#lawsofhedonism

@lawsofhedonism: “ everyone is downstairs… ~ take your pants off ”

“Are you insane—?” Barney exclaims to a whisper, checking his surroundings to see if anybody could’ve been watching. (Public sex was fun. Getting fired for it wasn’t.) Ever since his thing began, Barney felt the constant heat of judgement on him at all times, even if people weren’t yet privy to what they did in the confines of his quarters. Barney wanted to keep it that way.

He looks at them square in the eye. “We can’t do this here, okay? Unless you have a death wish to get fired. You know what they do with disavowed agents around here? Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

With an extra spring in his step, Vance was glad to come home to his love. He had just been promoted from his current position at the police department to sergeant of the office. Vance, “Babe guess what?” Vance called out as he entered the apartment with his new uniform on, ready to surprise the other. He had always had some competition with his boyfriend, but he was hoping he would be happy for him.

        Emmett’s quickly approaching drunk, and the double shot he’s still nursing is definitely pushing him closer to his limit. What’s he to do though? There’s still a week left of his suspension from the Contest circuit something he feels he shouldn’t even be on. Granted, he is the one who started the fires in his opponents’ changing rooms, but the judges and the master of ceremonies admitted to having no proof of that fact. He only got singled out because they heard about his “reputation” in Kanto. Needless to say, he’s pissed especially since the Contest currently airing on the bar’s TV is one he feels he could’ve won with ease. “This is Tauros-shit! Complete Tauros-shit!” he screams, tossing his half-full class right at the screen in his rage. “I beat each of them this season! I’m leagues better than any of those cunts! And they suspended me? Me?! I’m a fucking show stopper, a winner! That ribbon should be mine!” Despite the slurred phrasing of his stupor, he’s not spewing drunken lies to pump up his ego. Every Coordinator chosen for the next round is one that Emmett’s defeated before. Still, he’s got quite the diva-complex evident by the way he snarls when the bartender tries to get him to calm down. “Oh, you can go suck a Slaking dick, you glorified keg! I’m a fucking star! You should be begging me for my autograph right now----don’t you fucking touch me!” In another classy move, he starts throwing objects haphazardly from the counter, whatever he can get his hands on. Napkins, bar snacks, even another person’s drink all while screaming his head off and trying to reach for a Pokéball in all the commotion he’s causing.