it is indirectly stated he keeps his cool more than he did before. in the tower of Nero, he seems more amiable than he ever was, which just proves my boi has become a well rounded individual on the way to adulthood who has learnt to not be angry and childish. good for him.

another reason he's a lot happier than before, and i could be wrong, but i most definitely am not, is that Percy was pretty angry and snarky before he went into Tartarus, right up till MoA. and boom, in house of hades, he falls into Tartarus, gets hella traumatized, broken af and just fucking destroyed, and then he enters the mortal world again, all sappy and shit. most people think that he's all happy and so he's dumbed down in the blood of olympus in order to raise all the others to the pedestal, but isn't that how anyone will react after going to hell and back??? sure he was dark and all scary at first, but when that boy healed (almost completely, after all PTSD never really leaves you ) he was just so full of joy. because that's the rational way to go about it. compared to all the shit in Tartarus, any problem in the world was next to fucking NOTHING. no problem was too big because he has been to literal hell, and hence all his anger has died down and is just a little spark now, and so just pointing it out old Percy= snark/ impertinence (close enough eh) Percy in Tartarus= fucking broken lmao new Percy= lost most of his anger, a lot happier, nothing else. and hence a new equation is formed snark-anger=sass so now all that's left is sass it's also given in the dictionary that while sass is just playfully feisty, snark is supposed to rude. that's all. Percy hasn't been dumbed down. he's just happier and more carefree (again pointing out, not the same as careless, which Percy was before) wait wait wait yes

old Percy= careless new Percy=carefree careless + more responsible + more considerate - anxious =carefree

boom bitches im the psychological mathematician. ciao muahahhhhaahahaha