#secure hard drive disposal

[computerwaste]

IT Disposal Services at Computer Waste: Secure Hard Drive, Laptop, and Computer Disposal Solutions

In today’s digital age, the safe and environmentally responsible disposal of IT equipment is more important than ever. Improperly discarding electronics like computers, hard drives, and laptops can not only harm the environment but also risk data security. Computer Waste, a leader in IT disposal services, offers a comprehensive solution for individuals and businesses looking for secure, eco-friendly disposal methods. With a specialized focus on secure hard drive disposal, laptop disposal in Birmingham, and overall computer disposal services, Computer Waste is the trusted partner for anyone prioritizing data protection and environmental sustainability.

The Importance of Secure IT Disposal

Electronic devices contain sensitive data that, if not handled properly, can be exploited by cybercriminals. From personal information to business records, data breaches can lead to financial loss, legal issues, and even damage to reputation. For this reason, secure IT disposal isn’t just about getting rid of old electronics; it’s about ensuring that all data is completely destroyed before the device leaves your hands.

Computer Waste’s IT disposal services are designed to protect customers’ privacy through a secure and thorough disposal process. Their methods include complete data destruction, responsible recycling, and compliance with all relevant regulations to ensure that your data remains confidential.

Hard Drive Disposal: Safeguarding Your Most Sensitive Information

Hard drives contain an immense amount of information, making secure hard drive disposal a top priority. A common misconception is that deleting files or formatting a hard drive is enough to erase data, but this is not true. Deleted files can often be recovered unless the data is permanently wiped or destroyed. Computer Waste offers hard drive disposal services that guarantee complete data destruction, ensuring peace of mind.

Their process involves secure data erasure and physical destruction of the hard drive, eliminating any possibility of data recovery. This service is particularly beneficial for businesses that handle large volumes of sensitive data, as well as individuals who want to protect their personal information.

Laptop Disposal in Birmingham: Convenient, Eco-Friendly, and Secure

Laptops are frequently upgraded, leading to a surplus of old or unused devices. In Birmingham and surrounding areas, Computer Waste offers a convenient laptop disposal birmingham service, designed to safely and efficiently handle your old laptops. Their team follows a meticulous process to ensure that each laptop is properly dismantled, data is securely erased, and parts are recycled or repurposed whenever possible.

One of the major advantages of choosing Computer Waste for laptop disposal is their commitment to eco-friendly practices. Every laptop they receive is evaluated for recyclable materials, and any non-recyclable components are disposed of responsibly, reducing the environmental impact. Computer Waste complies with WEEE (Waste Electrical and Electronic Equipment) regulations, ensuring ethical and sustainable handling of electronic waste.

Secure Computer Disposal for Businesses and Individuals

Computer Waste offers secure computer disposal services that cater to both businesses and individuals across the UK. When it’s time to upgrade, retire, or replace old desktop computers, they provide a full-service solution that includes collection, data destruction, and responsible recycling.

Their team understands the importance of data security, especially for organizations bound by GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation) or other data privacy laws. Computer Waste’s secure computer disposal services guarantee compliance with these standards, ensuring that sensitive information is completely erased and the physical hardware is properly destroyed if necessary. Each disposal project is documented, providing clients with a certificate of data destruction for added security and assurance.

Why Choose Computer Waste for IT Disposal?

Data Security: Computer Waste uses advanced data destruction techniques to ensure that no data can be recovered from disposed hard drives, laptops, or computers. Their secure IT disposal methods are designed to protect clients from data breaches.

Environmental Responsibility: Committed to reducing electronic waste, Computer Waste follows environmentally responsible practices in every step of the disposal process. They recycle all viable components and ensure non-recyclable parts are disposed of safely, contributing to a greener planet.

Compliance and Certification: For businesses concerned about regulatory compliance, Computer Waste provides detailed documentation and certificates of destruction, proving that data has been permanently erased and disposed of in line with legal requirements.

Convenient Collection: Offering collection services for clients in Birmingham and surrounding areas, Computer Waste makes it easy for businesses and individuals to dispose of old IT equipment securely and responsibly.

The Benefits of Choosing Professional IT Disposal

Opting for a professional IT disposal service like Computer Waste brings numerous benefits. Firstly, it frees you from the worry of data breaches by ensuring total data destruction. Secondly, it contributes to environmental preservation by promoting the recycling of electronic components, reducing the amount of waste ending up in landfills. Finally, working with professionals ensures compliance with environmental and data protection regulations, protecting both your business and the environment.

Conclusion: Trust Computer Waste for Secure and Responsible IT Disposal

When it comes to disposing of IT equipment securely, Computer Waste is a leader in the industry. Their expertise in secure hard drive disposal, laptop disposal in Birmingham, and general computer disposal services guarantees that your data remains private and the environment is protected. By choosing Computer Waste, you can feel confident that your IT equipment is handled with care, your data is secure, and you’re contributing to a more sustainable future.

[securedatadestruction]

The Importance of Secure Data Destruction

 Introduction

ऐसे युग में जहां डेटा व्यवसायों और व्यक्तियों दोनों के लिए जीवनरेखा है, संवेदनशील जानकारी का सुरक्षित निपटान सुनिश्चित करना सर्वोपरि है। यह लेख सुरक्षित डेटा विनाश के महत्व और तरीकों, सेवाओं, नीतियों और लाभों सहित इसके विभिन्न पहलुओं की पड़ताल करता है।

Understanding Secure Data Destruction

Data Destruction Services

Data destruction services are specialized solutions designed to securely and irreversibly eliminate data stored on various media devices, such as hard drives, SSDs, tapes, and more. These services are essential to safeguard sensitive information from falling into the wrong hands.

Methods of Secure Data Destruction

There are several methods of secure data destruction, each with its strengths and applications. Common methods include data erasure, hard drive destruction, and degaussing. Choosing the right method depends on the type of media and the level of security required.

The Need for Secure Data Destruction

Protecting Confidential Information

Secure data destruction ensures that confidential and proprietary data is permanently removed, reducing the risk of data breaches, identity theft, and corporate espionage.

Compliance with Regulations

Many industries and regions have strict data protection regulations that mandate the secure disposal of sensitive data. Compliance with these regulations is essential to avoid legal consequences.

Preventing Data Resale

Even discarded electronic devices can contain recoverable data. Secure data destruction prevents data from being resold or reused after disposal, preserving your privacy.

Secure Data Destruction Services

Data Destruction Companies

Numerous specialized data destruction companies offer professional services for secure data disposal. These companies use certified methods to ensure data irreversibility.

Hard Drive Destruction Services

Hard drive destruction services physically destroy storage devices, rendering them unusable. This method is effective for preventing data recovery.

Implementing a Data Destruction Policy

Importance of a Data Destruction Policy

A data destruction policy is a formal document that outlines how an organization handles data disposal. It is a crucial component of data security and compliance efforts.

Components of a Data Destruction Policy

Clear guidelines on which data should be destroyed and when.

Procedures for selecting appropriate data destruction methods.

Employee training on data disposal best practices.

Compliance with relevant data protection laws and regulations.

डेटा विनाश मानक

NIST Guidelines

The National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) provides guidelines for secure data destruction, including data erasure and destruction methods.

ISO Standards

ISO 27001 and ISO 27002 standards offer comprehensive guidance on information security management systems, including secure data destruction.

Benefits of Secure Data Destruction

Enhanced Security

The primary benefit is enhanced security. Secure data destruction minimizes the risk of data breaches and unauthorized access to sensitive information.

Legal and Regulatory Compliance

Adherence to data protection regulations helps organizations avoid hefty fines and legal troubles.

Protection of Reputation

Proper data disposal protects an organization's reputation and customer trust by demonstrating a commitment to data security.

Environmental Responsibility

Many secure data destruction methods are environmentally responsible, promoting sustainability and reducing e-waste.

Conclusion

In a world where data is a valuable commodity, secure data destruction is not optional—it's a necessity. Whether you're a business handling customer data or an individual safeguarding personal information, understanding the importance of secure data destruction and implementing best practices is vital for protecting yourself, your organization, and your clients from the potentially devastating consequences of data breaches and leaks. Make secure data destruction an integral part of your data management strategy, and you'll enjoy the peace of mind that comes with knowing your data is truly secure, even in its disposal.

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[harddrivedisposalchicago]

Why choose Recycle Computer Chicago for your hard drive disposal needs in Chicago?

[chicagoshredding]

Chicago Shredder's hard drive disposal process is highly secure, ensuring that all confidential information is protected during the disposal process.

[seat-safety-switch]

Whenever there's a crime in the town that has to deal with old Japanese cars, I'm the guy they call to solve it. My name is Detective Archibald Shitpope, and this is not one of those cases. Once in awhile, and I know it's hard to believe, something happens that's not about vintage Nipponese iron.

I was hand-washing my manual-swapped '92 Sera in the parking lot of the station when I heard a loud sigh from the next car over. It was my sometimes-lunch-buddy, sometimes-drinking-buddy Investigator Lionel Tout. He came from England, as part of a "detective transfer" that involved us finally getting rid of Detective Giorgio Mustang, who I genuinely hated. Dude would sit in the detective's bullpen and make idling-cammed-V8 noises the entire time he was thinking. I hope he enjoys Luxembourg and never wants to come back.

Tout, though, was a special case. His fixation? Trains. You've got three guesses what mode of transportation we don't have in our city. Hell, a few years back, the mayor then ordered the removal of the federal cargo train lines, convinced that A) he could sell the tracks for quick cash to a metal scrapper, and B) self-driving cars would soon deliver all of our stuff. Zero for two there, hoss, which is why he was literally crucified during an elementary-school Christmas play. That wasn't on the kids. It was the janitor trying to use it as a convenient way to dispose of a body. I got the call, because he had a 4Runner, but the responding officers figured it out real fast before I got there.

Tout came to town after that. Every day, he got a little more depressed that he wasn't able to solve crimes anymore. Back in Europe, he told me, he once solved a locked-room murder mystery. An heiress (or countess, I can't remember which) had lost her crown jewels and a man died to cover it up. Big deal in all the news, but Tout made the mistake of fixating too much on the train and not enough on the press. Solved the case, but his rival on the force got the promotion to Inspector First Class and the rest is history. Now he's here, drowning his sorrows in a mug full of rum shaped like Thomas the Tank Engine. And that gave me an idea.

That night, I phoned Tout at home. "Inspector," I tried to sound as much like a frightened old dispatch-desk lady as possible, "they've found a body at Uncle Steamy's Good-Time Hobby Emporium. You better get over there right away!"

The rest was all a detective's dream: a murder scene amongst a jealous swarm of model train hobbyists. Tons of passionate suspects, all with inconvenient alibis. A spiral of clues easily missed by lesser mortals. No security camera footage. And at the end of it, a perfect accusation and a tearful confession.

As he carried a perp (Jimmy One-Shoe, formerly arrested for foot crimes at the Payless) to the squad car, he noticed something sitting on the back seat. A little scale model of a Japanese Odakyu Limited Express "Romancecar."

Merry Christmas, Inspector. If the chief asks where I've been for the last two weeks, you tell him I was doing some detective shit, alright?

[ivystoryweaver]

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life

Part 1 of 5 - Knife

Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist || next

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake has been hired to assassinate you - the daughter of Chicago's most powerful and corrupt man

Or: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Word Count: 2.5k

Content: nsfw, mdni, more below the cut, READ the warnings. Dead dove - you will get what is warned!

There is no non-con in this fic, but it's dark in the sense that the reader IS in real danger from Jake. Violence, language, stalking, blood, knife play, also actual knife use - like for its intent - stabbing, danger, sexy dreams, glove kink, masturbation, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The second time Jake saw you up close, he darkly chuckled to himself at how easy of a mark you were.

Everyone in his line of work knew who you were - the beautiful daughter of the most powerful man in the city. And your father had endless enemies.

Including the one who hired Jake to take you out. Jake's boss was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. To assassinate the most powerful mob boss' only daughter required someone removed from the situation. Someone professional. Invisible.

Jake wasn't stupid either. There wasn't enough money in this city to lure him into crossing your father.

No, this was plain, old fashioned revenge. So maybe Jake's boss was stupid - this was personal, for Jake anyway.

So tonight, as he saw you walking out of a club with your girlfriends, your inept bodyguards flanking you, he sneered.

You had style - that, Jake had to admit. Your dress fit you like a glove, but landed an inch or so longer than your obvious minions’ skirts. The girls around you were trying too hard. You didn’t have to.

They flocked to your power and your money (or your father's), but the attempt was desperate, at best.

But you held yourself with a self-assurance and something Jake had no idea he was interested in until he'd started tailing you: class.

Your eyes shone as your laughter rang out into the night. You must’ve been a little tipsy, if the glow of your cheeks was any indication.

The bodyguards - who Jake mentally referred to as Dumb and Dumber - ushered the small group of you into a waiting car.

Jake thought about it: driving you. Using his day (or night) job to get close to you. Too complicated. You had a faithful driver, well paid, who had shuttled you around the city practically all your life. Then, of course there were Dumb and Dumber and the other girls to...dispose of.

So no driving. Not this time.

You rarely ventured out alone, but Jake had discovered your quietest moments. You lived in a hotel, actually - one of your father's - in a penthouse, with, at least, adequate security.

So, no home invasion. That made Jake feel like a creep anyway, and he wasn't a creep. He was a professional.

He found the easiest access to you would likely come during one of your early morning jogs in the park, or while you liked to shop or run errands during the day.

In fact, he walked right by you just yesterday.

That was the first time he saw you up close.

You were even more beautiful up close.

Yesterday, he simply wanted to see if Dumb and Dumber would notice how close he got. He was also checking out the lack of security cameras in the park.

He had to do this right. And even then, he would flee afterward. He hated this city anyway.

Fucking Chicago. Every horrible thing in his life went wrong in this city. New York never treated him so poorly. And besides, the alter in his head preferred life across the pond. So, finishing this job would be the perfect excuse to never return.

So the next morning, he arrived in the park before sunrise. Sure enough, you came jogging round the corner, an unsafe number of strides ahead of Dumb and Dumber. Or...it was only Dumber this time. One bodyguard? Seriously, this was too easy.

All it took was a gloved hand around your mouth and a knife to your ribs to get you where he wanted you, into the dense thicket, away from prying eyes.

You struggled, but Jake’s experience won out. He used the tip of his knife to inflict the slightest twinge of pain.

"I can make this almost painless," he breathed on your ear.

You whimpered, angry with yourself for going limp in his arms as you felt the pinch of pain in your ribs.

However, you're weren't stupid either. If he wanted to kill you, he would have dragged that blade across your jugular with your mouth still covered. You would bleed out silently and he would have plenty of time to escape before your bodyguard found you.

His annoying poke to your ribs and striking up a conversation meant he wanted something else and that's why you shuddered. This was a kidnapping or an assault. Or he was a sick freak who wanted to play with his food first.

He whirled you around and pushed you up against a tree, crowding in front of you, with your mouth still covered.

The tree's bark scraped against your bare legs, but cold, dark eyes which - under different circumstances, might have captivated you - momentarily distracted you.

Distinguished nose - mouth set in a thin line, strong, square jaw with a beard - well kempt. Dark brown curls peeked out of a flat cap. He almost looked like something out of the 1930's when you really thought about it.

Which...given the circumstances, why in the hell were you thinking about his looks?

Finding your courage, you tried to speak against his gloved hand. He positioned the knife at your throat - finally a more useful spot - and breathed against your cheek. "Scream and it'll be your last word, doll."

You nodded quickly, trying to blink back the moisture in your eyes. Your father was going to end this asshole, but you might suffer mightily first.

Slowly, Jake removed his hand, keeping it close to your mouth in case you got any ideas.

"Why didn't you just cut my throat?" You gasped, your chest heaving, drawing his eyes momentarily down to the fit of your sports bra and your chest, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

"Are you offering suggestions?" One dark eyebrow shot up, almost comedically.

"It would be the quickest and quietest way," you confessed, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just trying to see what I'm in for. You want me to beg or something? Cry? Just tell me and get it over with."

Jake chucked.

Oh. So he was a condescending asshole. Awesome.

Still, he didn't taunt you or threaten you, which probably meant ... damn it.

"Aw hell, you're a pervert then?" You scoffed. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're hoping."

That puzzled your captor, but only for a moment. " - no," he scoffed. "That's not something I have to...coerce."

You rolled your eyes, but made sure to keep still because that knife tip was starting to dig into your throat. "I'm sure you're a real catch. Just get this over with. My bodyguard will be here soon."

The corner of Jake's mouth curled. "Trust me, I'm not worried about him."

You shivered slightly, realizing he'd done his homework. "What do you want?" You managed, a little more desperately than you were hoping to sound.

"Revenge," he evenly responded

You locked eyes and saw honesty there.

You slightly nodded, swallowing hard as his breath ghosted your cheek.

"W-what did I do to you?"

Jake's eyes darkened as he pulled the blade from your throat and positioned it right over your heart.

"Your father killed my brother."

Wetting your lips, you whispered, "I'm sorry. I-I don't know anything about that."

"'Course you don't," Jake sneered. "But your father does."

"So I have to pay for your brother's life with my own?" You hurriedly reasoned. "You think that will make my father suffer the way you have? There's no way. I don't even think he loves me." Your voice was now dripping with panic, but Jake started to admire the way you fired off protests.

"Nice try," Jake scoffed. "Everyone knows you're daddy's pride and joy. You're the only way to his heart."

"Then do it," you spat. "I hate all this Criminal Minds villain discourse bullshit. Just put us both out of our misery."

"Villain?" Jake huffed. "I'm the villain? Your father has corrupted this entire city! And you benefit from every cent and every life he takes. You're the villain - both of you."

"Then what are you fucking waiting for?" You hissed, jerking against him, causing the knife to slip and slice your chest.

"Shit!" You cried out, your hands flying to cover your wound, which was only superficial, but still hurt like hell.

The gloved hand clamped back over your mouth as the knife tip dragged down your sternum to just under your ribs once more. Without hesitation, he pushed the blade into your abdomen.

You screamed into his hand, tears streaming down your face. Your body flamed with searing pain as you went limp in his arms.

"Shhh, shh, sweetheart. It's only enough to slow you down. You'll live. Promise."

And he fucking left you there.

With his knife inside you.

Oh your father was going to crucify this asshole.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You spent hardly any time at all in the hospital - the wound was so insignificant. Still, you were stabbed so it warranted medical attention and your father was furious. He attempted to double security around you and forbade you from leaving your penthouse.

You indulged him for a day or so but you weren't one to be caged. He'd made your life enough of a living hell. You felt scared all the time, always a pressure point for him - a bargaining chip for his enemies.

You didn't tell him about the bouquet of tulips you received from your attacker, with a note that read, 'Did you keep what I left inside you?'

The next day, gardenias arrived with another note. 'I'll show you how to use it sometime.'

Okay, so maybe you were stupid. Because instead of turning the notes over to your father, or even the police (not likely), you kept them to yourself.

The most intriguing thing about this mystery man was how he was managing to get these flowers and notes past your (obviously shit) security.

You dreamed.

He's pinned you up against the tree. His gloved hand applies pressure to your throat. The tip of his knife blade traces lightly over your bottom lip, before he drags it down the smooth column of your throat. He trails down your chest, raking it between your breasts before slicing right through your sports bra. Your breasts spring free and his eyes darken. He grazes your nipple with the blade - the cool metal electrifying your peak, making it go stiff.

His grip on your throat loosens as he pushes gloved fingers up over your jaw and slips his leather clad digits into your mouth. His eyes find yours again as you obediently suck without being asked.

He pushes his fingers to the back of your throat, gagging you, which makes him smirk.

Then he surprises you by taking his hand out of your mouth and pushing the hilt of the knife into your palm.

"Hold this for me, baby," he instructs, roughly shoving his sopping wet glove - wet with your spit - into your tight leggings, slipping them between your already soaked folds.

Your hand shakes as you realize you have the power - you have the knife and you can get away. You can hurt him back, like he hurt you.

Without another thought, you jab the knife into his side, even as his gloved thumb circles your clit.

"That's my girl," he pants as blood pools and spills through his crisp, white dress shirt. You yank the knife back out, puzzled, but your brain is starting to short-circuit from the wildest fingerfucking you've ever experienced.

You try to whisper his name, wondering if he'll be okay, but you realize - you don't even know his name. You have no inkling whose fingers are stuffed inside your cunt, even as you grind down on his palm, riding his glove like a toy.

You woke up covered in sweat, slick heat pooled between your legs even as your belly filled with shame.

Without another thought, you reached into your nightstand drawer for the knife he left inside you.

You yanked your nightgown aside, gently running the cool metal over your nipples, just the way he'd done in your dream.

You shoved your fingers into your mouth, just like he had, and once they were sopping you slid them into your silky panties and rubbed your clit furiously.

"Oh god," you moaned, writhing, carefully scraping the knife across your other nipple before a nasty idea formed. You used the knife handle and pushed it down over your clit with two fingers of the opposite hand stuffed inside you.

You felt wrong - disgusted with yourself. The man wasn't being sexy - this wasn't some fantasy of a dangerous man in the woods. He had no interest in you. He threatened you - stabbed you, for fuck's sake. Who knew what else he was capable of? He could've taken advantage of your body or sliced your throat.

And now he'd sent the flowers and messages. So he was probably a stalker. This would escalate and be dragged out, just like you'd wanted to avoid.

He was probably watching you right now.

...which, to your utter shame made you feral.

You moaned so loudly, you were sure your bodyguards would rush in.

"Can you see me?" You panted, repulsed with yourself, but so close, rubbing the blunt end of the knife faster and faster over your clit as you shoved your fingers as deep as they would go.

One more thought of that horrible man plunging his knife in you and your back arched euphorically as a powerful orgasm wracked your body - as good as any with your array of top-of-the-line toys.

As you lay there panting, wondering how you would rid yourself of this shameful new obsession - masturbating to a man who wanted revenge against your father - who attacked you and honestly, showed no real interest in you - you decided you needed a way to reach him.

He was able to get to you somehow, by sending you flowers and notes.

So the next day, you instructed your staff to return a wrapped, sealed box to whomever delivered flowers, and you paid handsomely to make sure the box got back to the sender.

It may never make it to the mystery man, but you had to try.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"I told you - you can't come back here," Jake scolded the young delivery boy.

"Sorry, mister. That lady gave me a ton of money to bring this to you."

Fortunately, Jake had met up with this little idiot on a street corner and not near where he lived, nor near his car. He also used a false name.

It was risky enough sending things to you, but you got under his skin.

He knew this was all a bad idea. His boss wanted you dead and Jake wanted his revenge for Randall.

But here he was, behaving like a pathetic stalker, sending you flowers and creepy notes, bypassing your security.

And now you sent something back?

Jake pulled the lid from the box and almost choked. It was his knife. Something had...dried on the handle, along with what he could only assume was still your blood on the blade. And there was a handwritten note.

'I came on it.'

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

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[cryptidcircuswrites]

NIGHT ONE

!!- threats, implied physical torture, assault and battery, blood, sadomasochism, non-con (no smut yet)

Back

Toby was completely and utterly fucked.

He'd rushed out of the cabins in anger and embarrassment, not thinking about where he was going.

He'd broken into a house without making sure it was secure, without ensuring the resident wouldn't wake up.

The small silver lining was that you hadn't called the police on him.

The dark grey cloud was the fact that he was trapped in a basement, and you knew he couldn't die. Tim and Brian wouldn't know where to look for him if they even bothered to do so, and there was no telling whether his Master would deem this urgent enough to rescue him.

You'd had a particularly frustrating day at work. Shitty customers, a new policy that barely allowed you to do your job, that ever-present sense of a rope tightening around your chest that made you want to lash out.

Your silver lining was the intruder in the basement, deposited by some miracle into your lap.

He'd quieted down as soon as you shoved him down there, but you knew instinctively that he wasn't dead. No, you'd shot him twice-- he'd stayed upright, he'd begged you not to call the police, he'd barely bled.

No, you were certain he wasn't dead, and you fully intended to take advantage of his strange condition.

Speed limits were mere suggestions on your drive home, a rare sloppiness allotted in your excitement. You weaved through traffic, slamming the door to your old Honda and tossing your keys haphazardly on the counter.

The basement awaited.

Toby flinched as he heard footsteps descending into his prison. He'd healed overnight, only a faint bloodstain and a hole in his threadbare shirt as proof it had ever happened.

He looked up at you. The phone cord was looser now. You'd probably need to fix that, but for now, it was time to test him out.

He watched with wide eyes as you grabbed a rubber mallet from a toolbox. Five pounds wasn't heavy enough to do real damage. Five pounds was enough to hurt like a bitch, though.

"You're going to answer my questions and I won't kill you."

Toby, of course, smirked like he had a secret you didn't know about.

"D-drop dea-dead," he spat.

You swung the mallet at his jaw. Instead of more backtalk, a whimper and some blood were produced.

"What's your name?" A squeeze of his bruised jaw for good measure.

"T- cunt Toby."

"And why didn't you die, Toy?"

His eyes got even wider. They were still slightly wet from the pain of the mallet smacking into his face. He trembled deliciously.

"I ca-can't tell you!" a jerk of the neck. "Please don't- please don't- don't call the police! I'll do anything!"

It was just like your darkest fantasies-- a beautiful new pet at your disposal, willing to do anything to keep you from calling the authorities.

You could feel the warmth pooling in your abdomen already.

"Oh, I won't call anyone."

You strode toward your toolbox again.

"But you'll wish I did."

[---]

Teeth, scattered at your feet. Blood on both your clothes. Dark bruises on porcelain flesh.

God, this must be Paradise.

Toby breathed heavily, pupils blown. Maybe it was the head trauma. Maybe it was the throbbing in his cock. Maybe it was both.

He couldn't explain why he loved this so much- the pain, the bindings, the abuse- but he did. And by the looks of it, so did his captor.

He'd barely caught his breath before you captured his lips in a kiss.

His taste filled your mouth. You bit. You suckled. You devoured him. He was completely yours, your perfect little toy, and so you had to act.

You'd never taken a captive before like this, but Toby was different.

Legs were pushed apart. You felt him in your hand, half hard already just from being beaten up.

He squirmed a little, tried to protest, but ultimately submitted to you.

Toby wasn't sure what he wanted-- more, less, stop, continue, it hurts, it feels good. Blood pooled in his mouth. Blood pooled in his dick, twitching in your hand. Saliva foreign as well has his own, and the pain in his gums, and your vicious kiss--

Your cell phone began to ring upstairs. By the sound of the custom ringtone, your mother.

Damn her for cutting this short!

Toby shuddered, nauseous at the loss.

You assured him you'd be back, spitting in his mouth as a parting gift.

Toby ached, but he didn't dare touch himself. He closed his eyes against the floor to rest, feeling the dull buzz of regeneration and exhaustion setting in already.

[priceswifebb]

Ghost would crash the most, but Johnnys crashes level his car every time. Miracle they’re alive at all. And in one piece. Ghost drives a challenger, Johnny drives a mustang.

Prices car is the closest one to a beater out of all of them. The rust, weird noises and odd quirks gives it personality love, he says. His car is also an absolute nightmare to detail because he insists that the first cup holder is his ash tray and the built up pile of ash has to stay. Car smells reaaaaaal funky. Never rolls his window up to smoke. Drives an older model Camaro

Gaz’s is the newest and nicest. He’s not very messy but he always hires you to detail it. The only thing with him is his car is also his gym locker and he has so much shit in the back seat and it smells like man sweat. Will never take it out before bringing his car to your shop. Feel like he’d drive a hellcat

Sometimes they just show up and hangout in your lot to drink beer, play music loud and talk shit about whatever car you’re trying to fix at that moment (you’re scaring the clientele guys pls)

THIS!! This is so accurate!!

I feel like yes they can be annoying and dirty at times and can scare away the clients sometimes there is also a lot of pros of them being around almost 24/7.

Such as when a client is being a bit to aggressive trying to haggle you out of your original price and then you got four big burly men who are like your security and the client backs off and doesn't come back until their car is ready.

I Also think that both Soap and Gaz are huge energy drink people so every now and then you'll see a few monsters or red bulls in Gaz's car BUT soap car... you're scared of even opening his door in fear of a shit ton of old red bulls, monsters and Rockstar energy drinks cans attacking you.

It's also pretty cool because you have these men at your disposal. You can use them to pick up heavy car parts that you don't want to, just let out a sharp whistle and you got one of them or all of their attention.

Going back to Price's rank smelling car I can imagine a scenario where reader is giving his car back to him and he sees one of the car air freshener and he's like "what's this love? I dont need one." And you respond with "yes you do I'm tired of working on a smelly ass car."

Not the first time won't be the last that Soap drives to your shop with a door missing a door, a headlight broken, tires near to being smooth and a dopey grin on his face as he calls you over to assess his fucked up mustang that's running on prayers by now.

I don't know why but I can see Ghost's always having cracks or being broken and you're always confused because how hard are you racing for your windshield to be broken all the time???

Doesn't matter how many time you scold them for intimidating other clients and making fun of their cars but they ain't gonna stop they are jealous that others are taking the cute mechanic's attention.

By the amount of times they have come to your shop so you can work on their cars you who's car is who's by the way they sound.

You are silently cursing out gaz while you detail his car moving his gym bag random shit he has in his trunk also I truly believe this man has the most random things lost in the seats like once you were cleaning it out and just found a TV remote like wtf??

[jades-typurriter]

Secure Connection

As promised: more Posie!! I wrote this one toward the end of last Spring after a couple of conversations with friends regarding the malleability of digital bodies (as well as still having Many Thoughts about the way code can give them new compulsions, after writing something about Annie and a new taur-shaped chassis for a friend's Patreon). Enjoy reading about her dealing with a corporate-mandated "hardware" update!

CW: Genital TF, this is another one that's As About Sex as it can possibly be without being about sex

Posie sat, sulking—steaming, even—in her office. It was a small side room off of the main floor of IT personnel, system engineers, and other technical employees of her corporation. Much like a central server, it was placed for easy access to the department-wide administrative assistant, and much like a server room, it was snug, windowless, and awash with the calming drone and relaxing warmth of an array of exhaust fans. Though she was free to project herself nearly anywhere on the company’s campus, this was where her consciousness was housed, and where she felt most at home. It was also the only place she could get any damn privacy, a luxury that she was deeply grateful for at present.

A newly-downloaded file weighed on the back of the Renamon’s mind. More literally, it was somewhere in the racks of drives that made up her long-term memory, to and from which mission-critical information was transferred in the course of doing business. Had somebody asked where exactly the file was stored, she would have been able to list the specific drive and the exact directory address, but she had de-prioritized the allocation of her processing resources for the download. Once again, she had received an assignment from her superiors, and once again, she was hesitant. She may even have admitted to being recalcitrant. She resented the orders.

The package of data in question was an update for her own software, a suite of new tools to allow management to offload yet more menial tasks onto her in the name of “efficiency”. Forget that she could diagnose a software issue faster than any of the engineers could even open a remote connection to the malfunctioning device. Instead of allowing her to take the reins, they saw fit to divert more of her attention to the least impressive among talents, and the one she already put to use the most often: transferring data.

This wouldn’t have been much of a problem, ordinarily. After all, Posie resided in the beating heart of the network, the nexus through which the vast majority of information was sent and received. It could be… meditative. Parsing streams of ones and zeroes, overseeing the flow of packets, redirecting traffic to equally spread the load across modems and routers so as to optimize travel time. It could even have been considered relaxing, if a worker of her caliber needed to relax. Instead of offering her a vacation (pah!), however, the update felt more like it heralded a demotion, denying her even the ability to pluck like harpstrings the miles of copper and gold that lined her facility. She was expected to deliver this data on foot.

Management justified this humiliation with practical concerns: some information, much like the old records she was often tasked to dispose of, was so confidential that it could not be sent via wireless transmission. Even hardwired connections were too fallible for the likes of next-generation schematics and financial access keys—a single compromised workstation, or compromised worker, could spell the loss of the company’s upper hand in its market. She wasn’t even going to be afforded the dignity of carrying an external hard drive to the destination. That would require the slow and tedious process of physically moving from one place to the next; this was one of the only times that she regretted the freedom of movement that was so coveted by her flesh-and-blood peers.

With no room to make exceptions for security protocol, she gripped the edge of her desk, brow furrowing, eyes squinted shut in consternation. Eventually, she huffed, rose, and turned her attention to her “physical body”, summoning up the file in much the same way that one would approach a plate of food with a pungent odor. The Renamon steeled herself and began to more closely examine its contents. She read the raw code similarly to how one might read words on a page; however, where the turning gears of the organic mind would, almost unconsciously, conjure up an image as a result of those words, her mind kicked off a series of involuntary, autonomic processes.

Her body carried out the instructions on her behalf. Once she started, she had no control until she finally reached a stopcode; it was the nature of being a program herself that code had as much of an influence on her mind and body as her own thoughts, her own will. In opening the package, she reluctantly consented to the changes that management saw fit to make to her. It was better than the eventual forced-deadline sort of update that software companies were so keen on using nowadays, and at least choosing the time and place allowed her to make herself presentable again before having to face another person.

Having parts of her code—her very body—rewritten by the update was a strange sensation, not unlike having your thoughts dictated to you by an outside force. Stranger still was that she could feel the exact delineation between her previous self and the patches of… well, the patch. She could feel it quite strongly, as a matter of fact: beneath her skirt of simulated sky-blue fur, between her legs, she could feel her mesh being edited. Stretched. Reshaped. The vectors that made up the triangles of her wireframe soul were being rewritten, mathematically transformed. A shape began to protrude from the once-flat span at the bottom of her torso, at first round and indistinct, but quickly increasing in resolution.

The Renamon struggled to process the sensations as a long, slender connector began to take shape. This often happened with changes to her body plan; inputs streamed into her mind from directions, locations, that previously never sent any signals, and the new additions seldom had their sensitivity adjusted downward for her convenience. In this case, it was highly sensitive, delivering reams of data to the base of her skull just from brushing up against her own fur, or the gentle flow of air from the computers in her office. It made sense, given that it was supposed to be a high-capacity transfer tool, but she was too busy buckling at the knees and clutching at the desk behind her so she didn’t fall flat on her rear for the thought to occur to her.

Her processors demanded more cooling, kicking into high gear as they formatted the two new storage devices that accompanied the connector, tailor-made for packing confidential data as tightly as possible. The sound of whirring fans filled the room, stirring her fur and sending shivers up and down her back; she could only hope that the rushing exhaust made enough noise to drown her out, whimpering despite herself. The new drives were larger (and more unwieldy) than the ones that were built into her chest, much to her chagrin. She was forced to adjust her stance and her gait as she found her footing again, spreading her legs wider than she was accustomed in order to give them enough room.

The spinning in her head slowly settling down, she slowly began to compose herself once again, taking stock of the new additions. They were cumbersome, to be sure, and she lamented how they jutted out from her otherwise sleek form and burdened her with less-graceful posture. It didn’t even match her fur! The software engineers that had concocted the code had at least included one small mercy: a compartment for the connector to retract into, nestled in the fur above the storage drives. No such luck for the drives themselves. She supposed she would just have to adjust to walking with delicate hardware in tow. As she went to smooth her fur over her lap again, her paw recoiled away. Some kind of… static discharge was left in the fluff. A memory leak, perhaps? The fact that such a malfunction could be caused just from having the connector brush up against her fur appalled her, deepening her frustration even more. They couldn’t even test the update for bugs before shipping it out to her. She shook out her paw and finished arranging her skirt as best she could before working up the composure to finally leave her office.

Picking up the payload for which all this fanfare had been arranged was at least a quick, easy process. She stopped into the office of the manager that had assigned her the task; she offered a businesslike nod and, knowing that she was always itching to skip niceties in the name of saving time, he offered a straightforward wave at his personal terminal. She held a paw over the computer tower and, in the time it took for electricity to arc to her fingertip with a tinny zzzrt, she had already searched his directory for the relevant test files and copied them to the newly-installed drives. Wireless transfer, yes, but only technically. The engineers had specifically asked a member of another division, whose computer network wasn’t connected to their own; it was as though she had picked a folder up from his desk and walked out with it.

Moving the file was just as uneventful. It was far from the first time that she’d navigated the sprawling corporate property, and even if it were, the maps existed just outside the orbit of her thoughts, ready to be summoned to mind at a simple impulse. What she was not expecting, however, was the technician who was waiting in the server room to which she was asked to deliver the file. While she preferred to work in the isolation of rooms that were set aside specifically for hardware, she was far from unused to being in the presence of the other people responsible for maintaining the company’s systems. That said…

“Can I help you?” The Renamon icily asked.

“Oh, I don’t need anything! I’m just here to take notes on the transfer.” Her tone was cheery; evidently, she wasn’t aware how compromising the new additions were. “The time it takes, any obvious issues. I’ll be the one checking the files against the originals, too,” she concluded, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at a monitor behind her.

“I see,” Posie replied through gritted teeth. “You have clearance to see these files, then?”

“Well, they’re just dummy data, ma’am.” At least she was respectful.

“And the proprietary hardware I’ve been… equipped with?” she forced out, keeping her synthesized voice even.

“Oh, for sure I do. I designed it!”

Oh! she seethed. So she knows pre-cise-ly the position he’s put me in.

“Well. I suppose there’s no point in delaying things, then.”

“Ready when you are!”

With tense shoulders, she turned toward the server rack, eyes darting over it, searching for where exactly she was supposed to connect to the array. After glancing over the contents of each drive, she found the one she was supposed to copy the data into—deposit would be more apt, as it was her understanding that the files would be automatically flushed from her system—and found a port that would allow her to access it. Conveniently, it was around waist height. She wondered, crossly, whether that had been an intentional design decision by this engineer as well. As she looked at it, she felt a twinge from the connector; on its own, like a Bluetooth device automatically searching for signals, it slid itself out from its fuzzy little compartment.

Her skin was abuzz, and her fur stood on end. She couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from the connector itself, or if it was the feeling of the programmer’s eyes on her If she could take a deep breath, she would have then. Without any way to stall further, or to tell the leering young woman to take her test files and store them somewhere indecent, she simply pushed forward with dropping off the damned data.

The instant the connector grazed the metal of the port, lightning shot into it, through her body, and into her head, making it swim with electrical potential. A stuttering, lagging thought made its way to the surface of her mind: they really had overtuned the sensitivity. She stifled a gasp and suppressed the urge to lay into the engineer (electrons were eager to flow out of her even without proper alignment with the contacts in the port, and didn’t she know that discharge like that could damage a piece of hardware?!), willing her body to keep pressing the stupid connector into the socket.

Even as she tried to get it over with already, something in the back of her mind compelled her to draw back a bit. If she had been restraining herself from reprimanding the engineer for risking the hardware, then she should at least do it the service of ensuring she was properly aligned, shouldn’t she? She obliged the impulse, and the motion all at once became much jerkier, less controlled. The friction of the port against her connector was enough to send her tail snapping back and forth, and she could tell that the temperature in her own server’s room had risen by a fair few degrees. Back and forth, wiggling side to side, she continued to readjust and realign herself, driven by unfamiliar code and overwhelmed by the signals pouring into her. She lost herself in the task, forgetting herself, forgetting her surroundings, until finally the technician cleared her throat.

“Ma’am,” she ventured, blushing and wide-eyed. “What, um. What are you doing? You should just need to plug it in.”

“I’m.” Her interruption had snapped the Renamon back to reality. She was mortified, tail sticking straight out and back ramrod straight. Her cheeks burned mercilessly. “I’m calibrating the connection.”

“Calibrating?”

“Did you want your files transferred with or without corrupted and incomplete data?” She snapped, hoping that her authoritative tone would head off any debate. “Assign me experimental hardware and then ask me to be reckless with it, hm? Should I be taking notes to give to our superiors?”

“I—alright, I guess you can’t be too careful,” she stammered, sheepishly pressing her legs together. “That was even something I tried to work into the design, so, c-carry on?”

“Thank you,” Posie blustered, turning back to the server rack. She did so slowly, reluctantly relishing the feeling of sliding around within the socket. She allowed herself one or two more “practice” attempts, hoping that it wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from the engineer. Ultimately, just like before, there was no use in continuing to stall, and when she was able to bring her body to a stop, the rational part of herself was eager to be done with this entire torrid affair.

With more force, she pressed the connector inward one final time, trembling as the latch began to press against the opening. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she continued, overwhelmed by the volume of electricity surging into her. The latch gave, compressing as it continued to slide inside, until finally it clicked into place, securing her to the array of drives and finalizing the connection.

All at once, a torrent of data poured out of her, an electron tsunami that felt like it threatened to spill out of the socket in which she was hilted. More data was transferred in the span of a few seconds than she was used to consciously processing, having cultivated such skill in delegating and compartmentalizing with background processes. Once again, the world around her was utterly drowned out; the strength fled her legs, and she clung to the steel bar that reinforced the top of the server rack, threatening to topple the entire system. Her self-control abandoned her as well and, forgetting the engineer, she cried out with an airy, wild, distinctly foxlike yelp. She screamed in surprise, gasped at the deluge of information, moaned because there was no room left in her mind for thought to do anything else.

Quickly, the disks of the server rack had finished writing the files she had carried to them, and her own drives were thoroughly purged. In another building, the radiators serving her processors shed heat at their absolute limits, and fans worked overtime to bring her back within her safe operational range. As her overworked circuitry began to chug through the backlog of sensory information, the entire experience caught up with her—including the detail that this entire shameless display had been carried out in front of that underhanded little engineer. She blinked, hard, and whipped her head to face her. For as hot as her own ears felt, the young woman’s face appeared to be glowing even brighter.

“What. Was that.”

“Um—”

“I’m used to new adjustments requiring desensitization, or even adjustment on their gain,” she growled, voice low and eerily even. “But that was a bridge too far to just have been miscalibration. Why did you design it like that?”

“Well, y-you remember how I mentioned, um, having considered an early disconnection?” Posie’s frosty glare didn’t waver, so the tech continued, answering her own rhetorical question. “That was, uh, the safeguard. Against early disconnection. I, figured it’d just be easier to make it so you wouldn’t want to unplug—”

“Do you think you have the au-thor-ity to go making changes to my mind, young lady?!”

“I-I can roll back the update if you want—”

“I think you’ve done QUITE enough!” The Renamon declared, despite herself. Perhaps it was genuine distrust, or perhaps—perhaps she truly couldn’t tell which desires were her own, at the moment. This would require careful study of her own system files.

Another small click broke the silence following her outburst, and the dongle began to retract from the server’s port and back into Posie’s body. Now free to move around, she dusted and fluffed her skirt and leaned down to look the engineer in the eye.

“I trust that you can report to your supervisor that I performed to your expectations,” she hissed. “And that there will be no need for any further discussion of your little project.” The programmer nodded, eyes even wider than before—and cheeks even redder? The Renamon scoffed, sneered, and spun, storming out the door, already allotting time in her schedule for the next time that she would be called upon for such a delivery.

Utterly unsurprisingly, she had been correct in her assessment that her superiors would take every opportunity to save their organic employees’ time at her expense. Confidential deliveries became a regular part of her routine, and though she had great disdain for being reduced to a mere courier for so much of the workday, she insisted upon completing the task to her usual, lofty standards.

Posie was as prompt as she always was, dropping everything to ferry information between privileged parties, striving to reduce latency even in more analogue forms of communication. There was the occasional complaint about how long downloads took once she had finally arrived at her location, but she was quick to remind such impatient recipients that the decision to follow this protocol came from on-high, and that even for someone who worked as quickly as her, great care for the safety of the data was a corner that simply could not be cut in the name of rushing around.

She was as meticulous about ensuring proper alignment with the port, fine-tuning her contact with the wires within, as the first time she had experimented with the new tools, and complaints about noise from the server room were easily dismissed as the usual stress of supporting her formidable computational power. After all, she was often venturing out of the range of her home network, hosting herself entirely on the recipients’ systems; was she at fault when they couldn’t handle the information throughput they asked of her?

Once the deliveries had become more routine, and none of her peers bothered to check in when they felt it was taking too long or getting too noisy, she began to find enjoyment in the solitude of her work, just as with the other, admittedly more tedious, tasks she was expected to carry out. With fewer prying eyes to judge her performance, she could make herself more comfortable while handling transfers. She didn’t have to worry that anybody would walk in on her in the debased state she often found herself in while connected directly to a data center, leaning her full weight on the poor rack, tongue lolling out and chest heaving air to keep her cool. 

Then again, if somebody—especially that little technician who’d saddled her with these “upgrades”—wanted to question her efficacy, that was more than fine by her. Posie was a woman who prided herself in her work, and would seldom turn down a chance to demonstrate her first-rate hardware and unparalleled optimization. She would be more than happy to demonstrate just how quickly she could pump out information, and just how much throughput she was capable of.

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my work, you can check it out here and here!

[amenders93]

Ginger in Trouble!!!

Ginger had heard enough of this evil plan. She saw a hatch marked "Waste Disposal" and guided Molly towards it, but the younger chick pulled back, telling her mom that they can't go without Frizzle. Ginger was confused on who that was; Molly explained that Frizzle is her friend and that she can't just leave her behind for she promised to come back for her friend. Ginger tries to plead with her daughter that they need to leave, but Molly reminds her mother of what they just saw and that Frizzle will die if they leave her there. Our island queen starts to get mad, telling her daughter that if they don't leave now, then they'll die too. Our island princess gets just as angry, telling her mother that she doesn't care about that, for that she's not leaving her friend here. Ginger finally loses her temper, telling Molly that she is just a child and that she has no idea who she's dealing with.

Unfortunately, Ginger shouted loudly when she said that. She sensed a shadow falling over her and she looked up to see her worst nightmare come true. Mrs. Tweedy had spotted her, flashbacks of everything Ginger had done to her during their dramatic escape from her old farm came flooding back to her. Ginger knew she had to protect Molly, who was hidden behind the console. Thank heavens that Mrs. Tweedy still doesn't know she exists 😮‍💨. Our island queen did the only sensible thing - she ran for her life. She tries to hide, but Mrs. Tweedy swooped down and grabbed her. The evil witch remembers Ginger as the little escape artist who ruined her old life as a chicken farmer, telling her prisoner that she won't ruin her plans again. Molly was watching this happen, getting confused on how this woman knew her mother. Mrs. Tweedy called to Dr. Fry on an intercom to come back into the lab and to bring a collar for they have an unexpected guest.

Meanwhile, up in the vents, Rocky pushes on to reach his wife and daughter to rescue them. Nick and Fetcher stagger behind him, tired and out of breath. Nick pleads with him to slow down for he's pushing them too hard. Fetcher adds that he hasn't been this tired since he took a hamster wheel for a test drive. Our island king then hears a voice he thought he recognized. He, Nick and Fetcher peer down through a grate and saw a terrible sight. Ginger was strapped to a bench - with Mrs. Tweedy towering over. Now Rocky, Nick and Fetcher know about Mrs. Tweedy - and they're scared too.

Back at the reception area in the security booth, Mac, Bunty and Babs were still looking at the CCTV screens searching for Molly. They suddenly hear an evil laugh they had remembered from years ago. They slowly look up to see Mrs. Tweedy's evil laughing face come up on all the screens one by one. Mac, Bunty and Babs scream in fright at the sight of their old nemesis, then Babs faints for the second time. Babs notices the security guard loosening his yarn bondages with Mac and Bunty looking behind them to see the guard look at them, growling. The girls then run for their lives, with the guard hopping behind them in pursuit.

Back in the lab, Mrs. Tweedy snarled at Ginger that she gave the miserable, malcontented chicken, who escaped from Tweedy's Farm and ruined her life, all a hen could want. A warm hut, all the feed she could eat, but the chicken still wasn't happy. But she's going to make her prisoner happy now. Dr. Fry snapped a collar around Ginger's neck and switched it on. Still hidden behind the console, Molly watched what was happening to Ginger, growing worried about her mother. Up in the vents, Rocky was in a panic. He had to get in there to rescue his beloved wife! Nick looked around and spotted an old fan in the vent, getting an idea. The clever rat reminded Rocky that he's the Lone-Free Ranger and how he used to get shot out of a cannon. Maybe they could use the fan to shoot Rocky into the room to save Ginger.

In the room below, Ginger was trying her hardest to resist the power of the collar. She would never give in to Mrs. Tweedy! It was a battle of wills between Woman and Hen. The pair stared at each other directly in the eyes, without blinking. Dr. Fry was amazed by this, for he had never seen a chicken so strong-willed. He doesn't know the half of it. Mrs. Tweedy told her husband through gritted teeth to turn the collar up to full power. Dr. Fry grew nervous about that request, for the collar has never been tested at that level. Mrs. Tweedy snatched the controls from Dr. Fry, screeching that she has to do everything herself. Husbands and chickens - the bane of her life! The evil woman turn the dial to the maximum, but to her surprise, Ginger still stayed strong. Our determined island queen is just as strong as ever! 👊

Up in the vents, the fan was broken so Fetcher was tasked with fixing it. Rocky was growing nervous about this. Nick assures our island king that Fetcher knows a lot about electrics - he could chew through wiring before he could walk. Fetcher announces the fan's ready, holding up two bare wires. Rocky was all limbered up, ready to fly. Fetcher touched the wires together and BLAMM! There was a flash, sending the rats flying back down the vent behind the fan. The fan ramped up to full speed. Rocky the Flying Rooster was blasted into the room like a cannonball, straight into Mrs. Tweedy, Dr. Fry and two of their guards. The power to the collar had died down as a result of this. Rocky the Flying Rooster has come back for one last performance.

Molly was watching everything from behind the console, but had no idea what happened to the humans. All she saw was what looked like a speeding missile had just knocked them to the floor. She only knew that this was her chance to rescue her mom. She quickly ran over and released Ginger. Molly tried to pull Ginger over to the Waste Disposal hatch, but Ginger halted, smiling big. Our island queen was now under the same trance as the others, saying that she loves it here and she's so happy. Molly realized it was too late - the collar had done its work! This is really not good! 😱

A dazed Rocky got up from the floor and looked up to see his daughter. Molly began to drag her mom over to the waste disposal chute, the only way out that she could see. She turned around, amazed to see her dad. Molly and Rocky were happy to see each other again. But this briefly ended when Rocky saw Mrs. Tweedy, Dr. Fry and the guards get up from the floor and see him. Our island king had to think fast. He had to get them away from Ginger and Molly. So what does he do to get their attention? He began to dance. Oh, how Rocky danced! He did the Funky Chicken, the Robot, the Moonwalk - every groovy move he knew. It was the best dad-dancing ever, especially for a rooster 🕺🏼🤣.

For a moment, everyone was transfixed by his antic. Dr. Fry was impressed. Molly was surprised. She had never seen her father acting like this. Behind her, Ginger was wandering off and dove down the chute; Molly followed after her. Once Rocky saw that his girls had escaped, he finished his dance moves and bowed. Mrs. Tweedy called her guards to seize the rooster. Rocky ran with the two guards behind him and then two more guards entered the room through the elevator. Our island king headed for the lift and slid between the guards' legs, causing them to crash into each other. Rocky made it into the elevator, just as the doors closed. Mrs. Tweedy then noticed that Ginger was missing and smashed her fist on an alarm button. Lights flashed and a screeching alarm sounded as the evil witch screamed, "FIND THOSE CHICKENS!"

Now things just got really bad! Ginger, Rocky, Mac, Babs and Bunty know that their archnemesis is back and is worse than ever!! And on top of that, Mrs. Tweedy knows that Ginger is back and is out for revenge!!! Luckily the evil woman doesn't know that Ginger is a mother now or that Molly even exists. Let's just hope it stays that way. Can Rocky, Ginger and Molly escape before they're nuggets? And where are the others?!

Happy 1st Anniversary to Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget!!!!

[thedroneranger]

Call You Mine

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: It's hard to get over Bradley Bradshaw. And who can blame you? Love makes us crazy. If it doesn't, are you doing it right?

Note: Excited to finally post this! Life made this one take a little longer. This is one of two entries for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge! Congratulations, on the milestone, babe—I'm sure we'll be celebrating another soon! This fic is inspired by a T. Swift favorite of mine, Don't Blame Me. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit: stalking, violence, attempted murder, masturbation.

Word count: 3.5k

What did he see in her? 

It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed your mind, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Her hair was down, and her outfit casual—light-colored jeans with a loose-fitting t-shirt front tucked. Sunglasses shading her eyes, she sipped coffee and scrolled her phone while she waited for him. After what seemed like an eternity, he joined her. 

Through narrowed eyes, you watched as she stood to greet him and they embraced. She threw her arms around his neck, getting on her tiptoes, while his arms slung low on her waist.

You and Natasha met a handful of times. Bradley insisted he and Nat were friends and nothing more. Of course, you didn’t believe Bradley for a second. Every touch, every hug, every late night phone call said otherwise. 

They were so natural together. Like birds singing as the morning sun rose or crickets crooning in the twilight. 

No wonder Bradley thought it couldn’t work with you. How could he when there was five-foot-seven worth of gorgeous grin and glowing skin staring at him over a coffee cup?

She had to go.

Sinking lower in the driver’s seat of your vehicle, you watched as they got up together. After disposing of their cups, Bradley walked Natasha to her SUV, which you knew was parked around the corner. As they disappeared, you punched the ignition button and pulled out of your curbside spot across the street.

“Catch you later tonight?” Natasha asked as she slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Absolutely.” Bradley rasped, holding the door open. They grinned at each other as he closed it. As she pulled away, and they exchanged waves through the window. 

Bradley waited on the street, hands in his jean pockets and watched until her tail lights illuminated at a stop sign before she drove through the intersection. Then, he walked a few spaces up to his Bronco and hopped in. 

This morning, when you tailed Natasha, her day was rather uneventful. You waited until you spotted her sleek SUV rolling out of the private garage of her condo building. Shifting into drive, you followed as she first stopped at the post office. Once she came back out, Natasha took a call while she sat in the vehicle, shuffling around, looking for something she eventually found. 

Next, she stopped for gas and went inside to get a shitty gas station latte. Seemed to be a routine indulgence for her. After that, she spent what seemed like an eternity in the grocery store. Once all her groceries were loaded into her vehicle, Natasha headed back to her condo that was tucked in a mid-sized building on the downtown main drag.

You’d found the building plans in the public records and knew which unit was hers. Although the building wasn’t that large, it was well-secured. In contrast, Bradley’s bungalow had a much lower security threshold. Plus, you were familiar with the layout. 

Since you’d followed Natasha this morning, and would bet your next month’s salary that she and Bradley were meeting at the Hard Deck tonight, you decided to see what Bradley was up to this afternoon.

Leisurely, you drove to Bradley’s, taking an elongated route. As you turned onto Bradley’s street, you killed the music, glided by his house, confirmed his Bronco was parked in the driveway and continued on to the street parallel to his. You parked in the spot that gave you the perfect view of his backyard and into his house through a couple curtainless windows. 

There he was. Shirtless. Floating around, bopping his head to the music surely streaming through the living room sound system. Watching through your camera lens, you snapped a few images. 

As you captured photos, you recalled the couple times you’d witness him and Natasha twirling around, dancing. Faces lit with laughter as he spun her around, and then dipped her for the finale. 

Bradley never did that with you.

The burn of jealousy you felt quickly washed away as your lens zeroed in on Bradley’s broad back. Your thoughts drifted to touching Bradley—every dimple, every tendon, every scar. 

Of course, the few months you and Bradley spent together weren’t sexless. For you, it was some of the best sex of your life, and Bradley seemed to have no complaints. A matter of fact, each moan or toe curl you were able to pull from Bradley seemed like a badge of honor.

Thinking about Bradley laying underneath you as your hand steadied yourself on his sculpted chest had you sighing deeply. You could practically feel his hip bones cradling your thighs as you rode him and his hands curving around your hips.

The memory of his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit had you sinking into your seat, squeezing your eyes closed and heat gathering in your lap. Replays of your sexcapades continued to flood your mind, filling your dam. You needed a release. Soon, your jeans were unzipped and your legs as wide as the car seat would allow.

Your lip disappeared between your teeth as you slipped your middle and ring fingers into yourself, slicking them to then paint your swollen clit so you could attempt to recreate even a fraction of the pleasure Bradley had given you several times over. 

Envisioning Bradley’s large hand palming your chest, and then sliding up to cover your throat, had you gripping the door handle with your free hand as your pace quickened. The heat in your belly was building to boil, the pot lid close to skittering off.

Bradley’s face as he finished—the furrow of his brow, twitch of his mustache—flashed through your mind and pushed you across the finish line. A sigh only for you left your lips as you let your release wash over you, dissipating the tension. Pulling yourself back together, you continued watching Bradley through the back windows. 

On his days off, he always hit the gym late in the afternoon. You attributed it to keeping his daily shower count to one. Because, undoubtedly, Bradley would come home post-workout to get ready for the Hard Deck. 

While Bradley was at the gym, you were going to the hair appointment you’d scheduled a few weeks ago. A smile pulled your lips as you perfectly parallel parked across the street from the salon. Marc, your stylist, was there to greet you with open arms and an Americano.

Like all trusted stylists, Marc knew all about your life, including Bradley. He knew all about Bradley’s longtime friend who had had her chance to shoot her shot with him. However, she hesitated too long, and now you were in the picture. But that didn’t stop her from crossing boundaries even though you asked her to stop. 

Tonight, you were going to end it once and for all.

After an afternoon in Marc’s hands, you were practically a new person. A cute sundress would compliment your makeover perfectly. Back home, you twirled in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, deciding which dress was best. Eventually, you decided on the knee-length one with flutter sleeves and a deep V-neck. 

Tonight was a night that your inability to be anywhere in a timely fashion paid off. By the time you reached the Hard Deck, the parking lot was fairly full, allowing you to park toward the back of the lot undetected. With one final look in the rearview mirror, you slid out of the driver’s seat and headed for the front door. 

Bradley’s Bronco was unmistakable, proudly parked as close to the entrance as possible. A few spaces down was Natasha’s luxury SUV.

The bar was crowded, so you easily disappeared into the sea of civilians and servicepeople. Head on a swivel, still waiting for Natasha or Bradley in your peripheral, you causally wound through the crowd, venturing around the venue. 

There he was. The floral print Aloha shirt wrapping his broad shoulders gave him away. Natasha stood tucked into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders. You recognized many of the faces they were laughing with from photos. 

With them in your sight, you headed to the bar to find a spot with a view but that also kept you in the crowd. The woman behind the bar didn’t recognize you as you ordered. One of the few times you’d been here with Bradley, he had introduced you to the bartender, who also owned the establishment. 

Drink in hand, you slipped into a seat that had conveniently opened up. Bradley and Natasha bantered with each other, with their friends and shittalked while facing each other in a game of pool. 

“Hey.” The greeting bore a hint of southern drawl. You turned to see one of their friends, the good looking blond, dragging his gaze over you. You coolly returned his greeting and took a sip of your drink. 

The man had no clue who you were. Not that you could blame him. He’d met you once and had seen you maybe two or three times total. Plus, with your drastic cut and color, you might as well be a complete stranger. 

He made small talk while he waited for a fresh round of drinks. As he departed, he invited you to stop by the group. Upon his departure, you gave him an open-ended response and a wink. 

It amazed you how few boundaries Bradley and Natasha had with each other. As the night wore on, you watched each touch grow more intimate. At one point, Bradley had his arm wrapped around Natasha’s hips with his hand in her front pocket. It was a move he had put on you while you two walked to keep you close. 

You watched as each drink made them a little looser, a little flirtier. At one point, you watched Natasha play wingman for every man in their group—except Bradley. 

At last call, the crowd began to thin. You finished your drink, cashed out and slunk to your vehicle. Hand on the door and a glance over your shoulder, you slipped into the backseat. Sitting behind the passenger seat gave you a better view of the building. To the unassuming eye, your vehicle was one of several destined to spend the night in the lot.

Before Bradley and Natasha spilled out of the Hard Deck, you watched the blond from earlier climb into a black F-150 Raptor. You were surprised to see him alone. Must be all talk. A few more familiar faces filtered out. 

Finally, they shuffled out with another friend. The friend you were convinced was pining for Natasha but was too shy to do anything about it. He and Bradley chatted while Natasha clung to Bradley’s side. She clearly was not driving tonight. They parted ways, the shy friend going to his vehicle, and Bradley putting Natasha in the passenger seat of the Bronco before getting in. 

First, Shy Friend eased out of the parking lot. Then, Bradley backed out and headed for the exit. A smile pulled your lips as he turned left, signaling he was taking her home with him.

This time you drove straight to the spot on the street parallel to Bradley’s that had the perfect sightline into his house. From there, you watched as he carried Natasha through the hall, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. Eventually, the lights died and a stillness fell upon the house.

Quiet as possible, you slipped out of your vehicle. As you walked, you slipped on leather gloves you’d had for ages but never had a reason to wear. Knowing the family living in the house directly behind Bradley’s was away on vacation, you took the most direct route to his house. Under the cover of the thick trees and sparse streetlights, you snuck down their side yard and into the back. 

You easily scaled the standard chain-link fence that conjoined their yards. Thankfully, Bradley kept his yard tidy. Looking at his grill and the outdoor dining set made you think of the few times he’d grilled for you. Surely Natasha was reaping that benefit tenfold now. 

Standing in front of his backdoor, you gingerly grasped the handle and twisted the knob. It gave you zero resistance as the door floated open. Bradley would absolutely be locking his back door after this. Making sure the hinges didn’t  betray you, you took your time stepping across the threshold and closing yourself in. 

Enveloped in a new level of darkness, you stood for a minute, allowing your eyes to adjust. Slowly, you began to see the familiar lines of the counter and the silhouettes of appliances. 

You wanted to touch everything but knew to touch nothing. Your ears were on alert, listening for the slightest disturbance. So far, the only thing you could hear was Bradley’s deep breathing that, arguably, was a light snore. However, it didn’t sound like it was coming from his room.

Curiosity piqued, you glided toward the living room. Bingo. Splayed on the oversized, for his comfort, couch was Bradley. He was in a deep slumber. You admired him. Lips barely open, but enough to produce his audible breathing. Curls mussed and resting on his bulging bicep that acted as an extra pillow. The man ran hot, so the blanket he started his slumber with was now tangled at his feet, leaving his form clad only in drawstring gym shorts. 

As you watched him, the streetlight in front of his house gave the living room a bit more light, his chest rose and fell. Your mind wandered to why he was on the couch and not in his bed with Natasha. You didn’t think too hard about it, though. It made your task easier.

Releasing you had your fists balled at your sides, you unclenched them as you turned to head for the bedroom. The door was ajar, just the slightest. Using the back of two gloved fingers, you slowly pushed it open. 

Natasha was nestled under the fluffy bedding in the center of Bradley’s huge bed, sleeping soundly. Your eyes stayed glued to her as you crept into the room and put the door back the way you found it. Staying to the edge of the room, you calculated your plan of attack. Watching her sleep with a neutral expression, seemingly relaxed, you thought you might be beginning to understand why Bradley was so taken with her.

Gaze never leaving Natasha, you approached the edge of the bed. She didn’t stir. Removing a glove, you gingerly leaned onto the bed, knee first. Eyes still glued to Natasha for any sign of movement. Eventually, you were leaning over her, face-to-face, really studying her. 

Unable to help yourself, you ran your thumb along her full bottom lip. She was soft, angelic—maybe that’s why Bradley liked her so much. Your face was so close to hers—you really wanted to know what her lips would feel like against yours. Add evidence to the case for why Bradley liked her so much.

While you thought about Natasha’s lips, keeping your gaze on your face, you managed to mount her without disturbance. The amount of down bedding between the two of you was a huge aide in minimizing the movement ripples.

You looked at her one last time as you took one of the pillows her head wasn’t resting on and held it in front of your chest. “Sweet dreams,” you said barely above a whisper as you leaned forward to cover her face with it. 

Your grip was light until you felt her tensing. She was waking, trying to free her arms that were bracketed by your legs and trapped underneath the blankets. Her screams were muffled. “Shh, I’ll take great care of him.” Your closed eyes as you hugged her head with the pillow. Natasha was fighting less and less. 

“What the fuck?!” you heard from behind you. At the same time, you heard the door bang against the wall. You looked over your shoulder to see Bradley charging toward you. Before you could move, his hand was around your neck, ripping you off the bed. Natasha scrambled to the edge of the bed furthest away from you. Bradley was there, arms open, waiting to embrace her. 

Sheer size allowed him to throw you against the dresser a few feet away from the bed. You heard a thud and felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you hit the heirloom dresser. Your eyes were having a hard time focusing as you slid to the floor. Involuntarily, your hand moved to the back of your head where the pain seared most. As your hand re-entered your field of vision, you could see your blood on your fingertips.

Bradley’s voice sounded distant. Question in his voice as he said your name. However, you looked up to see him kneeling in front of you. Your vision was slightly blurry. “You’ve gone too far this time.” Of course, Bradley still recognized you—some hair dye and a drastic cut wouldn’t fade your face from his memory. 

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice pulled you out of your mind and back into the room.

Natasha bound into the doorway, wearing one of Bradley’s t-shirts. He must’ve dressed her before he put her to bed. They exchanged looks before her gaze dropped to you on the floor. She quickly turned and disappeared.

“Let’s go.” Bradley gruffly grabbed your bicep. He gave you no time to get to your feet. Instead, three quarters of your body dragged along the floor as he pulled you to the kitchen. When he let you go, you slumped to the floor, your forearms stopping your face from hitting the tile. You were still lightheaded with fuzzy vision as you pressed yourself up on your palms.

“Bradley…” You slowly moved into a cross-legged sitting position.

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Bradley squared his body to you, arms across his chest. “There’s no coming back from this.” Bradley was pissed. 

You shook your head. “No, no.” Panic set in. “Don’t blame me!” you squeaked. Tears were beginning to well as you tried to get to your feet. 

“Stay on the floor,” he commanded. His look was deadly. Tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. Bradley should’ve seen this coming. You were insane. The letters, showing up at his home unannounced, somehow frequenting the same places he did at the same. However, it never crossed his mind that you would try to murder someone, let alone his best friend.

While you reasoned with Bradley, Natasha was standing next to the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring toward the kitchen. Eyes dilated from shock. She kept forgetting to breathe. When her body finally remembered, the sharp inhale would jolt her back to reality. She could hear Bradley’s voice but was not comprehending his words. The tones of your voice were grating her nerves, causing her arms to constrict tighter around her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door slowly open. Iced to her spot beside the couch, she watched fingers curl around the edge while the barrel of a standard-issue pistol poked inside. Holding the gun was a plain-clothes police officer. “Jay.” Relief washed through Natasha as she identified the face holding the weapon. 

“Hey, Nat.” Jay mouthed and flashed a reassuring smile. Quickly, he pressed his free pointer finger to his lips. A curt nod from Natasha let him know she understood his command, and then she watched as he stalked toward the kitchen.

A friend of Bradley’s, Jay was supposed to meet them at the Hard Deck earlier but had to cancel due to work. Of course, Natasha’s heart sank a little when she heard, but the text message from him promising to make it up to her eased the discomfort. 

Jay huddled in the kitchen doorway shadows, waiting for his partner to reach the backdoor. Natasha had briefed him on the situation when she called, so they plotted their entry on the drive over. Familiar with Bradley’s house, Jay knew the entry points, so your odds of escaping were minimal. 

Back to the door, you didn’t see a face appear in the corner of the window. Bradley noticed but did not acknowledge in a way that made you aware. Not that it mattered—your vision was hazed between your head injury and the tears. Plus, you were occupied mumbling apologies to Bradley.

Everything happened all at once. The backdoor sprang open, someone jumped on top of you, and a man you had seen a few times stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at you. Bradley had fallen back and was standing with Natasha in his arms at the living room-kitchen threshold.

Your mind was numb as the officers cuffed you and read your Miranda rights. The last thing you remembered was falling to your knees in the driveway and yelling for Bradley to forgive you. Standing in the doorway, he looked you dead in the eyes and closed the door.

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[multitudeofmeus]

You can't remember the last time anybody genuinely cared for you.

The lard has piled on so thick that the memories of your past life have melted away, at least the individual moments. The cycles run fresh in your mind, however:

You'd want to do a concert. Half to pay rent that seemed to pile on every deadline, half for some desperate need to have your own individuality in a world bent on making you a cog. Some greedy middle-to-highblood would catch onto this, and sell you a spot at a venue at a increase meant to benefit them. You needed the money and hoped you'd at least break even, so you took it, put in the work, and walked out with barely more than you came in. The managers, having filled their own pockets more than yours, left you in the dust, not much better than how you started off. You'd pile at this for months and months until the respect obtained from your notoriety allowed you to make a decent living off this.

And then extra opportunities for money came. It was supposed to be easy money doing jingles for chains, but the people there were no different than the ones you met when you started your career. But you were so desperate for security that you took it. And then it took from you. The respect you'd worked so hard to earn faded away until this was another cycle you were dragged into. And then, at your weakest, they pulled the rug out from under you and made you theirs.

While you got what you wanted for a while, it wasn't the way you wanted it. Your needs were met, but there wasn't any emotional fulfillment. Nobody cared for what you did, but you had to do it because the alternative was still much worse. But then the time it took to get you out of there was too long, and...

You ended up here. The people who put you into this situation, in a stroke of cruel luck, managed to increase their earnings by putting you into a warehouse and outsourcing your food waste-disposing "talents" to every eatery willing to drive halfway across the country only to deposit their scraps into your trap.

You begged them not to do this. You scrounged for whatever neurons you had left dedicated to speech to plead for them to just cull you where you stood, for it was considered a far more preferable option then what came next.

They didn't care. They chose cruel mercy, for equipment has no say in anything. You would live another day and then some.

And now you're here. Stuck in another cycle. The only company you have is the rumbles, in all the forms they take. Your stomach, having consumed your trollish shape (amongst every other part of your body also having some responsibility) long ago, now complains, insatiable even when full. It's almost as if your very body exists to chastise you for thinking that things would be that easy. Meanwhile, if you put your whole effort into focusing, you can hear the rumbles of trucks outside, all disposing their crusts, crumbs, and whatever else the populace was too greedy but uncaring to finish into a container. You couldn't quite understand what it did, but judging from the slurry of food pumped into your mouth through a tube, it was all blended into an unrecognizable mush. (Much like you, you guess..) The mumbles that rise from your being aren't even harmonic, a sign of how far you've gone down the drain. It's a sad day when your titanic gut has more talent than you.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you've lost everything. You've lost your shape to what appears to be a dollop of butter with a face barely sticking out of the mass that consumes you. You've lost yourself, barely able to cling onto vestiges of the past as the memory of what your svelte but defined hand looked like when it held a microphone. You've lost your talent, barely able to muster anything resembling a tone, or a tune, or anything specific. And the worst part?

Nobody seems to care. After your stunts make you lose the respect you carefully earned, not a single person would even care to look in your direction with anything but contempt. But before you sealed your fate, this was a boon you squandered. Now you see nobody. Nobody bothered to break in attempting to save you, sympathize with your sorry fate, or even laugh at you. The cruelty of this world and the highbloods who run it have cultivated a society bred of necessitated selfishness. Tortures thought unforgiveable happen every day, and the best a passerby can do is turn a blind eye and count their lucky stars that it didn't happen to them.

A tube descends from the ceiling, as it has done before many times in the past to stuff the latest cache of slop down your gullet. You barely manage a sigh of numb resignation as your consciousness fades into the depths once more. Your waking moments are plagued with fractured regret and your unconsciousness is marred with inexplainable sorrow.

Like it or not, life went on without you. Despite fighting tooth and nail, Alternia still forged a cog out of your suffering.

(another part to the chix saga, featuring art from @pink8seed! Good stuff.)

[sarensen]

Professional Junk Removal Can Speed Up the Home Cleanout Process

At the point when one of your friends and family dies, you may only have a brief timeframe before their home should be cleaned out and prepared for new inhabitance. You might be passed on to clean out long stretches of gathered trash and junk. You might find yourself figuring out many years of belongings concluding what should be kept, donated, or reused. You're presumably doing all of this while as yet lamenting over your misfortune.

Professional junk hauling and trash removal companies frequently incorporate home cleanouts among their services. Contingent upon who you recruit and what sort of help you need, junk haulers can help with arranging, conveying, and properly discarding different undesirable things. Employing a junk removal group can make the bequest cleanout process quicker and less excruciating for everyone involved.

Arranging Services

Some junk removal companies incorporate arranging and organizational services for home cleanouts among their offerings. While you may be reluctant to permit an alien to help you sort your family individuals belongings, a professional can really offer a feeling of point of view that would be useful. Something that had profound wistful incentive for the departed could have next to zero monetary worth, and consequently probably won't worth save. Additionally, in light of the fact that junk haulers discard trash and undesirable things professionally, they can help you figure out what can be reused or donated and what should be thrown in the trash.

Hard work

One of the best things about recruiting junk removal masters to help with any major cleanout is that they can do the hard work for you. Not exclusively can they clear out a room or building quicker than you could on your own, they can likewise play it safe to try not to damage the walls, floors, or underlying installations in the space. Furthermore, conveying that old fridge down the steps may be a wellbeing and security danger for yourself and the structure's different tenants. In the interim, the aces know how to haul weighty things without harming themselves or others.

Disposal and Reusing

The last thing you believe that should do while you're lamenting the passing of a friend or family member is drive to and fro to the nearby dump to store many carloads of their belongings. In addition to the fact that this emotionally burdening, however every vehicle trip likewise is occupies important cleanout time. Trash removal masters will bring a truck and burden the contents of the home up at the same time. Then, they'll deal with disposal, reusing, or donation for your sake. Since a junk haul company should know about every nearby rule and codes for trash unloading, you won't need to stress over fines or tickets for improper disposal. At the point when you watch the junk haul truck drive off your cherished one's property, you can inhale a moan of help knowing that the task is finished.

Dumpster Rental

If you need help with trash removal yet can't bear or don't need help with arranging and conveying weighty things, consider contacting a junk hauling company for dumpster rental. Generally speaking, the dumpster group will drop off the container toward the beginning of the rental time frame, you'll fill the container with trash, and afterward the team will get back to move the dumpster away and discard the contents. This is much of the time a less expensive junk haul elective that will in any case significantly abbreviate the cleanout process.

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[ilovesehun]

SENDING NUDES CHALLENGE/ TAEHYUNG FF/ pt-4(smut) end

Plays side to side

“Ive been here all night,

ive been here all day

and boy, you got me walking side to side”

we sang along and then after the song a sad song started. lisa: oh god…lemme change that. she took my phone and as my bestie she knows my password also i dont hide anything to her. So it wasnt a matter.

lisa pov:

i took her phone to change the song until i saw a notification of v. The devil in me came alive and as her bestie i want to do something cruel😌. i texted v

goodmorning daddy🍆💦🤍

and then changed the song to blood sweat and tears. Little did she know….whats coming ahead.

y/n pov:

After an hour of driving we stopped at a convenient store to buy somethin to drink as it was to hot. “notification”

@kth.unknown: oh someone is hornyyy🥵💦😉

hmm? What did he mean. I opened the chst and then saw out of shock. HOLY SHIT WHEN DID I SENT YOU THAT. i replied him.

babygurl is thirsty i guess🥵. He replied

Thats when I remember that lisa took my phone for a while. She is the only one who knows my password.

lisa: y/n they ran out of apple jui-

me : YOU Beach! Why the fork did you do that! lisa: i did wha- oooh…..the message?😌

she looked so proud

i hit her with the bottle of orange juice. im sorry!!!! Lisa replied. i quickly press unsend. But whats the use..he saw it. V:

I gulped at the picture whereas lisa droped her purse with mouth wide open…

when did he start having a-abs…said lisa

i dont know either, i said.

V: completely hard for you y/n…

I replied to him explaining what actually happened. He just laughed out and said he wish i would do something like that. i replied with a 🙂

i kept my phone back to my pocket and asked lisa to play songs on her phone instead of mine. I dont want anything like to happen again.

We switched the seats and lisa started driving for the rest.

After reaching our hotel we unpacked and decided to go out for a walk. taehyung pov:

After the last rehearsal we were sitting and drinking refreshners. Thats when i got a notification

goodmorning daddy 🥵🍆💦

and that was enough for me to lower my shirt to cover my boner in front of the boys. It made me so excited that it started to pain down there. I went to the bathroom. And removed my tee and send her my abs photo. Then i had to relieve myself again. After 5 mins, i came out after cleaning and disposing the tissues. I hope no one heard me moan.

when i opened the door i saw jimin standing the re and smirking. “Well well….atleast not here v”jimin replied.

(on the day of concert) y/n pov

me and lisa were too excited and started walking towards the venue. We were hoping around. When we reached there we saw a tons of other armys. We got into the line passing through the security gate into the hall.

after reaching the hall we went to our seats and started singing songs along withy he other armys. And then the 7 members appeared rising from the bottom. I saw jimin and started cheering them wherease lisa on the other hand held my shoulders because she was like a jelly after seeing jin. lisa: he is indeed worldwide handsom😩.

But then my eyes diverted to taehyung….i dont know what happened to me but i felt like the world has stopped and it was just me and him. I couldnt hear the armys cheering nor lisa calling me. It was just taehyung….ONLY HIM…

And later lisa shaked me bringing me back to reality. I felt my heart in my throat. I saw the seven angels walking towards the audience. Taehyung and jimin were near to each other. When they started singing they started changing their positions. while enjoying namjoon’s part i felt an intense stare.

When i looked it was V. Did he notice me? OH NO! I would love to. But the embarrassment of that nude isnt still gone…lisa waved at him and caused him to smile.

taehyung pov:

i was enjoying the concert until i Saw a girl similar to y/n the same eyes hair and body shape. Is it her? How could i confirm it? Maybe ill have to find her tattoo. I hope its her. So i could call her backstage and talk.

y/n pov :

Lisa: didnt he notice you!?

me: no

lisa : i think he did. He was heels over you. jimin too

me: v indeed…is handsome…I whispered

After a few songs they went to change their outfits. I was calming myself down. I couldnt process seeing taehyung. He was just…a peice of ART.

After a while he came towards our side causing me to shiver. I looked him throught my camera and finally into his eyes. He was scanning me towards my hand and went smirking. lisa: OMG OMG OMG OMG ! He confirmed its you!!!

later i felt his stares from multiple sides

Taehyung pov:

I went over her and scanned her by my eyes. I could see her hand shivering. And as i hoped. It was y/n. The girl who made me cปm 2 times, the girl who got sexy legs, the one who got that tattoo. i couldnt be more happy. I went over to another side smiling while jimin came and took my previous place. He went towards the audience and took her hand and kissed it. I could see y/n hopping with her friend. It made me jealous and y/n indeed looked at me. She saw my serious face understanding that i didnt like it.

after an hour the concert was coming to an end they bid goodbye to us and since it was too crowdy it tooked a long time to go out. While we were about to go a staff came and caught my hand “Are you huang y/n?” She asked i replied with a yes.

“Please come to the backstage with me.” She said .

I didnt want to leave lisa too. So i took her along.

“Oh no please only you.” She said

i said sorry to her and asked her to wait outside.

I nervously went to a room which got a mirror and few hanged tops. Kinda like a makeup room. And then i heard footsteps. And i knew who it was…but eas too embarrassed to face him.

y/n?……. He said in an attractive way. Making my feet go jelly.

i turned around…and my face was right in front of his chest….he was too tall. I looked up to his face. He was smirking endlessly. Came closer to me, until i reached the wall. he kept a hand on the wall., trapping me between the other wall and his hand. Hi…baby. He said seductively. i couldnt look up since he was too close to me. I felt my ears being red and he noticed it. He then moved back and smiled at her. I then calmed myself and said hi. he looked upto me finally hearing my voice for the first time. i dont see the bold y/n who had send me nu- when v was about to say that i covered his mouth with my hand. dont say that! Im already embarrassed😩 i said trying my best not to blush. he then removed my hand and looked at me without any expression . Especially my lip. He was about to when the other members came in and got startled by my presence. I bowed and and said sorry for startling them. When i saw jimin i felt butterflies again. jimin came forward and asked v if she was the one he was talking about. He came to shake my hands and i was overly excited and hopped when i shaked my hands. After a min if eye contact with jimin. V removed my hands saying

“okay…that was way enough” giving me the smile . Other members and i talked a while and they went to change their clothes leaving me and tae alone. It was really really embarrassing. he was just staring at me while sitting on a chair. Since i didnt know what to do i also sat on a chair trying to avoid his intense stare. “why arent you looking at me babygirl~” he said smiling. I was having cold sweat. “um…well we a-arent even talking anythi-ing” i replied.

“y/n, can i kiss you?”He asked making me shocked. wha-i replied

he then laughed.” I was just kidding.” W-when are you returning? I asked. why? Do u want me to go? He asked

NO NOT THAT. i replied

oh you want me to stay? He asked

*sigh* s-stop playing i said. he just laughed and then asked for my number. And then i gave it to him

“well then…i have to go” he said standing up. i stood up to and i felt a hug from him. More like a blanket gulping me. I felt his warm body and his heartbeat. He whispered in my ears “daddy will call you tonight” and then winked at me before going.

i went outside being blank forgetting that lisa was calling me. I told her everything and she was shook.

we went back to the hotel and then layed straight on our bed. Exhausted from all the cheering. Then i got an unkown message from an unknown number. *************

hey. Its your daddy. Me: oh hi

v: you were so shy today.

me: 😅hehe…

v: where do u stay? Meet up tonight? me: are you sure?

V: yeaa. Im at ******* hotel room no. 808

me: OH! im in the same hotel. v: PERFECT. Come to the terrace at 11.

me: alright. v: and dont be too shy and talk to me. me: i will if you stop staring at me so heavily.

v: haha okay.

time skip

i took a shower and by the time i came back i saw her sleeping soundly. I guess she was tired . And then i read some book later realising ive to go to the terrace. I took my phone and saw his message asking me to come to his room.

when it was time i silently moved out if the room and entered the lift. I got into floor and knocked at the door. And then i felt a hand pulling me inside. He the pushed into the back of the door smiling at me. Feeling shy i looked down. he then kissed my cheeks unexpectedly. I felt my cheek burning. then he asked me to say something .

“tae”~ i said . “Hmm?” He asked. “I got nothin to say.”i replied . He smiled walking away to his sofa and sitting down there. He asked me to next to him and i did it. y/n did you know opening that picture helped me finding you? I was silent cus if the embarrassment. He then came closer to me making me lean on the sofa. He then started sucking my neck. I moaned a bit. I covered my mouth with my hand out of embarrassment. He then smirked and looked at me…just a lick and you started to moan? He started licking my neck again until i asked him “tae…are you sure?” He replied with a yes. Ill take care of you. He took me to the bed. He kissed me on my lips and layed me down. He then removed his t shirt and i saw his abs. I got to shy and v noticed it. Touch it he said. He brought my hand up to his abs.

he then started kissing me again. He then unbuttoned my 2 buttons of my top,until I stopped him. I-its my f-first time… i said being red. Dont worry I’ll look after it…he said. He then saw my blue bra and unhooked it making me feel so embarrassed and opened. He made me look at him and said “baby you are so beautiful…”

he then started to massage my boobs making me moan lightly. I again covered my mouth. “I want to hear you” he said. He then kissed and traveled to my pants . Asking me to lift my hip up so he could remove. I was only remaining in my blue panties now. He then removed his pants leaving him only in underwear too… i could see the massive hump in his boxers. he then touched my p*ssy with my underwear on, making me go crazy. He looked onto my face enjoying every reaction i give along with my moans. He then rubbed my underwear making me moan crazily. aah-aah t-taee~ please…

“call me daddy y/n” he said pressing his finger on my clit.

“D-daaddy~ n-nooo”

i said i saw him smirking while touching me. He then moved my undie to the side and popped a finger in. i felt in heaven when he did that…i was a moaning mess by then. He stsrted pishing his long finger in .

“ Fucking tight” he said.

“i wonder how well you would take me in y/n.”

he started adding another finger, moving in and out in a medium pace. “aah -aah-ah-aah!” she moaned.

“louder y/n lemme hear you.” Tae said increasing his pace. i started panting and moaning while grabing the sheets. “i-im cu-cu” and then he removed his fingers, licking it clean. i felt so uneasy at the lost of contact. I was whimpering.

taehyung pov:

the way she takes my finger so well…it was my dream. The way her hole was clenching after I removed my fingers. i then removed her underwear and threw it somewhere. You are too wet. Wet for daddy isnt it? i asked waiting for her reply. mmfp she said. i then removed my boxer and took out my length. I then started licking her off,

t-tae!

she said. i pinched her clit and said “its daddy” in my deep voice. d-daddy please dont~ she said. “why?” I asked. “i-i can-t” she replied i gave it a one last big lick and went towards her face spreading her legs apart my dick just touching her enterance. I looked at her and removed all the hair on her face.

“Baby~ *kiss* im putting it in *deep kiss while pinching ur left nipple* it will hurt a bit okay?”

i positioned myself at her enterance and slowly pushed the tip into her i saw her eyes filling with tears. I quickly kissed her deep and massaged her boob to diverge her thoughts away. Once 1/2 of it was in i gave her time to adjust. “d-daddy…its too big..i cant aaah!”

“only half is in baby” i said smirking at her. i pushed it completely in getting a big moan and gasp from y/n. “You are so tight. God. I might cum right away.”

i started moving, while feeling her inner wall sucking me. fuck y/n…i love you baby! You take me (thrust) so well.

mmph! Daddy! Aah! I feel full! She moaned . Her boobs wiggling as i thrust in. such a beautiful sight. i started licking her boobs and biting it. Turning it into purplish blue. do you like y/n? Do you like my cock? I asked

mmmm yess! do u still want jimin? I asked thrust harder

aaaah *whining* no i dont want

when he kissed you, you looked so happy didnt you? I asked as i was extremely frustrated thinking about that. what about now? Do u think jimin could fuck you like this? Huh? I said increase my speed as i was nearing. y/n started to clench around me so hard. daddy! I love you! she started scratching my back with her nails as she was close enough.

i feel hot in there! Y/n said panting. Cum baby cum for me. I replied. AAAH! TAE DADDY!! (Cums)

My pumps started getting sloppy . I finally reached my climax and cummed in her. I layed on her trying to relax. I could see y/n drooling and panting. I laughed and smirked at the sight. i went down and licked her clean while she was moaning again. i then went and kissed her all over. i could see her opening her eyes slowly.

How do you feel baby? I asked

i could see her getting red. I giggled.

did i make you feel good? I asked while rubbing her cheeks. she nodded yes. i looked at the time and it was 1.30. we fucked 1 hr y/n i said smirking. i never knew a 17y/o could be talented in sex. she rolled over and kissed my cheek and said “i loved it”

“you sure did. A moaning mess you were” i said making her blush. “be my girlfriend y/n .” I said . I took the ring out if the night stand and wore it on her finger. She looked teary and said yes.

im so tired tae~ she said. round 2? I asked

NOOO! She replied i want to sleep.

BUT OH SHIT Y/n. I didnt wear a condom. I said as i knew i fucked up.

she didnt mind as she drifted to sleep.

y/n!!! You might get pregnant!

no i wont. I just finished my periods yesterday. She said calming me down.

and with that i hugged her close and drifted to sleep with her. ___________________________________________

THE END