tyliocellier

[tyliocellier]

"That is exactly your brand!", he snapped at her a little bit, even though he had told himself that he would stay calm. But when it came to work and his company being negatively affected, his fuse was short. Might it also have something to do with the fact that their separation had been less than amicable? Maybe. But he was a professional. And until now, he thought she was too. "So you're lying not only to the press, but also to me. I should have expected that", he scoffed, his tone of voice increasingly indignant. When she accused him of simply looking for a reason to see her again, he glared at her. "You think I would jeopardize my own reputation just for that? No, I knew it had to be you, because whenever there's trouble it's always you. You're..." Hard to forget, he thought to himself. Eunbi is hard to forget. But that would have sounded too flattering. "...nevermind. Just admit it was you, or you will be hearing from my lawyers."

eunbi didn’t even blink when the paper landed with a slap against her desk — she simply glanced down at the headline, then back up at him with that infuriating calm he used to know too well. ❝ tylio, ❞ she said, voice smooth like polished glass, ❝ if i had planted that story, don’t you think i’d have done a cleaner job of it? this reeks of desperation— not exactly my brand. ❞ she leaned back in her chair, legs crossing as if she had all the time in the world, the glint in her eyes sharper than the diamond pendant at her throat. ❝ besides, i don’t remember ‘fair’ being part of our contract— not in business, and definitely not in love. ❞ her gaze lingered, cool and unreadable, before a slow smile curved at the corners of her lips. ❝ so, tell me, was this about the press… or were you just looking for a reason to see me again? ❞

[tyliocellier]

sThere may have been complaints from Nana's agent director, but Tylio wouldn't know because if anything, she encouraged him to cover her skin with marks. He always enjoyed the end result the most, when he was calm enough to think clearly and watch her go about her normal everyday things, while sporting an entire catalogue of differently shaped and sized bruises on her body. Bruises he'd lovingly put there, that would follow her everywhere she went. Bruises that would remind her of him whenever she passed by a mirror or caught a glance of herself in a window. And that wasn't all...other people would see it too. They would see her and even if they had never met him, they would know that he'd been all over her just the same way he was right now.

Biting and marring her skin bit by bit, while sharp heat was quickly gathering between their hips. He was beginning to moan a little bit, low groans spilling from the depths of his throat and just barely drowning out the wet, sloppy smacking noises of skin hitting damp skin. The feeling of urgency only deepened when she angled her hips to better receive him. "Ah putain, oui...reste comme ça...stay just like that", he told her breathily, his fingers dragging down the side of her body, leaving behind harsh red streaks as he picked up his pace. It took half a minute for the familiar sound of Nana's phone jingle to reach his brain and when it did, when she stopped kissing him back, he scrambled for a second trying to grab her wrist. "Non non non, put away...put it away...", he breathed in her ear, but it was too late. She'd already looked at the screen.

He didn't notice the message she received. Didn't notice the hasty way in which she swiped it away, like she had something to hide. He was too busy burying his face in her neck, letting out a protesting groan while she answered the call. He slowed down, quieting himself as best he could when Nana greeted her father on the other line. That almost made him laugh a bit. They were just talking about him earlier. Had he sensed something? All of a sudden Tylio shifted from being annoyed and frustrated, to seeing this as an opportunity. After all, she had been expertly dodging all his attempts to get her to introduce him to her father and he had a lot more leverage now that he was inside her. He lifted his head, his lips now hovering near Nana's ear. "He probably wants you to visit him, right? Ask when we'll all have dinner together." He squinted when the sudden, loud voice of Nana's sister also tore through the phone, nearly deafening the both of them. He hadn't met her yet, either. Nana had done a great job of keeping her family life and her relationship separate so far. There was a low chuckle on the phone, clearly belonging to Nana's dad. "Sorry, she misses you. I bought one of your magazines to show her and she was very excited. How are you? Can we expect a visit from you soon?" The way he said it made it sound like it would be for Nana's sister, but Tylio was pretty sure her father missed her just as much. "Ask", he whispered in her ear again. "Or I'll ask for you."

Nana’s gentle sighs as he entered her were softened by the delicate sound of rain whispering against the window. It occurred to her that the curtains were pulled aside, leaving them exposed to anyone who might be lurking outside at this very moment. Yet, every silly thought she possessed dissolved under the warmth of his caress. Her lips parted as he nibbled and caressed her neck; her previously measured composure dissolved, leaving her completely surrendered to him. In the past, she would let her hair veil her face, hiding behind thick brown locks that settled heavily over her eyes, but now that was no longer an option. She was sure she'd hear shit from Gustavo, her agent director, who had already expressed how pissed he was over her transformation, until it unexpectedly led to an influx of job opportunities. She was still small by any means, but she did appear in magazines, and you could see her photo when you went to the subway station pretending to like some earthy unisex cologne. "Such beautiful skin, why are you tarnishing it?" he would complain in a heavy Dutch accent as she arrived at work the following night after some needy sex with Tylio. "It doesn't matter," she'd would say to him, "You will edit the photos anyway, won't you?" which he had no response to. Besides, she liked it so much when he manhandled her like this, and ruined her pretty skin.

"Don't be scared," she whispered into his ear, trailing kisses up his sideburns, "You can be hard.. there, yeah, that feels.. good," she sighed, letting her eyes flutter close. He fit perfectly inside of her, at least she thought so, twisting her hips ever so slightly to meet every buckle of his hips. But annoyingly,

Nana's phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans and a faint light turned on. And not long after, music started to play from it; a small chime from Nana's favorite commercial jingle, the one with the puppet beavers on it singing about real estate. She couldn't ignore it after that and despite really not wanting to, she peeled her lips away from his. Just a little, they still remained glued to his cheek. "What the fuck?" she murmured, contemplating the idea of just sending the phone flying with her foot and moving on.. but she saw it was her dad. Dammit, she forgot, he usually liked to call her as she took the train home from her evening classes, worrying about her taking it alone. But she didn't go today. Not after the articles. She whimpered, frustration brewing in her... he wouldn't stop calling, would he? He'd think something happened to her.

She leaned down, using her long limbs to scramble around in her pockets. A carton of cigarettes fell out, and she grumbled out a stupid fucking… as she searched the other pocket. She fished out her blocky blackberry that she had managed to salvage since the beginning of college. “Sorry” she whispered, pecking Tylio’s lips, “I’ll be quick, yeah?” And she pressed the little button to open her phone. As it rang in her hand she narrowed her eyes to read a message that had come in previously 20 minutes ago. It read "Are we meeting up? Come by my house soon, I have something for you." It was from an unsaved number, though she recognized it, and in fact had been sharing messages with the past few days. Nervously she swiped it away before Tylio could see. “Hi.. papa… are you okay?”

“Yes…- Nonnna!!!” Her sister’s voice cut through the phone and she had to push it away from her for a second. Everything was amplified in the small space they were in, feeling awkward with her boyfriend still inside her.

[tyliocellier]

Just from the way she jumped a little bit when he spoke to her, Tylio determined that she probably was worried about being caught playing games during work time after all. But she had nothing to worry about from him. Not only did he enjoy card games like the one she was playing, but he also didn't even know anyone. There was no one to tell. Not that he would have. He used to, back when he was a teenager, call out his classmates for not doing their homework. But he found out very fast that it didn't earn him any friends.

He blinked when she told him that she was already at level 148. She was no rookie. Either she was incredibly bored, or she enjoyed this game just as much as he did. "Have you ever—", he started, and he was going to ask her if she'd ever gambled before but then he reminded himself of the promise he made this morning. Gambling couldn't be the first thing he asked his colleagues about. They would see him as juvenile or worse, unprofessional. "Nevermind. Looks like you're good at it", he observed, a faint smile gracing his features as soon as the fireworks exploded on screen. She was right, that was the best part. "Do you play any other card games?" At the previous company he worked for, he usually spent his breaks alone but he'd told himself that he would try to socialize this time. If he could find somebody who liked to play cards, that would make things a lot easier.

Before Oatley had a chance to answer a tall, heavily tattooed guy with bleach-fried hair appeared beside Tylio, sliding a CD onto the front desk. "Oatley, I'm gonna need more skulls on this one. This is a hardcore mix, y'know? I want people to feel the fire! Oh shit, that's even better, put fire around one of the skulls!" While the guy was talking, Tylio's eye fell to the CD-cover. It appeared to have been hand-drawn and the art honestly wasn't too bad. Had Oatley drawn this? He looked back at her, and then at their fellow colleague, who was still not noticing him. "Oh and chains! They should have gold chains around their neck, can you draw that? A gold chain with 'Ruzzler' hanging from it? With diamonds? You can do that, right? You're talented as hell."

"Ahem." Tylio cleared his throat for a moment, finally catching his loud coworker's attention.

"Oh shit! My bad dude, I didn't see you there! What's up? I'm Russ. Pound it", Russ offered a fist while Tylio offered a hand, resulting in an awkward half-handshake, half-fistbump that didn't quite work out. Russ laughed, Tylio didn't. "Did I interrupt your conversation? Don't mind me, Oatley's just been helping me with some cover art for my mixtapes. You like rap music?"

"Not particularly", Tylio answered honestly, and watched the disappointment forming on Russ's face. It didn't stay there long, though.

"Aight well, you might change your mind if you listen to my mixtape though", Russ bounced back, plucking the CD-case off the desk and holding it up. "This is dope shit. Trust me." The wide grin that appeared on Russ's face suddenly made Tylio feel very confident that he was in the sales department.

"I'll think about it", he answered after a slight pause, if only because he wasn't trying to insult anybody on his first day.

"Aight no problem. Cover ain't done yet anyway, we're still workin' on that. I'll just leave this here, alright? You got my notes?", Russ asked Oatley, already fully convinced that she totally understood the artistic vision he had in mind. "Your last sketches were awesome, so we don't gotta change too much. Just add even more cool shit."

Thank goodness he laughed. A small shrug,"Hmm." at his decision to use his own laptop. After all the downsizing and people leaving the office, it felt small, so she just wanted him to settle in and feel comfortable. As for the key he asked about, she was sure it had fallen into some void. She put her knuckles to her mouth when he asked about the storage cabinet key, like she did when she needed time without appearing evasive, though it didn't work. "I don't…" know where it is. "Sure, yeah! Yes.. hahaha.." she added with a light, nervous laugh. He’d forget about it eventually. Hopefully.

Somewhere in the corner, the small odor machine nailed into the wall made a fart noise, and spritzed the waiting area with a sweet lavender scent.

For the most part, unless they needed her, Oatley was in her own little bubble. She would pass the hours with the pre-installed programs on the computer, but the card games were her favorite. Lately though, the phones never really stopped. This was the one time in awhile she wasn't handling calls from unhappy customers who hadn't gotten their orders or found them defective. Oatley sometimes apologized three times in one breath to feel helpful. Given the number of emails she responded today, she expected to stay late again...

Focused, she’d started gnawing gently on the frayed thread of her headphones when he came up to her. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen for a second too long. Click. clicclickclick.

A small noise left her as he caught her, her eyes peered up, surprise like she'd been found with her hand in the cookie jar. “Oh,” Her lips curled into a small, closed-eye smile as the tension melted from her shoulders once she realized it was just him, and not someone like Matt.

"Geez, You scared me," she whispered.

Though she wasn't sure yet if this guy was a narc, even if he didn't seem like one. Computer games were supposed to be a strict violation here and something you'd get written up for. "No, no one pays attention over here. It's kind of nice." She flicked her gaze back to the screen where her solitaire game was in full swing. She was just sliding the six of hearts onto a seven of spades, methodical, calm... "I'm already level 148." she added, not bragging exactly, but just letting him know she held the title uncontested. The machine farted again. "Sure, wait… just one second…." It was a bit silly, she was just about to click on the last card before the fun sequence at the end happened. "This is the best part." Once the final card was in place fireworks exploded, and Oatley stared with awe as the the cards began cascading in a perfect, pixelated waterfall, bouncing and leaping across the screen.

[tyliocellier]

Much to Tylio's surprise, TeaandScones067 had brought coffee instead of...well, tea and scones. He still didn't know her real name, he figured they would introduce themselves today. Part of it was because he wanted his burner account to stay as anonymous as possible. He didn't want there to be any mention of his name on any of the heavyhearted forum posts he'd made over the past few weeks. There wasn't anything extremely disturbing, it was mostly just a lot of yammering about his existential dread, his money problems and the way he seemed to fluctuate lately between freaking out at the drop of a hat and feeling completely numb. But he still hated the idea of anyone who knew him finding his account and reading it all back.

"Merci", he smiled flatly as he accepted the coffee, not because he didn't appreciate the gesture but because he was feeling rather numb this morning. "I do, yes. I probably drink it more than water." He chuckled when she apologized again, because it wasn't like they were truly late for anything. The day was theirs to do with as they saw fit. And at the end of it, well...

While she took him in, he also observed her and she must have read his mind because he was thinking something quite similar. She seemed...young. Younger than him, probably, but only a little bit. "I'm 32", he told her straight up, because it was oddly easy to be honest about who and what he was when none of it would matter soon. He didn't ask for her age because he had been taught very early on in life that asking a woman for her age, even if she looked younger, was simply not a good idea. Either she would volunteer the information, or she would take it to the grave with her. Quite literally.

"What's your name?", he asked instead, now sipping from the coffee she'd brought him. A nice, dark brew—she had good taste. She was also kind of beautiful. He knew that shouldn't matter, that there was no particular 'type' of suicidal person, but he still couldn't help but at least notice. Brunette, big eyes, slightly demure and bookish in style, she was kind of his type actually. In a different life, he might have asked her out. "My name is Tylio. Cellier." He introduced himself and then, a brief silence followed. It was easier to talk online, much easier, but the knowledge that this was their last day on earth kind of pushed him to make conversation. Just because he was tired of life, didn't mean he was no longer curious. "Shall we walk?", he suggested, gesturing toward the nearest path leading up into the mountain forest. "I was thinking we could play 21 questions, or something...there are some things I was wondering about, but didn't want to ask until we'd met. You can also ask me anything." It wasn't often he offered that to someone but he did mean it. He wanted to talk a bit, find out who it was that he would be spending the day with. His first question: "Do you smoke?"

Meadow, 29, Columnist

The warm April sun crawled in through the window, brushing across her face. Meadow scrunched her nose at the heat before slowly stirring, lifting her cheek from the pillow. It took her a moment to realize she'd slept in for the first time in a while. The past three years she had been a ball of nerves too wired to sleep for long, every hour accounted for, every morning unwelcome. But now, she sank back into the pillow's softness, the sheets cool against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed again. Just a minute longer... Until..shit.

Even with impending death lingering in her mind, she felt bad for arriving so late. 8:45… maybe she would've made it earlier if she hadn't stopped for some apology coffee. "I didn't even know if you liked coffee, but I figured," she threw in with a bundle of apologies. She felt safe in assuming that because, depressed people always liked coffee, didn't they? Not that she'd ever call herself that. For someone who wanted to kill herself, user TeaandScones067 looked surprisingly okay. She brushed her hair, with her fingers at least, put on some makeup, even bothered to throw on matching socks. As she handed him the warm coffee, she canvassed him, taking him in. And the thought of how he was the only person in the world that knew what she wanted to go through with was relieving. He wasn't what she was expecting him to look like though, and unable to keep her thoughts to herself she broke a bit of the silence, "You know...by the way you spoke, I thought I'd be standing here with an old man." They were friends.. right? Sort of? It didn't matter.

[tyliocellier]

"Yeah, no, I know." But you smell like her. Tylio didn't tell her that, of course. It would be just another line that should have never been crossed. But it was hard to look in the face of someone who looked just like his wife, and feel nothing. Especially when he would never see her real face again. Filipa was not the same person, he knew that, but he missed her sister so much and after getting way too drunk, well...maybe he just wanted to pretend for a little while that she was. When Filipa expressed that she felt her sister would be disappointed, he grimaced, because he knew she was probably right. But should she be? They were the ones who had to live without her now. And it had been hell. "It was a mistake", he repeated Filipa's words in agreement. "We miss her. That's all...she would understand." Even as he said it, he wasn't so sure that it was true. When he noticed the tears brimming in her eyes, he could not help but reach out and offer a comforting touch to her arm. "Listen...I know this went...strangely...but I don't want you to just leave. I want..." He hesitated for a moment, because he really wasn't sure what he wanted, he just knew that he wasn't ready for her to just walk out the door so fast. "Can we talk about it, at least?"

open to males/nb

plot; filipa lost her twin sister over six months ago in a tragic car accident. your muse was her twins s/o for over two years before that. they battled with grief in their own way, eventually getting in touch again. one thing lead to another, and after lots of emotion and even more booze, they end up sleeping together. filipa leaves before your muse wakes up, but he comes after her right away to talk it out.

"Look, it was a mistake."Filipa mutters, aware that it really was that, a mistake, but to her it didn't feel as such. Emotions were complicated, especially mixed with grief. But last night didn't sit well with her because of her sister. "We got drunk and emotions got us carried away."she shrugged, trying to paint it as something so unsignificant. But how could it be that, when she cried to him over wine only to have him moan his name hours later? "I'm --- I'm not her."she blurted out the hardest thing to say at the moment and finally looked over at him properly. "I'm not. And I can't help but feel she'd be so disappointed in me."Filipa stated and let out a long sigh, just to try and push her tears back.

[tyliocellier]

A wave of relief washed over Tylio when she told him that yes, the copy machine had been cleaned, although she was suspiciously giggly about the whole thing. But she might just have a cheery disposition. She assured him that it was clean and that he might even catch a whiff of cucumber if he paid extra close attention. "I'll take your word for it. I'm not going to sniff it", he chuckled, his attention soon shifting to the pendant around her neck when it made a slight clicking noise against the table. He almost asked her about it, but then he noticed the look on her face. A tad wistful. He followed her gaze and realized that she was looking at the photo on the desk. Was she friends with this guy? He got his answer, more or less, when Oatley announced that she would be taking Scott's stuff and bringing it to him. They must be friends, then.

Tylio waited for her to scoop up all of Scott's things before he opened up his own bag and took out his laptop, placing it on the desk. It looked a lot more empty now, and probably would be for a while, he was not in the habit of bringing too many of his personal things into the office. At least...not until he had a safe place to store them. "Can I get the key to that?", he asked, pointing at the lockable desk drawer. He wasn't even sure if it was empty, so he didn't touch it—there might still be more of Scott's things in there and he wasn't interested in going through a stranger's belongings.

"Oh, merci", he nodded when Oatley lifted the keyboard to reveal the sticky note underneath. "But I'll be using my own laptop, mostly. It's fine, I'll set it up. I've done it before. It's easier." And by 'easier', he meant that it was more convenient to be able to take his work home with him. He still booted up the computer—it was painfully slow, and why was it still running Windows 7?—and logged in as instructed, a little surprised by the saccharine nature of the profile picture she'd chosen. Artificially enhanced cuteness in the form of a tiny puppy sitting on a gigantic sunflower. It reminded him of a lot of the products they were selling. Big eyes, small face, cute fluffy ears. It was a true and tried formula for marketability. He decided he would leave the picture as it was, he wouldn't be using the pc much anyway.

After a bit of trial and error, he was able to log into the company database through his own laptop. He'd already been busy for about half an hour by the time he finally got up from his new desk. He turned around to find Oatley still at the front desk, playing what appeared to be solitaire on her pc. He was immediately captivated. "You're not worried about getting caught?", Tylio remarked somewhat playfully as he approached the front desk again, leaning both elbows on it and peering at the cards on screen. Card games had always been a draw for him, especially when betting money was involved. "I guess there's not a lot of reason to worry...it doesn't look like anyone is watching." He briefly turned to look over his shoulder to confirm, everyone was still busy doing their own thing. He turned back to Oatley. "Can you show me where to find the coffee machine?"

.....Oatley let out a giggle that shook her entire body. except she grinned wide, toothily, but no sound came out. not at first, and when it did, it was in short bursts of soft hiccup laughs that sounded like bubbles pouring out of a fizzy drink. "Of course we cleaned it." she said, trying to sound composed, but a snort escaped anyway; She laughed like it was most outlandish thing to doubt. Her grin lingered, her mouth still open, until she remembered to press her lip between her teeth. Her eyes were wide and she had to remember to quiet that down, as well. She wouldn't tell him about how they had no actual janitorial staff and how everyone had to draw pencils to see who'd be the one stuck with cleaning it. Thank goodness it hadn’t been her! …Sarah from accounting had worn gloves up to her elbows and muttered the whole time about OSHA violations and emotional damage. Oatley really wanted to tell him that part. Just thinking about it quite vividly actually made her nose scrunch at the memory, delight flickering behind her lashes. It was one of her favorite stories, but Tylio seemed so… tense right now. Maybe she'd told him too much? And she worried if she told him one more weird story he might internally combust and run out the door. It had been hard replacing Scott, partly due to all the angry reviews he was leaving on their Facebook page. “Sarah used… some kind of cleaner she mixed together. I think it smelled like cucumbers? It was good.” Also not FDA approved so who is to say there aren't some particles still floating around in there? “It’s fine now. Sterile,” she said quickly, waving her hand hopeful to fan his worries away. “You can still catch a whiff of the cucumber.” She gave a hopeful little shrug, lips twitching with a restrained smile. A few people grumbled and cleared their throats, not much interest yet in the new guy. They figured they had all day to get to know him.

She leaned slightly toward Tylio, watching him with subtle curiosity as he picked up the framed photo on the desk. Her face softened immediately. The smile melted into something short of wistful. “He left that behind too, huh?” She leaned in further, enough that her pendant of an enamel fox curled around a tiny book clicked lightly against the desk. Even if Scott could be a bit neurotic and pushy sometimes, he was her friend, and she missed him. She figured the pressure of everything got to him, his impending divorce. Sometimes, it would be just the two of them early in the morning, and they'd talk about their shared love of funny pictures of dogs in human situations, like driving a car. Once, she had caught him crying by the water dispenser, he had the biggest tears she had ever seen. He left the next day. She seemed serious for a second, scooping up all the stuff on the desk into her arms protectively, even the nonsensical things like the pen caps and the multicolored paper clips. “I’ll take them to him, don’t worry about it." Scott wouldn’t step foot in here again, because he couldn’t. Outside on the big windowed doors was a poorly pixelated picture of him with the word TRESSPASSER in red on his forehead. “You get settled in, okay?" her voice chirped up a bit again, "I’ll come by and give you the tour when you’re ready. I set up a temporary profile for you… and here is the password,” she lifted the keyboard to reveal the little sticky beneath it, “you can change it.” When Tylio eventually moved the mouse and the monitor flickered to life he would find himself with Windows 7, and the small profile Oatley had set up for him. It had his name and everything, and a puppy sitting on a giant flower with photoshopped earmuffs as a profile photo. Oatley went back and to her desk in the meantime, idly swiveling her chair as she did her favorite task: responding to emails 'from' the manager who still hadn't arrived at this time, sometimes sneaking in a game of solitaire in between complaints and trashing spam.

[tyliocellier]

Open to anyone | HEAVY TW: S*icidal ideation | Plot: Our muses met on an online web forum for people who want to end their own lives, but don't want to do it alone. They meet up in the forest/mountains somewhere with the plan to spend one last day together. Go hiking, go out to eat, listen to beautiful music, go swimming, etc. They both have their reasons and they start talking to each other and getting to know each other more (they might as well, because it's their last day) and befriend each other. Over the course of the day they find that they don't actually want to die. They just want to escape their problems.

Le dernier jour. The last day. It felt strange, simply for the fact that it didn't feel strange—it felt like any other day. Waking up. Getting out of bed. Brushing his teeth. Drinking coffee. Smoking a cigarette. The same things he always did, only he felt a little bit lighter because he knew it would be the last time. Much to Tylio's surprise, this knowledge made him pay attention more to what he was doing. The taste of coffee beans. The smell of nicotine. The feeling of putting on his shoes, everything felt a little bit surreal. He was curious. Just last night, he'd spent about an hour chatting with the person he was supposed to meet today. He knew surprisingly little about them, only their online handle and the fact that they shared his general sense of existential dread. That was enough. Enough to make a deal. Let's do it together.

When he arrived at the base of the mountain, the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds. It looked like the weather was going to be decent, good enough for hiking at least. Tylio checked his watch. 08:05. They were supposed to meet at 08:00, somebody's late. Usually, he would have been ready to complain but today he would forgive them. It was their last day, after all. Unless they weren't coming, in which case he was shit out of luck.

[tyliocellier]

Open to f (35+) | Plot: Our muses are exes who used to run a business together. Now they're rivals who own competing tech companies. Your muse put out a smear campaign about one of the products in Tylio's company. Could be that it was just an excuse to see each other again and hook up, or it was revenge over a relationship gone sour, or it's purely pragmatic and she simply wants his business to go under.

"This was you", Tylio stated without a hint of confusion or hesitation, slamming this morning's newspaper down on her desk. The article on the front page detailed the supposed 'defects' in the security software of his latest product line that would allegedly make their users susceptible to viruses. A bullshit story that, unfortunately, was most likely generating buzz at this very moment. He knew she must have paid a lot of money to get this published. "This is what you're doing now. Lying to the press. I thought you said you wanted to play this fair?"

[tyliocellier]

Open to anyone | TW: anxiety, possible panic attack | Plot: Tylio is supposed to give an important public speech but he's lowkey freaking tf out in the restroom. Your muse can either be a coworker/friend/assistant who comes to check on him, or a stranger who just happens to find him or run into him when he tries to leave the venue.

Why, why, why did he think he could do this? This was a bad idea from the start. When the company told him they needed someone to give a speech, he'd initially stayed quiet because he knew public speaking was not his strength. But then his employer had subtly hinted that taking this assignment may very well lead to a long awaited promotion and in a moment of bravery—although he could see now that it had merely been impatience—he'd volunteered. Maybe if he had been better prepared. He usually was. But this week had been hectic and he had only been able to find time to review the subject matter once. To make matters worse, in his rush to arrive at the venue on time, he'd forgotten his folder at home. The important one, the folder that contained his speech. It wasn't great, but it was something. Now he had nothing, save for the handful of vague bullet points in his phone. He couldn't go up there. This was a nightmare. He'd been standing in one of the bathroom stalls for what must have been at least ten minutes already, lighting cigarette after cigarette, trying to calm himself down.

[tyliocellier]

Tylio's brow quirked when the woman suggested to him, in spite of the silence and blandness of the space around them, that this was a fun place. "Is it?" He almost wondered if she was trying to convince herself, instead of him. But it really didn't matter because he wasn't here for fun, he was here to work. He'd always been serious about his jobs, perhaps too serious, even when he was a teenager just working at a local grocery shop he would drive some of his coworkers crazy with his complaining about them being late in the morning or not being efficient enough. He'd eased up a little bit since then, he learned the hard way that people didn't generally appreciate having things like that pointed out to them. And as much as he hated to admit it, there were also times where being efficient was not great for morale. A hint of concern flashed across his face when she revealed that the last guy, Scott, had decided to put his butt on the copy machine to give everyone a 'special goodbye' before he left. His eyes immediately drifted towards said copy machine, standing only a few feet away from them. "...but someone has cleaned it since then, non?"

His attention was soon back on the woman in front of him, whose name he learned moments later when one of her coworkers called out to her. Oatley. And the other guy was Matt. He would write this down later, he didn't want to run the risk of embarrassing himself by constantly forgetting people's names during the first couple of days. Because while it wasn't exactly visible on his face—he was a bit nervous. Not about his skills, but about navigating another new place full of strangers. It was probably one of his least favorite things in life, but at least he had a job to do here. "Thank you, I appreciate it", Tylio told Oatley when she offered to show him to his working desk. She made it sound like it was far away but as it turned out, that desk was only a few steps removed from her own. It wasn't empty like he had expected, there was still a lot of old stuff.

Whereas his face had been mostly neutral throughout the conversation so far, a slight frown began to appear when he saw this. "Are you serious?", he questioned Oatley, because he was almost certain that she was pulling his leg. A prank on the new guy. It had to be, why would someone leave behind this much of their things? And why would no one clear it out before he arrived? But she didn't look like she was about to burst out into laughter. Maybe the guy really did just leave in a rush. Already he could see just how inefficiently this office was being ran and it was making his skin itch a little bit. "This is all Scott's stuff?" He stepped over to the desk, putting down his bag and picking up the family photo. This seemed like such a strange thing to leave behind. "I assume he will be coming back for it later?", Tylio asked, putting down the photograph. "Where do we leave his things until then? I'm going to need this desk."

The secretary desk sat unattended, a sign propped up against a coffee filled mug: “Be back soon :)” written in loopy handwriting on kitty stationery. On the chair, a cardigan lay in a loose heap, like someone had just melted out of it mid-thought. Soon after he’d arrived, Oatley came breezing down the soft brown carpet, her hair bouncing with every step. She carried her loafers in her hands, a ziplock bag full of baby carrots were dangling from her teeth. She didn't seem like the receptionist of this place, a bit too scattered with most things clumsily slipping through her fingers.

“Your accent is really nice,” she said softly, still trying to catch her breath.”You're going to like it here, it's really a lot of fun." The room was completely silent, and painfully bland. Everyone continued whittling away on their keyboard not sparing them a second glance. ". . . ." Oatley looked back at him and offered him a small, nervous laugh. "Well, as you can see, she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “we're very busy, we're reaching the end of the quarterly deadline and Scott, the guy before you, quit unexpectantly. Well, not unexpectantly, before he quit he tried losing some of our clients. He pressed his butt to the copy machine and took a-"

“ . . . “

"Oatley," someone interrupted, and she pursed her lips, looking over towards Matthew whose eyes were fixated on his screen. He flickered his eyes up at them from the monitor, adjusting his glasses with the back of his knuckles. "I anticipate receiving a call from Gilmore shortly. If I head out for lunch, please give me a call, alright?” "Sure, Matt. No problem." She seemed happy to write it down, making a little sticky note in pen before sticking it onto her own computer, smoothing it with out with extra care like it was an important document.

“Right, I'll show you where you'll sit, sorry. .. Alright, got your walking shoes?" she took about three steps forward, and stopped at the empty seat, right across from Matthew and right near her desk. It still had most of Scott's old stuff, clattered papers, chewed up pen caps, even a family photo. It seemed he'd quit in quite a jiffy, or had vaporized into thin air. “Here you are." She lingered for a second in case he had any question, before it dawned on her the new guy would want some space.

She remembered when she’d started about two years ago? How nervous she was, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?“ since then she’d made quite the name for herself in the receptionist world, even winning the office’s most dutiful paper organizer; which came with a gift card to Costco’s.

[tyliocellier]

someone give me “you live in the apartment across the hall and you’re so fucking hot but i get so awkward around you even though you act completely normal and i stutter every.time. you’re out of my league anyway but then one night my stupid roommate locks me out and i forget my key and you see me sitting the hallway so you invite me in. and obviously i say yes but holy crap what is happening” plot pretty pls

[tyliocellier]

Open to female muses | Plot: Two exes bought a non refundable international spring break trip on their joint account name so they have to go on holiday together or else it'd be a waste of money.

I've been great. Wonderful. Never better. I got three promotions and I bought a house, I finally learned how to cook something other than eggs and oh, did I mention I started doing charity work? Yes I'm over you. So completely, entirely over you. It's clear, isn't it? Just look at how much better I'm doing.

A part of Tylio had planned to tell her this. Maybe not in so many words, he probably ought to be more subtle about it, but he wanted to make it clear that he was fine now. So fine that going on a vacation together was no problem at all. He may have developed a tiny drinking issue, fallen back into gambling a few times and got into so much debt he nearly lost his house, but those things were irrelevant. They had nothing to do with the break up, so he wouldn't mention them. He would just mention everything that was going well, and perhaps a few white lies. At least...that was his plan. But when he met up with her at the resort reception desk and he saw her smile—softly, warmly, the way she used to before all this—the words got caught in his throat and all he ended up asking was: "How have you been?"

[tyliocellier]

The first thing Tylio noticed about her was the way she spoke. It felt as though she had trouble getting the words out. At first he wondered if like him, she was perhaps not a native English speaker, but it wasn't that she was getting words wrong, she was just stammering. Was she nervous? He was the one who was here on his first day. Maybe he was being a little too judgemental. There could be a lot of reasons. And it didn't really matter anyway, he just needed somebody to show him where he was supposed to put his things. He didn't have a lot of stuff with him, just a bag with his laptop, his phone and some pen and paper. Even though he spent a lot of his time working, he hardly ever customized his office spaces. It was unnecessary, in his opinion, and distracting from his daily tasks.

The young woman behind the front desk finally pointed out his work station, offering to show him more clearly. "Yes, that would be great. I also want to know where I can find everything else." The break room and the coffee machine being the most important things. He briefly checked the watch around his wrist. 09:03. He should probably report to the boss too, at some point. Make it clear that he was not late, but that he simply didn't know where to be when he got here.

The main reason he worried about this was because his previous employer had been quite punctual. Not only that, he himself was also quite punctual. He preferred to do things orderly, at least where possible, especially when it pertained to work. "Where do I clock in every day? Is that just at the front desk?", he asked, gesturing towards the desk and realizing only a moment later that he might be coming across as rather impatient. She had not even introduced herself yet. "Désolé", he quickly told her. "What is your name again?"

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ it had been how long since she started here ? she knows she marked it down on the calendar for her own reference , though she still cannot believe that it has been only months of working here , & she was able to find an environment like this that she enjoyed . sure , most of them were a lot louder than she was , telling jokes & laughing , while she just sat patiently at her desk , but she probably wouldn't understand much of what they were talking about anyway . her resume was , well , lacking , but she was able to prove herself the old fashioned way , & in no time , she knew her way around the office & it's systems & practices quite well ; it was just the human interaction piece that was a little more than , well , not all there .

Valerie finds herself slightly jogging back down the hallway from the break room , one of the napkins she had been using still clutched in her hand ; she could throw it away when she was back at her desk , as she should have been five minutes ago . she sighs , running a hand through her hair as she approaches her station , stopping when someone , a stranger , advances . wide eyes look back at him , awaiting what he is about to say . was she holding her breath ? as he explains , she quickly shoved the napkin in the waste bin, knowing if she didn't , she would be ripping at it anxiously .

" oh , y -- yes . of c -- course , sir . " she ducks past him politely , reaching for her agenda that is laid out on her desk . in the notes section , her small handwriting has this very thing documented . " y -- you are at . . . from my o -- own , two back , on the l -- left . " it has been vacant for about a few weeks now , & she was glad they found someone to fill the position . " I can . . . . s -- show you more c -- cle -- clearly if y -- you w -- wish . " it was pretty obvious , but maybe not to anyone . she knows she would be mortified if she sat at the wrong desk , because she did . ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[tyliocellier]

Open to female muses | Based on this Office plot!

The first thing Tylio noticed when he walked in was the smell of paper. Fresh paper and coffee, two scents that lingered through the office and immediately put him at ease, for they were two of his absolute favorites. There was also the noise of people ticking away at their keyboards, the occasional footsteps of someone leisurely walking back and fourth across the office to go get something. Never rushed. At least not today. Maybe it was a slow day. He glanced around, his eye drawn to the vacant front desk which immediately raised the question: where was the receptionist? He still didn't know where to find his designated workspace.

His eyes drifted again, this time peering further ahead into the open office space before him, where everyone seemed to be busy working and no one seemed to have noticed him yet. He was about to ask a random person where he was supposed to be stationed, when a woman finally came rushing back to the front desk. She seemed like she just finished her lunch break, a napkin still in her hands as he approached her. "Hello", he greeted, his tone politely formal and his voice laced with a rather thick French accent. He waited, giving her a moment to put away the napkin before he continued: "I take it you are the receptionist? My name is Tylio Cellier, I'm supposed to start here today. I don't know where my desk is."

[tyliocellier]

Tylio had noticed the way she liked to talk a lot during sex, sometimes about random things, sometimes she even managed to make him laugh a bit. Maybe he would have laughed this time, too, listening to her talk about chicken noodle soup, if it weren't for the maddeningly pleasurable sensation of her wet hand stroking along his stiffness. Distracting him, sending heated sparks through his lower body until his hips were moving along ardently with the motions of her hand. "Ouais...ouais, bien sûr, tout ce que tu veux...je te fais frire une dinde entière s’il faut, I'll make you whatever…", he mumbled against her skin, ignoring the question that still lingered faintly in the back of his mind: mais est-ce qu’elle va le manger? It was always a toss-up, whether anything he prepared for her would actually find its way into her stomach or not.

It didn't matter right now, it shouldn't matter right now, this was not the time to worry. Now was the time to kiss her again. One of her lips became caught between his teeth, nipping at it harshly, but just short of drawing any blood. He felt a hint of embarrassment when she whispered to him, embarrassment that she could so easily impair his patience. But he did not want her to give her any chance to realize this so he immediately fired back, twice as hard: "Like you don't want me to...I can feel how wet you are. Bet you will get even wetter if I say it again, in French..." He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice soft and steady as he spoke to her. "Putain, t'es super mouillée..." Now she was sliding down her legs and his hands found her outer thighs, grabbing them, steadying her against the windowsil. He shifted closer, the moisture between Nana's legs mixing with some of the spit still glistening on his skin as his tip teased right up against her wet sex. His fingers dug deeper into the skin of her thighs, no doubt leaving behind a few temporary marks as he pushed forward. Nice and slow, he slid inside of her, but it turned out that his carefulness wasn't even necessary. There was more than enough wetness from both sides to probably make it painless.

For her, anyway. He'd only ever felt pleasure from this part. It was one of the main things that was on his mind whenever he was alone and feeling horny. Just like her, he had a habit of touching himself when they were not together. And just like her, he had some fantasies, most of which he never shared with her. Not yet, anyway. It hadn't come up yet. For now, this was nice, this was great actually, holy fuck, she feels good. So good he almost didn't hear her when she told him again, to use his teeth. But once it sunk in, she didn't have to ask twice. One of Tylio's hands found the back of her hair, grabbing it and sharply pulling her head to the side. As soon as he gained better access, his mouth was on her throat, covering her pale skin with even more marks. Souvenirs of spent passion in the form of a purple choker, slowly forming around her neck. Messily, because he was getting distracted again now that he was moving his hips, now that he could feel her inner warmth, tightly wrapped around his shaft. It wasn't long at all before he had found his rhythm—sharp, fast, faster than he would like actually but he couldn't help himself. She felt too good to take it slow.

Something warm stirred in her belly when he looked up at her like that. His eyes were so pretty, and inviting. She bit her lip and rubbed the little area beneath his eyelid with her thumb, wanting to tell him she loved him, but instead she merely knitted her brows let another sigh to slip out. She watched as his face changed while she touched him, her eyebrows fluttering at the sight. She wanted to draw noises out of him, hesitantly peeling her hand out to dribble some spit on her palm before enveloping his length in her hand again. She pooled some at the tip, rubbing it around with her thumb.. Nana felt peaceful. She stretched within Tylio’s grip, like a cat once it’s finally gotten comfortable, back arching just a little with a small groan. “You’re so good at that, fuck,” and then in the same breath, “I think I’m catching a cold though. You gotta start making me all sorts of soups.. noodle, chicken, broccoli cheddar.” Nana found a strange comfort in talking during sex, in fact she liked to, it was her way of navigating the vulnerability, a nervous habit that kept her mind occupied in the moment.. “Hmm,” she muffled her whines by pushing her lips on Ty’s forehead, planting a small kiss over his bushy brows. Keeping her lips off of him was difficult, especially when every touch dripped with deliberate indulgence. Each mark he imprinted on her would linger on her skin, always a week or two. She loved watching the bruise sometimes right after a shower. She watched as they went from these deep, violent purples to soft lavender hues. Once, he’d sucked on the fleshy part where her boob connected to her chest and when she stretched the skin it looked like a heart, kinda. That one she wished she could’ve kept.

Her hands crawled up to his nape, gripping the scruff of hair there with a delicate urgency. She had him right where she wanted; a gentle curiosity blooming within her, what else she could ask him to do? Her mind started running wild with the fantasies she'd had, ones she'd touched herself to when Tylio wasn't home.This had crossed her mind many times before. When she discovered she liked it, to be taunted, and humiliated, it burst a well in her. This pressure she felt throughout the day would soften when she imagined Tylio's voice saying harsh things to her she found that she had cum faster; a realization that both thrilled and frightened her. It festered quietly within her over the past few weeks, how she would bring it up to him., what he would say. "So soon?" she whispered softly, her smile brushing against his lips. With how close they were, he could probably smell the gentle scent of her strawberry lotion. It was as if they moved in perfect harmony, when he instructed, she listened. During sex, at least. without protesting she slid her legs down, just as hungry for him. Toes curled against the unforgiving chill of the tile. As he moved down her neck, she placed her hand on his head, softly urging him to go deeper, "Use your teeth."

[tyliocellier]

It struck him as odd that so much of her outfit seemed to be pieced together from other clothing items, it was as if she had tried her absolute best to get the most mileage out of every piece. But why? Most people would simply throw out their old clothes once they became damaged past a certain point and purchase new ones. Even her shoes had been customized. Maybe this was her hobby? And why no phone? The items she carried were all things that could be found in the forest, aside from the water bottle. No ID, no phone, not even any money. And she didn't speak, either. He was intrigued, to say the least.

He spent the following two and a half hours monitoring her, checking every now and then whether her fever was getting any higher—it wasn't, thankfully. Until she woke up. He'd been standing by her bedside, instinctively withdrawing a little bit when he noticed the panic in her eyes and the sudden thrashing of her limbs. At least she had energy. That was a good sign. The pain in her leg seemed to be settling in though, he could see it in her face and the way her face scrunched uncomfortably the second she moved it. He lifted his hands, showing her what he knew to be the universal sign for 'I come in peace'. It was just the first thing he could come up with in that moment. He waited for a little while, giving her some time to look around the room and take in her surroundings. But she was mostly watching him. At the same time, he was also watching her. She seemed so shocked. More than he expected. He knew she would probably get startled, but she seemed confused as well, as if she didn't understand why he'd brought her here.

He turned around for a moment, grabbing some water from the table and then returning to her bedside to offer it to her in silence. It was clear by now that talking to her would not yield any results so he tried again to explain, through vague hand gestures, that she'd passed out. He brought his hand to his ear, mimicking a phone, and then shrugged, to make it clear that he hadn't been able to find hers. But he wasn't sure she was getting it. Eventually he gave up, bringing his hand instead to his stomach and rubbing it for a moment, then pointing at her. Hungry?

The cloak was made of a chunky semi circle of bear fur hide, rough cut but finely finished along the edge with fine hemp fiber threads to give strength to it. Tied to the long black bear fur with the same finely knotted thread were the feathers, beads and other small interesting and brightly coloured trinkets. Thin strips of fabrics, old and faded were also tied about, bulking up the entire thing enough to give significant size to the small woman.

Though petite in frame she was well muscled through a life of constant movement, her clothing beneath the cape also made of hides, but patch worked into something akin to a vested top tied closed in the front with a leather string, and pants of the same. Among the tans and brown pieces of every shade were faded denim and floral patterned chunks. Scraps from items that had long since disintegrated from their original forms.

Many of the pouches tied to the leather belt around her waist were made from cotton besides those which had held her water. Even her shoes, though mostly punch sewn leather, had pieces of denim on the top of her foot almost decoratively. There was no identification, no pockets or means to carry but the pouches on her belt and attached to the hide side of her cloak, but those held herbs, rocks for her sling, crushed and powdered minerals, and dried fruits.

Eventually coming around, her first real conscious realization was movement, and that sent her into a momentary panic as she shot to sudden wakefulness, blinded by the light in the strange space. Like a startled cat she'd begun to thrash about defensively, but the first press of her leg in attempt to put her back to a safe corner pulled her so abruptly from her shock that it forced her to take in her surroundings. It was His face that slammed her back into the present, reminding her of what had happened. Eyes wide and confused, her gaze flicked from him to the cabin around them, back and forth as if unwilling to let him out of her direct sight for too long.

[tyliocellier]

@thxoracle my reply to this thread from your previous blog!

Kate was steadfast about her work. She didn't give up easy, Tylio could appreciate that like no other. That didn't make the whole situation less horrifying though. Though he tried, he struggled to mask the genuine sickness he felt brewing in his stomach at the sight of the corpse. Sickness and terror. Those were the main things he felt but there was also a kind of sadness underneath it, in realizing that whoever this man was, he had most likely been trying to get out of this place. And he'd been so close. He might have made it out alive, if it hadn't been for...what exactly? Tylio felt ambivalent about finding that out.

When Kate suggested they open the door—the one that reeked of garbage and something rotten—Tylio put away his camera for a moment to help her push it open. He realized pretty quickly, though, that she was doing most of the heavy lifting. It wasn't something he had thought much about before but the more time they spent around each other, the more he realized that she was quite a lot stronger than most women he knew. Some of the men he knew, even. Elle est vraiment balèze, he thought to himself briefly. It must be all the training. Normally, it wouldn't have stood out to him but there was something bothersome to him about his own lack of physical strength by contrast. He ought to train more. But he was hopelessly disinterested in the gym and his favorite form of exercise was simple walks through nature. Not a recipe for bulking up.

Tylio squinted when he heard the sound of the door, scraping uncomfortably across the floor. It was a sound perfectly befitting of a place like this—sharp, invasive, painful to the ears. But they got it open. And Kate kept it open, while Tylio rushed to strategically place a nearby rock in the right spot and relieve her of that task. She asked him about the press conference and his face paled slightly because yes, he did remember. More specifically, he remembered the Mount Massive representatives. They had prepared a statement categorically denying any malpractice, misconduct and illegal activity but while one of them was reciting it, Tylio remembered the look on their faces. Or rather, the lack of one. There was nothing behind their eyes. They were all vacant, with the exception of one, who seemed almost amused. Tylio wasn't sure whether that was better or worse. "I was there, yes. I remember the main guy, wasn't his name Wernicke? He's the one who read the statement. Even before we got here, I knew he was lying. But I didn't think..." He trailed off, his mind flashing back to the dead man they saw moments ago. "Let's just keep going. I don't know if we'll find Wernicke, or any of the others but I have a feeling we won't need to." Just this one dead man alone, while it might not be enough to close the place down, could cause an uproar. But it felt like there was a lot more evidence to be found and documented.

"Wait. One second..." Tylio paused, briefly scanning the room until he found an old piece of curtain cloth on the ground. He draped it on top of the corpse—not to hide it, it was still clear there was a body but no one was coming to collect or bury it. This was the only thing he could think to do to show at least a modicum of respect. "OK. We can go." He joined Kate through the large, heavy doors, deeper into the asylum. Taking out his camera yet again, and documenting more of the hallway that followed. It wasn't pretty in here, either. There was blood on the walls. And it smelled. Foul. In fact, the stench was so bad Tylio wished he'd brought something to cover his mouth with. After a while of wandering, they stumbled upon what seemed to be a security room for monitoring different parts of the building. Lots of screens on the wall, some of which had been bashed in, and a dead guard slumped over in his seat. Again, Tylio nearly retched. But he was able to hold it in, for now, and take a photo. Then his gaze drifted toward the screens. Some of them were showing footage from inside the prison ward, where several more bodies littered the common area. It almost seemed like everyone was dead, until he spotted somebody walking in the corner of the screen. He tensed, his eyes fixating on the screen, a sense of dread filling him as he realized that it was a person pushing around what appeared to be a cleaning cart. Going about their business so calmly, it almost seemed as though they were unaware of the corpses they were passing by on their way to clean up a spill on the floor. "Putain mais on est où là?", he mumbled, more so to himself than to anyone else.