#software for law department

[mattersuite]

Are you looking for the best legal software solution to efficiently manage your firm? MatterSuite is the most reliable law practice management software in UAE. You can manage your legal task, matters, calendar, etc. in Arabic language and also manage the multi-location office. It supports multi-lingual and multi-location features helpful for big law firms, enterprises, and in-house legal departments.

[trendynewsnow]

The Challenges and Future of Expense Reporting

The Challenges of Expense Reporting Once you begin submitting expense reports at your workplace, a few realities quickly become apparent. First and foremost, expense management software tends to be designed primarily for finance departments, focusing on keeping employee spending within prescribed limits. Unfortunately, it often feels as though these tools were never truly tested with the…

[feedbaylenny]

Man's child pornography arrest: 'More charges are expected' when encryption defeated

(As originally published, Thu, January 18th 2024) THE VILLAGES, Fla. (TND) — A tip about a man uploading child pornography led to his arrest on a possession charge but authorities say “more charges are expected.” According to Sumter County detectives in Florida, “The image uploaded appeared to be a child under the age of 10.” They investigated and early last Wednesday, Jan. 10, served a search…

[mariacallous]

If you’ve rented an apartment in the US in the past several years, you may have had the sense that the game was rigged: Prices creep up not only at your building but at others throughout the city, seemingly in lockstep. A new civil lawsuit brought by the US Department of Justice today alleges that in many cases it’s not just in your head—and that a single company’s algorithm is to blame.

That company is RealPage, a Texas-based firm that provides commercial revenue management software for landlords. In other words, it helps set the prices of apartments. But it does so, the DOJ alleges in its lawsuit, by effectively helping its clients cheat; landlords feed rental rate and lease terms into the system, and the RealPage algorithm in turn spits out a suggested price that enables coordination and hinders competition.

“By feeding sensitive data into a sophisticated algorithm powered by artificial intelligence, RealPage has found a modern way to violate a century-old law through systematic coordination of rental housing prices,” deputy attorney general Lisa Monaco said in a statement.

RealPage’s reach is broad. It controls 80 percent of the market for software of its kind, which in turn is used to set prices of around 3 million units across the country, according to the DOJ. It already faces multiple lawsuits, including one from the state of Arizona and another in Washington, DC, where RealPage software is allegedly used to price more than 90 percent of units in large apartment buildings. RealPage’s algorithmic pricing first gained broader attention when a 2022 ProPublica investigation detailed how the company’s YieldStar software works.

The DOJ civil lawsuit, which was joined by the attorneys general of eight states, is a significant escalation in legal action against the company. It’s also a first for the DOJ, according to officials speaking on background during a call to discuss the complaint. While the government had previously filed criminal charges against an Amazon seller for algorithm-enabled price-fixing, this is the first civil action in which the algorithm itself, the Justice Department official says, was effectively the means of the violation.

The complaint itself quotes RealPage executives allegedly acknowledging anticompetitive aspects of its product. “There is greater good in everybody succeeding versus essentially trying to compete against one another in a way that actually keeps the entire industry down,” one RealPage executive allegedly wrote.

RealPage has repeatedly denied any allegations of antitrust violations, going so far as to publish a six-page digital pamphlet that claims to tell “the Real Story” about its products, along with an extensive FAQ page on a dedicated public policy website. The company did not immediately respond to a request for comment. “Attacks on the industry’s revenue management are based on demonstrably false information,” one section of that site reads. “RealPage revenue management software benefits both housing providers and residents.”

“We are disappointed that, after multiple years of education and cooperation on the antitrust matters concerning RealPage, the DOJ has chosen this moment to pursue a lawsuit that seeks to scapegoat pro-competitive technology that has been used responsibly for years,” said Jennifer Bowcock, senior vice president of communications and creative at RealPage, in an emailed statement. “RealPage’s revenue management software is purposely built to be legally compliant, and we have a long history of working constructively with the DOJ to show that."

The DOJ disagrees. “Algorithms don’t exist in a law-free zone,” said Monaco in a press conference to discuss the case. “Training a machine to break the law is still breaking the law.”

In this case, the complaint alleges that those algorithms consistently drove rental prices upward. “RealPage’s software tends to maximize price increases, minimize price decreases, and maximize landlords’ pricing power,” said the DOJ in a press release. RealPage also doesn’t just recommend prices; in many cases, it actively sets them.

“RealPage actively polices landlords’ compliance with those recommendations,” said US attorney general Merrick Garland in today’s press conference. “A large number of landlords effectively agree to outsource their pricing decisions to RealPage by using an ‘auto-accept’ setting that effectively permits RealPage to determine the price a renter will pay.”

The DOJ also claims RealPage has created a “self-reinforcing feedback loop” with its data intake and pricing recommendations structure that also gives it an alleged monopoly in the apartment revenue management software industry. Any competitor who plays by the rules, the DOJ claims, is at a distinct disadvantage.

The Justice Department has spent the past several years staffing up with technologists and data scientists, better enabling them to “interrogate the code,” as multiple officials described the investigative process. While this is the first major algorithmic collusion case, DOJ officials suggested it would be far from the last.

[lightwing-s]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑

pairing: dick grayson x fem! reader

summary: as an intern at the police department you should know how to separate work from personal life, but when officer dreamy comes after you, you can't help it but mix them together

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,2k warnings: unprotected sex, cum eating, handjob (f receiving), slight overstimulation, a lot of pinning for each other

a/n: i gave up proof reading halfway because i was sleepy, so it might be okay at first and then become messy. sorta base on my experience working at a police precinct earlier this year, but not faithful (at all) to reality.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

Jumping off the last step down the bus, you rush into the streets, swerving through the crowds, bumping against people, getting sworn at by some, and somehow managing your way through the busy mess that was Gotham’s early mornings.

The headphones glued to your ear were the only thing trying to distract you from all the chaos that was the start of your day, but as the shuffle merged bossa nova into 2000s punk rock, you felt your body react and jump into a faster pace on your way to work. Within each step, the Greek columns of the old imposing building of the Gotham City’s Police Department grew bigger in the horizon, letting you know your commute was close to its end.

Beep beep, your watch announced the start of your shift. Damn it, you were late again. Trying to speed up your steps, you felt your calves start to burn, but the building soon was right in front of you, a couple of steps separating you both.

“Good morning, Yn.” greeted one of the officers, as you passed by him in a rush, as you made your way up the large steps without somehow managing to trip as he was bound somewhere else, already deep into the rash routine of being a police officer at the country’s most dangerous city.

Bursting through the doors, you look around to see if your supervisor, officer McCaffrey, was anywhere near. He hated you and had been on your ass since you started arriving a bit later than you were supposed to, a move further away from the precinct ruining your commute times.

Not seeing his growing bald head anywhere around, you jump ahead and find your way to your desk, stacked with piles and piles of papers, old cases handed to you to be typed and launched into this new software funded by Mr. Bruce Wayne.

Interning at a police station wasn’t exactly a part of your meticulously drawn up plan to get into law school, as law enforcement was on the far bottom of your list of possible careers to choose for your future. However, from day one you were surprised by how much you enjoyed working at the department, by how much you enjoyed the people, both your co-workers and, weirdly, the criminals you got to meet on a daily basis. 

Sometimes it was too much, juggling school work and the internship, plus all the side hustles you had to take just to make it through college without starving to death. But it all had its good sides. Sometimes, some really good ones.

Placing your bag over the pile of cases, you were about to go around your desk and sit down on the rather uncomfortable chair to start typing those damned cases away, when the rough voice of the main antagonist of this current season of your life reached your ears. 

“Miss, Ys,” your supervisor called. Rolling your eyes, you forced yourself to remain still, a lot of effort put into not throwing your head back in defeat as you turned around to meet face of your tormentor for the first time that day. “Thought you started your program at…” he dragged himself out, looking at his clock. “Exactly fifteen minutes ago.”

“Hello, officer McCaffrey.” you forced out a smile while greeting him. “Well, I was here fifteen minutes ago, you must have missed me.”

You confidently tried to lie, hoping the time spent with suspected criminals had taught you something, but being sure your face must have told him the opposite of what you meant. “I’m pretty sure I looked all over for you.”

“Are you sure?” you feigned innocence when trying once more.

“Miss Yn, this is a serious institution and if you’re not going to cooperate by doing your job properly I’m sorry to inform you that…” 

“You won’t need it, Christian.” a deeper voice cut your supervisor off as he started to scold you again. The voice, a tone you could easily identify from how much you’d heard it and dreamed of it in the past few months. “I stopped Miss Yn outside for a talk. I did not think there would be any problem.”

Sounding much more confident in his lie than you did, you were sure you could’ve fallen for it if it wasn’t of you he was talking about.

“Officer Grayson, Miss Ys has got a job to finish, she doesn’t need to go around having conversations with what I imagine are busy policemen.” officer Tormentor replied, not even caring to turn around and face the other voice’s owner, disdain covering each and everyone of his words.

“We were just discussing a case, it’s not that big of a deal. Right, Yn?” Officer Grayson called you by your first name along with a wink, the remaining energy left from not rolling your eyes at officer McCaffrey earlier keeping you from melting at how sweet your name sounded coming out of his mouth. 

McCaffrey finally turned to face your white night in a white button-up, only his back in your line of view now as you were still paralyzed in your spot, the image of Officer Grayson trapping your attention from anything else in the precinct.

“Dick,” your supervisor continued, the name sounding off of him like an annoyance. ”You’re not supposed to share confidential information with the students.” He told him bitterly.

“Aren’t they here to learn about our job, Christian?” Officer Grayson replied, the same annoyance playing on his tongue, but at the same time full of an uplifting fun only Dick Grayson could master and that you were sure only annoyed Christian more.

Facing the sudden silence between you three, you noticed Officer Grayson’s eyebrow raising, challenging his fellow officer to complain about you one more time.

“Sure, but…”

“I was doing just that, making sure Yn’s internship actually brings some value to her future.” Grayson cut him once more. “No sensitive information was shared, just the look of an investigation through a detective’s eye. And even so, miss Yn is one of the most competent interns we’ve had in a while and I’m sure she would’ve been able to keep any information she might’ve gotten. I’m sure talking with actual officers is much more beneficial than typing old cases into a system.”

Silence overcame you three again, Grayson’s words having a certain impact on you. Your shoes, stained and in desperate need of a wash, suddenly became interesting as you lowered your face to hide the burning red on your cheeks. The insides of your lips were chewed on, stopping the smile from spreading on your face.

Finally looking up, your eyes briefly met Officer Grayson’s, but you moved away quickly, afraid of what they might’ve done to you. 

Officer McCaffrey opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his mind certainly trying to muster a comeback to Grayson’s defense of you but clearly failing to do so. His eyes moved from you to his coworker, and you wondered what was going through his head.

Whatever it was, it would never live up to Officer Dick Grayson. He just never would.

“Very well,” McCaffrey finally spoke, turning to face you with a displeased expression. “Get on with your typing.”

Turning on his heel, McCaffrey walked away from the two of you, the hardness of his hips making his walk look funny and with the bald spot growing in his head the both of you let out a soft chuckle.

Resting your butt on the desk behind you, the need of formality gone with your supervisor, you took this time to eye up the man left with you. 

That man didn’t have a bad looking day, showing up like a greek god every single day at work. He wore his usual white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows and exposing his thick forearms, built effortlessly at the gym - you were sure -, and decorated with veins you secretly wanted to map with your fingertips. 

He wore gray pants today, a color he often varied with either dark blue, black or beige, but the latter, thankfully, becoming rarer with each passing day. It didn’t compliment him, making his look rather boring in your opinion, nor did it match well with any of his shoes, probably more expensive than anything you owned. 

His badge and gun hang on his hips, held on the black belt made of the most sophisticated leather in the world, or so you’d bet. He seemed to take good care of himself, as not only his skin glistened like a glazed donut, but he exuded a strong woody smell, following him along to every room he entered.

However, the lack of a tie and the untidy hair signaled to you he might’ve been just as late as you were. And still, he looked majestic. The highlight of your long hours at the precinct.

“Hello, officer Grayson.” you greeted him shyly. You certainly should not have spent too much of your days simply just watching him go on about his work, but it was a habit you had created and that was hard not to do, his simple presence was enough to overwhelm you.

“Good morning, Yn. Haven’t had an easy morning, I see?” he raised his eyebrow at you this time, a playful smiling playing on his face. 

“You too, right?” slipped out of your mouth quicker than you’d wished, almost slapping your face out of sheer frustration.

His head bent to the side, a question forming on his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, but soon returning to the playful expression you were used to. “I see your detective skills have been improving.”

“I-I just noticed you’re not wearing a t-tie like you usually do and your hair seems messy, that’s all.” you said without pausing for air and his smile only seemed to grow.

“Relax, Yn,” he dragged out. “I just had to stay up till late last night. What’s your excuse?”

“Commuting has been hell. I just moved to a new apartment.” you told him, nodding for absolutely no reason. He didn’t seem pleased with your answer, eagerly waiting for you to continue. “At the Amusement Mile.”

“Amusement Mile?!” he exclaimed. “That’s basically on the other side of the city.”

Yep, you worded, or not. You were not sure.

“And really dangerous, Yn.” he sounded worried. “Make sure to not leave too late, okay?”

“I’ll try.” you replied, but he still didn’t seem pleased. “I promise?”

You were not sure what kind of tone this conversation had. You and Officer Grayson had always been friendly, as he always came by your desk to wish you a good day or night, to bring you coffee as he did with his coworkers, or to ask you about how classes were going and if the internship wasn’t getting in the way of your studies.

It all sounded friendly to you, as if he only saw you as a younger sister or something like that. Sadly to you, that seemed to be a reality. But today, the friendliness sounded less friendly, for some reason, or maybe they were just the voices of hope playing with your mind.

“Good, I’ll have to work now, and I think so do you. Having fun with typing?”

“It really could be worse.” You joked, bringing out a laugh from him, filling your ears and making your heart pump faster.

“Have a nice day, Yn.” 

“You too, officer.” you eagerly replied, watching as he too walked away from you.

Finally sitting down on your chair, you let out a huge sigh, Officer Dreamy, as you kindly nicknamed him to yourself, stuck in your head. You knew it was inappropriate to harvest a crush on a superior at work, but gosh was it hard to.

“And Yn?” his voice startled you. 

“Hmm” you managed to hum as you found his head poking out from behind a wall.

“Call me Dick.”

Lights went off one by one around you, as you still sat on your desk, files of cases long forgotten, while you typed in a class project you were due very soon. 

As life worked conspired to put you down, your laptop had given up on you, deciding that the smokey life was the way to go now and simply choosing not to work ever again. So, you had to stick around the precinct or the library till the wee hours of the night if you wanted to get any uni work done.

“Yn” a voice called you, starling you out of your seat. “Still here?”

Officer Grayson, looking as tired as you must have looked, made his way to your desk. In his hands, some papers you’d come to know were cases he took frequently to study at home.

“I have to finish an essay.” you informed, voice almost not making it out, as you had neglected your health and hadn’t gotten a single sip of water all day.

“What happened to your computer? I remember you bringing one before.”

“Decided to give out smoke signals, I guess.” you joked, managing to steal a smile from him. “It broke, and I’m too broke to fix it, so I have to stay here if I want to finish this essay tonight.”

Your eyes itched from the extensive exposure to the computer lights, your back also causing you discomfort. But you still had work to do, so there was no way you were leaving any time soon, and quickly you returned your attention to your essay ignoring, for once, your favorite male presence in the precinct as you didn’t want to miss the peak of energy and creativity you had gotten to.

As you typed unaware of his lingering presence, Officer Grayson stood by your desk for a while, watching as you swiftly typed word after word of your homework. “You aren’t going to stay here till too late, right?”

“I’m not sure.” you moaned, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands. “I really have to finish this but I’m not even close.”

Returning your gaze to him, you found his eyes and they bore into your, making your breath get caught up in your throat and your heart to skip a beat. You wanted to focus on your school work and go home, get some much needed sleep before starting your routine all over again, but Dick’s mere presence  pushed away all your academic thoughts.

It was like his body irradiated an energy, a gravity field, that pulled you in from wherever you were. That trapped your attention, leaving you breathless even though you hadn’t run, leaving your head heavy as the most painful headache, leaving you completely, deeply, under his spell.

As you focused on him, you noticed the bags forming under his eyes and his much messier hair, as if he had, and he did, spent hours running his fingers through it as an attempt to concentrate. His clothes were ruffled, and you swore his belt seemed to have been loosed at some point during the day. 

To you, he was like a painting at an art gallery. Exquisite, expensive, beautifully breathtaking… and forever unreachable.

On a scale from one to ten, you were minus forty in the levels of importance inside the department. Nobody really cared for the interns. They were nice and all, but they knew they wouldn’t last long, so why bother connecting, why bother giving them too much attention. And yet, officer Grayson would come over to you, every single day, saying his “his” and “goodbyes”, wishing you a good morning, a good night, a great weekend.

He was truly a being out of this world. A gentleman amongst mere humans, too kind, too sweet for this world, for this city. You often wondered how the hell did he, the son of a billionaire, end up working with the police, and the answered you always came up with was that he must have been the only truly good and altruistic person alive, opting to care for the people instead of being a pretentious heir like many others.

If he had looked over at your computer screen, he’d have found a soup of words that together made zero sense, as your mind couldn’t only write Dick Dick Dick Dick, in both meanings of the word.

“A-hem.” he coughed breaking your awkward stare competition. “I have to get going, Yn. Please don’t stay up too late, and message me when you get home.”

“I don’t have your number.” you mindlessly blurted out.

“I have yours,” he stated, catching you off guard. “I’ll text you. See you tomorrow?” he asked, seeming actually interested in a positive answer.

“Uh-huh.”

“See you, then. Goodbye, Miss Ys.”

“Goodbye, officer.”

It was past midnight when you eventually turned off your computer and headed out of the police department. Sleepiness weighs your body down, making each step a harder task than it should've been.

Saying your goodbyes to the officers working the night shift, many of those telling you to be careful as they feared the dangerous Gotham nights would turn you into one more of its victims, you made your way down the large set of steps, an activity much easier than climbing them in the morning.

As you step into the sidewalk you’re embraced by the darkness. The cold breeze hitting you, making you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, a shield from the freezing weather and the demons of the night. Your bag is glued to your hips and your eyes scanning the area for any strange movement.

You’re glad some of those police officers had been kind enough to teach you how to realize some signs before anything bad happens, applying it to your everyday life as you could never be sure of your surroundings in this city.

When you turned right on the first corner, a moving shadow had your neck hairs up and a shiver running up your spine. Your fight or flight instincts overcoming you as your steps grew faster and faster.

“Yn, wait!” you heard the shadow owner scream, your heart skipping a beat before your mind could make up the situation. It took you a while to figure out who the scream belonged to, the fear blinding your senses and preventing you from forming any type of judgment, but something in you clicked and upon turning around it everything was all made clear.

“Officer Grayson?” you questioned, confused by his appearance as he had gone home almost two hours earlier. He now wore a pair of dark gray or black sweatpants, the faint light hindering your perception, a black t-shirt and a thick overall to shield him from the cold. The tips of his hair dripped with a few droplets of water, and even in the darkness you could make up his red nose gifted by the freezing weather. 

He looked cozy, huggable, like a plushie pillow you hugged to go to bed. This look on him made your chest warm up and you swore you wouldn’t need a jacket soon.

“Why are you following me? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Yn. I thought it’d be better if I didn’t scream, but maybe I was wrong,” he apologized, rushing the words out of his mouth.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here.” you smiled, unable to hide the joy from seeing him again. Your smile made him feel less bad for scaring you, but his eyes still looked into yours like he apologized for it. 

“I didn’t get your text.” he said, his statement confusing you a little. “That you were going home?”

Oh, that! It was your turn to feel bad, your cheeks, if possible for him to see, painted red but not from the coldness.

“I was expecting your text and didn’t get it, so I showered and came here to see if you’d gone home and I found you still in your computer. I was waiting for you to come out.”

YOU WERE WAITING FOR ME?!, you wanted to scream, his words making your head spin, trying to work out the reason why they came out of his pretty lips. The idea of him waiting for god knows how long till you finished your essay making you dizzy.

“It didn’t feel right letting you go home alone at this hour.” he continued to explain, seemingly aware of the questions inside your head. “So I came back after taking a shower to pick you up.”

HE CAME BACK. HE WENT HOME. TOOK A SHOWER, A SHOWER HE PROBABLY, DEFINITELY, TOOK NAKED. AND CAME BACK TO PICK ME UP????

Oh lord, your head was truly spinning and you hoped you weren’t dizzy enough to end up falling and making a fool of yourself. No single sentence was merged in your mind, your lips blurting out whatever overcame them without any filter: “The subway isn’t empty.”

He chuckled at your silly response and reaching for his coat’s pocket, he picked up his car keys, shaking them in front of your eyes. “Are you declining a ride home? Thought you’d love to ride in a Porsche tonight.”

At the sound of “Porsche”, you let out an excited giggle. You always wanted to find out what car Dick drove, a man’s choice of vehicle being a way into understanding his lifestyle and tastes, and not only were you finding out now but you were also getting to ride in it with him.

“I think it’s an offer I can’t really let pass.”

Showing you the way to his car with his head, he let you walk past him, and when you did his hand met your waist as he guided you in its direction. 

It was like you entered into another reality when you crossed the Police Department’s doors, meeting an Officer Dick Grayson that you always dreamed of but never expected to become a reality.

The warm touch of his hand on the small of your back gave you shivers along with a sense of safety not even a room full of police officers had given you. It was different, somehow, in a way you found hard to explain, but that made your heart beat nervously, your breathing to get hectic and your stomach to take turns.

Soon, the silvery car was beside you and the man opened the passenger door for you with his free hand. You thanked him and slid inside the car, the warmed leather seats a comfortable welcome after hours spent on the painful cheap chair by your desk, and when he closed the door you took the few seconds until he was sat beside you to at least try to recollect yourself.

Richard John Grayson isn’t just giving you a ride, he came all the way from his home to do so. You didn’t know where he lives, but it couldn’t be too close. He went out of his way to do that for you, and what that meant frightened you a little.

The warmness of the seats couldn’t compare to what his touch had made you feel. As his hand slid off of your skin you let out a low moan you hoped he didn’t have the time to listen to, already missing the feeling he had given you.

It made you both afraid, nervous and excited, and you couldn’t help the smile from spreading on your lips, even when biting down on them or chewing the insides of your cheeks. You sat still, spine straight and hands resting on top of your bag laid up on your lap, while he calmly walked to the driver’s side, the opposite reflection of how he made you feel.

“Amusement Mile?” he looked at you for confirmation, the engine of the car warming up. Your eyes were glued to his every movement, admiring every single breath he took.

You simply shook your head to answer, biting on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“It’s gonna be a long ride, so make yourself comfortable.” he told you before continuing. “And I almost forgot…”

Reaching for something behind your seat, you felt his breath on your neck, sending more shiver up your spine, a recurring thing tonight. “I got you some soup. To warm up.”

“Wow. Thank you, officer.”

“Yn?” he called you and you hummed, letting him continue. “What did I tell you to call me?”

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, remembering the moment you’d shared earlier. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Perfect.” 

Turned just enough to face you, it was his time to bite on his lip, the sight sending your hormones to overdrive. 

The ride was mostly silent, as you both felt comfortable in just each other’s presence. You drank your soup and he drove carefully to not make it spill. He left his playlist on shuffle and you commented on a few surprising tunes.

“I didn’t take you for a reggaeton kind of guy.”

“Hey, I appreciate the sounds of many different cultures!”

 And faster than you had wished for, you two were parked by your front door.

“Thank you, offic… Dick, really. I would have taken at least double the time to arrive by subway, so I really cannot thank you enough for this, you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense, I’m always here to help, and I wouldn’t sleep well knowing you could be in danger.”

For the 1000th time tonight, your cheeks grew scarlet and you avoided Dick’s eyes. The yawn coming out of you the perfect getaway from the situation you didn’t not know how to handle.

“I better get going, or else I’m just gonna take a nap before having to go back to the precinct all over again.” you sent him a smile before opening the door, but before you stepped outside you felt his hand touch you again, this time reaching for you tight.

“If you want to, I can pick you up tomorrow morning.” his thumb lightly drew patterns in your jeans, and you could feel a hit of sweat on the palm of his hands and the spot on your tight grew humid.

“It would be asking for too much.”

“No it wouldn’t.” he didn’t wait for you to finish. “I’d love to.”

He had your full attention, his eyes trapping yours in a drunken haze. The air around you got thicker, warmer, too hot, as if the winter night was just a mere illusion outside the car. You had sat back in your seat, not sure if the door was open or closed because only him mattered now, only his eyes drifting from yours to your lips, only his tongue moistening his own, only the slow movement of his head getting closer to yours.

You wouldn’t remember the next few seconds even if described to you in the smallest details, you just remember meeting his lips halfway. At first, a hasty kiss, your lips barely moving but already igniting you with an electric feeling. His teeth pulled on your bottom lip, causing a moan to escape off of you.

His hand went to your neck and the kiss deepened, his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, playing with yours as your hands found his waist in search for balance, even though you remained at your seat.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” you cut the kiss, your own mind betraying you with the words that flew out of your mouth. “But I really want to.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn't,” he said, connecting your lips once again. 

He sucked and nibbled at your lips, certainly leaving small bruises on it, but who were you to complain. All night, your anxiousness tried to get the best of you, but his kiss and his touch held you hostage in a passionate haze.

“It’s dangerous to be on the streets this late.” he told you between kisses.

“We can go upstairs.” you offered, wanting to extend the moment as much as you could.

“I wouldn’t wanna bother your roommate.”

“I don’t have a roommate.” you informed, eyes meeting his once more in search of confirmation.

Kissing where your neck met your ears, he whispered. “I’ll park the car.”

“You can leave it right here.” you moaned, desperately wanting to move things inside. He chuckled, pulled you in for another kiss and then quickly jumped out of the car. He followed you as you climbed the stairs to your floor, managing to control himself and stay far enough as to not throw you against the walls and fuck you right then and there, but the gentleman inside of him held him together and he anxiously watched you unlock your apartment door.

You threw your bag somewhere, and walked inside your home aimlessly. You didn’t bring many guys over, so you always struggled to figure out what to do at this point.

“Yn.” you heard Dick calling, spinning on your heels to meet him. 

Throwing his key on a table, he came over to you without wasting time, hands grabbing your face and smashing your lips together for a hotter, wetter, dirtier kiss.

His tongue sucked you yours as your hands traveled on his chiseled torso, sliding inside his shirt for the full experience. You scratch the skin with your nails and he quivered under your touch. “Fuck.” he let out, pushing you against the head of the sofa.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you shortened the distance between your bodies even more and his hands moved down your body, from your back to your ass, to your tight where he grabbed and entangled them around his waist. He placed you on top of the sofa, magically not letting your lips grow apart.

You could feel the bulge on his pants hardening with each touch, so you lowered one hand to cup his member in it’s entirety, but not managing to get a hold of half of it. Shit. You tried to pull at his waistband, but he pushed your hand away. “I’m not wasting time.” he said, taking you off of your seat. “I need to be inside you.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. The thought of his words becoming a reality soaking your panties more than they already were, as you had to grind on his clothed crotch to get the friction, the sensation you so desperately needed. You wanted him inside of you now, not a minute later.

“Your room?” he asked.

“First door to the right.” you said, gasping for air between his kisses.

With ease, he walked to your bedroom as if he knew you home by heart, and as if he didn’t carry a girl but just a stuffed toy. His only struggle came at the door handle, but reaching behind you you managed to open it up for him, a group effort for a group pleasure.

Dick let go of your legs, letting your feet hit the floor once again. His hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it before you broke the kiss to allow him to pull it over your head, your bra being ripped off your skin not much later. His shirt and sweatpants flew behind him too in just a few seconds, and he soon had you pinned on the bed, hands trapped by his on top of your head.

Dick had an urgency in him you’d never seen before, more used to his calm demeanor. He grunted on your ear as he sucked on your neck, leaving marks you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide at work, and he grinded his clothed dick on your bare pussy.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this.” he groaned, one hand grabbing tightly at your boob. “Some days beside you were pure torture.”

You couldn’t imagine an Officer Dreamy having dreams about you, just like you did with him, but from the sound of it, he had plenty. All you could do was moan out his name, his mouth doing magic on your neck as his hands finally reached where you needed him more.

Rubbing slowly at your clit, you tried humping it, wanting it faster, wanting release, but his movements remained slow, torturous. 

“D-dick.” you cried out his name, begging him to speed up his touch.

“Say it again, darling. Say it.” he requested. “Let my fucking name slip out of your dirty little mouth.”

“Dick. Dick, please!” you obeyed, little the silly little slut you were for him. If your friends or coworkers found out about this, they’d be very disapproving, they’d tell you it was wrong to fuck your superior, but fuck it, fuck him you will.

He moaned loudly in your ear and his movements gained speed. He rubbed at your clit harshly, making it bruise, but the pain only added to the growing sensation on your core. He lowered his head and his lip grabbed your nipple, and his sucks were enough to bring you to the edge.

“You came so hard for me, darling.”

Moving away from your skin, setting your hands free, he admired your cum glistening on his hands before bringing them to his mouth and licking it off his finger. “I knew you’d taste fucking delicious.”

This idea of him wanting to fuck you for so long did wonders to your ego and booted any confidence you still had. The man you so desperately wanted for so long had wanted you as desperately for just as long. Your heart beat so fast you were sure he could hear it, but you wanted him too, no secrets lying between you two anymore.

Without you noticing, his boxers were gone and his hard dick bounced on his crotch, the rosy tip, dripping with precum, staining his stomach. Lining up outside your entrance, rubbing his tip on your clit just to tease you a little more, his eyes met yours. They trapped you as they did inside the car, but now they didn’t stare at you with simple desire. It burned, it consumed him and needed to find a way to release it. And his way was you.

With no warning, he thrusted into you, his size ripping you open and you let out a scream as you prayed your neighbors were heavy sleepers. Dick, as soon as his member was fully within you, let out a guttural groan, the sexiest moan you’d ever heard come out of a man.

“F-fuck you’re so tight.” he moaned. “Just like I imagined.”

Lying on top of you, he met your lips, he wrapped your fingers in his and slid your hands to the top of your head again. His thrusts were fast, hard, reaching you deeper and deeper, taking out of you a scream louder than the other, only muffled by his mouth that refused to leave yours.

You wrapped your leg around his waist, wanting him to go deeper, if it was even possible, so consumed with lust that all logic melted out of your mind.

It wasn’t a fuck, it was love making, sensual and nearly animalistic love making, and the idea of it made the butterflies in your stomach go feral just as you were. If he loved you or not, even it was even something else more the pure lust, was a discussion for later, but he fucked you like no one else did, and you only hoped it was a sign he was not like the others. That he wasn’t just a single page in a large book.

The wet sound of your skins meeting each other filled the room, but only because your mouths were glued together, all sound not allowed to make it out.

“You’re taking me in so good, aren’t you Yn?”

“Yes, y-yes. You’re filling me so good.” you cried back.

“Are you gonna come on my dick, Yn? Are you gonna let me feel you coming?” he teased, nearly as desperate for your orgasm as you were.

“Yes.” you replied, louder than you’d wished. With a few more thrusts, you came all over his hard dick, your body shaking ferociously, reaching a high you’d never reached before. “Uuh, yes!” you screamed, as he continued to pump into you, his own orgasm imminent.

“I’m gonna come, Yn.” he announced, thrusting once more before taking his member out of your pussy and stroking it up and down with his hands. His milky load hit your belly, painting you in sin, as your tongue extended out for a little drip of it.

Exhausted, Dick threw himself on the bed beside you, both your breath audibly out of pace. Your body was covered in sweat, your bed sheet sticking to your back as you tried your best to recollect yourself.

“Officer McCaffrey would be so disappointed.” you joked, getting a loud laugh out of the man beside you. Crossing his arm over your waist, he pulled you closer to him, kissing the wet baby hairs at your temple.

“Wanna disappoint him again?” he asked, turning your face to meet your eyes, his new found favorite thing to look at.

“All night?” you asked in return.

“All fucking night.”

It was safe to say you were late for work again the next morning, and would be late a few more times, as Officer Dreamy would gladly keep you up for as long as you wished.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

[quasi-normalcy]

The NDP is asking the Competition Bureau to investigate whether Canadian corporate landlords are using the same AI software that sparked an antitrust lawsuit in the United States. The U.S. Justice Department filed the lawsuit last month against real estate software company RealPage Inc., accusing it of an illegal scheme that allows landlords to co-ordinate hikes in rental prices. The lawsuit was filed alongside attorneys general in multiple states, including North Carolina and California. It alleges the company is violating antitrust laws through its algorithm, which landlords use to get recommended rental prices for millions of apartments across the country.

About bloody time.

[glitteringsunshine]

Loving Gibbs

Pairing : Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Reader

Gibbs’s  POV:

Y/N: YOUR NAME

Y/L/N : YOUR LAST NAME

Y/P/N : YOUR PEN NAME

 

“ We have a problem. Someone hacked the navy database. We don’t know what was taken. You can understand how sensitive the issue is. You have to find the hacker , recover the data  and close this case as soon as possible. “ The Director said.

“ OK “ I said, understanding  the security risk of the situation.

…

“ Boss I have been going through the military database. There’s  no way can anyone hack it remotely. We need to go over the master computer again , look into that room for clue of a break in. “ McGee said.

“ Well gear up McGee “ let’s  go.

 

“ What's this?” I said suddenly noticing a tiny red origami flower.”

Looking closely I found the words :

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix forever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle

Why not I with thine?

I could suddenly see McGee paling a bit.

“ What’s the meaning of this? Some sort of  message?” I asked.

“ I think boss. I am not sure. It’s  PB Shelly’s  poem  Love’s  Philosophy.”

“ I want to know the relevance of it ,McGee. Find it.”  I snapped.

 

…

“ We were in the squadroom running leads. Suddenly the phone on my desk rang.

Picking up, I heard a voice clearly hidden with a software. 

“ I have a little gift for you. You want to know who hacked the database , you need help then. “

I clicked my fingers to alert McGee to trace the call as Tony started recording it.

“ Go on.” I said . Trying to stall the caller.

“ I left you a special message in the NCIS computer system. You will know who you need to call for  help.”

Then the phone went dead.

 

“ Bose found a hidden encryption in our system. Trying to decrypt it Boss” Mcgee said.

“ After working on his computer for a while McGee visibly paled.”

“ Ohh Ohh Boss”

“ What ?”

I decrypted the message based on the crossword and the letters picked out from there through a riddle, I found a name.”

“ Well What McGee”

“ You ever heard of Y/P/N Boss?”

“ The bestselling author. The number one in NY Time’s  bestselling list “ Tony jumped with excitement.

“There’s  more boss. In her last novel, the narrator, a professor of literature helping  Law Enforcement  Agencies solve crimes through her depth of psychological perception, fell in love with an NCIS agent as she helped him solve a crime. They were close, I mean really close. Things were steamy, I mean. Then the NCIS agent didn’t want to commit , and after the case , the narrator felt heartbroken, and decided to leave the city. She wanted to send ref flowers with Shelly’s  poem pouring out her heart. Couldn’t.  Then finally before leaving the city , she was making a cryptic message in form of crosswords and riddles , pouring her heart but did not send it.  At the end she suffered from lack of inspiration  and writer’s  Block, contemplating of not writing again.”

 

“ Find this person McGee. Bring her in for questioning.”

“ Boss , it’s a pen name. She wants to keep her identity secret.”

“ McGee, I don’t care. What’s  her real name?”

“ Boss , you know her.  I mean we know her.”

“ Who?”

“ Y/N, from the state department.  We worked a case together last year remember  Boss.”

“ Huh?”

“ Well she was a professor  before she joined the state department as policy analyst.” McGee said.

“ That’s it , that’s why the characters felt so familiar.” Tony said excitedly .She based the characters on us. Ohh you really did some steamy stuff Boss. Really sexy stuff. Didn’t read till the end though. Nice Spoiler McGoose.” Tony stopped abruptly after he saw me glaring.

“ From when did you know she is a writer McGee?” I asked.

“ Well we met at a writer’s  convention   a couple of years back.”

“ You mean you knew her from before the case ,and never bothered to tell me. It’s bad enough to have one writer follow you , and now there’s another?” I asked.

“ Bring her in. We need to talk.” I said.

 

…

I made her sit in the interrogation room , making her stew.

“ Love to see this one McGoose” Tony said.

“ Ohh it will be something Tony.”

“ You think Boss did those stuff  MacGee?”

“ No Tony they weren’t in contact after the case. Writers make up stuff you know.”

“ Yeah but that’s really  wild imagination.”

I could hear them as I completed the book. It’s a really brilliant one. Gripping, full of suspense, unputdownable . I would be lying if I had said that I did not imagine the same stuff she had written  about. This past year ,she has been in my mind. Specially at night in bed. Many a times I have pleasured myself imagining her.

 

Reader’s  POV:

It has been almost an hour I have been sitting in the interrogation  room.  When they took me in for questioning,  the secretary of state demanded to know the reason. Hence I have been filled with the details of the case. It wasn’t  a surprise to her as she already knew about my writing career. I was once her student and then her colleague  in the university.

Gibbs walked in.

“ So how many in state department knows about our little secret identity.?” He asked

“The Secretary  of State does.”

“ Yea I figured that.” Gibbs said.

“ So what do you think?” he continued

“ I don’t know” I said.

“ Where were you last night?”

“ If you think I did it ,using scenes from my own story , you are mistaken. I was in the office the  entire night , trying to convince nation states for using more clean energy. Trying to push forward an international treaty in the UN. My entire team and the Secretary of State will vouch for that. “

“ You are not merely a policy analyst. You have done spy stuff before. The Secretary of State is also Ex CIA. Where’s the guarantee you didn’t steal Intel.”

“ I didn’t.  Okay. Besides if I had, I wouldn’t  have used my own stories.”

“ So what do you think happened?”

“ I don’t know , okay. Maybe somebody wants to deflect attention from spystuff, or maybe?”

“ What?”

“ The chemistry between the characters was a huge success. I got a lot of mail wanting them getting back together. Wanting them to solve one more case.”

“ You think it’s a fan?”

“ Well its possible.  If it’s the case , it’s someone  for whom the line between fiction and reality has blurred.” I said.

“ Is the lines clear for you?”

“ What do you mean Gibbs?”

“ I mean you are basing your characters on real people , but you are using your imagination for a lot of things.”

“ I am writer. I use my imagination.  I make up stuff.”

“ I am more curious as to why you wrote what you wrote.”

“ Meaning?”

“ What went on in that pretty little head of yours when you wrote about us? The stuff , was it for just the story or is there more to it? ”

“ Look , I may have based my characters on you , but that’s it. I have never revealed any identity nor any public information,  regarding any case or people.” I said standing up.

“ Sit down. I am not done with you.”

“ Well I am.” I said walking away.

Gibbs followed me , pushing me to the elevator and flipping the  emergency  switch.

“ What?”

“ Tell me Y/N , What you wrote about us ,was it just about the story or because you wanted those things to happen between  us.”

“ Why do you want to know?” I asked.

“ I need to. I have to.” He said.

“ Why , Gibbs Why?”

“ Because this last year I have been driving myself crazy thinking about you, okay. So tell me Y/N the truth. Do you want those things to happen, and that’s why you wrote it?”

I nodded an yes.  I tried to look down on the floor but he held me by my chin.

“ See , that wasn’t difficult to say, was it?”” Tell me Y/N ,did  you touch yourself thinking of me?”

“ Fine I did Gibbs. But I am not the only one. I walked on you pleasing yourself thinking of me remember.”

“ And that’s  not the only time.  I have done it many times, thinking of you this past year.”

“ You could have called.” I almost whispered .

“ So could you. Why didn’t  you? “ he countered.

“ Why didn’t you?” I shot back.

He stared into my eyes and started the elevator again.

“ Y/L/N  will help us in this case” he announced in the squadroom. “ You can share my desk with me.” He said. “ Here, take this” he commanded as he handed me a bottle of water and aspirin.

“ What you have been rubbing your temples in interrogation. You were working last night . You didn’t get any sleep. Keep yourself hydrated. It will ease the headache”.

 

Gibbs’s  POV:

We were in the bar, celebrating the closing of the case. Y/N was right. The person who hacked our system is a high school boy. He is bullied in school , and his divorced parents both remarried not paying much attention to him. He is lonely and reading Y/N’s novel helped him cope with it. He formed a bond through the reading of the novels. He could not bear the character of Y/N getting heartbroken. He thought a case could bring the characters back together.  He didn’t  steal any data. He just pretended to , to make us work the case together.

“ Good Job Y/N, reaching out to him in interrogation. “

“ So did you Gibbs. But what’s gonna happen to him.”

“ Well he didn’t actually steal data. So no prison time. But he have to do community service in the form of hacking for NCIS. That’s the deal.”

“ That’s good Gibbs. He will get a sense of belonging.”

“ Yeah the kid’s  smart” he commented.

Reader’s  Pov

“ Well I should go now. I am tired.  “I said walking away.

Outside the bar , I realised I am a bit drunk. Not wanting to drive , I waited for a ca.

A group of guys were entering the bar. One of them tried to start a conversation using really stupid pick up lines.

“ Look I am not interested”  I said sternly. But they still tried to pester me.

GIibb’s POV:

I can make out Y/N was a bit tipsy. Her speech slurred a little. I didn’t want her to drive like this. So I followed her.

“ The lady said she is not interested “  I said sternly. The group went away.

“ Ahh my prince, my saviour” Y/N slurred. “ If only you loved me a little bit, just a teeny tiny bit.”

“ Y/N you are drunk.”

“ No. Maybe. Yes . I think I am drunk in love.” She pouted. “ I hate you . I hate you for making me feel like this. Maybe if you could fuck it out of me.”

“ Y/N , I want you . I want you so badly. But you are drunk now . I can’t take you when you are drunk. You are not in the proper sense to consent. “

I guided her to my car, putting on her seat belt. I took her to my home.

She had fallen asleep in the car. I undid her seat belt and carried her to my room making sure not to wake up. I tucked her in, brushing the hair from her face,  kissing her forehead.

“ Good night love . Sleep tight.”

 

Reader’s  POV:

I woke up in the morning. As memories of last night’s drunken stupidity flooded me, I was gripped with utter embarrassment  and humiliation.

“ You are awake. Good Morning . I made breakfast.” I heard Gibbs.

“ I need to go” I said. “ I am really sorry. I was really stupid last night.”

“ Y/N” Gibbs tried to say something , but I ran away before that.

 

“Gibbs’s  POV”

It was 9 o clock now. I was in my basement trying to work on my boat. I wasn’t doing a good job. I wanted to talk Y/N about how I felt. But she ran away before I could.

I heard footsteps . I looked up to see Y/N standing.

“Gibbs “ she said.

“ You are here. Really Here. Why?”

“ Because I wanted to . I didn’t want to be anyplace else.”

“ Then why did you run?” He said hoarsely.

“ I couldn’t bear to say goodbye.”

“ Y/N”

“ Wait Gibbs . Hear me out. I thought if I run , I can get you out of my mind. But I couldn’t.  Please. I am asking for one night with you. Show me pleasure. Maybe then I can get you out of my system.  No promises.  I am not asking for your heart. But you , for one night. I need to know hoe it feels to be with you.”

Reader’s  POV:

 

Gibbs looked at my eyes with such intensity. He stepped closer to me.

“ There’s one teeny tiny little problem” he said.

“ What?” I blurted

“ I have fallen in love with you.  I fell for you the moment I saw you. This last year ,I tried my best to fight my feelings. I was scared to open up. What If I mess up. What if I hurt in the process. I didn’t want myself  to screw up with you. I couldn’t  bear it. So I shut myself out from you. But it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea how many times I have almost called you. You have always been in my mind, no matter how much I fought it. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.  But I can’t  deny my feelings anymore. I want you Y/N ,I need you. More than just a night. You see I have already given my heart to you.”

“ Oh Gibbs Gibbs ,I  thought you didn’t like me like that. I mean there was an attraction from the first moment we met. But I was scared to reach out.  I wanted to call you. But I was scared  that what if you did not feel as strongly for me as I do. You have my heart from the moment we met. I knew I have feelings for you. But what if you didn’t. What if it was just lust from your part.”  

My words were cut off when his lips touched mine. This was no gentle kiss. It was wild passionate and demanding.

“ Oh Gibbs ,Gibbs ,Gibbs”  I babbled.

“ As much as I love to hear my name coming from your pretty little voice , I need you to shut up and listen to me for a second okay.” He said cupping my face.

He softly brushed his lips against mine ,gently kissing me. Then looking into my eyes he said : “ Y/N I love you . I love you so much Y/N”.

“ And I love you Jethro. I Love you so much.”

“ Ohh Y/N, words will fail to express how much I love you. But I can show you” he smiled pulling me closer.

[alwaysbewoke]

Last summer, as a spike in violent crime hit New Orleans, the city council voted to allow police to use facial-recognition software to track down suspects. It was billed as an effective, fair tool to ID criminals quickly. A year after the system went online, data show the results have been almost exactly the opposite. Records obtained and analyzed by POLITICO show the practice failed to ID suspects a majority of the time and is disproportionately used on Black people. We reviewed nearly a year’s worth of New Orleans facial recognition requests, sent for serious felony crimes including murder and armed robbery. In that time, New Orleans PD sent 19 requests. Of the 15 that went through: 14 were for Black suspects 9 failed to make a match Half of the 6 matches were wrong 1 arrest was made While it hasn’t led to any false arrests, police facial identification in New Orleans appears to confirm what civil rights advocates have argued for years: that it amplifies, rather than corrects, the underlying human biases of the authorities that use them. U.S. lawmakers of both parties have tried for years to limit how police can use facial recognition, but have yet to enact any laws. Some states have passed limited rules, like those preventing its use on body cameras in California or banning its use in schools in New York. A few left-leaning cities have fully banned law enforcement use of the technology. For two years, in the wake of the George Floyd protests, New Orleans was one of them. “This department hung their hat on this,” said New Orleans Councilmember At-Large JP Morrell, a Democrat who voted against lifting the ban and has seen the NOPD data. Its use of the system, he says, has been “wholly ineffective and pretty obviously racist.” (NOPD denies that its usage of facial recognition is racially biased). Politically, New Orleans’ City Council is split on facial recognition, but a slim majority of its members — alongside the police, mayor and local businesses — still support its use, despite the results of the past year.

x

[beardedmrbean]

LONDON (AP) — A British man who used artificial intelligence to create images of child abuse was sent to prison for 18 years on Monday.

The court sentenced Hugh Nelson, 27, after he pleaded guilty to a number of sexual offenses including making and distributing indecent images of children and distributing “indecent pseudo photographs of children.” He also admitted to encouraging the rape of a child.

Nelson took commissions from people in online chatrooms for custom explicit images of children being harmed both sexually and physically.

Police in Manchester, in northern England, said he used AI software from a U.S. company, Daz 3D, that has an “AI function” to generate images that he both sold to online buyers and gave away for free. The police force said it was a landmark case for its online child abuse investigation team.

The company said the licensing agreement for its Daz Studio 3D rendering software prohibits its use for creating images that "violate child pornography or child sexual exploitation laws, or are otherwise harmful to minors."

“We condemn the misuse of any software, including ours, for such purposes, and we are committed to continuously improving our ability to prevent it,” Daz 3D said in a statement, adding that its policy is to assist law enforcement “as needed.”

Bolton Crown Court, near Manchester, heard that Nelson, who has a master's degree in graphics, also used images of real children for some of his computer-generated artwork.

Judge Martin Walsh said it was impossible to determine whether a child was sexually abused as a result of his images but Nelson intended to encourage others to commit child rape and had “no idea” how his images would be used.

Nelson, who had no previous convictions, was arrested last year. He told police he had met like-minded people on the internet and eventually began to create images for sale.

Prosecutor Jeanette Smith said outside court that it was “extremely disturbing” that Nelson was able to “take normal photographs of children and, using AI tools and a computer program, transform them and create images of the most depraved nature to sell and share online.”

Prosecutors have said the case stemmed from an investigation into AI and child sexual exploitation while police said it presented a test of existing legislation because using computer programs the way Nelson did is so new that it isn’t specifically mentioned in current U.K. law.

The case mirrors similar efforts by U.S. law enforcement to crack down on a troubling spread of child sexual abuse imagery created through artificial intelligence technology — from manipulated photos of real children to graphic depictions of computer-generated kids. The Justice Department recently brought what’s believed to be the first federal case involving purely AI-generated imagery — meaning the children depicted are not real but virtual.

[mattersuite]

Manage legal business risks and complying with regulations is one of core activities to mitigate risk. Organizations can grow widely with the help of enterprise software and can, having a ELM solution can eliminate the risk of chaos, delay in work and simplify your work significantly.

[demifiendrsa]

Bethesda Softworks will close Redfall developer Arkane Austin, Hi-Fi RUSH and The Evil Within developer Tango Gameworks, as well as Alpha Dog Games and Roundhouse Studios, according to a companywide email sent out by Microsoft Gaming president of game content and studios Matt Booty this morning.

Full email

Today I’m sharing changes we are making to our Bethesda and ZeniMax teams. These changes are grounded in prioritizing high-impact titles and further investing in Bethesda’s portfolio of blockbuster games and beloved worlds which you have nurtured over many decades.

To double down on these franchises and invest to build new ones requires us to look across the business to identify the opportunities that are best positioned for success. This reprioritization of titles and resources means a few teams will be realigned to others and that some of our colleagues will be leaving us.

Here are the changes going into effect:

Arkane Austin – This studio will close with some members of the team joining other studios to work on projects across Bethesda. Arkane Austin has a history of making impactful and innovative games and it is a pedigree that everyone should be proud of. Redfall‘s previous update will be its last as we end all development on the game. The game and its servers will remain online for players to enjoy and we will provide make-good offers to players who purchased the “Hero” downloadable content.

Alpha Dog Studios – This studio will also close. We appreciate the team’s creativity in bringing DOOM to new players. Mighty DOOM will be sunset on August 7 and we will be turning off the ability for players to make any purchases in the game.

Tango Gameworks – Tango Gameworks will also close. We are thankful for their contributions to Bethesda and players around the world. Hi-Fi RUSH will continue to be available to players on the platforms it is today.

Roundhouse Games – The team at Roundhouse Games will be joining ZeniMax Online Studios (ZOS). Roundhouse has played a key role in many of our recent game launches and bringing them into ZOS to work on The Elder Scrolls Online will mean we can do even more to grow the world that millions of players call home.

With this consolidation of our Bethesda studio teams, so that we can invest more deeply in our portfolio of games and new IP, a small number of roles across select Bethesda publishing and corporate teams will also be eliminated.

Those whose roles will be impacted will be notified today, and we ask that you please treat your departing colleagues with respect and compassion. We will provide our full support to those who are impacted in today’s notifications and through their transitions, including severance benefits informed by local laws.

These changes are not a reflection of the creativity and skill of the talented individuals at these teams or the risks they took to try new things. I acknowledge that these changes are also disruptive to the various support teams across ZeniMax and Bethesda that bring our games to market. We are making these tough decisions to create capacity to increase investment in other parts of our portfolio and focus on our priority games.

Bethesda remains one of the key pillars of Xbox with a strong portfolio of amazing games and thriving communities. As we look to the future, there is an impressive line-up of games on the horizon. In 2024 alone we have Starfield “Shattered Space,” Fallout 76 “Skyline Valley,” Indiana Jones and The Great Circle, and The Elder Scrolls Online‘s “Golden Road.” As we align our plans and resources to best set ourselves up for success in this complex and changing industry, our teams across Arkane Lyon, Bethesda Game Studios, id Software, MachineGames, ZeniMax Online Studios, and the Bethesda publishing and corporate teams will be well-positioned to build new IP, explore new game concepts, and expand on our existing franchises.

—Matt

Messages from each studio

Arkane Austin

Tango Gameworks

Alpha Dog Games

[terresdebrume]

Nobody sent asks about the persocons AU but fuck it, I'm having visions at 11pm and doing anything more than typing away on the phone would be really unreasonable so here we go for a very short pile of Vibes

Ps: I'm using persocons in reference to the manga Chobits, as a shorthand way of saying that the boys in this are robots with a very solid mimicry of sentience going on + are a normal part of society but ALSO as a way to indicate to those in the know that we are fucking with the laws of robotics a little bit

"Thank you," says Vera as Edwin hands her the crate and the spitting mad cat it contains. "You're very kind."

Charles isn't so far gone yet that he doesn't catch the infinitesimal twitch of Edwin's lips. They're pretty nice lips, plopped in the middle of a classically nice face, paired with a neat haircut and what is probably a classically nice body under all the tweed. The PAYNE line was kind of designed for that, after all. Well, Charles doubts any designer ever planned for the tweed, but the broadly appealing features and physique were definitely discussed for at least ten years down in the bowels of Hilarion Inc. headquarters. All in all: not surprising Charles would look. He's only—well.

Out of the shadows where Charles lurks, Vera steps back towards the next service shaft and the upper levels of London. Edwin watches her go with near perfect immobility, but even Charles' factory-work-oriented eyes don't miss the relaxing in his jaw, the miniscule sag of his shoulders. Edwin, Charles is willing to bet, is satisfied with a job well done... Which means there is no reason for him not to smile when Edwin joins him at the back of the alley.

"She's right you know. You're proper kind."

He falls into step with his newly found work partner, smirking when Edwin throws him a sideway glance and looks back ahead.

"Do not be ridiculous. Kindness is a human trait, and I am not human."

"Plenty of us Robots grow emotions, you know."

Mainstream research currently holds that persocons happen over time. Owner misses a software adjustment here, shakes a bot's servers a little too hard there, and eventually that all messes with the auto-learning routines in ways unpredicted and unpredictable and boom: your fuck off tall toaster now has opinions. Charles, who gave himself a name before he was even out of the factory, would beg to differ if he didn't suspect that would get him shipped straight to the richest R&D department for a nice long play session with his programming. Not exactly an appealing prospect.

"So experience seems to indicate," Edwin says, sounding exceedingly prim. "I however, haven't. It would be illogical for you to pretend I did."

"Sure mate. No worries."

Edwin gives a little nod that Charles decides to go ahead and label as satisfied. He'll keep mum about the whole emotions thing, of course. No point in going against Edwin on it. It's just that he also knows it's a load of tosh, really, and he doesn't know it because of the way Edwin's lips twitch sometimes in response to what other people are saying. It's not because he took one look at Charles' crumbling state—the shot up voice modulator, the stringy red hair falling off his head, the long stripe of skin missing from his jaw to his collarbone—and took Charles under his wings. It's not even because Edwin gave himself a name.

It's because, well. Charles was built as a factory model. He has the specs for thousands of android parts running through his data banks at any given time and access to millions more with the internet. Edwin's eye covers—the pale green of his irises, specifically—haven't been on the market for the past sed venty three years, four months, one week and two days. A normal android his age would have been replaced a long time ago. Crucially: it wouldn't have given a shit.

That's kind of the thing with androids that work like they're supposed to: they mimick emotions real well—as much as the humans want them to, that is—but when the moment comes to have them recycled they treat it like any other day. 'Oh, you want to erase me from existence forever? Okay.' And then they go. But then once in a while, someone like Charles comes along: a defect, a bug in the machine. An everlasting problem to robotics engineer everywhere, whose position on the whole being recycled is a resounding:

"Fuck that."

That's how Charles knows Edwin isn't actually emotionless. Because no matter how many personality protocols he's actually got running—or shut down, really, he sounds like enough of a beautiful freak to actively have played with his own brains—when the time came to be recycled, it is abundantly clear that Edwin's answer in spite of any Robotics Law overrides was also no thank you.

And if Charles is lucky, one of these days, Edwin might even admit it.

[mariacallous]

In March 2007, Google’s then senior executive in charge of acquisitions, David Drummond, emailed the company’s board of directors a case for buying DoubleClick. It was an obscure software developer that helped websites sell ads. But it had about 60 percent market share and could accelerate Google’s growth while keeping rivals at bay. A “Microsoft-owned DoubleClick represents a major competitive threat,” court papers show Drummond writing.

Three weeks later, on Friday the 13th, Google announced the acquisition of DoubleClick for $3.1 billion. The US Department of Justice and 17 states including California and Colorado now allege that the day marked the beginning of Google’s unchecked dominance in online ads—and all the trouble that comes with it.

The government contends that controlling DoubleClick enabled Google to corner websites into doing business with its other services. That has resulted in Google allegedly monopolizing three big links of a vital digital advertising supply chain, which funnels over $12 billion in annual revenue to websites and apps in the US alone.

It’s a big amount. But a government expert estimates in court filings that if Google were not allegedly destroying its competition illegally, those publishers would be receiving up to an additional hundreds of millions of dollars each year. Starved of that potential funding, “publishers are pushed to put more ads on their websites, to put more content behind costly paywalls, or to cease business altogether,” the government alleges. It all adds up to a subpar experience on the web for consumers, Colorado attorney general Phil Weiser says.

“Google is able to extract hiked-up costs, and those are passed on to consumers,” he alleges. “The overall outcome we want is for consumers to have more access to content supported by advertising revenue and for people who are seeking advertising not to have to pay inflated costs.”

Google disputes the accusations.

Starting today, both sides’ arguments will be put to the test in what’s expected to be a weekslong trial before US district judge Leonie Brinkema in Alexandria, Virginia. The government wants her to find that Google has violated federal antitrust law and then issue orders that restore competition. In a best-case scenario, according to several Google critics and experts in online ads who spoke with WIRED, internet users could find themselves more pleasantly informed and entertained.

It could take years for the ad market to shake out, says Adam Heimlich, a longtime digital ad executive who’s extensively researched Google. But over time, fresh competition could lower supply chain fees and increase innovation. That would drive “better monetization of websites and better quality of websites,” says Heimlich, who now runs AI software developer Chalice Custom Algorithms.

Tim Vanderhook, CEO of ad-buying software developer Viant Technology, which both competes and partners with Google, believes that consumers would encounter a greater variety of ads, fewer creepy ads, and pages less cluttered with ads. “A substantially improved browsing experience,” he says.

Of course, all depends on the outcome of the case. Over the past year, Google lost its two other antitrust trials—concerning illegal search and mobile app store monopolies. Though the verdicts are under appeal, they’ve made the company’s critics optimistic about the ad tech trial.

Google argues that it faces fierce competition from Meta, Amazon, Microsoft, and others. It further contends that customers benefited from each of the acquisitions, contracts, and features that the government is challenging. “Google has designed a set of products that work efficiently with each other and attract a valuable customer base,” the company’s attorneys wrote in a 359-page rebuttal.

For years, Google publicly has maintained that its ad tech projects wouldn’t harm clients or competition. “We will be able to help publishers and advertisers generate more revenue, which will fuel the creation of even more rich and diverse content on the internet,” Drummond testified in 2007 to US senators concerned about the DoubleClick deal’s impact on competition and privacy. US antitrust regulators at the time cleared the purchase. But at least one of them, in hindsight, has said he should have blocked it.

Deep Control

The Justice Department alleges that acquiring DoubleClick gave Google “a pool of captive publishers that now had fewer alternatives and faced substantial switching costs associated with changing to another publisher ad server.” The global market share of Google’s tool for publishers is now 91 percent, according to court papers. The company holds similar control over ad exchanges that broker deals (around 70 percent) and tools used by advertisers (85 percent), the court filings say.

Google’s dominance, the government argues, has “impaired the ability of publishers and advertisers to choose the ad tech tools they would prefer to use and diminished the number and quality of viable options available to them.”

The government alleges that Google staff spoke internally about how they have been earning an unfair portion of what advertisers spend on advertising, to the tune of over a third of every $1 spent in some cases.

Some of Google’s competitors want the tech giant to be broken up into multiple independent companies, so each of its advertising services competes on its own merits without the benefit of one pumping up another. The rivals also support rules that would bar Google from preferencing its own services. “What all in the industry are looking for is fair competition,” Viant’s Vanderhook says.

If Google ad tech alternatives win more business, not everyone is so sure that the users will notice a difference. “We’re talking about moving from the NYSE to Nasdaq,” Ari Paparo, a former DoubleClick and Google executive who now runs the media company Marketecture, tells WIRED. The technology behind the scenes may shift, but the experience for investors—or in this case, internet surfers—doesn’t.

Some advertising experts predict that if Google is broken up, users’ experiences would get even worse. Andrey Meshkov, chief technology officer of ad-block developer AdGuard, expects increasingly invasive tracking as competition intensifies. Products also may cost more because companies need to not only hire additional help to run ads but also buy more ads to achieve the same goals. “So the ad clutter is going to get worse,” Beth Egan, an ad executive turned Syracuse University associate professor, told reporters in a recent call arranged by a Google-funded advocacy group.

But Dina Srinivasan, a former ad executive who as an antitrust scholar wrote a Stanford Technology Law Review paper on Google’s dominance, says advertisers would end up paying lower fees, and the savings would be passed on to their customers. That future would mark an end to the spell Google allegedly cast with its DoubleClick deal. And it could happen even if Google wins in Virginia. A trial in a similar lawsuit filed by Texas, 15 other states, and Puerto Rico is scheduled for March.

[talisidekick]

u should post more about being trans

Sure. And I have a recent life story so here it goes:

If you've spent any amount of time scrolling down my blog, you know that from my 800+ posts I've dropped quite a bit about myself. Namely that my parents emotionally and physically abused me and manipulated me to act a very specific way to adhere to a "look" that agreed with my birth mothers families expectations. They wanted a daughter and got my sister first try, and only had me to teach her to share. Their treatment of me my entire life and how they admitted to it and talked about me let me know I was just a show-piece for their perfect cult christian/catholic/mormon nuclear family vibe.

As such, I can say that I have never once experienced what parental love actually feels like. What it's like to be loved unconditionally by a parent who cares. That wasn't my life.

At least ... that was true up until yesterday.

If you're unaware of what's been happening up in Canada in the last week (from 18th September 2023 to 22nd September 2023), the transphobes up here held a "1 Million March for Children" protest about public schools being gender inclusive, teaching topics on gender identity and gender expression, and allowing kids to give preferred names and pronouns that teachers abide by without parental involvement. If you're unfamiliar with Canada's laws, Canada has ratified the "rights of the child" set forth by the United Nations and children under the age of 18 up here have civil rights including the right to privacy and safety. These protests attempt to say a parent has the right to know everything going on with their kid, and there is some degree of agreement on that, but a child also has the right to privacy and safety. This group is pushing for policy changes in public schools that would require the schools take actions that can be argued would infringe on the rights of the 2SLGBTQIA+ children regarding their privacy and safety. As such, this transphobic group met opposition that vastly outnumbered their protest numbers in the form of counter protests involving students, teachers, parents, allies, and 2SLGBTQIA+ adults who passed through a less-than-accepting school system in their time.

I unfortunately missed the organized protest in my city yesterday. I was entirely unaware myself that any of this was happening. I'm now working on being more active and informed in my community because now that this bullshit is firmly on my doorstep, I'm not about to let it gain another inch by being oblivious.

When I came out, I was 27. I waited until I was on hormones just because I needed to be 1000% certain I was finally doing this before letting anyone in my workspace know. I was met immediately with transphobia from my team lead/manager. I was honestly stuck with what to do because it wasn't like she (my manager) was being overtly terrible, it was just a bunch of small things that were actively impeding my ability to do my job, and even move departments. It became more apparent as time went on that she was actively preventing me from reaching my normal level of production by throwing harder and harder work my way with much higher expectations than ever before. I reached out to another co-worker who was in a higher position than I at the time and she went to bat for me. She caught a lot of it first hand, agreed I was being treated unfairly, and got me in contact with HR. With her help, I was able to move to the IT department and begin using my software and computer architecture degree for something. She remarked that my parents must be proud I was finally in my chosen field of study and ... I had to let her know that my parents weren't in my life, and that they treated me terribly, and don't approve of me. She took that statement and without missing a beat she said: "well, guess that makes me your mom now", which I just took as a "if they won't love you for who you are and what you achieve, I will" symbolic gesture. She's called me her kid in casual conversation, and I have called her mom, but she has biological children around my age so it felt symbolic. I'm a 29 year old adult now, I was 27 at the time this started and I didn't think much of it because I kind of just accepted I was a person who'll never have parents who care. Like, I'm not a kid anymore, what's the point of having parents? That was my mentality.

Until yesterday. The day of the counter protest I didn't know was happening. My adopted mom showed up in force. Why? Take a look:

Some context for the following messages: when an iPhone user hearts a message, and android receiver gets the "Loved "<First 50 characters of the message reacted to> ..." message.

[Start ID: Screenshots of a text message conversation between @talisidekick and her mother who adopted her at 27. Conversation spans over Sunday and Monday. First photo reads: (8:12 PM Sunday) Mom: ... me about it. It was due to something that happened Wednesday. This was all put together in a matter of days. I have a trans child so I wanted to be there (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: Just confirming, is the "trans child" me or is one of your other kids trans? (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: 'Cause I still call you mom. (7:18 AM Monday) Mom: No it's you (8:10 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for me made me smile so wide... (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for..." (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Because you know I've got your back my luv

Second photo reads:

(8:11 AM Monday) Talisidekick: ... I really wish you were my mom when I was growing up. You're honestly the best. (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "... I really wish you were my mom when I was growi..." (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: I wish I was too! You would have been accepted for who you are the entire time (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: But you got me now! (8:13 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I do, and that matters loads. (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I do, and that matters loads."

/end ID]

I'm in tears because she wasn't being symbolic. She sees me as her kid. She saw a problem, recognized that I'd lived through worse because we've talked how many times I was almost killed by my peers at school or left to die by teacher staff because where I grew up was conservative and we didn't have anything in the books supporting queer children in schools, and showed up to be part of the solution.

For reference from those who don't know: someone made a cruel remark that I was gay via a slur when I was in grade 3 and that was enough to mark me for abuse, and almost kill me for the entirety of grade school. There was more than one active attempt by members of the student body to kill me, at least one in front of a teacher who did nothing because of that damn rumour. And trying to kill me wasn't the worst thing they did. They didn't care I was actually transgender, in fact, them not knowing that probably saved me from them trying harder. I couldn't bring any of this to my parents because they were worse.

No child deserves to live any fraction of what I went through. It was horrible, and these assholes want to force kids to feel just as isolated as I did growing up. I barely survived and almost took my own life several times because of all this.

Mom, if you happen to read this, thank you for showing me I matter. I wish I'd met you sooner.

Trans rights are human rights. Transgender kids deserve safety too because every damn child matters.