secretary hand

4

POIROT IS LIKE A KISS

My Puppy

Originally posted by rapnamu

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader-First Person View

Genre & Warnings: SMUT, fluff, pet play. 

Word Count: 4,406

NOTE: Pure Filth. Turn back now if you don’t want to see. Turning Tae Tae into my Fuck Puppy (Thanks Anon). Soft femdom. Let me tell you, it was an EXPERIENCE writing this, and I am still not perfectly pleased with it. Mostly because I’m never happy with my own smut writing. I had to do so much research, so google probably thinks I’m freaky naughty af. Which I suppose I am considering I wrote this lol. So, for those that are hardcore into this and think I didn’t portray it well enough, I’m sorry, I tried. And I learned quite a bit about myself, like the fact that if I ever get my hands on someone like Tae, I am so going to try this. Now enjoy, and excuse me as I go drench myself in holy water to cleanse myself of sin. 


“You know, I hate the winter. It reminds me of your cold heart.”

My now ex-boyfriend mutters this line, looking into the snowy sky. He sighs loudly and saunters off, without looking back. What a fucking drama queen. I can’t help but snort as I watch him disappear into the light snowfall, and wonder what movie he got that line from.

Cold heart.

I don’t have a cold heart. He was just a damn bore. He never wanted to do anything but watch movies, and freaked out if I suggested anything besides missionary. I’ve been thinking about breaking up with him for weeks now, but was putting it off because I knew he’d cry. This saved me all the hassle.

Note to self: Don’t date actors.

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independent.co.uk
THIS. IS. NOT. NORMAL! White House blocks news outlets from media briefing
The White House has blocked several high-profile media outlets from its press briefing. The Trump administration on Friday blocked legacy outlets including CNN, BBC, The New York Times, LA Times, the New York Daily News, the Daily Mail, and others from the White House press briefing. Officials also approved outlets who typically provide favourable coverage of the new administration. Several media outlets including the Associated Press and TIME Magazine declined to attend the briefing to boycott the President's decision.

Justin Carissimo at The Independent:

The White House has blocked several major news outlets from covering its press briefing.

White House Press Secretary Spicer on Friday hand selected news outlets to participate in an off-camera “gaggle” with reporters inside his West Wing office instead of the James S Brady Press Briefing Room.

The news outlets blocked from the press briefing include organisations who President Trump has criticised by name. CNN, BBC, The New York Times, LA Times, New York Daily News, Daily Mail, were among the news outlets barred from the gathering.

Instead, the press secretary hand-picked news outlets including Breitbart News, One America News Network, The Washington Times, all news organisations with far-right leanings. Others major outlets approved for t group included ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox News, Reuters and Bloomberg.

“Nothing like this has ever happened at the White House in our long history of covering multiple administrations of different parties,” Dean Baquet, executive editor of The New York Times said in a statement. “We strongly protest the exclusion of The New York Times and the other news organizations. Free media access to a transparent government is obviously of crucial national interest.”

Several media outlets including the Associated Press and TIME Magazine declined to attend the briefing to boycott the President’s decision.

The White House Correspondents’ Association also criticised the decision.

“The WHCA board is protesting strongly against how today’s gaggle is being handled by the White House,” Jeff Mason, the association’s president, said in a statement.

“We encourage the organizations that were allowed in to share the material with others in the press corps who were not. The board will be discussing this further with White House staff.”

And it’s also anti-American, to boot.

wsj.com
Handwriting Expert Makes New Shakespeare Discoveries
Folger scholar leads project to transcribe and digitize hundreds of documents about the Bard, discovering details that were overlooked for centuries.
By Jennifer Maloney

Folger scholar Dr. Heather Wolfe leads project to transcribe and digitize hundreds of documents about the Bard, discovering details that were overlooked for centuries.

““Wow,” said Harvard University professor Stephen Greenblatt, when told this week by The Wall Street Journal that Dr. Wolfe’s colleague had found the document. Dr. Greenblatt has written about the episode but didn’t know a more detailed account existed. “So many things are lost and have disappeared,” he said. “We think we know the past. We don’t know the past. We know pieces of the past.””

The Devil Drinks Tequila

BTS Yoongi / Bad Boy / Words: 4,617 / Warnings: underage drinking, lotta cursing
@savageyoonji requested:  Hey!! could I possibly request a drabble (or whatever you prefer) about being at school with Suga who is kind of a bad boy and you have a tiny secret crush on him? Thank you so much!!
A/N: this took 10 years and it aint even good im so sorry

Black printed words on a page floated before your vision like waves in the ocean before you blinked hard, wishing that the school sold coffee somewhere on campus. No matter how long your afternoon naps were, or how early you shut your phone off and retired it to your nightstand, you were always so damn tired. And it didn’t help when your government teacher was a raving bitch, that yelled at the whole class like a madwoman about a cheating scandal that she claims to have happened. You had probably rolled your eyes fifty times that day, because you were so done with high school and teachers and the way they believed they could manipulate students just because they were older. But there you were, stuck in the library, trying to force yourself to care about the media and it’s impact on public opinion. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find a way.

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First Contact (Rafael Casal x Reader)

Masterlist 

Request Queue

Request- This is a fic requested by my girl @jazygirljazzy (she’s awesome and posts a lot of Daveed and Rafa stuff and you should follow her) and it’s based on Rafa’s video series on YouTube “The Away Team”  It’s gonna be a four part series following each episode of the miniseries 

Song- cool girl – Tove Lo (I changed this song like three times)

Words- 2,164

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anonymous asked:

I know you're not taking requests but just imagining Niall celebrating Valentines Day with his wife and little girl makes my heart melt😭

Can you do a Niall imagine where he goes to pick your daughter up from school and he talks to the other parents? It’s a bit weird I know 😂

A/N: I kinda combined these……Also I’m the worst bc this is Valentine’s fluff and technically it’s St. Patrick’s day.  

Valentine’s Day 

Originally posted by ninicutiepie


Niall just barely managed to slip inside the door to the elementary school while juggling his guitar case, a giant box of sweets, and three grocery bags of craft supplies.  He was eternally grateful you weren’t there to watch him flounder around.  The last thing he needed was a reminder that “You can always make more than one trip, Niall.”  Getting his bearings, he shuffled into the office to sign in.  As soon as he crossed the doorway all three secretaries just about lunged across their desks to greet him.  Niall always found it hilarious, if not a little flattering.  You had seen the staff react to him early on and decided to use it to you advantage, sending Niall in your stead whenever you needed a favor.  So far, your daughter Charlie had gotten the teacher you requested, and the bus stop moved to the bottom of your driveway.  You tried to shy away from using Niall’s fame to get special treatment, the only exception being your child.

“Mr. Horan, how may we help you today?”  The secretary was leaning across the desk, baring far too much cleavage for a woman her age and in a school setting.  Niall grinned and gave her a small wink.  

“Cynthia, please, call me Niall.”  He flashed a grin at her and she physically swooned at him.  

“Niall, what can I do for you today?”  Her voice was sickly sweet and he could see the other two secretaries nearly panting behind her.  

“M’here for the Valentine’s Day party.  Just need to pick up a visitor’s pass.”

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21. To Prove We’re Not In A Rut


It was only a quarter after ten in the morning yet it had already been a day. Kids and husband woke up late. No time for breakfast. Broke various speed laws to get their seven-year-old to school on time. By the time Michonne made it on the road to Atlanta she had breathe a sigh of relief. She thought the day had finally turned around. Though fate had other ideas. Instead of sitting at the cherry wood table in the conference room with the panoramic view of downtown Atlanta, meeting with one of her firm’s biggest clients, she was perched on a dirty bench at a rest stop watching AAA drive away after changing her blown out tire.

She hastily typed a text message to her secretary with one hand while the other gripped a half cup of coffee. The rest of the liquid was displayed in a large, brown stain seeped into her white, silk blouse with droplets leaving a trail down to her grey skirt. Frustrated was too weak a word to describe what she was feeling. Her phone buzzed with a message from her secretary promising to apologize profusely to the other partners on her behalf.

Michonne stood and took another look down the road as she scratched at the neat bun at the back of her head. The constant roar of cars driving by did nothing to alleviate the tension headache that developed between her brows. She felt like crying, like screaming, like kicking her newly changed tire. A spark of hope pushed away a bit of the frustration when she saw the sheriff’s cruiser she’d been waiting for pull off the highway and into the rest stop. Seeing her husband’s face through the windshield made her whole body relax some.

Rick turned off the engine and tugged her black gym bag from the passenger’s seat before stepping out of the car. He hugged Michonne close with a kiss on the cheek. Her arms flew around his waist and she buried her head in his chest.

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anonymous asked:

hi! i was wondering if you could do a percival graves x reader where she works for him and is really awkward around him, but he just finds it cute? idk if that made sense but tysm!! 💞

This is one of the very few times I’ve written something cute so I hope that the story is somewhat up to your expectations! I think I did more clumsy than awkward, so I hope that’s fine! Thank you for requesting this story, it was fun to write!


It’s All Your Fault - Percival Graves x Reader

“You have something on your face.”

You blinked and stared at the distinguished figure of your boss in front of you, an amused smile quirking the corner of his lips. Frowning, you wondered if you had misheard what he said.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Percival Graves smirked and said nothing, choosing instead to lean close to your reddening face. Unwittingly, you let out a gasp at his close proximity, which made his smirk seem to take on a predatory look. Slowly, far too slowly for your liking, he reached out and oh so gently wiped something away from your lips. You shuddered, seeing a hint of red on his finger where it had caught on your lipstick. The Director just smiled and showed you the bit of peanut butter from your breakfast that had apparently stayed on your lip throughout the day. Your gaze followed his hand as he nonchalantly brought his finger to his lips (sweet Merlin, that image would haunt your dreams for nights to come) and very delicately, as if he were feasting on the most succulent of delicacies, licked the peanut butter off of the digit, all the while his dark eyes never left yours. The man was torturing you, and he knew it, the smug bastard.

“Mr Graves!”

Percival immediately straightened and drew himself away from you. You cleared your throat and fixed your attention back on the mounds of paperwork stacked on your desk, but you could feel the heat curl up your neck and around the tips of your ears. If you had but looked up, you would have seen Percival shoot a small smile that looked almost fond towards you before turning to the Auror who had called for him. He walked off then, and you immediately sank into your chair, relieved, but not before you clumsily sent a paperweight to the floor. The loud crash the damned paperweight made reverberated throughout the entire office, and you groaned when every head, including that of Percival’s, swiveled towards your direction. Muttering a quick sorry, you ducked under your desk to retrieve the object, and to pretend that a hole had opened up to allow you to disappear.


You were a part of the Department of Magical Security of MACUSA, but you didn’t work there as an Auror. You had no shame in telling everyone that you were a clerk; the job didn’t sound glamorous, and it wasn’t as if you were risking your life each day as the Aurors did, but you were still proud that you were doing your bit in ensuring the peace of the wizarding world, one form at a time. Recently however, you were given a small promotion as Percival Graves’ personal secretary, something Madame Picquery was adamant he needed, and you agreed. The man was perhaps the busiest wizard (or perhaps human altogether) alive; the first time you took a glance at his schedule, you were stunned. Every hour of his day was occupied by meetings arranged back to back, briefings on missions and the latest threats to the wizarding community, reports that needed to be read over, the applications of new recruits, etcetera etcetera. It didn’t help that Mr Graves was the definition of a workaholic; if you looked up the word in a dictionary, it would most certainly show you a picture of Percival Graves. With such a busy boss who was the first to appear at the office and the last to leave, every day, you tried your best to help lighten his load (hah! You’d like to lighten his load, if you catch my drift) by making sure he doesn’t have to deal with any menial tasks that would distract him from the more important duties. Keyword though, being tried.

Percival Graves was a very attractive man. Very. While he was at least 10 years older than you were, you appreciated the dignity of his dark hair peppered with a hint of grey at the edges. He’s kept a trim figure, and while he’s not the broadest or tallest man in the room, his body is all hard panes and well-defined muscles. Not that you’ve ever felt his body before, well not intimately, at least. He had caught you once, when you tripped over yourself the first day as this secretary, his warm hands on your waist and you fisting the crisp white material of his shirt. You remember how your eyes were closed in anticipation for the hard fall, and yet all you felt was warmth. You slowly eased one eye open to see the amused face of your boss, and you sort of whimpered before leaping away from him, only to knock into the edge of your desk which resulted in an unsightly bruise on your hip. Your face was as red as a tomato for the entire day, which did not look attractive with your pale English skin. You were absolutely mortified at making a fool of yourself with him as your direct supervisor on day one. Certainly, you had met the man and spoken with him before, and you weren’t that clumsy normally, but then you’ve never had to deal with being in such close proximity with him every day. Ever since that incident however, you were all the more conscious of his presence near you, around you, everywhere and you couldn’t even hand him his daily cup of coffee without blushing like a school girl and stammering nervously when his fingers brushed yours. Percival wasn’t helping either; he knew you were attracted to him, knew you were nervous around him because of that and well, the man was a tease. He wasn’t cruel to you or whatever, he just liked seeing you flustered because of him.

But it wasn’t all that bad, really. The whole experience of working with him was wonderful; he was extremely patient with you, despite the constant emphasis on the grave part of his name by the gossips of the office, and he’s taught you so much about yourself that you’re feeling like a stronger, more confident person lately. You were still awkward around him of course, and you still knocked over objects whenever you hastened to escape his smouldering gaze but you gradually became more comfortable around him, even finding the courage the crack a joke or two with him. He was always kind enough to laugh genuinely, no matter how cringe-y your jokes were, which made you respect (and love) him all the bit more, because even though he has the reputation of being a stoic workaholic who had no personal life, you saw how much he cared for the people he worked with, and in his subtle way, always tried to make them feel more as though they mattered.

Just when you thought you had finally gotten over your awkward phase around him, you managed to accidentally spill some hot coffee on his desk, which would have been disastrous had he not snatched his documents out of the way as you quickly found your balance. You apologised profusely, and there was a glimmer in his eyes and a twitch of his very kissable lips that made him look younger and less tired, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at him. He cleared his throat and waved your apologies away, and you as you left, still smiling, you could have sworn you saw a light dusting of a blush on his cheeks. You closed the door, secretly pleased that you weren’t the only one unaffected by the strange attraction that existed between the two of you, albeit one that was unacknowledged. For now.


Percival Graves sat in his office, thinking, which wasn’t something out of the ordinary. He was a man whose brain doesn’t stop ticking, always planning and counter-planning. The subject of his thoughts however, was something quite unusual. For the nth time since you were appointed as his personal secretary, he found himself preoccupied with you. He took no notice of you initially; you were a pretty, quiet thing who kept to yourself and did your work well. In other words, you were nothing special. The first time you caught his attention though, was when you accidentally killed the single plant he was fond enough of to let it continue growing in his office. It was a gift from an eccentric uncle, one he grumbled about to his mother but grudgingly accepted out of respect for his elder. He grew used to seeing the plant every day he was in his office however, and was somewhat sorry to see it meet its end at your hands. But, he digressed. He was enchanted by the panicked apology delivered by your soft English accented voice, and you were nearly in tears as you tried to charm the plant back to life, obviously to no avail. No spell could bring back the dead. Just as you were about to hyperventilate out of embarrassment and fear (somewhat misplaced, he thought, a little miffed), he sat you down and made you drink a sip of brandy. Having slightly calmed down, you took a deep breath and offered a mumbled apology, waiting for the worst, that you’d be fired. He surprised you however, by just chuckling and patting your hand gently, after which he calmly explained that no you weren’t fired and you needed to be careful in the future, lest you hurt your pretty self. You had blushed prettily then, and Percival Graves was a doomed man from that day onward.


You were working late into the evening one day, preparing for an important briefing Percival would be chairing the next day. You had been buried under extra workload today, with one of the other clerks in the department being absent, and by the time you had time to start on the presentation for the briefing, everyone had already started packing up for home. You didn’t mind not being able to go home late; you had no family in New York, and you were far too dedicated to your work to have made friends outside of work. The only people still in the building were probably only yourself and Percival. Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard any sounds from his office, which made you worry a little. Surely he was all right and not passed out from exhaustion? He did look particularly worn out today, and he had been out of the office all day, meeting with the President and several other wizarding delegates regarding Gellert Grindelwald. Your hand on his door knob, you debated between entering his office (without his permission, your mind screamed) to check on him or to just leave him be. You were just about to turn the knob when the door opened unexpectedly and you were met with a very solid wall of chest, and a very attractive scent given out by a very masculine man who just so happened to be your boss. Your very tired, but still handsome boss.

He had rolled his white shirt sleeves up to his elbows, and you swallowed at the sight of his muscular arms. Your gaze slowly travelled upwards, up to the partially unbuttoned shirt that exposed part of his chest, to the light stubble covering his strong jaw, to his rumpled hair and his dark eyes. Your mouth opened in a slight gape, either to sputter an excuse for disturbing him or because you were stunned by how gorgeously dishevelled he was. Whatever you were about to say or do however, was completely swept under the rug when you found someone’s lips, his lips, on yours. And like the doofus you were, you passed out.

Percival blinked and stared at you disbelievingly when he felt you go lax in his hold. You had passed out. When he was kissing you. That certainly was a first. Shaking his head fondly at you, he carried you into his office and laid you down gently on the sofa whilst he waited for you to gain consciousness. He didn’t have to wait long. Midway through reading the final report on his desk, he heard you moan and he walked over to you as you slowly sat up. He knelt before you, and cupping your still surprised visage, pressed another kiss on you. You thanked the heavens that you didn’t pass out this time because then you would have missed out on the wonderful, blissful sensation of being kissed by Percival Graves, the man you have been fiercely attracted for so long. His hands were soft on your face, and his breath warmed you to the tips of your toes, and as you wound your fingers in his dark hair, you marveled at the softness of the strands and oh, the delightful sensation of him nipping your bottom lip made you tremble. The both of you simultaneously sighed as the kiss was broken, and he rested his forehead against yours, a strand of hair falling endearingly to his eyes. He smiled boyishly at you, and you wondered how many hearts he’s broken throughout his years, the devilish charmer. You couldn’t care less though; whatever you had with Percival was new and young, and while you couldn’t say you didn’t hope for something more in the future, any previous dalliances he might have had didn’t matter. Of course, you wondered just why he decided you were what he wanted, for now, when he could so easily have the most enchanting and lovely women in the world. But as he drew you into another kiss, whispering his desire to court you, it didn’t quite matter. You were his and he was yours for now, and you were satisfied with how things stood as of now. You leaned deeper into his kiss and boldly suckled on his lip, eliciting a guttural moan from the man, but the moment was destroyed when you accidentally leaned forward a little too much and toppled onto him, sending the both of you onto the ground. You both groaned at the impact and he clicked his tongue at you as you buried your reddened face in his chest, mumbling that it was his fault you were so awkward around him. He rolled his eyes affectionately at you before dropping a kiss onto your head, some things never changed.


Here’s a smirking Colin Farrell a la Jerry Dandridge for your pleasure. And I do mean pleasure ;)

4

Cairo’s homosexuality posed one of the biggest obstacles to securing overall approval of the picture. Hammett didn’t mince words in the novel. “This guy is queer,” says Sam Spade’s secretary as she hands him an engraved card bearing his name - Mr Joel Cairo. He speaks in a “high-pitched thin voice,” carries “gaily colored silk handkerchiefs fragrant of chypre,” and walks in “mincing, bobbing steps.” … Hal Wallis realised that American audiences - not to mention the Hays Office - were not ready for a candid look at homosexuality, which traditionally drew laughs and jeers out front. 

After seeing Lorre’s first day’s work, Wallis dashed off a memo to Huston: “Don’t try and get a nancy quality into him, because if you do we will have trouble with the picture.” Huston bent to Breen’s will. In the scene, Effie presents Cairo’s calling card to a bemused Spade, who holds it to his nose.

“Gardenia,” says Effie.

“Quick, darling, in with him,” replies Spade.

The rest Huston left to Lorre’s subtlety and the viewer’s imagination.

The svelte 137-pound Lorre who stepped before the camera seemed younger, fitter, swifter. More was asked of him and he asked more of himself. The role was the best of its kind to come his way in years and Lorre knew it.

“I’d often shoot a scene with Peter and find it quite satisfactory, nothing more,” recalled Huston - 

But then I would see it on the screen in rushes and discover it to be far better than what I had perceived on the set. Some subtlety of expression was seen by the camera and recorded by the microphone that the naked eye and ear did not get. He’d be doing little things that the camera close on him would pick up that standing a few feet away you wouldn’t see. It was underplaying; it was a play that you would see if you were close to him, as a close-up, as a camera is close. Things would flicker there and burn up slightly, like a lamp, and then dim down, and come on again. You’re watching something as if it were in motion.

from The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre -Stephen D Youngkin

Always Loved You: One Shot

Why hello there! It me! I have come to give you a teacher/single mother au! Have fun kiddos!

She sat at a table, a glass of red wine in front of her. Her hair was pinned into a bun, her bangs straightened perfectly and her blue eyes staring into nothingness. She wore a black dress, the end resting against her knees. She was beautiful, even in mourning she was beautiful. Even in the grey lighting from the rain outside, Marinette was still beautiful.

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