(no subject)

So, Lucky took All The Tests yesterday and did eventually get to go home last night, which is probably just as well. He's happier there, and happiness does impact health, and while Emmy is anxious about him coming to her awards ceremony I think she's also glad he gets to go. Reasonably happy ending to a slightly terrifying episode, and those of you who predicted Mum would go on a heart-health kick are not wrong.

I realised I never really explained why doors were thwarting me yesterday, but the short version is that a new member of the custodial staff locked all the doors on all our floors after cleaning the offices on Wednesday night. This isn't a big deal -- anyone who didn't have their keys just borrowed my Master Key -- except in one department. Be shocked, it's the department that pays 25% of my salary and wants 75% of my time. I really need a catchier name for them. Perhaps "Entitled Inc".

They just did a remodel and some of the new doors they installed were never "keyed" to our master key -- in other words, they have individualised locks that the master key doesn't fit.

This is Not My Fault. I'm not the one whose job it was to key the doors. I'm also not the one who lost the keys that actually do fit those doors. And yet, who gets nasty passive-aggro bullshit about them having to drill the locks out? Oh that would be me. (I got nasty passive-aggro shit about carpet-cleaning, too. She CC'd my boss on that one, which just made him LOL.)

It's fine, I've spent over half my life on the internet and half of that as a BNF, I've had way worse than their crap on a good day.

(no subject)

NEW MEME

amand_r, gypsylady, and I just invented it.

Take any song and replace "work" "walk" or another similar W word with "wank".

I've been wanking on the railroad, allll the livelong day!

AND GO!

Life Noir

Title: Life Noir
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R (Nick Halden/Vincent Adler; Nick Halden/Kate Moreau background)
Warnings: I wouldn't call it dubcon but the sex gets a little unexpectedly rough.
Summary: Noir is popularly defined as a genre "in which no one is innocent".

Part I: Nick
Part II: Vincent

(no subject)

Okay, you guys, this was not supposed to be a long fanfic. It was supposed to be two scenes. Five thousand words later I had reached "scene two". I don't know why it took me so many words to get where I was going, but just as an example, in this fanfic I actually put off writing porn at one point in order to write a conversation about capital asset management.

As Junie observed when I mentioned this to her, I am terrible at being a human.

That said, I do get round to the sex eventually. And then there's a lot of it? And it's gloriously messed up. Also, I think this is the darkest Peter I've ever written, and he only says eight sentences in the whole fic.

I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Life Noir
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R (Nick Halden/Vincent Adler; Nick Halden/Kate Moreau background)
Warnings: I wouldn't call it dubcon but the sex gets a little unexpectedly rough.
Summary: Noir is popularly defined as a genre "in which no one is innocent".

Part I: Nick
Part II: Vincent

(no subject)

This is the day that never ends. I'm working an event tonight, which does make me feel like Ian from Charitable Getting, except way less useful because I'm here twenty minutes early and my job tonight is mostly to stand around uselessly until something goes wrong.

Things go wrong in real life less often or amusingly than in novels.

The bartender is nice, at least? He gave me a coke and offered rum to go with it, but drinking at this particular event is a spectacularly bad idea. Talking to the internet is slightly less soothing but much wiser.

Hail Caesar! We who have social anxiety salute you.

(no subject)

I'm home! That was actually remarkably fun. There were tiny snack-sized crab cakes!

The event was set up so that we had both pre-registered guests and walk-ins, and after about ten minutes we started watching the door and trying to predict if the people coming in had registered or were walk-ins.

"Which do you think?"

"Walk-in."

"State your reason."

"Shaved head."

I was batting about 600 when one of my colleagues turned to me and said, "We're terrible, judgey people."

And then we ate some more crab cakes.

We also had two crashers who I'm pretty sure just wanted to go out to a bar on Friday night, and decided the $35 registration fee was worth it for three hours of an open bar and assorted snacks. I can't say I blame them.