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dynamites-ao3 · 3 years ago

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Chanced

Jason Todd x f! Reader

explicit ; 5k words ; canon-compliant pwp

Out of all the purveyors of justice in the city, you have the misfortune of being confronted by the one least likely to let you go in one piece.

Or, Gotham's most expendable goon meets her most unorthodox vigilante. At night, of course.

read here on ao3! or read under the cut.

(a/n: forewarning for nonconsensual elements.)

The weather was turning for the worse these days. Having not expected the chill, you forfeited a padded jacket when you left your apartment earlier this afternoon. It has been hours since then, the steel walls of the warehouse you situated yourself in now providing little comfort against the temperature. You suck in a breath and purse your lips hard, willing yourself not to chatter your teeth.

This isn’t ideal. It’s brutal, actually.

You really hadn’t expected these sorts of errands when you applied for a central intelligence side job at the villain job convention some months ago. On paper, it’d clearly been a desk job for hire, so it’s not fair that you’re standing here now in the cold, fiddling with a USB stick in your jacket pocket like some actually important intermediary.

The pay definitely isn’t good enough for this, at the very least.

Only having had this gig for two or so months, you weren’t in a position to complain. So: here you were. The USB stick had arrived to your postbox two days prior, in a nondescript bubble mailer with no return address.

Still, you’d known what it was. You’d been given the assignment electronically through an encrypted message by - likely - a higher-up you’ll never met in-person, to pass the drive on to another middle man.

What the drive contained, however, was utterly beyond your payroll. You were too scared to insert it into your own laptop for fear of the consequences. You don’t ask questions either. You could guess, though. Blueprints. Ransomware. A hit. The list goes on.

It didn’t appease you in any real way, to speculate at the contents of the USB stick; though it killed time just fine. You were standing there for about two hours now, and with the fast encroaching nightfall, came the darkness. Even walking in broad daylight in Gotham was at times daunting, so the idea of returning home, guided only by the puttering street lamps, filled you with genuine unease.

Besides that, you have an early start tomorrow for your real day job. You were terribly overqualified for it but until you could line up a better prospect, your hands were tied for now. Hence, your current side gig of running messages for minor city villains.

Your family wouldn’t be too proud but hey - a girl’s gotta eat. And pay rent. And afford the vices that make this chaos all tolerable.

The wind whistles above you, causing the sheets of steel roofing to creak. Naturally, you glance upward at the slivers of the darkening sky that peeks through, offering some semblance of light into the warehouse besides the light that entered through the two wide door ways on opposite walls.

You stood square in the middle and would regularly pivot your gaze to best see any movement that came from the entrances. Bringing your eyes back down, you pan the walls once more: save for the graffiti and the scrap furniture up against the rusty walls that leaked stuffing, there really wasn’t much scenery to appreciate.

You take your hands out of your jacket, rubbing the palms together. The first hour of waiting had you tense, jumping at every minuscule sound; now, you just wanted someone to show up so you could scurry back home, into the comforting warmth that you came to miss dearly. You were itching for takeout at your favourite cheap eatery but it was probably a better idea to dig into the accumulating leftovers you had in tupperwares back home first.

You ground the rubber front of your shoes into the concrete, bored and tapping away.

“This really isn’t worth it,” you grumble into the air, frowning when you notice the visible puffs of air drawing from your breath. The acoustics were rather nice, to be fair.

“Funny - I was gonna say the same thing.”

Your blood runs cold. Apprehension and relief, wrapped all in one, spikes.

You turn towards the sound in an instant. The glint of red at the entrance to your right, dangerous and foreboding, landing in your peripheral view confirms a fear you hadn’t even truly considered. You feel slightly queasy.

The one standing there was not who you were anticipating, after all. You’re certain he’s not working with your agency.

“You waiting for someone, baby?”

Red Hood steps forward as he asks this, head tilted innocuously to the side. His voice is slightly modulated by the helmet, but not enough to conceal the derisive rumble in his voice. His hands are empty but hover inches away from his holsters which were very much not empty. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re definitely not making it home before complete nightfall.

Your lips feel chapped though your palms sweat. Aren’t there like a dozen heroes working in Gotham? What were the chances of Red Hood noticing you? Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t seem to catch a break.

His unexpected presence has you blanching a little. “Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“A friend,” you explain lamely, hoping your timidness masquerades as shyness from meeting a well known hero and not guilt. You were expecting some sunglasses-clad man in an ill-fitting suit and a briefcase to shuffle in, not a hero with broad shoulders who could lay you horizontal in a thousand different ways. You didn’t think you were crucial enough to be tracked or tailed by such a figure.

There’s a beat. Until, “Pretty nasty place to meet a friend.”

Your mind draws blank and you shrug in lieu of responding verbally, sending a sheepish and thin smile. You had a cover story, you know you did, you’d formulated it absent-mindedly while on your feet but under this pressure, under his certain gaze, you can’t recall it.

Was it that you’ve a real penchant for exploration? Or that you’re a cinematographer looking for a shooting location? Something along those lines but the opportunity has since passed.

The USB stick in your pocket feels like lead. Whether by the hand of this vigilante or by your employer, you’re not quite sure how you’re going to make it out alive. This sucks. Perhaps it was naive of you to think you could sidestep all direct confrontations with the police and heroes during your time with a dubious central intelligence agency.

He rests a hand on his utility belt. You gulp as you watch it creep towards the side, down his outer thigh to lightly touch the holstered handgun. He clearly knows why you’re here, loitering in a barren warehouse. Maybe not specifically, but enough to know you’re not here for any respectable reason.

(To be fair, sneaking about abandoned warehouses as a whole wasn’t very respectable.)

You can already see it play out in your mind’s eye: Red Hood sticking the cold barrel under your chin, digging through your pockets for the USB stick, leaving your dead body for the police to eventually find. Maybe he’d let you escape with your life if you’d handed over the information wilfully, but that might just mean you’d be punished by much more unsavoury methods by your own employer for such a grievous error.

It’s not like you held much loyalty to your job, after all - you just didn’t want to get waterboarded for ten hours if they found out a hero working under Batman swiped confidential information from you. You could barely afford commute and monthly rent, much less the expenses in running off to another part of the country where no one knows your name. You hear Coast City’s weather at this time of year is pleasant though.

At a loss, you blurt aloud to save the situation. “My boyfriend.”

If anything, this outburst gets his attention. And a couple more seconds of you being alive, which is always pretty nice.

His hand lifts away. With no visible facial expressions to go off from, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely caught off-guard or simply obliging you in your little charade for a little longer. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, racking your brain.

“My boyfriend,” you say, “I mean, I’m supposed to be meeting him, that’s all. I’ll tell him we can’t be here, okay? Sorry.”

He’s only some meters away now - he could overwhelm you in a blink if you tried anything. Him simply tapping you on the head with his fist might even lay you out flat. Still, you take a step back, closer to the other doorway. If you can stall long enough for the second middle man to arrive, that would be all you need to slip away.

“Meeting him here?” he questions. His steps are heavy as he rocks up close. How did he arrive so silently?

“Yeah. We like to - yeah.” We like to… what, exactly? Oh god. You pause to absorb your own words before ducking away, hopefully hiding your own mortification from him.

This is… not great. You’re just babbling now.

You think that perhaps he didn’t hear you this time - or maybe that he was duly horrified - but then a sharp bark of laughter leaves him, a hand coming up to his helmet to where his mouth would be underneath it.

“Shit,” he says, his voice wry. “Who suggested it, you or him?”

You feel faint, barely able to meet his gaze. “Me.” You intended to reply matter of factly, but it came out rising like a question.

“Riiight.”

Your mouth shuts, taken aback at the direction of the conversation led by his obvious disbelief. You know he’s mocking you - stretching out this moot conversation just to humiliate you, some nameless henchman who turned to crime to pay bills. Maybe if you were worth something more, anything, he’d see you as a threat. Evidently not.

Well, you think rather futilely, it was worth a try. At least he could wring some entertainment out of you before he shot you in the head -

“You suggested it? Take a good look at yourself,” he says. His chin juts upward and it’s a rather cocky move, like he’s egging you on to react.

What was that supposed to mean? Though rhetorical, you still find yourself glancing at your attire: it was nondescript all the way down. It’s not like you cared to dress up - who would you even be impressing? Your jacket could benefit from being more insulated though; and you’re surprised he’s trying to poke holes in your cover as opposed to just threatening you with certain death, but you’ll take what you can get.

“Besides,” he continues, “you sounded pretty reluctant earlier.”

Confused, you speak slowly. “Uh. I don’t - listen, I’ll call him right now, and leave. Really. We don’t mean any harm.” You move to take your phone out of your pocket but a levelled glance at you has you pausing.

He swings his head to the side in a lazy shake. Taps his holster. “Hands off.”

“Sorry?” you say.

“I’ll keep you company until he shows, how’s that?” You can nearly envision a smirk under the helmet and something about his goading has your adrenaline pumping. You wonder if you could somehow fish out the USB stick and sneak it somewhere on the dusty concrete or in your tennis shoes. “Maybe me and him can have a little chat too. On why it’s a bad, bad idea to leave your girl alone in a place like this.”

Goddammit. Whoever steps through the doorway next is getting murked right alongside with you apparently.

Shoulders tensing, you weigh your options. You consider weaving further into your cover, saying something like you regularly do this, it’s really not an issue - but for some reason pretending to be a public sex fiend in front of Red Hood was incredibly weird.

“Okay,” you say, helpless. You slip your hands into your jacket pockets, feel for the USB drive, and casually look about the barren warehouse.

A silence ensues. You’re not sure what to do, you’ve never been in this situation before. You don’t know why he’s letting you feign about so long and it scares you.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” you make out, unsure.

“Might want to move closer to the side. You’re standing in front of the draft.”

You stared at him, though he gave no indication to acknowledge you. “Okay.”

The moment you begin to shift however, stepping towards one of the walls and further into the shadows, you felt wind cutting sharply by your ears as you’re slammed forward, one splayed hand between your shoulder blades.

A shoulder hits the wall before the rest of your front, knocking the air out of you in a wheeze. Your hands came up to block but the force of his shove still stung your palms. The metal wall rattles thunderously.

You draw your head back in time, but your jaw still gets clipped slightly by the rough wall when you turn your cheek. You might be bleeding. Sharp pain shoots up yours arms as he twists them behind your back and pushes you with his entire body. Panic rises up your throat and a low, pained moan draws out of you.

“Did I hurt you? Sorry, baby, but I have to be thorough.”

A solid steel-toed boot wedges itself between your legs, forcing them apart. Eclipsed by the shadows behind you, Red Hood looms powerfully. What did you do to deserve this treatment?

“It’s a thumb drive, right?” he prompts, cutting to the chase with his helmet right by your hair. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll leave you alone. No harm no foul.”

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. “Please, you have the wrong person.”

In the scuffle, you dropped the USB and it landed conveniently under the skirt of a sagging couch to your left, only visible at your angle near the wall. Your neck is damp with sweat. If you could just kick it further in, you might be able to convince him you really were innocent after all.

“Uh huh,” he says in the same disbelieving tone as before. Unimpressed and losing patience, he shifts his grip so that he held both your wrists tightly with one hand, pinning you against the wall, so that he might use his free hand to slide up your body.

There is the rustling of fabric as he sticks his hand into your jacket pockets and feels about, before coming up empty. “Hm.” Shifting gears, he turns his attention down to your pants and thumbs your pockets - and you jump when his knuckles graze your butt. He palms your ass instead of filing methodically through your back pockets.

“Still not talking?”

“There’s nothing to say,” you say, getting cut at the end when he abruptly slips under your light jacket and atop your shirt, spreading his fingers on your midsection. You shiver.

Rough, worn leather finds your skin, and in doing so, he hitches your shirt up along with your half-unzipped jacket, introducing it to the cold air. Goosebumps erupt across your arms and you repress a sharp breath.

What should be a frightening pat-down strangely has a heat forming in the pit of your stomach, turning fiercer when his hand cups you. You finally gasp aloud when he gently squeezes the soft flesh, leather rubbing against your nipple.

Your nipples harden almost immediately to the cold but he still rolls them with the pads of his fingers, almost soothingly. This is definitely not standard procedure in finding an object on your person.

“No bra?” he mutters. As if rendered curious by your lack of chest support, he pushes your shirt up further to gain access to your other breast, also kneading it briefly in one gloved hand. He stops. “Guess you weren’t lying about the public fucking.”

What, can’t a person just go bra-less when they wanted to? When he goes quiet this time, you become aware of your heavy breathing, intensive and trembling. Embarrassment swells in you despite the threat of your livelihood dangling.

“Umm,” you croak, abashed. Then, clearing your throat, “I think you see I don’t have what you’re looking for, so…”

“Ehh,” says Red Hood mildly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

You’re not given time to think.

There’s no resistance from you when he grabs yours hips and slams them flush back against his solid legs. Instinctively, your arms fly out forward to support yourself against the wall as you’re arched back on him. Your mind spins wildly, unable to keep up as gloved fingers press into the fabric of your clothes, into your flesh.

“But you’re a hero,” you say in another abrupt gasp, pitching almost hysterical when you realise what he’s implying.

And he’s sneering, audibly, when he replies, “Aw, baby, it’s so nice you think I’m a hero.”

“I’ll expose you online - I’ll go to the police,” you say. “I’ll fucking do it.”

His grip on you tightens painfully. “Don’t you know who I am? Like anything you say would make waves."

Your eyes widen. You pull your hands from the wall to claw at his wrists, but it’s as futile as you’d thought it was to be. “Hold on, please,” you insist, switching gears, “I’ll give you what you want, just -”

You could feel him behind you, the firm press against his crotch unavoidable no matter how you struggled. And he ran unbearably hot. “Sure you will.” You heard the click of metal as he unbuckled his utility belt. You’re not surprised it has come to this. You’ve heard of Red Hood and his penchant for the less upstanding methods of pursuing justice.

This seemed to be in line with his character.

There was nowhere to go. If you could somehow tug yourself out of his grip, there was nothing holding him back from shooting you between the shoulder blades as you made your escape.

You’re not as physically adept (you had a desk job for godssake) so you were subjected to hanging your head low as he tugged your pants down, resting your forearms on the wall. Though he did the bare minimum in unzipping your fly, your pants naturally fell to the dusty ground, exposing the full length of your legs.

He stayed quiet as he hooked his thumb under the band of your panties. With your eyes downcast, you notice that he’d taken the glove off the hand that was currently skimming your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He pushed your panties down and gravity eases it to your knees. His other hand remained securely at your opposite hip.

When his large hand slides to your front, callused fingers coming down between your legs, you can’t help but wonder if this had been his plan the moment he laid eyes on you and decided to fuck around for the fun of it; or if this had been a spur of the moment sort of ordeal, occurring to him when he had you caged against the wall. Did it even matter? You were determined to not react.

He barely even began to trace your slit with his middle and ring finger, barely even sinking the pads of them between your folds when he pauses.

Having nothing else to distract you from the breaching sensation, you double down on it, desperately willing your body to resist. His once cold fingers warm up quickly, regulating with your body heat.

It takes a heartbeat to realise he is speaking to you. “You’re already wet.”

“No,” you reply, hoarse. You don’t know why you do - you shouldn’t be talking back at all - but it looks like you’ve still some sliver of pride.

“Yeah, you are.” He leans forward, firm chest bumping against your back, the thin jacket not much of a barrier at all. The metal helmet brushes against your hair. His fingers sink back into you, deeper this time, and when he withdraws a knuckle’s length, you can feel the wet squelch before you even hear it. You want to cry out but relent in a silent shudder. “Are you wet for me, baby? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boyfriend.”

“Stop it.”

“You like this shit,” Red Hood states, almost haughty. “It turns you on.”

“No, you’re wrong,” you say with a shake of your head; you try pushing away from him. He hardly heeds you.

“Am I?” His thumb strokes your sensitive clit and you snap your head away from his sight. Tears prick your eyes and there’s something horrible building up inside you that wants him to continue.

His hands were large to begin with but when his fingers finally reenter you, scissoring slowly to test your limits, you can’t help but whimper.

“A pretty thing like you into fucking in dirty places. God, your man’s lucky.”

You’ve an inkling he knows the boyfriend thing is just a cover, but you groan all the same, the noise escaping out a clamped jaw.

The ensuing silence is unbearable, void of anything but the noises coming from your body. A shiver overwhelms you, running fast up your spine when he gives your clit unexpected attention again. You want to cry. You are going to cry; you squeeze your eyes shut.

You clench around Red Hood’s fingers and this does not escape him. As if in response, he squeezes your breast unceremoniously.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you,” Red Hood replies, his voice surprisingly breathless.

His hand comes away sticky, knuckles glistening, wiping against the skin of your inner thigh. Then, stripping you of your jacket with certain urgency, he spins you around by the shoulder and takes your head in his gloved hand. Unmoving fingers fan across your jaw, thumb on your cheek.

“Open,” he instructs. “And don’t bite.”

Your lips close around his damp fingers, hot tongue running along his callused fingertips. The red mask is indecipherable: you’re unsure whether he’s getting anything out of this or that he simply wants to humiliate you. Maybe a bit of both. In any case, he never turns his head away. Are his eyes closed? Or is he committing this to memory, of your hollowed cheeks and wide, glassy eyes?

You too do not look away, much too scared to glance downward and catch the glimpse of his arousal tenting against dark tacts.

The hand on your chin relaxes when it becomes clear you aren’t about to wriggle free. You could though, and it might even be easy - but your shoes are deadweights and escaping into the Gotham air cannot be much safer.

You clean yourself off his fingers, sucking and licking gingerly until he pulls away.

“Turn around for me.”

When he shimmies his tactical pants down, you don’t see anything but you hear the shuffle of clothes, the tinkling of the belt, and you feel the firm, hot length of his cock abruptly press against your backside.

He adjusts himself, dragging it down against your slit and rubbing, spreading your wet heat across himself. You don’t know what to think, knowing that he was already fully erect, spilling pre-come at the thought of fucking you.

Against your will, you begin to ache for him, a sharp emptiness balling up in your core that wanted to be filled. Malleable like putty, you think he could slam right into you with no problem. In fact, it would be delicious, the force, the feel of his body boxing you in, taking you without grievance or care.

Surprisingly, he takes his time. You don’t demur: you get what you wish for in due time.

The moan you let out between your teeth when the throbbing head of his cock breaches your entrance was unstoppable. It would be embarrassing had he not also let out a low noise of his own as he stretches you. “Fuck,” he hisses.

Once he’d positioned himself correctly, he inched into you slow, revelling in the tight heat. You, on the other hand, felt full, his cock satisfying the burning ache you had just moments ago. The slow stretch makes you quiver, keeping a breath in your chest.

The moment of quietude is startled violently when his hand unexpectedly grabs at the base of your nape, not high enough to asphyxiate yet still hard enough to communicate danger. While fully hilted, he rolls his hips. He drags back briefly before snapping into you with enthusiasm.

You felt as though you’d bite your tongue if you continued to keep your teeth gritted but the moment you relaxed your jaw, a panting moan escaped. “Oh god,” you let out.

His hips slam. “Yeah? That good?”

Your noises apparently encourage him: he fucks you hard, bruising vices on your hips, and gradually you lean further downward, your own hands sliding down the wall for purchase. The abrasive, frigid concrete is rough on your forearms and knees when you get down.

He follows suit, lowering himself to one knee. He at least has the graciousness to pull out momentarily as you got to the floor, his cock bouncing heavily just by your entrance, coarse pubic hair rasping at your skin. When he slides back into your warmth, there’s no resistance whatsoever, your body in complete compliance.

In the corner of your eyes, the kicked USB is just right there, to your left and slightly under the dusty furniture. There is no way he cannot see it from this angle, but he pays it no mind.

“God, what if your man walks in on us, huh?” he grits out, between breaths. “I guess I could let him watch for a bit.”

The shift in position pushes his cock to reach a new depth, pistoning in and out of you with such fervor that you arched your back to keep from being sent forward. You were entirely at his mercy now.

His deep strokes sends zips up your spine. He seems to fill you up completely, as if with every thrust, the head of his cock meets just bare of your cervix. The helmet does a good job at concealing his breathing, but every once in a while, over the visceral wet noises of his cock burying into you and the smack of his balls against your skin, you can faintly hear a low groan.

When he stills for a split second and breaks the pace, your body moves faster than your mind - and you roll your hips back to hilt yourself like you’re keen.

“Want me to continue?” he asks. “Tell me you want it and I’ll get you off.” A hand slides from gripping your hip to your ass, palming it.

“Ngh,” you return, lamely. It’s not enough of an answer.

“What’s that?” He yanks out fast and it leaves your cunt aching sharply again.

You should jerk a thumb over to the USB drive and tell him to go fuck himself or just shoot you or some combination of this.

“Don’t think so hard, just tell me,” his voice comes out like a modulated purr, rumbly and arrogant. God, he’s so fucking aggravating, insidious even -

“Yes,” you say in a cry.

The effect is instantaneous. He ruts into you like an animal, like he doesn’t want you to forget the searing effect of his cock as it slides into you. Fast and aggressive in the way only a man of his athleticism can be, you are left to lower your head to the floor and raise your hips high for him to violate, biting your bottom lip to keep from drooling. The ruthless barrelling as his mode of acquainting with your insides is thrilling; he wants to coax you to scream.

Eerily enough, you and him nearly come at the same time. Unable to stop your tensing, your hands ball up into fists and you give into your feelings: your insides flutter, the muscles contracting and consequently squeezing his cock. His pace slows dramatically as if to savour the vibrations, drawing out into long and deep strokes.

The build up falls from a terrible crescendo and your knees have liquified; he keeps you upright.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He hardly gives you a heads up when he comes, which is more than you can say, but his fingers dig as a forewarning when he bottoms out. It’s likely your orgasm brings his over the finish line.

His cock, heavy and engorged, twitches twice and spurts a hot, wet mess deep inside you. You imagine his expression: his eyes rolling back or maybe clamping shut; his teeth gritted or slightly parted in a pant. You don’t even have time to protest. He strokes your skin as he does, almost affectionately.

As always, your body betrays you: you squeeze without thinking just as he backs up like you want to keep him there. You feel insatiable: you want him in you all the time. He chuckles faintly.

He gives short thrusts as if to wring out the very last drops and you try not to think about the warmth filling your core now, the presence of him imprinted inside your body. It makes you flush. Were you insane for enjoying this?

He doesn’t seem to be going through the same mental turmoil.

The very moment he withdraws his softening cock from your body, thick come drips, sliding hotly down your inner thigh. His absence leaves your entrance pulsing, effectively squeezing out more of the mess.

You think that’s the end of it and go to stand upright when you feel his hand grip an ass cheek and without warning, spread your entrance further open with a thumb. “Aagh,” you can’t help but whine at the feel of come spilling out.

It didn’t help that he was most definitely watching the whole affair of his come dripping from your pleasantly sore entrance. A sizeable glob splatters on the concrete between your knees, just missing the pants around your ankles.

“You with me?” Red Hood hums.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Sweet,” he says, all casual. “So. What’re we thinking for dinner.”

Like that, the curtains close.

You sigh petulantly, reaching back and slapping his hand away. This is no place to rest in a post-orgasm haze anyway. Pulling yourself upright and yank your pants back up your waist. Hands on your waist, you twist about violently. A very satisfying crack resounds from your body.

“I dunno,” you say, pinching your jacket up and dusting it. “Are we going to your place or mine? Also, god, you talk a lot.”

“Hey, you said you wanted realism. I gave it to you,” he says, getting to his feet. Jason unclasps his helmet from the back, yanking it off in one go. “Anticipation helps the scene.” He shakes his head, unsticking sweaty bangs from his forehead before pushing it all back with his hand.

“Three hours,” you say for emphasis, though there’s no bite. “It’s cold.”

You do appreciate Jason for obliging you in this scenario. When you first suggested it in a sort of half-joking manner, you certainly hadn’t expected Jason to take you seriously.

Nor had you expected him to whip out his acting chops like this. It was all rather impressive and seeing him with you now at the end of the scene, cheeks flushed and orgasm attained, you couldn’t really be mad.

“What was in this thing anyway? Looks ancient.” He steps away to lean over, picking the grimy thumb drive from the ground.

“Ehh. Probably used it to transfer some files when I bought my laptop.” You purse your lips. “Just last year, I guess.”

“Ugh, so boring. Wanna film something and stick it in this?”

A scoff leaves you, nabbing the small drive from him and shoving it away. “Dinner first,” you say.

Pivoting around, you make for the exit. Jason stops you, wrangling you with a hand on your back, and pushes you back towards him. Dipping forward, Jason captures your mouth in a languid kiss. It is like all the aggression has dissipated, leaving behind the dregs of something more substantial. Warmly, you lean into him. His eyes glitter when you pull apart.

“Your boyfriend’s pretty nice,” he says. “Wouldn't you say?”

“Yeah. I guess he is.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagines #dc x reader #dynamites writes #WHEW i'm back baby *crickets chirp*

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iamyblack · 5 years ago

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#apple mail #apple mail to pst #apple mail to pst converter #mac mail to pst

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darkdarkmydesire · 8 years ago

Text

I really hope it wasn't (just an experiment)

Chapter 3:

Magnus woke to the scent of coffee and an empty bed, rolling over he came face to face with a cup of the offending beverage and doughnuts on his bed side table. Tucked underneath the cup was a note, which he snatched out scowling. Magnus didn't know why he felt such strong irritation. Had Alec left in the night? That by no means explained the lukewarm coffee, or fluffy doughnuts, because as far as he was concerned, sustenance didn't just keep it self warm. Deciding to pursue the actions of a mature individual, Magnus flung the paper with tremendous disdain, despite there being no one other than the furniture to witness the action and stalked toward his bathroom. Ignoring the paper and his surging irritation. Magnus's eyes clung to the clock as he passed, 6:18. Despite the seemingly nice gesture, Magnus couldn't help but feel like a hooker. Who woke up before six on a sunday anyway? Alec had disappeared and left a note, all that was missing was the cash on his dresser. Granted Magnus hadn't been looking forward to the awkward morning, but he would've thought Alec would have some tact. Huffing in indignation at his tumultuous thoughts, Magnus made his way to the bathroom with renewed purpose. He'd deal with this after a shower.

Fifteen minutes later Magnus sat on his bed with damp hair and the crumpled remains of his fury. He read over Alec's note for the second time, guilt pricking fine holes in his demeanor.

Sorry I had to leave. I swear this isn't the walk of shame. I have work at 6, so I went home to change. Plus, I got you donougts to make up for it. They're from Nightgale, if you dont like them anymore I'll be sure to pay you back for the bad taste ;)

After the thorough examination, Magnus set down the note, feeling slightly wrecked. He reached for a doughnut. It was his favourite, a glazed wholewheat doughnut. Heart fluttering Magnus bit into the delectable treat. The memory that accompanied only succeeded in tearing down the rest of Magnus. He remembered the first time Alec had took him to the cozy diner, they had been dating. Magnus had taken one bite of the doughnut and declared it his usual haunt, since then him and Alec frequented the place everyday after school. Nightingale was at least a 25 minute walk from his place and Magnus firmly closed the door to the sect of his mind that whispered tantalizing notions: He woke up before 5 for you He did it for you. Alec still cares, still remembers. Still knows you despite the years and silences and changes. Barricading such thoughts, Magnus finished the first doughnut, started the second and drank the coffee till the last drop, despite it going cold. All the while ignoring bubbles of joy in his heart.

-------------------------------+

It had been three days since Magnus and Alec had rendezvoused for the lack of a better word, however both went on with their lives tactically avoiding any mention of the night. There was not a wisp of ungainliness, nor any action to build up their friendship on it's dilapidated foundation. Though, regardless of recent events Alec couldn't help but feel a thrum of disappointment. Magnus, Raphael and Simon had gotten close with an exchange student called Ragnor Fell, especially Magnus. Alec tried to snuff out the envy as he saw them laughing in the corridors and conspiring in class. He had trouble shirking of the petulant chorus of: it should be me. Alec had his own acquaintances and friends. He also had no reservations of kindling their romance, but had thought Magnus would at least try to make up for three years of silence. Had thought that night would have meant more than just a release for Magnus. Had thought -

Swearing Alec yanked open his locker. He was acting imbecilic moron, standing here reminiscing of different outcomes and what if's. About how Magnus wouldn't give him the time of day. Disgusted at his own wallowing, Alec flung books into his bag with a vicious ferocity and a scowl to match.

"Someone's in a mood.", whistled Jace, leaning against the subsequent locker with a clanging thump.

" I'm fine.", Alec blew out, running a hand through his hair. He really was oozing an aura of pathetic, if Jace, who was as thick as his textbooks conjoined, could sense something amiss.

"I'm sure the abuse victim would disagree.", Jace snorted, arms crossed, a skeptical expression on his face.

Confused, Alec raised an eyebrow. He wasn't in the mood for Jace's unamusing jibes.

" The locker. Jjust because it has no nerves, doesn't make it acceptable to pummel the thing.", Jace mocked effectively cutting into Alec's irritation. The words echoed of a previous lecture Alec himself had given him. Breathing out a laugh, Alec felt the vice of strain loosen its grip.

"Jace, I caught you pulverising a postbox with a metal pole., just because you were aggravated. This situation is immensely different.", Alec reasoned closing his locker, although he used a noticeably lower amount of force.

"Right, whatever. Thank fuck you didn't see the five around the corner.", Jace muttered, uninterested in his own failings.

" What?", Alec asked, snapping his head towards Jace, " I swear to God, you better be joking.", he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. With Jace you never really could tell which hypothetical incident was a joke and which an anectode. All Alec knew was that each scenario was as outrageous as the next, if not more so.

"Of course I am.", Jace reassured, " Anyway, Izzy said to tell you, family dinner tonight. Don't forget.", he chirped. Jace never chirped, that was more of Simon's forte, so naturally Alec became suspicious. Adding more fuel to the fire, he couldn't help but think Jace's stride contained an additional vigor. Still unsure and somewhat defeated Alec made his way to AP calculus, perhaps he was overreacting, but in Jace's case even evacuation procedures would be basic protocol. Although, It was not as if he could do anything about the postboxes at this moment. He could offer to pay for them, however even Alec saw little merit in admitting vandalism to a government official's assistant. Hence, Alec simply went to class, turning his back on the memories that hung like ghastly cobwebs in the harsh lighting of the college corridor. Memories that would leave remnants of silk too fine, to perhaps ever remove.

-------------------------------+

Only after Alec had sat down did he take note of the minority of students in attendance. Besides a curly haired girl who's fashion sense could rival Isabel's, Alec happened to be the only other individual present. She seemed to radiate a cloud of hostility, yet Alec found her to be intriguing, if not pleasant. The girl had been been a sagacious partner, the few times Alec had been paired with her. An intelligent figure who could hold an interesting conversation. "Staring at Maia? I though you were past the finding an efficacious beard phase", came Magnus's teasing voice, drawing Maia's attention as well as Alec's. Despite his easy tone Alec felt a twinge of shame, as he recalled how adamant he had been in hiding their previous relationship.

Unable to decide if it was truly a jab, Alec played it safe and brushed off Magnus, addressing Maia in his stead, " Sorry long day. I was just thinking that regardless of your intelligence and pleasant fashion sense, my sister and you are two humans best not acquainted. ". This compliment was delivered in the form of an observation, as if he was merely cataloging the number of lexis in his assignment. The lopsided grin and unassuming tenor of his comment, earned a soft laugh from Maia. Alec could be quiet charming without the pomp and swagger of the usual stereotypes encompassing the male population.

"You know, if anyone other than you said that, gay, or not. I would have shown him just how extended my vocabulary can be, but seeing as its you. Thanks.", she responded, her brown eyes shining with amusement. It seems Alec's comment had indirectly insulted Maia, because he recognised that particular brand of humour from Isabel's own reactions to varying "helpful" comments Alec had bestowed upon her.;

" I dont know if I should be honoured, or offended. The boys in this school aren't exactly...", he waved his hand in an elaborate gesture, as he trailed off.

Scoffing, Magnus cut in, " First of all darling, I am deeply offended, as I seem to be grouped with the 'boys in this school' category. ", as he took out his notebook. " Secondly, this.", he encompassed, waving his hand in a fashion similar to Alec's, "Is not an adjective.", he deadpanned reminding Alec of another time he had used that tone. A time he did not want to remember in a classroom, in front of other anthropoids generally.

Clearing his throat and willing his cheeks to cool, Alec answered, " Yeah, I know.", his voice coming out scratchier than he intended.

Magnus seemed to have caught the link and looked over with a sly grin, "I - ", he began.

" Okay class, seeing as you're always complaining about how tedious solving exercises are, I devised an activity away from the conventional teaching style for math.", announced Mr. Beamer, successfully cutting of Magnus and looking all too pleased with himself.

Alec, once again, wasn't sure if he was disappointed.

"I would like you to work with your desk partners and create a 3 - d model representing the following topics: Limits and Continuity, Derivatives and Rates of Change, or Integrals and Area, depending on which I assign you. I expect this handed in four weeks from now, with an oral presentation. This will be done in lieu of home work, with the exception of the daily practice questions, of course.", explained the teacher.

" Of course.", mumbled Magnus in annoyance.

"What?", questioned Alec perplexed, under his breath. Eyes still on the board, as to erase any chances of a repeat of the last lesson.

Magnus faced the younger man trying to discern his tone, only to find genuine anticipation on his face. " Of course.", Magnus whispered again, however this time he was significantly amused.

"It'll be an invigorating challenge.", shrugged Alec, noticing a strange expression flit across Magnus's face, before he covered it up with a haughty look.

" Invigorating.", he scoffed, "Who says that?", his tenor seem almost... endearing? But before Alec could question it, Magnus faced forward, concentrating intensely on Mr. Beamer's words.

-------------------------------+

" So, after school, your place?", Magnus asked, as the students piled out. "Oh.", replied Alec surprised, " Um, it'll have to be after work, so 7:30?", he queried, expecting a refusal, as he packed away his supplies.

"Sure, I'll text you when I get there.", the older man answered, unfazed, " Number?". Taking in Alec's mildly shocked expression, he frowned. "What? You thought I was going to dump it on you?"

"Well no, I thought... because - you just, I mean. I assumed.", Alec struggled, unable to form a coherent sentence.

" Wow, Alec.", Magnus snapped, "Way to paint me the jerk.", swinging his bag over his shoulder violently.

" What do you expect me to think?", Alec asked vehemently, "You hook up with me, then dont even look my way twice.".

" Don't make this about that, Alec. Dont be so clingy.", Magnus spat.

Ignoring the way his heart clenched at those words, the younger man seethed, " I'm not making it about anything, Magnus. What is wrong with you? We were friends way before this bullshit. If anything, you're the one projecting.", gaining momentum, Alec plundered ahead.

"This isn't even about sex, its about how you seem to think 15 years of friendship isn't reason enough to even try to be civil. You dont want yo speak to me? Fine. But dont get offended, when I assume that's what you're going to keep doing.", Alec finished breathing heavily and pushed past Magnus. He had not felt fury like this in along time. So completely obliterating and wholly directed at one person, rage seemed to crackle from his very being, as Alec none to pointedly ignored the general school populous. Not looking back once, he stormed his way out of the building. Alec was sick of second guessing himself and around Magnus that's all he seemed to do.

-------------------------------+

After work, Alec had come home to boxes of takeaway and bickering. Currently, sitting here, even as Izzy smacked Jace once again and as Jace exaggerated in his reaction, once again, Alec felt calm. This is what family dinners are supposed to be like, spending time with the ones who understood you, even if they weren't blood related, like Jace.

" If you ask me", said Jace out if the blue, " You give that Magnus guy too much leniency. ", he observed, leaning against the front if the sofa, as he sat on the floor with Alec sitting crossed leg, opposite him. Izzy mirroring his posture had token over the couch, " He was just a kid when Alec got kicked out. There's no need to blame him for what Dad did. ", reasoned Isabel. " And for the love of God, speak after you finish. Nobody needs to see that.", she exclaimed, nose wrinkling in disgust.

"I'm not blaming him, even though he is a jerk. I'm Just saying Alec should be careful.", pointed out Jace, purposefully chewing as loud as he could, baiting Isabel. Alec wondered at his audaciousness, no man would cross Isabel, not with the constant threat of sterility hanging above his head.

" That's rich coming from you.", Alec muttered, he was getting imensely annoyed at being the subject of the conversation, as if he was not present. "Also, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. The way you two are going, I'm surprised you don't suit me up in protective gear each time I step out.", Alec replied blandly.

"Exactly Jace and if they do find each other under the sheets, it'll be the matter of two consenting adults.", Isabel quipped, cackling at the glare Alec through in her direction.

" Isabel.", he warned.

"Oh no, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, dont try and deny it. Clary and I saw you dancing with him on Friday night,before you vanished.", taunted Jace from his spot on the floor, " Where, pray tell, did you go?".

"Home.", Alec deadpanned, " We took a cab together.". Beginning to collect the mess he carried on coolly, "Being over him, doesn't mean I'm blind Jace. He was a hot guy who asked me to dance and so I did."

Choosing to sideline Alec's condescending tone Jace rolled his eyes."Looky who grew up.", munched Jace around his food, causing Isabel to finally snap. It was an audible brittle crack.

"Jace, if you don't quit chewing like that. I will rip out your balls and stuff them down your throat.", she sniped sweetly, with all the venom of a mamba. The sugar coating on the words was overtly saturated, hence not the most enticing of delights. It was the tone Isabel reserved for those on death parole and Jace's reflecting expression conveyed as much, this was only to end in casualties and excessive bloodshed.

Stacking the boxes and blatantly ignoring the two, Alec addressed the only responsible one of the pair. " Izzy could you - ", he paused as the bell cut him off. Distractedly, he made his way to the door adjusting the various containers, so he wouldn't drop them. Arms full, but in no danger of dropping the cartons, he opened the door and came face to face with an uncertain looking Magnus. To say it shocked him was a highly exaggerated understatement.

" Um hey. I.. err. I came to apologize, for earlier that is ", admitted Magnus, his eyes seemed to search Alec's for any scraps on how to proceed.

" Oh.", Alec blinked dumbfounded, jarred into action by sound of Magnus's voice. Churlish as it may seem, Alec had not truly believed it to be Magnus, perhaps his obsessive thoughts had conjured up the illusion. "Okay, come inside.", he said gaining control, suddenly closed off.

The way Magnus had acted, had hurt. There was no way Alec would let him swindle his way through an apology. Needing a moment to collect himself, Alex left Magnus standing in the doorway, as he strode in. Throwing away the load in his arms acted as the perfect guise of being in control, he needed to be after his earlier outburst. No matter how deserved, Alec did not lose control like that. Although in conclusion of recent events, he had come to realise, nothing went the way it usually did when Magnus was involved. Try as he might Alec always gave into the urge of bickering back, flirting back. He wanted to push the thing that was Magnus and Alec, Alec and Magnus. He felt an inexplicable need to test the bond, tug at its tether.

" Sorry to cut this short, Izzy, Jace, but I need to get started on a project with Magnus.", Alec spoke nonchalantly, as if they hadn't been talking about him mere seconds ago. Alec didnt know exactly what he was doing, however he certainly appeared self assured, so it was not all in vain.

Jace opened his mouth, no doubt about to retort something witty and disastrous, but Alec's pointed look and Isabel's not so subtle jab had him keeping quiet.

"See you later, brother.", Isabel said, kissing Alec's cheek and ushering Jace out, paying no heed to his disgruntled protests. His best friend was admittedly not apt in making the best life choices. As the door clicked shut and a heavy silence threatened to smother Alec where he stood. Alec abandoned his vigil of the peeling wall paper in the right most corner of his living, turning to face the inevitable. Did he really think he could ignore Magnus after inviting him in? Common sense had indeed learned the procedure in case of an attack of Magnus's presence. Abandon all tasks and abort. Knowing he could delay no longer, Alec shifted, folding his arms in front of his chest, caging his emotions in, or Magnus's out. He wasn't sure of the difference anymore. Not knowing how to proceed, Alec simply waited, holding the gaze an abundantly tense Magnus.

" Look", he said, inhaling sharpy, as if their very friendship rested on his next words, which for all he knew it did, had it not been for Alec's incongruous need for all that was Magnus. "I was a shitcase, I shouldn't have called you clingy. You aren't. Even before that I shouldn't have ignored you.".

His words tumbled over one and another, a desperate apology, an intoxicating plea. Magnus breathed shakily, as Alec continued staring, face absent of any emotion. " After the club, I assumed things would be awkward. I was even prepared for it. But then it wasn't and I thought I was either extremely dense, or you we're ignoring that night.", Magnus continued, a bit hesitant at revealing his vulnerabilities, though he rapidly brushed away Alec's potential objections that crept in the furrow of his brow, the pursing of his lip, the tightening of his stance. "I know you weren't. I had just overthought the situation so much, it seemed like the logical outcome.".

" So there I was consumed by you, while you seemingly went on unaffected.", Magnus conceded, vulnerability creeping into his eyes.

This time Alec did interrupt, " I wasn't unaffected.", he said, frown deepening.

"Clearly", Magnus scoffed, recalling Alec's outburst earlier. Justified, but an outburst all the same.

" All I'm saying is, I'm not trying to make excuses. I didn't set out to hurt you.", he said , frustration present through the shaky hand he ran over his hair and down his face, as if he could wipe away the emotions he was feeling. He would do anything not to lose Alec, but as Magnus poured his heart out, Alec had stood there stoic. Giving no sign if he was succeeding in his efforts. Magnus was incredibly selfish, he had realised even after years of separation, he still wanted Alec as a friend. No matter how much, or how often he told himself that Alec was just another person he had come into contact with, ordinary, he could not believe that lie. There was nothing ordinary about Alexander Lightwood. Magnus's every sense was crowded with Alexander, from his hazel eyes, to raven black hair and pale throat. He had become an obsession, compulsion, Magnus's destuction.

"I know an apology isn't enough, but I'm sorry Alec.", he croaked, voice tainted with shame and a sliver of hope. Hope Alec could snuff with nothing more than a breath.

" Fine, I forgive you.", Alec relented.

"I'll make it up to you.", Magnus said softly, " I'll - . Wait, what?", he wheeled back back confused.

"You didn't think I was going to end our friendship based on one fight, did you?", smirked Alec. "Though you did deserve it.", he said honestly, dropping down on the sofa and flicking on the t.v. As much as Magnus's actions had severed Alec's heart, he knew that whatever pain they caused each other would be forgiven, if they could wield it to forge something stronger. However, never forgotten because an perpetual cycle of repetitive mistakes was not what Alec wanted, not what they both needed, but forgiven they could be.

It was Magnus's turn to stare nonplussed. If he hadn't been so relieved, he would have been furious. "I know.", he laughed quietly, after what seemed like an age, running his hands through his hair. " You are evil darling. My heart felt like it was going to give out, for all the hints you gave me.", he chuckled easing down next to Alec. Though the movement was tender and if you looked close enough, you could see past the veil of nonchalance. Underneath was a river of gratification and disbelief, running through Magnus minutely tense posture, as he inclined back. Through the tenuous upward curl of his lips. Through the flickers his amber orbs.

Clicking on a movie, Alec raised an eyebrow in question. "What about the project?", Magnus frowned, after all that was how this conflict came to be. Magnus was by no means the most dedicated individual, however he gave an adequate amount of significance to his educational pursuits.

Alec shrugged in response, " We have time.", he muttered, whilst burrowing deeper into the couch, causing an involuntary grin to sketch across Magnus's face. And, as the light flickered across Alec's features, illuminating his laughs and frowns, while he criticised the plot, Magnus blamed the speeding of his heart on the earlier fright. Convincing himself it had nothing to do with Alec's easy smiles and casual touches.

#Malec #fan fiction #i hope you enjoy #classandra claire

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endenogatai · 6 years ago

Text

More legal uncertainty for Privacy Shield ahead of crux ruling by Europe’s top court

Facebook tried to block the referral but today an influential advisor to Europe’s top court has issued a legal opinion that could have major implications for the future of the EU-US Privacy Shield personal data transfer mechanism.

It’s a complex opinion, dealing with a fundamental clash of legal priorities around personal data in the EU and US, which does not resolve question marks hanging over the legality of Privacy Shield .

The headline take-away is that a different data transfer mechanism which is also widely used by businesses to transfer personal data out of the EU — so called Standard Contractual Clauses (SCCs) — has been deemed legally valid by the court advisor.

However the advocate general to the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) is also at pains to emphasize the “obligation” of data protection authorities to step in and suspend such data transfers if they are being used to send EU citizens’ data to a place where their information cannot be adequately protected.

So while SCCs look safe — as a data transfer mechanism — per this opinion, it’s a reminder that EU data protection agencies have a duty to be on top of regulating how such tools are used.

The reason the case was referred to the CJEU was a result of Ireland’s Data Protection Commission not acting on a complaint to suspend Facebook’s use of SCCs. So one view that flows from the opinion is the DPC should have done so — instead of spending years on an expensive legal fight.

The backstory to the legal referral is long and convoluted, involving a reformulated data protection complaint filed with the Irish DPC by privacy campaigner and lawyer Max Schrems challenging Facebook’s use of SCCs. His earlier legal action, in the wake of the 2013 disclosures of US government mass surveillance programs by NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden, led to Privacy Shield’s predecessor, Safe Harbor, being struck down by the CJEU in 2015.

On the SCCs complaint Schrems prevailed in the Irish courts but instead of acting on his request to order Facebook to suspend its SCC data flows, Ireland’s data protection watchdog took the unusual step of filing a lawsuit pertaining to the validity of the entire mechanism.

Irish courts then referred a number of legal questions to the CJEU — including looping in the wider issue of the legality of Privacy Shield. It’s on those questions that the AG has now opined.

It’s worth noting that the advocate general’s opinion is not binding on the CJEU — which will issue a ruling on the case next year. Although the court does tend to follow such opinions so it’s a strong indicator of the likely direction of travel.

The opinion, by advocate general Henrik Saugmandsgaard Øe, takes the view that the use of SCCs for the transfer of personal data to a third country — i.e. a country outside the EU that does not have a bilateral trade agreement with the bloc — is valid.

However, as noted above, the AG puts the onus on data authorities to act in instances where obligations to protect EU citizens’ data under the mechanism come into conflict with privacy-hostile laws outside the EU, such as government mass surveillance programs.

“[T[here is an obligation — placed on the data controllers and, where the latter fail to act, on the supervisory authorities — to suspend or prohibit a transfer when, because of a conflict between the obligations arising under the standard clauses and those imposed by the law of the third country of destination, those clauses cannot be complied with,” the CJEU writes in a press release on the opinion.

In a first reaction, Schrems highlights this point — writing: “The advocate general is now telling the Irish Data Protection Authority again to just do its job… After all the Irish taxpayer may have to pay up to €10M in legal costs, for the DPC delaying this case in the interest of Facebook.

“The opinion makes clear that DPC has the solution to this case in her own hands: She [Helen Dixon] can order Facebook to stop transfers tomorrow. Instead, she turned to the CJEU to invalidate the whole system. It’s like screaming for the European fire brigade, because you don’t know how to blow out a candle yourself.”

We’ve reached out to the Irish DPC and to Facebook for comment on the AG’s opinion.

“At the moment, many data protection authorities simply look the other way when they receive reports of infringements or simply do not deal with complaints. This is a huge step for the enforcement of the GDPR [the General Data Protection Regulation],” Schrems also argues.

Luca Tosoni, a research fellow at the Norwegian Research Center for Computers and Law at the University of Oslo, suggests that the likelihood of EU DPAs suspending SCC personal data transfers to the US will “depend on the Court’s ultimate take on the safeguards surrounding the access to the transferred data by the United States intelligence authorities and the judicial protection available to the persons whose data are transferred”.

“The disruptive effect of a suspension of SCCs, even if partial and just for the U.S., is likely to be substantial,” he argues. “SCCs are widely used for the transfer of personal data outside the EU. They are probably the most used data transfer mechanism, including for transfers to the U.S. Thus, even a partial suspension of the SCCs would force a significant number of organizations to explore alternative mechanisms for their transfers to the U.S.

“However, the alternatives are limited and often difficult to apply to large-scale transfers, the main ones being the derogations allowing transfers with the consent of the data subject or necessary for the performance of a contract. These are unlikely to be suitable for all transfers currently taking place in accordance with SCCs.”

“In practice, the degree of disruption is likely to depend on the timing and duration of the suspension,” he adds. “Any suspension or other finding that data transfers to the U.S. are problematic is likely to speed up the modernization of SCCs that the European Commission is already working on but it is unclear how long it would take for the Commission to issue new SCCs.

“When the Court invalidated the Safe Harbor, it took several months for the Commission to adopt the Privacy Shield and amend the existing SCCs to take into account the Court’s judgment.”

On Privacy Shield — a newer data transfer mechanism which the European Commission claims fixes the legal issues with its predecessor — Saugmandsgaard Øe’s opinion includes some lengthy reasoning that suggests otherwise and certainly does not clear up questions around the mechanism’s legality which arise as a result of US laws that allow the state to harvest personal data for national security purposes, thereby conflicting with EU privacy rights.

Per the CJEU press release, the AG’s opinion sets out a number of reasons which it says “lead him to question the validity of the ‘privacy shield’ decision in the light of the right to respect for private life and the right to an effective remedy”.

The flagship mechanism is now used by more than 5,000 entities to authorize EU-US personal data transfers.

Should it be judged invalid by the court there would be a massive scramble for businesses to find alternatives.

It remains to be seen how the court will handle these questions. But Privacy Shield remains subject to direct legal challenge — so there are other opportunities for it to weigh in, even if CJEU judges avoids doing so in this case.

Schrems clearly hopes they will weigh in soon, skewering Privacy Shield in his statement — where he writes: “After the ‘Safe Harbor’ judgment the European Commission deliberately passed an invalid decision again — knowing that it will take two or three years until the Court will have a chance to invalidate it a second time. It will be very interesting to see if the Court will take this issue on board in the final decision or wait for another case to reach the court.”

“I am also extremely happy that the AG has taken a clear view on the Privacy Shield Ombudsperson. A mere ‘postbox’ at the foreign ministry of the US cannot possibly replace a court, as required under the first judgement by the Court,” he adds.

He does take issue with the AG’s opinion in one respect — specifically its reference to what he dubs “surveillance friendly case law” under the European Convention on Human Rights — instead of what he couches as “the clear case law of the Court of Justice”.

“This is against any logic… I am doubtful that the [CJEU] judges will join that view,” he suggests.

The court typically hands down a judgement between three and six months after an AG opinion — so privacy watchers will be readying their popcorn in 2020.

Meanwhile, for thousands of businesses, the legal uncertainty and risk of future disruption should Privacy Shield come unstuck goes on.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8204425 https://ift.tt/2s5HP47 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #RSSMix.com Mix ID 8204425

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thelinkconvention · 2 years ago

Note

ok asks are on and thats probably a mistake, can you tell im hyperfixating? if folk is mayo packet, does that make last a strawberry?

usually plink is the one getting called a strawberry but he can be a strawberry too as a treat

#lc artwork #mod kiwi #lc lank #convention postbox #the link convention

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citywalkapartments-blog · 7 years ago

Text

City Walk Dubai attracts visitors with its London like ambiance

Sprawled all around a total of 13,000 sqm, City Walk Dubai is more of an impartial purchasing and cuisine locale, unlike to the idea of a conventional mall. It includes the modern-day plangency of twenty-first century engineering, which usually is very similar of Dubai’s steady design, and the style and chic of initial euro design with a touch of London.

As you step into one of many backyard paths here, it is able to develop the delusion that you are going through a tight London path with micro, stylish coffee shops and restaurants filling the corners, diffusing the scents of the much desired euro food in the atmosphere. As a known reddish postbox and reddened telephone booth can come into view, there's a chance you're absolutely assured that with each and every step, London land crumbles right below your feet.

To change this western daze, all you need to peek up and across the twinkle illumination lighting up the sky on top, you are greeted with the view of the towering Burj Khalifa.

City Walk Dubai paths climax in one commonplace open-air rotunda, with its an infinity swimming pool area with running water as fresh and clear as snow. All over the water feature are dining places and retail stores, actually testifying that purchasing doesn’t has to be an time consuming practice. There is also a newly opened movie theatre, offering the tourists a chance to chill out their legs.

But never dimish yourself with the wide variety of stores outside, as the in-house mall at is just as massive and glamorous as the open-air.

The indoor path, in addition to the cool air-conditioning, is nothing distinctive from the outside while it is bombarded with day light and layered with trees and shrubs, while stereo speakers submit out sounds of chirping birds. The out of doors feel planned here may possibly distract you from the various high end shop lined around the walls.

City Walk Dubai can be found on Al Safa Road and can be reached by taking exit at the Dubai Mall interchange. Sufficient long term parking storage space is available all-around with featuring its individual underground vehicle parking.

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jamiekturner · 7 years ago

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Monogram Logo Designs: How To Create A Monogram

What is a monogram logo?

Monograms are creative motifs crafted by combining overlapping few letters or graphemes into to create a single symbol.

In most cases, they are designed to represent the initials of a personal or company names, and afterwards used in professional logos with initials and other brand symbols.

Ciphers (or royal ciphers) are different than monogram designs, as they feature rows and series of uncombined initials.

Making monograms is a process of combining and overlapping letters, originating from wedding décor ideas (the last name initials of the groom positioned in the centre of the monogram, with the bride’s first name initial on the left, and the groom’s first name initial on the right).

Nowadays, most couples opt for a more modern monogram design that includes both of their initials.

How to create your own monogram? Had you decided to create a monogram logo for your business, you should be thinking of images that illustrate who you are and what your company does.

Looking at the best monograms for inspiration, you will discover that it is simple icons and letters that help represent your company in a unique way, and help customers remember you for a long time. In certain cases, well-crafted monogram logos can also be used as favicon images, watermarks, and letterheads.

Some businesses also use their monogram letters on seals, badges, pins, stamps, and stickers. If good enough, your monogram logo design can become an integral part of you high-budget projects.

How do you launch your monogram logo design? There are a huge number of creation concepts and ideas you can consider, including all sorts of taglines, mascots, and other elements you can associate with your business identity.

The advantage of being the one who will make your own monograms is that you’re armed with detailed insights that can help you build a personalized piece of content.

Next, you have to consider how your monogram logo is going to be used. Truth is, the monogram letters don’t necessarily have to be related to your logo.

Think of JRR Tolkien’s monogram, for instance – showing it to people who’re not familiar with his work won’t really help them recognize the letter or the seal. Just 20 years ago, the seal meant nothing to wider audiences (excluding fans).

Nowadays, we can all identify it as Tolkien’s monogram and signature, right because we saw it on the movie posters, on the book covers, in the magazines, and all across the media.

Everyone interested to learn how to create a monogram should train on combining letters, and turning those combinations into attractive and memorable acronyms.

For many popular fashion brands, for instance, making monograms is a common practice for conveying workmanship, exclusivity, luxury, taste, and originality; and it is exactly beautiful monograms that help them become recognized. This is why monogram logos are so widely used in all industries and niches.

What a monogram does is to tell a story. It reveals to customers who we are, what our views and values are, and how beneficial our work can be to them. Monograms may be simple and involve nothing else than our sole initials, and yet, there are tones of guidelines and tutorials on how to create the perfect monogram etiquette.

To help you learn how to make monograms and ‘tell your story’, we’ve listed several important tips and tricks (including non-conventional ones)

The location

In order to create a beautiful monogram logo, you need to have a clear idea of where that logo is going to appear. At this point, you may question whether monograms can really help convey a personalized message, especially if you’re not sure which initials you should include.

To solve this dilemma, we prepared a cheat-sheet with tips and trick, both such regarding traditional etiquettes and modern, alternative options.

Choose in line with your style: Is it an ornate script that you’re looking for, or maybe an art nouveau letter? Should your monogram be elegant or more casual?

Preview the letters. Before you choose a particular font, make use of the multitude of websites that allow you to type text in different fonts to check how it looks. Preview the letters that you will use in the monogram, so that you can choose the best font, and install it. In most cases, you will be able to download the font directly from that website.

Think of where the monogram logo will appear. Are you designing a monogram for a wedding stationary? Will it be used on official events, or a casual party? Is it solely a web-used product or an addition to your printed materials? Will it help you sell your products?

Thinking of how your monogram is going to be used is a very helpful strategy, as it will bring he list of usable fonts down to few suitable samples. It will also make it clear whether you need a paid font or can go with a free one. To stay on the safe side, read the restrictions and files on the font you’ve chosen, so that you’ll abide to all requirements noted down by the author.

Make experiments. Get inspired, and let your creativity loose. Check all appealing frames and fonts, and try them out. Stack and rearrange the letters until you reach the perfect result, and turn towards colors. You’ll be sailing into a sea of unlimited ideas and possibilities, so make sure you enjoy it!

Let’s check how creative monogram logo designs help business and brands from different industries reaffirm their identity. Most monogram logos are created with letters or name acronyms and used as recognizable marks, a process that has been taking place ever since 350BC. You will find monograms on sculptures, paintings, coins, and even postboxes.

Nowadays, monogram designs prevail in the fashion industry, where creative designers use them as logos and pattern motifs, and print them on handbags, shirts, and other products. For most of them, monograms account for as much as 50% of their brand’s instant recognition.

Take LV’s logo as an example – the recognizable mark was inspired by the name of the designer – Louis Vuitton, first promoted in 1896. Today, LV is one of the most valued brands in the fashion industry, and owns that popularity to the LV monogram. Tracing it back to 1896, however we’d conclude it was created with the sole idea of preventing counterfeiting.

The story of Chanel is a similar one – can you really find anyone nowadays who wouldn’t recognize its ubiquitous, interlocking double-C? This is, in fact, a monogram for Coco Chanel’s name, the popular designer whose real name is Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel.

At first, this monogram was used to create the logo of Château de Crémat (a famous winery and wedding castle in Nice), but the company entrusted it to Coco for the launching of her first perfume. As soon as her first store was opened, she trademarked it, and turned it into a symbol of elitism and impeccable intelligence.

Last, but not least, we have the Gucci logo, an original 1993 design by Aldo Gucci who established the company in Florence. Nowadays, the Gucci logo is one of the most popular marks in the fashion world, and a strong, authoritative symbol of authenticity and grandeur.

It consists of an interlocking double-G, and honors the initials of Aldo’s father who patented the cotton canvases Aldo converted into the world’s most wanted bags.

Ending thoughts on monogram logo designs

Monogram logos are supposed to tell a story. They reveal who we are or how we want the world to see us, and put forward our values and understanding of tradition, commitment, and identity. Their role is to make you brand recognizable, and to beautify our products with their unique appearance.

If you liked this article with monogram logos, you should check out these articles as well:

Camera Logo Design: Its Usage in Photography Branding

Minimalist logo designs: Inspirational showcase

Fitness Logo Design: How To Create A Great One

The post Monogram Logo Designs: How To Create A Monogram appeared first on Design your way.

from Web Development & Designing http://www.designyourway.net/blog/graphic-design/monogram-logo-designs/

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