#'come rail me already and stop talking politics' pose

[chaotic-aro-incarnate]

so how the whole gramblack + eugene storyline is being written rn is obviously disappointing for many reasons but objectively it's literally the funniest case of queerbaiting in media ever. like if you plucked their storyline into any cishet tv show, it would be a very clear cut case of classic queerbaiting. but the fact that it's in a show where pretty much all the other main characters are having gay sex with each other makes it kinda funny? Like it's reverse poorly written gay rep for cishets lmao

[in-love-with-darth-vader]

Star Wars as if it were like the Office! (Also i need a title, so if anyone has any ideas for that or any suggestions in general, let me know.

Also, sorry if this sucks. I don’t write very often nor have I ever written a screenplay type of thing before. I honestly just did this for fun!

PART 1

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

“I’m standing on the edge of this balcony.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why are you standing on the edge of that balcony?”

*pan to the chaos of Coruscant below; ships speeding in traffic, huge buildings, and an insanely long drop. Obi-Wan is standing behind Anakin on the part of the balcony that’s made to be stood on; Anakin is on the edge of the railing*

“Uh, well, some of the clones said there was no way that I could jump and land in one of the ships flying through the city, and I told them I definitely could, so here I am.”

*Obi-Wan looks to the camera in annoyance and disbelief; camera pans down to Anakin’s end point where Fives, Echo, and Jesse wave up to his position*

“Absolutely not. Get down from there right this instant!”

“Sorry, Master!”

*he jumps, and he is flying through the air for about two seconds when he suddenly freezes. Obi-Wan is looking down at him as he holds him mid air with the Force, slowly raising him back up to eye level*

“Anakin, you are twenty years old. Could you maybe start acting like it?”

*he drops him onto the floor; Anakin gets up and sulkingly follows Obi-Wan out of the room*

*this would be where the theme song and title card would go*

In the background: “yeah, so Obi-Wan refused to let me jump, so I had to come back here. Sorry you all waited for nothing”

*Obi-Wan turns to the camera*

So, does Anakin do this sort of thing frequently?

“Oh, yes. He doesn’t seem to care about safety or his own well-being. That’s the third time this month I’ve had to stop the Balcony Jump. And clearly I’m the only one who thinks these are bad ideas, so I’m always the one who has to step in. I swear I already have a few grey hairs from having to stop Anakin from doing something stupid so often.”

*back to normal scene*

“Alright, everyone gather around, we have a new mission to discuss.”

*anakin, ahsoka, and many of the clones from the 501st and 212th gather around Obi-Wan*

“The chancellor seems to think it’s a good idea for us to go investigate a possible takeover on Ryloth….” *fades out as we zoom in on Anakin clearly bored and not listening*

“I hate debriefings. When Obi-Wan does them he talks for forever. They’re too long, so I just tune him out and pretend like I know what I’m doing on the actual mission. When I tell the others what we’ve been assigned, I take 2 minutes tops. Master Obi-Wan stretches it into at least 10.”

*now to ahsoka*

“Yeah, Master Kenobi goes over every single detail in the mission log every single time. I’ve had to slap Anakin awake in the middle of a meeting too many times to count.”

*back to obi wan speaking to them all*

“So, we need to go in and investigate the distress signal’s purpose, mainly to see if it’s a separatist attack. Anakin, you’ll be positioned here and you’ll direct your troops to-Anakin?? Are you listening to me?”

*obi wan turns away from his whiteboard where he’s drawing out strategy to see Anakin staring slightly up at the ceiling. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but Obi wan knows his past-padawan turned Jedi Knight too well*

“What? Oh, yeah, of course I am.”

*interview with obi wan*

“Anakin is a terrible liar. You’ll soon find that out.”

*switch to interview with Anakin*

“Luckily for me, I’m an amazing liar, so I’m not worried.”

*back to the scene. Obi-Wan has his hands on his hips in his judgmental pose™️ facing Anakin*

“Oh really? Then what did I just tell you to do?”

“Uhhh I have to hold my position, lead the 501st, all that jazz”

“Mhm and where is this all going down?”

“Uh, Iridonia of course.”

“You literally could not be more incorrect.”

*obi wan int.*

“Told you so.”

*anakin int.*

“Okay, in my defense, there’s thousands of planets. I had like a 1% chance of guessing correctly.”

*back to the scene*

“Ryloth, Anakin. Ryloth is where we’re going. A distress call was detected coming from the planet, and since the Separatists have a history of meddling with the peace of Ryloth and its citizens, we were instructed to go inspect. I will not repeat myself again. That is all, everyone get ready. You’re dismissed.”

*interview with Rex; clones preparing armor and weapons in the background*

So, are you kind of like the leader of the clones around here?

“Uh, I’m the captain of the 501st Battalion under General Skywalker’s command. I follow his orders and then lead my brothers to execute those orders. We’re one of the most successful groups of clones, so I take great pride in-“

*rex is interrupted as the camera switches focus to the background where Jesse Kix and Fox are all at each other’s throats. They’re stealing each other’s helmets and tossing them around. Rex turns to look*

(Sigh) “as I was saying…I take great pride in our success and professionalism.”

“Rex!”

“Sorry, gotta go do my job now.”

*they board the ships and head off to Ryloth*

*camera switches to Anakin on Ryloth*

“Can we please leave now?”

“Absolutely not, Anakin. We still aren’t quite certain what set off the alarm.”

“It was probably just an accident. There’s nothing here, Master. Ahsoka, back me up.”

*ahsoka is looking down at and messing with a data pad clearly not listening to Anakin*

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Totally.”

“Were you even listening to me?! I was speaking to you, Ahsoka. Can I get a little bit of respect please?”

*obi wan looks at the camera like ‘are you fucking kidding me’*

“Listen, Master, I started to tune you out like an hour ago. All you’ve done is complain.”

“Because there’s nothing here! I want to go home!”

“You just want to get back to Coruscant in time to go to that party for the senators.”

“What??????!?!?? That’s absurd, master. Absolutely preposterous. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

*cut to Anakin*

“Okay, I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I can’t admit it! There’s this politician gathering tonight and normally I wouldn’t be one to willingly seek out social gatherings-especially one full of politicians-but Padme is going and she asked if I would come. So of course I said yes. Also, they usually have those little cocktail weenies, so no way I’m missing that.”

*cut to obi wan*

“Anakin is terrible at hiding things, especially from me. He clearly wants to get back so he can go to the party tonight with Senator Amidala.”

Any reason why he’d want to go with her so bad?

“Oh, yes, you see my former Padawan thinks he’s sly, but as we all know he’s a terrible liar. He’s been pining after the senator since he was a boy. I assumed it would pass by now, but clearly he’s still infatuated with her. They’re very good friends but he still has his teenage crush on her. It’s very unprofessional.”

Will you be attending it as well?

“Oh, no. I’m not one for politics.”

*back to the scene*

“What? Master why are you going to that stupid thing? You hate those types of parties! Plus, last I checked, you are not a politician.”

*cut to Anakin*

“So I’ve never actually told Ahsoka about my secret relationship with Padmé…”

*back to the scene*

“Uhhhhh because I’m good friends with the Chancellor, obviously. He would like me there to….to talk about strategies. Yes. Strategies for the Republic.”

“At a formal gathering for politicians? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“...you’re asking way too many questions, Snips. We have a mission to focus on! You’re better than this!”

*ahsoka looks suspiciously at him as obi wan shakes his head at the two of them*

“Now that you’re done bickering, will you two please go explore the blocked off caverns for any possible signs of life?”

*both, simultaneously and clearly annoyed*

“Yes, Master.”

——-

“You know, there’s nothing in these caves. He just wanted us out of his hair. He’s just keeping us busy.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Because I don’t sense anything. There’s nothing in here.”

“Master Kenobi told us to do it, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“So you listen to all of his orders but not mine?”

“Well, Obi-Wan doesn’t lie to me, so yes.”

“Psh. Pssshh. I’m not lying to you...that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. Tell me the real reason you’re going to that party! I know that you’re lying!”

“I’m absolutely telling the truth. I don’t know why you’re so adamant about this. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh please. Whenever you lie you start using big words and you talk faster than normal. Just tell me the truth!”

“Fine. My friend Senator Amidala was allowed to bring someone and since we’re friends she asked me if I would like to come along too. So I said yes.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Makes sense why you’re so anxious about it.”

“Whatta you mean?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you’re going to a party as the Senator’s plus one which she asked you to. It’s definitely a date.”

“Whaaaaaaaatt. It’s not a date. That’s ludicrous! We’re just friends. Plus, I’m a Jedi. We can’t go on dates!”

“Right, and you don’t have a crush on her.”

“I don’t have a crush on her! We’re friends! It’s extremely platonic.”

*int. With Anakin*

“Okay, so it’s not platonic. But I don’t have a crush on her because I’m married to her! If I tell her that I willingly break the Jedi Code whenever I want, then maybe she will too! And then what kind of Master would I be?!?!”

I thought you technically weren’t a Jedi Master.

*zooms in on anakin’s ‘I will fuckin kill you’ face”

*back to the scene*

“Right, and I don’t secretly steal your jackets when you’re sleeping when I’m cold.”

“What?”

“What?!”

“.....look, can we just get back to the mission?”

“Sure thing, Skyguy. Wait till Master Kenobi hears about this.”

*under his breath* “pretty sure he already knows...”

*scene switch to obi wan, he’s with Cody and many other clones. They’re in a room in one of the government buildings on Ryloth surrounding a beacon device. It’s a distress signal activator.*

“And you’re sure you didn’t do this, Mr. Syndulla?”

“No, Master Kenobi. I only use the distress beacon for serious emergencies. I have no clue as to who did this. There aren’t many people that have access, and it’s not something that just anyone can do by accident. You must enter a code and confirm multiple times.”

“Thank you for the information. Will you let us inspect the fortress for any intruders?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. Cody, take Waxer, Boil, and Gearshift to the west wing. Gregor, you and your troops take the left. Myself and Crys will start here. Report back if you find anything.”

“Sir yes sir!”

*we see Obi-Wan and Crys searching first. They stayed in the room where the beacon is kept. Obi-Wan is looking through digital records as Crys is underneath it looking at its internal parts like those scenes where someone is laying on a skateboard to fix a car*

“This is strange. There’s no trace of tampering with the records or files. Nothing was wiped. This doesn’t seem like sabotage or a distraction for something bigger. Crys, do you have anything?”

*crys rolls out from under the beacon*

“No, sir. Everything is wired and hooked up properly. No signs of sabotage or demolition.”

“Hmm.”

*Int. With Crys*

“I’m really good with robots and droids, so that’s probably why General Kenobi wanted me to tag along with him. Usually he takes Cody, but this is more of my field of expertise.”

*back to the scene*

“This is trivial indeed.” *he’s doing his beard stroke* “I wonder if the others have found anything.”

*switch over to gregor and his troops. They’re searching the left wing of the fortress. They’ve been interviewing many citizens of Ryloth. They’re not very successful*

“I don’t see the point in talking to anyone else. I doubt they’re gonna know anything. We should report back to the general.”

*int with Gregor*

So, Gregor, can you give us a little summary of what you do around here?

“Yeah, sure thing. Uh, I’m kind of like third in command here. I’m a captain in the 212th Battalion and that’s pretty much all there is to it.”

Your helmet is very interesting. It’s pretty unique compared to the rest of your brothers.

“Oh, this? Some clones have tallies, but these represent stitches.” *he points to em* “It’s basically just showing how many injuries I’d have and how many stitches I would’ve gotten if I didn’t have the helmet. I think it’s pretty cool.”

*back to the scene. They’ve found nothing*

“Yeah, I’ll comm the general.”

*gregor taps into his comms and contacts Obi-Wan*

“Gregor, have you found anything?”

“No, general, I called to report that we’ve found nothing out of place. The twi’leks we’ve interviewed seem like they know nothing. How about you?”

“No, sadly we’ve come across nothing either. The beacon hasn’t been tampered with whatsoever.”

“We’ll keep looking around. I’ll keep you updated.”

*he hangs up the comm*

“Alright, boys, let’s keep going!”

*we now cut to Waxer and Boil being lead by Cody. They’re going door to door in the right wing where the rooms are located asking questions*

“This is leading us nowhere, Commander.”

“I know, Boil, but General Kenobi told us to inspect the entire right wing. We only have three more rooms to do. Let’s go.”

“Fine.”

*they knock at the next door*

“Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. We’re on a mission here from the Jedi council. The distress beacon gave off a signal earlier today and we were wondering if you knew anything about it.”

“I’m very sorry I can’t be of any help to you, Commander, but I know nothing.”

*suddenly, a small child comes running down the hallway laughing. She trips and falls and scrapes her knee.*

“hey, are you okay?”

“Waxer you know that’s not how you talk to a child!”

“I’m sorry! You know I get awkward around kids. Why do we always find a runaway child when we’re on Ryloth? Like, how has this actually happened twice?”

*boil ignores him and kneels down to the kid*

“Hey there. My name is Boil. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

*she looks a bit frightened still. Boil realizes he still has his helmet on so he takes it off.*

“Sorry about that. Is it okay if I patch up your knee? I keep bandages on me, you can even pick the color if you want.”

“...okay. Blue please.”

“Blue it is. So, why were you running so fast? Is anything chasing you?”

“No. I was just looking for my papa. And I’m bored. I played with his fun machine today.”

“His machine, huh?”

*the three clones look at each other with a look™️ and Cody comms obi wan*

“General? I think we found your culprit”

——————

“‘Wow Anakin, you’re such a genius. It’s almost as if you were right all along!’ ‘Why thank you, Master. I knew I was right, and now we can go home even though we could’ve earlier.’ ‘Yes, you’re so right. We should’ve listened to you the whole time-“

“Anakin, are you finished?”

“‘we should make you a master on the council. I admire you.’ Now I’m finished.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Master. We get it, you’re right, now let’s get you home for your date.”

*anakin freezes and turns slowly. They’ve been walking up the ramp to board their ship when ahsoka said that. Anakin is now very red in the face*

“....what. What are you talking about snips??!! I don’t have a date. I don’t date. I’m just attending a senator party with the Chancellor. A date. Psh. Psh.”

“But you told me-“

“LETS GET ON THE SHIP, AHSOKA!”

*obi wan just rolls his eyes as they board the ship*

*We’re back to Coruscant!*

“Finally, we’re home. I’m so tired from all the nothing we did.”

“Oh, Anakin, you are such a drama queen. We did our mission like we were supposed to. Now, can I please speak to you in private?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Even though you have complained a lot today, I still care about you Anakin, and I know you made a promise to someone else already. So, I will go inform the Jedi Council that this was a false alarm by myself. Maybe I’ll take your Padawan. But you, my friend, should go get ready for your senator party.”

*anakin hugs obi wan*

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. I owe you one.”

*anakin goes up to his apartment on Coruscant where Padme is; she’s on their couch reading something and already dressed when anakin comes in*

“I’m back! I’m finally back!”

“Hello to you too Anakin. I was hoping they’d let you out. You’re cutting it close this time.”

“I’m so sorry. We had to go to Ryloth for no reason and Obi-Wan wouldn’t let me leave until we knew for sure what happened.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it in time.”

“Me too. Obi-Wan is letting me skip the debriefing for this.”

*he goes to change into his formal clothes for the party. Padme is already wearing one of her super rad fancy senator outfits. Anakin has an all black suit cause you know he’s that guy™️.

*int with Padme*

“Anakin has missed a lot of these outings with me due to Jedi business, so I wasn’t expecting him to actually be here for this one. I’m glad he is. I don’t see him as often as I wish I did.”

Do you ever think of asking him to leave the Jedi Order then?

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I would never ask him to give up his life like that. And I don’t want that either. He’s a great Jedi and he loves what he does. I would never try to take that away from him.”

*back to scene. Now they’re walking down the halls of the senate building on their way to the party*

“So, get this, Ahsoka is convinced that I have a crush on you and that this is a date.”

“I mean, she’s not exactly wrong, is she?”

“Well, no, but I don’t really have a crush on you since, you know, we’re married. And she meant date as in ‘you invited me to this thing but we’re not together but in her eyes, it’s a date’ kind of thing.”

“Hmm so she still doesn’t know?”

“No. I can’t bring myself to tell her. I love her, but I don’t want to taint her mind and views of the Jedi Code and council. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“A very good point. You’re a good Master, Anakin.”

“Thanks.”

*they then enter the party. Many political figures from across the galaxy are there already. Its purpose is unknown to us, but it is clear that it’s important but also not too serious. They speak with many different people included Palpatine. We have yet to actually speak to him yet. Anakin is eventually over near the snack table, a drink in his hand and another one being handed off to Padme*

“Here you go. It’s your favorite.”

“Thank you. So, are you having fun yet?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever have fun hanging around any politicians but you, but it’s not so bad. Plus, these snacks are really good.”

*padme rolls her eyes but laughs at him*

“It’s nice for us all to get together like this. It’s important for the Republic.”

“Mm, indeed.”

*they continue chatting until Anakin notices someone across the room. Fancy blue outfit. Blonde hair up in a bun. He doesn’t notice who it really is until she comes a bit closer. He does the pikachu face and drops his drink, luckily catching it midair with the force as he apologizes to those around him*

“Anakin?? Are you okay? What was that for?”

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here!”

“Who?”

*he points to her by nudging his head in her direction hoping Padme will see who he’s talking about*

“Her? That’s my friend Satine. She’s the Duchess of Mandalore. She’s-wait a minute, how do you know her??!?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you. I’m actually quite fond of her. I just wish I knew sooner!”

“Why?”

“Because that, my love, is Obi-Wan’s girlfriend.”

END of this part.

Part2

——

[heart-eye-harrington]

the last midnight ~ chapter two

Summary: Every aspect of Prince Steve’s life is mapped out with one objective in mind: become king when the time comes. After Robin gives him a taste of freedom, his parents return. When they feel something is off, they get to the bottom of it. 

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none I can think of. Possibly harsh parents and men yelling

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Enjoy this plot building chapter before the big daddy that’s gonna be the next one!  ♡

read the last part here

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

After your handsome strangers left, the rest of the walk to the bakery wasn’t too terrible. The birds seem to sing a bit brighter, the setting sun’s colors a bit more vibrant. Steve’s boyish laugh seems to be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You can’t seem to stop thinking about him, your mind whirling with a million questions. The most important, would you ever see him again?

You’re able to escape your daydream long enough to climb the steps of your family’s shop. You use your hip to open the door, seeing as your hands were occupied with the filled buckets of water. Warmth hits you like a wall, and you know your father is well into his evening routine. The fresh bread sits on the shelf, ready to be wrapped and tied with twine to be sold. By the smell, you know there’s some baking  in the large stove oven, getting a golden crispy brown. 

After a moment of shuffling through the store, as not to knock anything over with the fruits, or buckets, of your labor, your father comes rushing to your aid. He takes a bucket and brings it into the kitchen, giving small thanks for your journey. He quickly adds it to the dry ingredients but sees something in your eyes. While he’s used to your head being in the clouds, it must be well past the stars now. He shakes his head, telling you to spill the beans. Blushing, you tell him of Mr. Steve the apprentice and his friend Robin.

“You’re acting as if you’re the first person to ever meet a pretty boy”

“But he wasn’t a pretty boy.” your words, thought quick and defensive, had a mellowness to them. “Well, he was a pretty boy, but there was so much more to him.”

“Well how much more? You’ve only met him once! How could you know anything about him?” curiosity curls throughout your father’s question. 

“You told me you knew right away when you meet mother”

“That’s different, your mother wasn’t a stranger hidden under a hood”

“Well, you would have loved her anyway.”

“I never would have seen her because it wouldn’t have been appropriate. And my father would have told me what I’m telling you. And I would have listened.”

“No you wouldn’t,” you knowingly chuckle

“Yes I would” he quips back

“No, you wouldn’t”

“I would”

“Wouldn’t.”

“And you’re right.” you beam in your small victory, though it gradually falls with you deeper in thought. Your mother was vibrant, full of life and love. She believed in magic, in true love, and fairy godmothers. She said that they existed, that she remembers them, but isn’t sure where they went off to. 

When she grew sick, doctor after doctor would come in to see her, until one day when they didn’t. Your father sat you down, tried to put on a brave face, but how could someone break such news to a young girl? He didn’t have to say anything. If it took him that long to work out a way to say it, you already knew. 

She passed on all her stories to you, and you felt it was your duty to share the magic with everyone else. Before you fall any deeper into her beautiful memory, your father places a hand on your shoulder. You find your emotions mirrored in his eyes. You both missed her terribly. Before words can be exchanged, a customer comes in. You both wipe the tears, put on smiling faces, and extend helping hands. 

⋆★⋆

Robin was able to sneak Steve back into the castle with time to spare. They both wash up and redress in their usual clothes, Robin in her blouse and royal blue vest, Steve in his hand-embroidered tuxedo. Though he much preferred the billowy white shirt he had donned for the day, he couldn’t deny the beauty in the curling gold designs and cold metallic clasps. 

Once Robin’s done dressing, she rushes into Steve’s room to collect his village disguise. If they were really going to get away with this, she needed to get rid of any and all evidence. After giving their secret knock and hearing Steve’s muffled “come in”, she finds him leaning against the railing of his balcony, dreamily staring over the gardens. After draping his discarded clothes over her arm, she joins him. 

“Thank you” his voice a distant whisper. 

“For?” she raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity. 

“Giving me a bit of freedom. Letting me out of these walls for a day.”

“Well, you’re welcome. I couldn’t let you sit here all cooped up your whole life without feeling a bit bad for you. Plus, you’d probably never stop moaning and groaning about it.” A smile tugs at the corner of Steve’s lips. It only intensifies as she keeps talking.

“But I also know you’re thinking about that girl.” 

“What girl?” the smile has fully taken over his face. Robin’s not a fan of the stupid act he always pulls, earning him a playful punch to the arm. Their laughter fills the air, which is quickly punctured by the sound of trumpets, alerting the staff that the king and queen had returned. 

“Come on, we’ll be late. And punctuality is-” Steve chimes in, the two finishing in unison and mocking voices “the politeness of princes.”  The words had been spoken by Steve’s father so many times they had made a joke of it. Of course, they would never dare to do it in front of him, so they took full advantage of the fleeting moments they had. 

Robin was quick to hide the clothes in the abandoned servant’s tunnels, before following Steve to the grand foyer. 

The extensive hallway seems to stretch for an eternity, creating a sea between the teens and the door his parents will walk in through at any moment. 

“Their Majesties, The King and Queen.” A guard calls out. The heavy wooden doors are pulled open to reveal the pair, regal as ever. Steve knows the routine at this point, stiffening and pulling back his shoulders as he watches their approach. Robin shifts her weight from leg to leg from behind him also watching the parade. 

The cream and gray checkered marble floor make their highness’s cold steps echo. The dozens of chandeliers and statuesque guards do nothing to add warmth. Steve’s parents’ wandering eyes seem to look everywhere but to him, inspecting their perfect castle for the off chance anything is out of place. Even as much as a speck of dust could halt them in their tracts and bring an end to someone’s employment. Luckily for all involved, everything was up the their extremely high standards.

No words are exchanged between the royal family, just nods, and a motion to follow. Not that anyone expected anything different. 

Steve and Robin follow his parents and some guards to the portrait room. The guards open the door, allowing the party to enter. A giant floor to far-too-tall ceiling window illuminates a hand-painted backdrop and a man with an oversized smock rushing about. A guard clears his throat and raises an arm motioning toward the artist

“Master Phoebus, master of the paintbrush, patiently awaits.”

 In front of the painted sunset is a stool with a saddle place upon it. The painter’s assistant is quick to place a fittingly royal blue shoulder cape on the prince, fastening its golden clasps. Steve climbs upon the stool, and Robin does her best to bite back a chuckle. She knew how much he hated portraits of himself being painted, but oh how ridiculous he looked. Once everything is set to the artist’s liking, he grabs a palette and begins.

“Make him look marriageable, Master Phoebus. We must attract a suitable bride.” The king’s voice boomed throughout the room. 

“I shall endeavor to please, your majesty. But, I am not a fairy godmother.”

The nickname brings a small blush and smile to Steve’s face, one that does not go unnoticed by his parents. Their eyes narrow and find one another’s, a wordless agreement to find the reason for his reaction. Robin, ever able to read a situation, picks up on their scheming and aims to distract.

“A splendid canvas, master Phoebus!” her words are a bit overzealous, but her goal of diversion is completed. 

“Thank you,” the painter responds with a pompous chuckle, getting a sword for Steve to pose with. “Now, let’s see if he knows anything about art.” 

“So these portraits will really be sent abroad, to persuade the high and mighty to attend this ball you insist on?” the urge to roll his eyes was strong, but Steve knew he could never do that in front of guests, let alone his parents.

“Which is a tradition, which is beloved,” the queen speaks up,

“And at which you will choose a bride” his father finished the thought, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence. Steve looks to his feet, and despite the invisible hand crushing his chest, he finds a crumb of courage to speak up.

“If I must marry, could I not marry, say, an honest country girl?” he surprises even himself with his words. Robin wants to scream, in pride or scolding she’s still not sure. 

“What will this country girl provide? How shall she make the kingdom stronger? We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Steven. It is a dangerous world. ” The king leaves his wive’s side to stand just in front of Steve. His eyes fill with a fire so bright Steve swears he can feel it searing his skin. “Listen here, boy. They only way for you to be a proper king is to marry a princess.” Steve’s eyes narrow as well. He’s on a roll, a momentum he’s not sure he’ll every get back. He fights the gravel in his throat, probably his body’s better judgement. 

“Alright father, under one condition. Let the invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. Hope is a strong gift that should be shared with everyone, is it not?” Steve raises an innocent eyebrow, but the king sees through it. He sneers, turning to his wife and Robin off to the side.

“What do you think? Would that please the people?” his gaze falls to Robin, his face reminding her of a plotting dragon. Treading lightly, she answers.

“I’m not sure if it’s my place to say, your majesty, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of a jolly.” she chuckles, nerves and the idea of having everyone in the kingdom be able to attend a ball released in the joyous sound. The king seems pleased, turning back to Steve.

“I think we might have made a bargain. A ball for the people,” he gestures to his son, “and a princess for the prince.” 

“Sounds like a step in the right direction, if you ask me” Phoebus mutters to himself, mixing his paint to just the right shade for Steve’s hair. 

“We didn’t ask you” the king snaps, venom dripping from his words. And with that, he beacons for his wife to follow him out of the room. 

The call for their horses, and make their way deep into the woods. If it weren’t for the moon’s light and frequency of the trip, they may have gotten lost in the twisting branches and lurching roots. It’s not long before their destination comes into view.

Housed in the exposed roots of a huge tree was a small hut. As they grew closer, they saw bright flashes of color through the windows, showing the inhabitant was still awake. When they reach the hut, they dismount and knock on the door. Clinking glass and chuckling comes from the other side, before it’s opened to reveal the witch. 

Your mother was right, there was once magic in the land. But, once Steve’s parents came to power, it was almost wiped out. Magic was messy and couldn’t be controlled, so any magical creatures were disposed of. The only one who escaped their fate was staring right at them, ushering them inside.

Her house isn’t anything lavish. The dirt floor is well worn, not sending it flying with every step. The shelves are lined with glass jars and herbs hung to dry. The centerpiece was the cauldron, bubbling with life. 

“What do I have the honor of doing for you today?” Her hands are tightly clasped behind her back, as she’s been instructed, so they know she’s not doing anything. 

“We were wondering if you’ve heard of any fairy godmothers?” The king scans the shelves instead of looking to her, as if she wasn’t even worth his gaze. 

“Oh no, your majesty. I haven’t seen any magic since…” she doesn’t need to finish her thought. 

“That wasn’t what I asked you, was it? Don’t make me repeat myself.” His words are stone cold and could make anyone’s knees shake.

“I only know of someone with the nickname. The baker’s daughter tells stories to the kids and they call her ‘fairy godmother in training’. She has no magic and poses no threat.” With each word, the king and queen’s bloods boil. The king bangs his fist against the wall, making it and the shelves attached shake. 

“I will decide who is a threat and who is not.” His tone is sharp as a knife, and just as threatening. Silence falls as the royals assess the situation. Their son has heard of this girl, or maybe even seen her. She’s the reason he wants to invite the kingdom to the ball, and for his outbursts. None of which followed their plan for him. Something must be done. 

“You can still shape-shift, right?” The queen asks, the deviance thick in each word.

“Why yes, your majesty.”

“Good, make sure it’s perfected by tomorrow night.” 

⋆★⋆

The village is bustling with life in the early morning, just as it always has. Just as you close the door to the bakery on the way to the market, a voice booms throughout the stalls. All eyes are on a man standing on the water fountain, the royal crest on his chest and a scroll in his hand. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! Quiet!” 

The crowd obeys, slowly shuffling closer.

“On this day, there shall be held at the palace, a royal ball. At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride.”

A few women giggle, leaning in to one another to gossip.

“Furthermore, at the request of the prince, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or simple commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of your most noble king and queen.”

The world seems to stop as you process his words. Excited couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. All you knew was that you had a chance. He was an apprentice in the castle and would most likely attend as well. 

You hoped to see Steve again soon.

[claudelethtangled]

Chapter 7 - The Golden Deer // [Ao3 link]

When they threw open the door, the warm light of the Golden Deer inn engulfed them—followed shortly by the residents. Byleth took an instinctive step back as every person on the main floor rushed towards them, and Claude’s attempt to reassure her was cut off when he was affectionately tackled. Stuck in a headlock that he knew better than to fight, he tried to signal to Byleth that all was well and hoped she knew what he meant.

“Claude’s back!” Leonie yelled, for whose benefit Claude didn’t know since everyone had already seen him. She grinned when he performed an exaggerated wince at her shout, and dragged him the rest of the way inside.

Her red hair had gotten so long since the last time Claude has seen her that it was gathered off to the side in a ponytail. She’d gotten taller too, and she gleefully ruffled his hair once she let him go so the rest of the inn could get at him. They too were all visibly older since he had seen them last, and Claude had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat as they gathered round with smiles and cheers.

Raphael scooped him up into a bear hug that lesser men had died from, and Claude’s ribs creaked before he managed to free an arm and shove Raphael away just enough to breathe. With his lungs taken care of, he submitted to being affectionately crushed and called out greetings as the others laughed at him. Ignatz was trying to be polite about it, but all three girls were openly giggling over the fact that Claude’s boots were a foot off the ground; not that he’d ever accuse Leonie of giggling to her face.

Her caution having turned to curiosity, Byleth closely watched the entire exchange from where she was still standing by the door. Her grip on the sword had loosened and her head was tilted slightly to one side. When Raphael finally put Claude down, the blond noticed her gaze and turned to her with a grin.

“You want a hug too, miss?” He asked in his always too-loud voice, arms outstretched.

Byleth looked at Raphael, considered, and then—to Claude’s great surprise—nodded. Raphael gallantly let her keep her boots on the ground when she came forward, pulling her into his barrel chest for the relatively gentle embrace he reserved for his sister and Lysithea. Claude was pretty sure Byleth still got the air knocked out of her though, if her quiet huff of breath was anything to go by.

When Raphael let her go she stepped back towards Claude, but her stoney expression was soft around the edges as she glanced around the inn. She waved a hand in a vague gesture, and Claude leaned closer to hear her over the sound of the inn.

“Who…who are they?” Byleth finally asked him, her cheeks tinged pink.

“They’re the finest the kingdom has to offer,” Claude said more honestly than he intended, the lump coming back up in his throat. He quickly coughed a couple times, putting his hands on Byleth’s shoulders and moving her in front of him before anything else slipped from his mouth.

“Time for some belated introductions!” He called out.

“About time!” Hilda said, bouncing up from her chair to reach out a hand to Byleth. “Don’t mind Claude’s awful manners, he’s incorrigible. I’m Hilda, what’s your name?

“It’s—”

“—Far too long for such a short stay,” Claude cut in smoothly, hoping he showed no outward sign of the fact that his heart had just slammed into his chest, “I prefer to call her Sunshine, myself.”

Byleth seemed not to mind the nickname he’d given her, for which Claude was ever grateful. She simply nodded in agreement with his statement as Hilda pouted. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Lysithea frowning at them with narrowed eyes though, and he had to stifle the urge to look guiltily at the sword. Had the wrapping slipped? There was a reason why the white-haired girl was his chess partner. If anyone could guess who Byleth might be…

“You’re unbelievable Claude,” Lysithea complained, stamping her foot and nearly causing him to fall over with relief. “You give this woman a gallant nickname like that yet insist on calling me a kid?”

“But Sunshine is such an apt observation!” Ignatz lit up like the natural occurrence in question, leaning forward to inspect Byleth’s face. “Your skin is practically luminous somehow, and your eyes are so bright! Would you let me paint you? Just a sketch at least—”

“Ignatz!” Hilda shoved the young man away in horror that was only slightly exaggerated. “You do not just ask a strange woman if you can paint her, you sound like a creep!”

“Don’t worry, Iggy just likes painting! You can paint me and my muscles instead if Sunshine says no,” Raphael laughed, as Ignatz turned a deep shade of red and stammered out apologies.

The girls were still tsk-tsking over Ignatz’s comment as they assured Byleth that the boys were really just harmless idiots, and Claude was trying to placate Lysithea when a peevish voice drawled out from an upstairs railing and caused half the people gathered to turn towards it.

“I can tell from the ruckus that a certain someone of ill-repute someone must be back.”

Back ramrod straight, Lorenz looked down at Claude with a frown as pointed as his pale face as he tucked a silk rose into his lapel. His glare focused on the state of Claude’s tunic, fussily readjusting his own immaculate clothing as he posed at the rail. But Lorenz visibly deflated—to Claude’s amusement—when Hilda rolled her eyes, and his dignity took a further hit when Lysithea snorted.

“Oh, give it up Lorenz,” Leonie said, flapping a hand dismissively at him as the final blow that had his shoulders practically slumping. “Come down and meet the new girl.”

“By the Goddess, if I must.”

Something about the comment caught Byleth’s interest, her eyes flicking to Lorenz as her mouth opened, and Claude was relieved when Hilda unintentionally cut her off by loudly clearing her throat. Everyone stopped their friendly arguing yet again, Ignatz physically covering Raphael’s mouth to stifle whatever comment was almost made. Hands propped on her hips and scowling at the now-mostly-silent inn, Hilda scolded them thoroughly on behalf of their “new girl”.

“Ahem! Now that everyone is done being too energetic, I think it’s time for proper introductions, don’t you? The poor thing has no idea who anyone is but me!”

“You’re absolutely right, Hilda.” Lysithea sighed and offered her hand to Byleth. “I’m Lysithea, and I’m the mature one. Don’t let anything Claude tells you convince you otherwise, regardless of my age!”

The others crowded around to offer their own names and contradict each other’s claims, cheerfully offering various hospitalities on behalf of the Golden Deer. By the time Claude managed to extract her, Byleth’s cheeks were pink enough that Claude wondered if they were going to stay that way permanently. She sighed in evident relief when he pulled her into the relative quiet of the kitchen though, and sank into a chair as he began to rifle through the cupboards.

“Raphael is setting you up in the room next to mine, or he will once they’re all done arguing in there” Claude called out, head in the cold storage box. “How about a snack while we wait? I can’t even remember the last time I ate today.”

“Yes.” Byleth was looking at the doorway to the main area when Claude turned, her expression unreadable once again. “Are they always like that?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘that’.” Claude started cutting slices from a loaf of bread after he set a pan on the stove. “Loud? Definitely. Friendly? Usually. You might have got a different welcome if you didn’t come in with me but I wouldn’t put money on it.”

Claude could almost feel Byleth’s gaze switch from the doorway to his back, and he fought to keep from visibly tensing up. If she was searching for something, he wasn’t going to volunteer an answer he hadn’t planned on. So he continued cooking as if he hadn’t noticed her watching, glancing over his shoulder to smile at her as he cracked eggs into the sizzling pan. But Byleth didn’t respond beyond a slight tilt of her head, so Claude shook his and focused on not burning himself.

When he handed her the toast, topped with tomato slices and a fried egg, Byleth took it almost mechanically. Her eyes dropped to her plate in vacant deference, and she stuffed the edge of the bread into her mouth without even looking at it; as if eating were a chore to be endured, rather than something to be enjoyed.

Then, as Claude watched with consternation, she froze. Her cheeks turned the faint pink it had been in the main room again, throat bobbing as she hastily swallowed the bite she had taken before she broke into a coughing fit. She covered her mouth with both hands, the sword dropping under the table. But she waved him back when he rose from his seat, so he sat back down and waited.

“So…are you all right?” He ventured to ask after a minute, once he was reasonably sure she wasn’t about to choke and have her adventure outside the monastery be very short-lived.

“Mm.” Byleth nodded, and sipped from the goblet of water Claude had poured for her. “I…It was unexpected.”

“What was? The egg?”

“Yes. It was so different from what Mother used to make.” She shrugged, took another bite, and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “More…flavoured.”

“Flavoured?” Claude almost choked on his own bite of his snack, trying not to laugh and spray food everywhere. “I barely seasoned this! If you think this is flavoured, I should take you to my hometown someday. They have some truly tasty dishes.”

“They do?”

“Absolutely. In fact, come here a minute.”

Before long, the kitchen was in a state of disarray that was going to get Claude scolded within an inch of his life as he pulled out his stashes of herbs and spices for Byleth. He got her to smell and taste them as he described the food they would be used with, rattling on about how much more could be done in the kitchen than boiling or baking. Not even a taste of dried pepper dampened Byleth’s interest. The candles burned low as Claude talked long into the rest of the night, and even when his stock of tales burned as low as the light did, Byleth’s green eyes never left his face.

…Maybe he’d get her over the border after all.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Okay I got this idea in physics bc we were talking about bungee jumping Like one of Tony's friends thinks it's a great idea to take him bungee jumping for his birthday Bucky is a dude that works there And Tony is sorta pissed at his friend bc this is not something he wanted to do So Bucky is securing him and everything But then another guy who works there and jokingly pushes Tony a bit to scare him And Tony just clings to Bucky and that's how they become closer

Beam Me Up, Bucky

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

“What? You’re not scared are you?”

The grin on Ty’s face is too sharp and knowing for Tony to bother answering that question. Still, Tony isn’t going to back down - not to Ty - so Tony scoffs and follows Ty.  

A high-pitched bell jingles above their heads as Ty pushes open the door.

“Welcome! How can I help you today?” a man behind the counter with a name tag reading ‘Jasper’ asks. He has a polite smile on his face, and Tony tries to return it.

Tony’s feels more like a grimace stuck on his face, though.

“We’re bungee jumping,” Ty replies, and Tony’s stomach twists. “It’s that one’s birthday,” Ty says as he thumbs at Tony, “and he’s all about the adrenaline rush.”

Tony takes a deep breath and approaches Jasper and the counter, telling himself that Ty is right. Because Ty is right, Tony loves an adrenaline rush. ‘Twenty years  stupid’ is how Howard likes to phrase it, but usually Tony does his stupid stunts with both of his feet on the ground. Speed racing his Audi is a whole different thing than jumping off a cliff with nothing but a rope.

Besides, Tony isn’t scared. He’s just… anxious, that’s all. He’d much rather put his life in the hands of a car engine than latex. The physics of bungee jumping are completely acceptable on paper, but Tony still thinks people should hesitate to challenge the theory of gravity with nothing but a stretchy rope.

Still, Tony signs the liability waiver. He only hesitates for a moment over the impressive safety hazards section before he scratches his signature at the bottom.

Ty smirks as he signs his own paperwork, and Tony takes a deep breath. Tony would rather go through with the jump and deal with the stress than to hear about this moment from Ty for the rest of their lives.

Tony breathes out. He can do this.

The safety video that they’re made to watch isn’t particularly helpful. Tony already knows the how and the why of how bungee jumping works. It’s called physics. He knows about the rope stretching, the load the the rope can take, that Tony will get yanked back up at the end.

What Tony can’t change - and can’t control - is the biology of his own system. What if his blood vessels give way under pressure and he loses his eyesight? What if his bones don’t hold up, and he breaks his neck? What if the latex rope frays from one too many jumps, and it snaps on the stretch?

When the video ends, two men in matching T-shirts and khakis collect them.

Tony holds back a sigh. Their instructors just have to be attractive because Tony wasn’t already on edge. Both have their shirts clinging to their biceps, so at least Tony can appreciate that. Both have dark brown hair, though the taller, smiling man wears his tied back in a bun while the shorter, smirking one has short spikes.

“You guys ready to jump?” The smiling one asks.

“Do we finally get to do something now?” Ty replies.

The instructor’s smile hardens at the edges, but he continues on with enthusiasm, “Yes, now we get you into harnesses and ready to jump. I’m Bucky and this is Brock. We’ll be your guides today.”

“Bucky?” Ty snorts. “Seriously, what kind of name is that?”

Tony elbows Ty in the side. Even if Tony agreed - and he does, though only a little and he’s hoping it’s a nickname - he doesn’t like how Bucky’s smile flattens.

��He gets that a lot,” the other instructor, Brock, says.

Brock is still smirking, and Tony decides he prefers Bucky.

“I’m Tony and this is Ty - short for Tiberius,” Tony introduces, dragging out Ty’s full name with a dry voice.

“Fuck off,” Ty says, shoving Tony.

“Alright, this way please,” Bucky directs, waving them through to another room. He gives Tony a subtle wink when Tony passes by, and Tony grins in return.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Tony is fine as he straps into the harness. He’s fine as they walk over to the platform extending out over the edge of a cliff. He’s fine as Ty smirks and teases him about the nerves that Tony admits are now showing on his face.

“Uh oh, do we have someone scared of a drop?” Brock teases.

Tony is not fine when Brock jostles him on the platform, Brock’s shoulder knocking Tony closer to the gap in the failing where there’s nothing but open air.

It doesn’t matter that Tony is still several feet from the edge, what matters is that the open air stretches out in front of him and Tony doesn’t have that practically-medieval stretchy rope attached to him yet.

Tony scrambles backwards, not even trying to be graceful or discreet about it. He can already feel himself falling, hearing the wind whistling in his ears and the scream getting caught in his throat.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Bucky’s warm voice assures Tony as Bucky grips Tony’s arms.

Tony can hear Ty laughing at him over his own panicked wheezing, and he turns into Bucky’s embrace.

Bucky pulls him back, away from the gap in the railing, and away from Brock and Ty.

“Sorry. Brock is an ass,” Bucky murmurs. “I’ll report him again, but he’s related to the owner so…”

“It’s fine, just a joke,” Tony wheezes, trying to get his heart to stop racing.

“Ain’t a funny one.” Bucky says, gently squeezing Tony’s arms. “It’s fine to be nervous. Normal, even. It’s the arrogant assholes who aren’t afraid of what can happen that bug me. That’s when things do happen.” Bucky nods back to Ty, who stands on the edge and looks down but who still doesn’t have the bungee cord around his feet yet.

Tony tries to slow his breathing. “Yeah, that’s Ty for you.”

“You got something to prove, that’s why you’re here?” Bucky guesses, eyeing Tony. “Because I can take you back, get you a full refund. Don’t let that jerk-face goad you into this.”

Tony manages a smile. “Thanks. No refund necessary though. He’s paying. It’s my birthday.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Well, happy birthday, but in my world that usually means you get to do something you want to do.”

“One jump and he can’t hold this over my head,” Tony explains. He realizes he’s holding onto Bucky’s shirt, fingers digging in and clinging to the fabric, and Tony lets go.

Bucky tries to smile, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

“You got some kind of friends.”

Tony sighs and nods.

They head back toward the gap, and Tony appreciates Bucky staying close.

Brock is wrapping Ty’s feet with the bungee cord when they walk back over, and Bucky keeps a careful eye on the proceedings. Brock talks Ty through the fall - the arms out, chest out pose, and that they’ll winch Ty back up to the top after.

Tony gulps as Ty smirks, still completely at ease, and jumps off the ledge.

The rope doesn’t snap and neither does Ty’s spine. Everything is fine, and soon enough it’s Tony’s turn with Ty red-faced from the rush and jeering at him.

Bucky is the one who bundles Tony’s feet up in the jump rope and securing everything into the harness. Bucky waves Brock away every time he comes close, and Tony appreciates that.

“You good?” Bucky asks softly after he walks Tony through the pose, the fall, and what happens after.

Bucky’s hands are warm on his back, Tony notes, even as he breaks out in a cold sweat.

“Could be better,” Tony admits, his heart racing. All this air, and it feels like none of it is going into his lungs - or his brain, which is maybe while this feels like it could be his last moment and he might as well go for it all. “Don’t suppose you’d be open to a kiss for good luck?”

Bucky eyes spark, and he leans close. He kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth, tongue darting out for just a fraction.

“Come back in one piece and I’ll give you a kiss for succeeding,” Bucky whispers.

“That one have tongue?”

“Yup.”

Tony sucks in a breath. “Well, then.” He shuffles to the edge, the bungee cord wrapped tight and thick around his feet. His arms are out, his chest up. “Make sure to beam me up at the end, yeah?”

Tony jumps.

[dancing-deacon]

Drowse (Part 2)

(A/N) thank you for all the feedback from part 1! I honestly was so overwhelmed by the response🤗💕So much I decided to make a part 2 because I felt bad leaving it on such a negative note haha, sorry it took so dang long I’ve been super busy, enjoy the second part!!

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, negative parental comments(?)

Part 1

My Masterlist

“It’s the bleak street, weak kneed partings I recall.”

A mist of tears blinded Roger. He stumbled back from the slammed door, the sound echoing through his head. Tripping backwards off your front step he grabbed the railing for support.

You had ripped his heart from his chest and tore it to shreds on your stoop. The same stoop you used to laugh on, joking about your classmates. The same railing he had broken when falling against, after you had playfully pushed him for teasing you about your first kiss. The same step he just confessed his love to you on.

Roger broke out into a deep wail, tears flooding down his cheeks onto his fur collared jacket, matting it. Roger stumbled back to his house, memory guiding him to his own door, his eyes too puffy to see out of. He had never felt this kind of heartbreak before.

Roger knew he loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Those feelings only intensified over the years. The dozens of songs he wrote for you throughout his teenage years that you’d never hear. How many times he had come close to telling you his true feelings, the final time being when you kissed in the river, but your reaction told him your feelings were otherwise. Now he knew for sure. He never should have told you. It ruined any small thread of hope of you being best friends again. He should have pushed the feelings down as he had done a thousand times watching you with other boys, when you gave anyone else the looks you gave only him, or when he left. Roger lost you, his best friend, and he could never forgive himself.

Millions of thoughts of your words ran threw his mind as he crashed into his room. Whipping the door shut behind him he stripped off his jacket, chucking it against the opposite wall with all his force, knocking down the picture of you and him from his desk. The picture frame shattered on the ground.

Roger paused and stared at the glass with blurry eyes, your face peaking out from the spiderwebbed cracks. Gasping for air he clenched his jaw, unable to feel the pain in his teeth, for his face had gone numb from being in hysterics.

Roger collapsed onto his bed, face into a pillow, trying to get his breathing back to a steady pace.

When unexpectedly, there was an all too familiar tapping on his glass window. 

 “Waves of alternatives wash over my sleepiness

Have my eggs poached for breakfast I guess.”

 “Rog, stop!” You demanded, annoyed by his grapes he keeps flicking onto your plate. Roger’s toothy smile beams at you, all you can do is roll your eyes, kicking his leg under the table where the parents can’t see.

Roger took one last red grape in his fingers, rolling it, eyebrows raised up at you across the table. You knew what he wanted so you nod your head in compliance. You opened your mouth wide, leaning back slightly. Roger tossed the grape at you like it was a show, you caught it and chomped down on its sweetness.

You had a lot of time to perfect this stunt, increasingly more satisfying as time went on. Every Sunday your families met together for brunch at your house, a tradition since they moved in four years ago.

You and Roger felt intense boredom at the brunches, but as you grew older your glances and inside jokes became more and more discrete, allowing full conversations to be held with only a few words. Most of the time was to express your distaste for the conversations your parents held, because they always went the same: Mr. Taylor ranting about politics. You mother sharing cooking tips and new recipes for the food with Mrs. Taylor. Your father secretly reading the paper under the table.

Roger and you had competitions to see who could make the more ridiculous face, waiting for the dreaded questions of, “(Y/N), how was school this week? Learn anything interesting?” Which you always answered with “Not really.” While shuffling food around on your plate.

It wasn’t until recently though had both your parents started paying more attention to you and Roger’s interactions. The shared looks, the light-hearted giggles that they never heard otherwise from Rog, how you were always hanging off each other physically. How you spent every waking minute together, you comforted each other in the darkest times.

It was this brunch that you first heard the comment, which you didn’t know would be so prominent from everyone throughout your lives.

“You two are so cute, I can hear the wedding bells already.” His mother was the first to tease.

Roger looked absolutely disgusted, you two sharing the face. “Ew, she’s my best friend that’s gross.” He exaggerated a shutter to express his feelings.

At that time, you felt the same.

As you grew, the comments stood in the back of your mind. Posing together for pictures before dances, “What a cute couple!” Your mother cooed.

“One day, (Y/N), he’ll be on his knees with a ring just you wait!” His mother chimed in.

Roger and you shared a glance, both rolling your eyes and blushing lightly. You were so used to it, so you both tried to ignore them. But growing feelings for Roger made the passing comments hit deep. You just hadn’t known that they hit Roger the same way.

 “Watching the night life the lights and the fun”

 Roger squeezed out between the bricks, in the shape of a slivered window, navigating the beer bottles through, placing them on the ledge with a clink.

He turned back peeking through the shadows, the street lights below illuminating his jawline.

“Here, take my hand.” He extended his arm back towards you, but you were hesitant. Heights were never your favorite, even from the ground looking up at the bell tower of the cathedral made your insides sick. Roger knew this too. “Trust me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, shaking his hand again to urge you to grab it.

And you did.

“That’s my girl.” Roger whispered, proud of your progress against your fear.

Your sweaty palms only made Roger grasp you harder. You squeeze out the same opening, the late-night breeze hitting your nose, refreshing from the stuffiness inside the tower.

Roger searched for your eyes, mentally urging you to keep yours in contact with his. You looked to match his breathing. Roger placed his other hand on the small of your back, which brought your heart rate up again.

“Do you want to look?” He stood at the edge of the ledge, the barrier bricks from him and an ill fate only went up to the middle of his calf.

You swallowed and shook your head vigorously, scooting back toward the wall. You slide down onto your butt, feeling better to just see the clear autumn sky, rather than the roof tops and orange street lights below.

The ledge is just large enough for two to sit down on, Roger hung his long legs up and over the brick edge. You had your legs curled to your chest, for the thought of any part of you hanging over the edge makes your stomach turn.

Roger hadn’t let go of your hand yet, he rubbed your thumb with his. His skin was soothing, his intensions sweet.

Roger released your hand and reached for a beer. He grunted and popped it open on the corner of the ledge, the cap falling to the ground below. The light tink of it hitting the cobblestone street made you shake your head.

“Really, Rog? On the chapel?” You smiled large at his exaggerated eye roll. He handed you the first bottle, cracking open another one in the same fashion.

“Hey, I suffered through six years at this place I deserve a beer…on them.” He cheered you and took a swig. “Even though I bought them.” He gave a puzzled look at his own dumb joke.

“As long as we don’t get caught that’s all I care about.” You admitted taking a large gulp, hoping the alcohol will sooth what remaining nerves you had about being in the tower.

“Nah, never have. But if we do, we can be cell mates.” He shoved his shoulder into yours causing you to spill some beer on your pants.

“Mhm, sure, Taylor.” You leaned you head on his shoulder, finally finding comfort in where you were and who you were with.

Roger turned his face down and kissed the top of your head lightly before resting his head on yours.

Your face grew warm, remembering a month ago in the river. You both returned to normal the next morning, he drove you to school, sat with you at lunch, and did homework with you after class. No mention of the kiss. Though, you could feel the linger of it still, in conversation he would glance down at your lips, subtly licking his own in response. Your chest would feel heavy at the reminder, the uncertainty of how you both felt, or if you even knew yourself.

Those lingering feelings never left, even when he did.

Subconsciously, you knew that was the reason his communication, or lack thereof, stung so bad. Your love for Roger was more than just being his best friend, it was so much more. It just took you both so damn long to realize, that it was too late. When you lost contact, your heart broke, it broke for the skinny blonde boy next door, as his broke for you, his best girl. Each other’s first true love.

 “The unending pleadings

To waste all your good times

In your thoughts of your middle-aged years”

Roger being called to the headmaster’s office a month before graduating was the beginning of the end.

He hadn’t driven you home that day because he was tied up, but you watched his mother and father quickly rush into the school, anger on their faces.

Your walk home was filled with worry for Roger. You had sat on your bed, window opened waiting for any signs from your neighbors arriving back home, letting in the brisk spring breeze.

You almost dozed off against the wall when you’re jolted awake from yelling.

“Roger, stop. We are not done talking about this!” His father’s voice boomed across the driveway.

“Piss off!” Roger yelled back, immediately followed by the slam of the front door.

You peaked out your window, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor standing on the driveway, yelling in hushed voices. Words like disappointing, university, and stupid band, pierced your ears.

Through Roger’s window, his face was red, and he was pacing back and forth across his bedroom, fists clenched, noticeably mumbling to himself.

Crawling from your window you snuck across the grass, hoping to avoid his parents gaze. Whatever was wrong, you knew it was bad enough that they wouldn’t want him to spend time with anyone.

As you got to the window, about to knock, he whips his notebook towards the glass. Papers flying out everywhere, startling you.

“Oh, Roger,” you whispered to yourself. You’ve never seen him so frustrated.

Roger glances his head towards where he threw his papers, seeing your concerned eyes staring at him his face drops. Frustration gone. He rushed to the window, slamming it open and practically dragged you inside. You barely got your footing when he engulfed you in his arms, squeezing you tight. His face was nuzzled in the crook on your neck, breathing heavily, taking in your scent to try to calm down.

“Roger, what happened?” You whispered in his ear, not letting you be the first to pull away. Your hand moved through his hair, gently rubbing his head.

Roger pulled away, flopping back onto his bed, grabbing a pair of drumsticks from his bedside table. He twirled them between his fingers slowly, grunting before speaking.

“My grades. I might not graduate.” You can tell he is embarrassed. You scooted onto his bed next to him

Trying to make light of the situation you gently punch his arm, “I mean, you are squinting at the board all the time,” Roger rolled his eyes. “Maybe wear your glasses, so you can actually see what we are learning.”

Roger turned his head to look at you, turning the drumstick in his hand even quicker. His nervous habit. “Glasses aren’t exactly rock-and-roll.” He paused, “You’re right though, as always.” He stretched those last words, he didn’t mind that you were right all the time. You steered him the best way.

He stopped spinning his sticks, staring at them intensely. “But, that’s not the problem. My parents think I’m too involved with music.” He chucked the sticks across his room, bouncing off the opposite wall and clattering on the hardwood floor. You jumped back into yourself by his actions, absolutely hating when he got violently angry. Once he got into hysterics it was hard to calm him. “It’s bullshit.”

“You won’t go anywhere with music, Roger.”

“Be a bloody dentist, Roger.”

Roger, you’re wasting your time.”

He mocked his parents, school teachers, and headmasters’ words. Spitting them out, jaw clenching so hard you could feel the pain in your own.

You had to choose your next words carefully.

“Roger, you can always do both, you’re incredibly talented and smart.” Roger turn his body on its side to face you, a sweet smile growing. “But…you do need to work harder to pass. Trust me, it will make everything easier.”

Wanting to take your words to heart Roger just nods his head, “Alright.” Is all he stated, hushed. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, his head against your stomach. You put your arm around his shoulders and stroked his arm. As his best girl, you wanted to let him know you weren’t going anywhere, and you’d help everything get better.

  “It’s the vertical hold all the things that you’re told”

“Roger, you’re completely off beat, it’s sounding like shit.” Brian threw his arms off his guitar, letting it wobble around as he faced Roger, who was shaking his head angrily.

Roger tosses his sticks over his shoulder, leaning over and resting his hands in his head, rubbing his temples. “Fucking hell. We’ve got to stop, I can’t do any more today.” Normally Roger would’ve chewed Brian’s head off for his comments, but Roger knew he was off today. He knew that in less than a day he would be back at home, facing you again in after so many years.

“Is it because you’re going home, and (Y/N)?” Deaky put his bass in its case, accepting that practice was over.

Roger rolled his head back, grunting at the mere mention of your name.

Freddie, Brian, and John shared a look, simultaneously pulling up chairs into a semicircle in front of his drum set, ready for Roger’s impending rant.

“You love her, don’t you?” Freddie asked, a smug grin on his face.

“It’s bloody obvious he does, look at him.” John laughed at Roger who was pacing back and forth behind his drum set, kicking the sticks across the floor with each step.

“Roger! Stop. Talk to us.” Brian’s words make Roger stop dead in his tracks, turning towards his bandmates.

“I’ve never loved anyone more,” Roger’s face turned soft, remembering all your beautiful features, even after so many years. “But I haven’t called her in years, so.” Roger rubbed his neck, avoiding eye contact with the boys.

The bandmates all lean forward in their chairs.

“What? You never told us that bit,” Brian’s voice was soft, but full of surprise. Roger mentioned you and your adventures constantly, but he failed to mention your lack of communication as time went on.

“But you talk about her all the time Roger, why haven’t you talked to her?” John’s voice pleaded for an answer, Freddie stayed quiet, in awe of Roger’s own stupidity.

“Everyone at home, and I mean everyone wanted me to go to university, become a dentist, let go of music…except her. Without her, I wouldn’t be in Queen.” Roger leaned against the back of the chair that faced the band. “When I left home, my life changed so fast. And this dream I had all my life, finally came true. I’m the musician I’ve always wanted to be.” Roger’s looked to the ceiling, trying to hide away the forming tears from the band.

“With that, I guess I pushed away what I used to be, and everyone who told me I couldn’t achieve this. She happened to go with it.” After all this time, Roger couldn’t believe the words he was admitting out loud for the first time. “But I miss who I was, and (Y/N), every fucking day. The innocence I felt with her. The youth of her spirit. I’ve only ever been fully myself around her.” Roger finally let tears fall from his eyes, slowly dripping down his cheek.

His eyes panned over his bandmates, a sympathetic look on each of their faces. “So yeah, I love her more than anything…and I’m going to tell her.”

 “Thinkin’ it right and doin’ it wrong”

You heard it all through your open bedroom window. Roger’s wail was haunting. The sounds his voice made was the most chilling, horrible song he has ever produced. It was a song you’d never hope to hear again. That’s when you knew you truly made the biggest mistake of your life.

You watched the boy next door slam his bedroom door and flop onto his bed facedown, just as he did so many times as a child through to his teenage years.

Your heart raced, palms growing sweaty of the reminder of your rejection. As soon as you closed the door you regretted every word of it. The initial shock of seeing Roger back in front of you again, now someone famous, who you thought had changed so much, made you spit out years’ worth of pent up anger. But deep down, you knew your true feelings, you adored Roger.

More than adored.

You were in love with Roger Meddows Taylor. The boy whose name was more mesmerizing to you than any of his songs he has written, or ever could write. There would be no comparison.

You found your legs carrying you out your open window, bare feet tickled by the dewy grass. Your mind numb of all thoughts, except for those of the neighbor boy.

Standing at his window, you see the picture frame on his floor, shattered. All you could hope is it not to be a sign for what is to come.

All you heard is your blood pumping through your ears, letting your knuckles up to the glass to perform its signature tapping.

Roger’s head shot up immediately. His blonde locks thrown every which way, cheeks puffy and raw, eyes bloodshot. The moment your eyes met he drew his away.

You placed your palm against the window, wanting to comfort him and make everything right again.

Roger pursed his lips and shaking his head angrily he stood up, moving to slam the window open.

His eyes were glazed, locked onto the floor. But his instincts let out his hand, as he had done hundreds of times before, and grabbed yours, guiding you through and into his room.

“If you’re here to hurt me more, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He whispered his words. You broke him. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for that.

“Roger, I didn’t mean it.” You paused, looking to meet his eyes and he raised them. “Well, I did, those feeling were real, when you left, but not anymore. I can’t lose you.” You took a step closer to him, sliding your fingers back between his. “I have to be completely honest with you.”

Roger raised his eyebrows in question, preparing for more heartbreak. You took a deep breathe in, knowing your voice is going to shake just by your thoughts. “Roger Taylor, I’ve loved you since I fell off the tree at our spot and broke my ankle when we were ten, and you carried me home. That love grew during the first slow dance to the Beatles when we were fourteen and you held me so tightly, I was so damn nervous, you have no idea. Or when I finally beat you at pool, that smile you gave me, I could never ever forget it.” You reached your hand up and cupped his cheek, red and raw from the tears he previously shed for you. Stroking the skin gently with your thumb you continued, never breaking your eyes from his, blue as the ocean, the whites still tinted red.

“Roger, I knew my feelings were real when we skinny dipped, and you and I shared the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had, and ever hope to have.” A tear fell from your eye, wishing you had acted on your feelings sooner. Roger brought his hand up, wiping it away with the back of his pointer finger. His other hand formed around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m pretty sure I loved you since you asked to see more of my cars.” He gave a small laugh, glancing down at your lips and licking his own. “I just knew you were the one since the very first day.”

Roger pulled you in, crushing his lips against yours. Your hands gripped his hair, your lips aching for this moment since the river. Everything was familiar, the softness of his lips guided you, cared for you as no one else had.

Roger was who you were meant to be with.

Roger felt like home.

Roger parted his lips away, resting his forehead against yours, his hands cupped your burning cheeks. Roger’s smile was unlike you’ve ever seen before: sweet, satisfied, fully head over heels in love. “I’m sorry that after sixteen years of being right next door, it took me this long to get to you.”

Roger’s apology was real and fresh. You pressed your lips against his gently, knowing there was only one way to respond to him, in the same way he would to you.

“I’ll always forgive my best guy.”

 “It’s the fantastic drowse

Of the afternoon Sundays”

 The best part of your week was always Sunday afternoons, Rogers guaranteed day off just for you.

Roger and you had continued your tradition every Sunday morning with family brunch, but rather it with your parents, it’s with his band, your new family. As soon as Roger brought you to London with him the rest of Queen took you in, knowing how much you meant to Roger. The only difference with these brunches was no pointless questions about your life, no boring conversations, and most importantly, no questions about your future with Roger.

They already knew the answer to all of those.

Roger led Brian, Freddie, and John to the front door to say their goodbyes as you began cleaning up the dishes. Through the background noise of the sink filling up with water you could hear them whispering, though their hushed tones were too discreet to make out.

The click of the lock was familiar and pleasing to know you had the rest of the day to be with your love.

Roger snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waste and spinning you around to face him. “Another successful brunch, thanks to your amazing cooking,” Roger leaned down and placed a small peck on your lips. You smiled through the kiss for the flattery, he did more of the cooking than you did, and he knew it.

Roger moved his lips to your cheek, then down to your neck, gently nipping at your skin. His hands were snaked around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible.

You reached your hand behind you into the sink, half distracted by Roger’s lips. Picking up a handful of bubbles you lean back, blowing them into his face playfully. Roger opened his eyes slowly, his all too familiar mischievous smile growing.

“Oh no, Rog!” You lunged away from his grabbing more bubbles, throwing them at his blonde locks. Roger hunched forward, gripping under your back and legs, hoisting you up close to him. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

Roger plops you down on the counter next to the sink, holding your thighs around his torso with one hand, the other grabbing a handful of bubbles twice the size of yours. “Rog! No, please, I actually look nice today!” Your stomach was hurting from your laughter, hands held out towards Roger’s arm, ready to fire.

“Love, you always look nice,” Roger leaned in and gave a deep kiss to your lips. You were too distracted to even care when Roger placed his palm onto your hair, returning the favor of messing up the styling with soapy water.

Roger pulled his lips away from yours slightly, “But, now we’re even.” His smirk made you melt, the same smirk he gave you so many times in your childhood, and how it took you so long to realize how damn sexy it was.

Roger pulled his hand up, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear to uncover the eyes he adored so much. Your hands rested on his shoulders, making sure he didn’t move a muscle away from you. You took in how ridiculous you both looked, soaked and flustered.

His other hand rested in his back pocket, fondling a small box he had held onto since the first day you moved in with him in London. Roger grew nervous, his heart raced and his breathing shallowed. “(Y/N), you’re the love of my life, my best friend.”

Staring into Roger’s deep blue eyes you already knew this, he told you every morning waking up, and every night before going to bed. “I love you to death, Rog.” You whispered back, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Roger gripped the box and held it up in front of you, slowly uncovering the green emerald ring inside, the one he chose for the green forest nook of your spot that you shared so many memories in, the green of the grass between your windows, the green tint of the river water your first kiss was shared in.

You were speechless, “Oh, Rog!” You had breathed out, urging him to continue.

“We have so many perfect memories, so much time spent together. I have spent my life with you by my side, (Y/N), will you do me the honor and spend the rest of it the same?” Roger’s hands were shaking from nerves, something you had never seen from the drummer.

You wrapped your legs together behind his back, pulling him into you roughly. Pressing your mouth to his, you get lost in Roger’s world. You whispered against his lips, “Yes!”

Roger squeezed you in his arms, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen spread across his face, “that’s my best girl!”

And you were, and always will be.

Taglist: @blissfully-queen @roger-taylor-stole-my-heart @vuhlereea @cosmicsskies @freedie-mercoory @rogers-rhapsody @browneyedfloozy @fredthelegend

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 10

Title & Song: Black Treacle

Characters: Alfie Solomons x OFC

Word Count: 5100+ (To get you through the long weekend)

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him, but where should she draw the line between business and pleasure now that she’s caught his attention? 

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Black Treacle by Arctic Monkeys  The songs give a good background to the stories and have some further insight into the characters. All text in italics is spoken in French.

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 4 - 60 Feet Tall Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt 7 Making A Fool Of You Pt 8 L'Amour et la violence Pt 9 Play With Fire Pt 11 These Stones Will Shout

My Masterlist. 

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer​ @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r@iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @angry-kazoo-noises

He was asked to lead the blessings by the staff and carried out the ritual. He was flocked to by everyone but you basically. You sat back, feet up on the end of the dining room table, sipping the wine in your hand. You glance over at him to watch him charm the pants off the maids as you chuckle at the sight unfolding before your eyes. 

You know that he's aware he's charming, but you wonder if he's meaning to make the young dears sigh as he also touches shoulders and swats his hands at the men he's speaking with. You'll give him the benefit of the doubt after you see him so smoothly and passively reject one of the girls advances as her hand moves to touch his chest. You laugh into your glass at the pouting face of the poor thing.

You find yourself in the kitchen after dinner, sitting on a countertop while people move around and drink wine and converse. You feel like you're transported back to some of your fondest childhood memories. Except you sat on a potato sack back then, women didn’t sit on the countertops, you were told. Alfie has a glass of wine in his hand from dinner and so do you. He's up against one of the pale tiled walls, talking loudly with his hands and rolling out entertaining stories all the kitchen boys are just dying to hear. It takes you back home to France for a moment, you stare into your wine glass, watching it swirl and dance, sticking to the edges of the glass and running down again in a daze, stuck in your memories for a nice warm moment, nights spent in a room not that different from the one you’re currently in come back to you vividly. You could see the smokey room and hear your uncles and cousins shouting at one another. All arguments ended in the oldest always putting the youngest in a headlock and then they'd all start laughing again. Your Uncle pointing his finger at you with a wink as he catches you holding a bottle of rum, laughing loudly he takes it from you as he pulls you into his arms. "Peu lis!" he'd shout at you in an affectionate scold, his eyes sparkling with love and amusement. You can still feel the scratch of his coat under your hands.The boom of his voice as he laughed and cursed while he retold stories of your mischief and it made you feel loved to be spoken of so endearingly. He always knew how to make you feel special when he saw your pre-determined life was starting to steal your smile from your face. No other male figure had done that for you growing up, certainly not your own father.Least of all him. Only those extended family members of your mothers. Your heart started to ache.

"Genevieve?" Alfie's low voice rips you from your time travel and your eyes flutter up to his, sitting under a raised brow, a slight look of concern on his face for you. "You alright?" he says lightheartedly, he flinches to reach out to touch you but hesitates and decides against it.

You clear your throat and blink and wiggle your face around for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I'm fine." you take a deep breath. "Deja vu of sorts." you sigh, "Got lost in my memories there for a moment, didn't I?" you give him a half smile, your eyes back to being set in reality.

"Well that's fine from time to time, innit?" he says with a gruff tone that holds no judgement.

You nod, your eyes moving about the room, there were fewer people around than the last time you looked. "Must be the wine." you say scrunching your nose, making an excuse for your daydream.

"You do look a little flushed, if you don't mind me saying." he nods his head to let you know he doesn't mean anything by it, making sure you didn't take offense.

"It's fine, Alfie." you say with a quiet chuckle, smiling and sliding off the counter. "Come, let's get some air. Not going to get better sitting in the scullery." you say, motioning for him to follow you.  

You've set your hand on the stone railing across your back patio, overlooking your garden. The moon is high and the sky is black against her. Small lights peppered across the lush ground of your garden give off the only light in the dense flora that carries back and fades as you reach the far end of the garden, your bees, and berries lying beyond that.

"I've not had the opportunity to tell you how lovely your home is, Gen." he says politely, his eyes focused, looking out into the garden.

"Thank you. I'm quite fond of it myself." you say back in the same tone, as your eyes wander. You sigh contently, moving towards the stairs. Feeling encapsulated in the bubble of your very aesthetically pleasing garden, flowers in clusters all along the right, a trail to a small secluded lily pod off the path, closer to the line of the woods, a small pond. To the left your personal garden of herbs, vegetables, and fruit. Farther back still on the left is the barn looking building which functions both as a garage and also a home to the horses you keep to help on the farm.

You turn your top half back towards him, he's already looking your way as you meet his eyes with yours. "Would you like a walk through the garden, Alfie? Seeing as you live here and all now I should show you around, shouldn't I?"

"In the middle of the night?" he asks, his eyes moving up to the moon and back to you.

"Yes. Why not? It's even more beautiful in the night. Are you frightened of the dark or something?" you give him a playful grin and a small laugh that shakes your shoulders just slightly. He purses his lips and lowers his brow at you.

"Scared of not being able to see a fuckin' thing and wastin' my time." he says with a light-hearted mocking tone.

You walk down the stairs with a shrug to the stone path laid into the ground around the small fountain. "I don't know...That sounds like something someone who's afraid of the dark would say." you snicker childishly and lower your head as you see him shake his.

"You serious?" he says, motioning with his hand to the air to emphasize his question.

"Yes! Well," you say with a small shrug,  "about showing you around, not so much the fear of the dark stuff." you call out, your shoulders slumping slightly and your expression is set in an easy going and teasing smile. "There are lights all over. C'mon, let me show you the garden." you hold out your arms as he gives in and walks down the stairs.

Without the need for coats, you're both dressed down, him in his white shirt that's partially untucked over his trousers, braces still hanging by his hips, the wind rustles the excess fabric of his shirt. You're in a navy sleeveless dress, the sheer fabric worn over a matching slip lets the cool breeze hit your skin and you welcome the sensation.

He mostly listens, although never short on words when asked for an opinion. You've shown and explained the sectors of the garden, told him what lands were around you and how far yours went. You, as usual, end up speaking of your flowers and garden like an old lover. He would always get oddly still when you'd start waxing poetic. He even stopped walking as you lilted on lavender at one juncture, watching you as you moved across the path, cooing about the lavender in the fields from your childhood and how currently, it's oils made you want to sleep when added your bath at night. The moon reflective off his eyes as they moved with you, his mouth set into a pleasant expression. When you met his gaze there would always be a smile waiting beneath his shifting mustache, but you didn't know if it stayed the whole time you spoke. --------------------------------------------------- "WHAT THE FUCK YA DOIN'?" you hear him shout as you unfocus your eyes and turn your torso to the sound of his voice. Your feet are still firmly planted shoulder-width apart, taking aim at the statue on the other side of the pond. He sees you standing in an authoritative pose with a gun in your hands. The dress you wore made you look as if you were displaced in time. The Lady Genevieve Greene of some time long ago, much resembling the lavender of the fields near your family's home in France you'd told him about the night before as it moved with the gentle morning breeze.  The laced edges of the neckline of the dress worn down on your arms with bare shoulders, the sheer violet fabric billowing out before being edged again with tiny white ribbon. The dress was cut in an empire waist, cinching just below the swell of your chest, covering the slip of matching color you wore underneath. The dress swung about your ankles, moving as your hips did, reminding him of a Bellflower. A white apron with big pockets was tied around your waist, a ribbon was loosely holding back your thick dark hair in a bow at the base of your neck.

"Target practice." you say obviously, your fingers wrapped around the pistol in your hands.

"You could fuckin' warn a man, ya know!" he says, shaking his cane in your direction as he trots down the small downward slope that conceals the pond from your garden.

"I'm used to living alone. I'll be more considerate next time." you say with an apologetic tone, turning back to the statue.

"Why are you shootin' at a statue anyway?" his tone is still slightly annoyed and his voice higher pitched in his animated words and hand movements.

"Because I fucking hate it." you state matter-of-factly. He laughs at your response and squints his eyes to look at it from a few feet behind you.  "Also because I need the practice." you let out a sigh and place the gun back into the pocket of your apron. "I've been using knives so much recently that I don't want to get rusty." you explain turning to him, wringing your hands.

"Why do you have this statue if you hate it so much?" he says, he continues around the pond since you've stopped shooting.

"Don't bother with it Alfie," you say in a groan, following behind him on the dirt path surrounded by dark green grass on either side. One side rolling up and into a tree line, the other side sloping down and into the water. You begrudgingly start to explain. "I had a statue commissioned in Paris before I moved here and I paid for it and it was shipped without me seeing it and I just," you let out another sigh and put your hands on your hips as you stop behind him, both looking up that the statue. "It makes me look like a fucking horse or something, I dunno." you start to mumble, your face frowning.

"That's supposed to be you?" he asks, his finger pointing at the statue. You move to stand next to the statue and pose in it's likeness, one hand on your hip, the other up and bent behind your head. "You don't see the resemblance?" you ask while making a contorted face and pushing the front of your nose up with the hand that had been on your hip. You roll your eyes and purse your lips in an exaggerated way to show your distaste for it. He lets out a low laugh and shakes his head at you.

"No, I 'spose not. I mean I only know what you're face looks like, right? So I can't very well speak as to the accuracy of the rest of it now, can I? " he smirks and shrugs and doesn't look at you, his eyes remain mischievious and focused on the nude statue.

"Alfie." you scold in a laugh and reach out the playfully smack his arm but he leans out the way easily as you're pawing very slowly at him. "You cheeky boy," you say with a very amused scoff, it coming out higher pitched that you intended. You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your finger at him. "Don't you worry yourself with those resemblances," you say while walking past him. He can't help but let out another small chuckle before turning to follow you, being relieved he had found that you could, in fact, take a joke at your own expense. "What are your plans for the rest of your morning since it seems my practice roused you early?" you ask, not looking back at him, you could hear him walking behind you, the pattern of his steps and barely noticing his cane hitting the ground. Did he even need that thing?

"Well, since you decided to go shoot yourself so early in the day I hadn't had time to consider yet." he says, his voice back to it's even and gruff sound.

You let a huff of a laugh out at his choice of words. "You have a spare moment to give me now?" you ask, now stopping and waiting for him as you stand in the fork in the path.

"What d'ya need me for, eh?" he asks with no hesitation.

"I don't require anything but your company," you say your shoulder slightly rising with a polite smile. "I was wondering if you'd like to take that tour now. Know what's in the house, see where what I sell you comes from." you state, your hands clasped together at the end of your fully extended arms.

"Well I did start my day off earlier than intended, dinnit I?" he asks rhetorically. "And I would like to meet these bees of yours. What with the way you talk about 'em an all."

"House first. Then breakfast and to the Apiary before swinging back around and I'll let you go." you suggest, turning to move towards the house he motions with his hand for you to continue on your way as he falls in behind you.

You take him into the house through a less obvious backdoor into the cellar and up and into the kitchen leading into the main hall. You skip the guest wing and the dining room as he's already familiar. The ballroom at the side of the house opposite the dining room, separated by a large entryway and lobby into the house, the embossed with white and gold designs on the ceiling starting to twinkle in the early morning light that came in through the large window above the front door and the window in the top of the domed ceiling over the entryway. You show him your wing. You elect not to show him your bedrooms, didn't want him getting too friendly too soon or being given the impression that was what this was about. You lead him through your study that serves as an office when needed. You lead him up the metal spiral staircase tucked away behind a large bookshelf that leads to the second floor of your wing. You do a casual peek at your leisure room, some dance, some singing, and music when the mood struck you.

You come to your studio. You're excited and he can read it in your body language, but not much on your face. But as you finally turn to open the door, exposing the large space, large windows with heavy velvet curtains pulled back to let the light in. A circular raised platform in the middle where your stool and an easel, currently holding your work in progress sit. Workbenches across the wall, a desk, fainting couch and room divider placed around the other side of the room. The wooden floor was covered with various colored ornate rugs, with furniture upholstered in various jewel tones. Canvas and tarps propped up against walls, in the far corners of the room, a male and female set of statues stand in recessed sections of the wall.

You stand by the door as he walks into the room, his eyes wide as he studies the currently mostly dark background covered canvas in the room, it was large and called all the attention to itself.

"You painted these?" he asks, his chin pushing into his neck, eyebrows furrowed with curiosity as his hand slices through the air, directing your attention to contents of the room.

"One of my hobbies." you nod proudly.

"Why steal 'em at all if you can just paint them yourself?' he asks in an amused tone, shrugging his shoulders in a huff.

"Not as much fun to have an imitation of the real thing is it?" you answer his seemingly rhetorical question as he comes back to you, not wanting to pry too much into a room of such personal significance to you. He didn't want to show his greed for information about you. He lived in the house now so surely he could find the time to have a look at what was covered from sight in this room.

"S'pose you're right on that, yeah?" he nods with an agreeable face as his hand comes out to show you to lead once again.

Your main discussion over breakfast was your personal garden. Telling him about what was used from it in the meal and what you would be having coming up with the seasons changing. He finds himself not holding his tension in his shoulders for the first time all week. Your voice is soft when you're at home he finds. It's been speaking about things you loved in a sweet tone that had lulled him the entire morning.

Now he's listening to you greet your hives, you spill compliments to them in French, the way you have such a calmness to your actions in the midst of the seeming chaos of movement and noise make a heavy sigh build in his chest. You were a bit hypnotizing, he'd thought when he would watch the way your eyes would go intensely focused and almost command things from their target. They were currently showing the fast way you took in information from sight alone. You're speaking softly to the man in the full netted suit. Your face lights up as you point to another hat and shuffle your way excitedly towards him.

"Don't be shy, Solomons, come introduce yourself." you grin, placing a hat and net on his head. He adjusts it as he follows you towards the source of the buzzing down the path between the numerous short stacks of hives.

"Telly has found a virgin queen and I can't have you miss this." He laughs silently behind you at your enthusiasm as your hand is firmly wrapped around his, tugging him along despite his lack of defiance.

"Virgin queen? Didn't know bees cared about such things." he kids. You snort in response.

"Means she's new." he sees your shoulders moving as you quietly chuckle at him. "She's piping and I want you to see what I meant when I said they sing."

"I remember you saying that, yeah." he nods, eyes wide and now very aware of the buzzing around the opened hive you were approaching. You keep hold of his hand even though you've stopped. You don't even notice in your excitement as it feels natural to do such a thing.

He gives a polite nod of acknowledgment to Telly. "There's the little lady." you coo, touching the bees so delicately with one bare finger, moving them just slightly. He'd never seen someone do such a thing. Who sticks their fingers into a mass of bees? Especially in the fearless, tender way you did.  The difference in the queen and the others was so slight that he wouldn't have noticed if he'd been given hours to look at the vibrating and constantly shifting mass of tiny bodies. He sees first hand now that you really do know what you're talking about with the buzzy buggers. "Look at her go, now she's singing." He can hear the sound. But the pride on your face is what he's really interested in. He hears the intervals of melodic buzzing. Piiiiiiiip - pip-pip-pip. "Her little wings rub together to make the sound. Much like a cricket," you explain softly, looking up at him for a moment while you speak. "Can you hear her?" you ask, still doe-eyed at the bee.

"She's got a lovely voice, Genevieve." he grins as you meet him with a pure, closed mouth smile.

You stand and clasp your hands together, sighing. "I'll get out of your hair, Tel. I know you'll be as busy as they are with new queens." you eyebrows raise and the man nods back at you with a kind expression. "Don't want to scare off Mr. Solomons now do we?" you smirk as you turn to walk out of the fenced area. Once you're at the gate, you take his hat off of him, hanging it on the fence post. "If you're around them enough and they get used to you, you won't have to wear the hat anymore." you explain, turning back to walk down the path to the house.

"Genny and her bees." he hums in amusement. "I'm surprised you allow other queens to share your space." he jokes.

"Well I'm a very gracious ruler, aren't I?" you laugh with a swivel of your chin in jest.

"Very gracious indeed, Genny bee." he says with a nod and a mischievous grin. You felt like you'd be hearing that nickname again from him whether you acknowledged it or not. You let him have his fun. --------------- You are in your study, looking over blueprints for a proposed job. It was late but you weren't going to bed. If you tried you would lie in bed and be thinking about doing this so it was useless. The house has been quiet for some time now. You're in the middle of solving the maze of hallways when you hear a noise shift outside your door and in your focused state you instinctively reach for your gun under your desk and pull it and hold it to the door before you look up to see who is on the other end of your aim. You hear a shuffling noise followed by a clearing of a throat as he rounds the doorframe and into view.

The look he gives you is not immediately of worry as you're used to and the almost offended but still amused look on his face makes you roll your eyes before lowering your gun and laying it on the far side away from him on your desk.

"Lovely to see you as well Genevieve, yeah?" he says in a mocking tone as he holds out his arms and walks towards your desk.

You tilt your head but hold out your hand for him to not come closer and he gives you a puzzled expression. "I was focused and forgot you lived here for a moment. The maids know not to bother me in here." you shrug implying he already knew the rest of how that story played out.

"Right." he says, nodding, chin down, looking at your hand, still unsure of the gestures motive.

"Before you get any closer to this desk I'm going to need a very honest answer to a very serious question." your face loses the amusement at him it held just moments before, now reserved.

"Then a very honest answer you will receive." he nods, moving his hand for you to continue, welcoming the question.

"Are we at a place in our professional and personal relationship where I can allow you to see or know things that are not involved in your personal business affairs and not have to worry about you selling or giving, by any other means, my information to anyone, ever?" you rest your hands back on top of each other, your forearms on your desk.

He nods with a thoughtful face at you, impressed by the many situations your words covered. "You are aware there is a man that is out to kill me, correct?" you push your chin out in reaction to the strange answer.

"Yes, I know that." you narrow your eyes and shake your head in a desire of a more thorough elaboration.

"And you're still letting me stay here in your home, innit ya?" he says, motioning towards the chair in front of your desk. You frown and motion back for him to sit.

"Yeah, I leveled up my security, so? What are you on about?" you command of him, your shoulders slumping.

"I'm a guest in your house, having been personally invited by you, right?" he points his finger at you as his words pass to emphasize it's importance to you specifically. "With this invitation, you knew you were possibly putting yourself in harm's way on my behalf. I don't know what awful things you've heard others say of me and the way I handle my business, but I would like to assure you that I can recognize a debt when I see one and it seems that I am now the one in debt to you, aren't I?" his hands clasped together as he finished speaking, resting on his stomach as he leans back in the plush chair.

Your lips pout as you look away from him to your desk in thought. He was right, it had not occurred to you that he would think about the situation in this way but you were oddly relieved at his mature admission.  

"So just so ya know...ya know." he nods animatedly at you. "With me being here, yeah? You don't have to worry about what I see in this house. Ya just don't, Genevieve. I may be a fuckin' piece of work but I'm not gonna fuck ya over, not when you've done nothin' but right by me since I met ya, yeah?"

You watch him as he speaks. You're surprised that you feel like he's telling the truth. Your previous life experience wants you to reject the notion. "And for my own piece of mind," he says, his hands touching his chest, his tone lighter, "Ya don't have any plans on servin' me up with an apple in me mouth, d'ya?" his eyes blink slowly at you.

"I have no current plans for that, no." you can't help but grin in response.

"Then I'll keep behavin' myself and you keep not killin' me in my sleep and we'll be good as gold, mate." he gives you a flash of a charming smile with a gruff chuckle, full of amusement.

"Then that's the plan." you meet his smile with one of yours you found disarming in hopes to incite the same feeling in him as he was trying to draw from you with his. "Your cooperation as always is very much appreciated and does not go unnoticed." you say with a warm smile and polite nod of punctuation.

"You're very kind, Genevieve, yeah?" he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, "You know that? Not something I expected from ya with the stories I 'eard about ya." his grin returns in full but his eyes are less sentimental.

"Well luckily for me, you just agreed to not tell anyone my secrets so that will just have to stay between you and I, won't it?" you look back down and speak with raised brows and a smug expression, moving your hands across the papers on your desk to smooth them.

His gaze drops after you share a look of agreement. His head tilting and his shoulders relaxed. He clears his throat to speak, "Now it's my back that 's got me up at this late hour." He shifts his weight, now on one arm, resting on the chair. "May I ask what's got you awake or have I gone and interrupted you?" he asks politely.

"No, your intrusion is welcome, Alfie." You reply, your lips pursed and as you went ahead and stacked the papers neatly to look over later. "It's a job I'm thinking about taking. Trying to get a good study of it before I accept or decline. Nothing that interesting to be honest." you half smile, stretching in your large chair, rolling your neck. "I don't need to chance my eyes staying foggy from reading in the low light for this long anyway." you yawn, rubbing your eyes. "Might need to get glasses like yours if I keep up these late hours."

"Oh, you takin' a piss outta my glasses now?" his lip shoots up in a reactionary grin.

"Never." you laugh, shaking your head. "It allows you to wear glasses that also function as jewelry," you state in an obvious but enthusiastic way. "I wouldn't know what hell to give you about them. Seeing as I'm fond of them myself." you shrug and roll up the papers as you speak, your mood back to friendly with ease. "Who has picked on you for your glasses, Alfie?" you say, lowering your head to tease him just slightly. "You're defensive of them. Do I need to go give some rude men a talking to?" you offer with a grin, shutting the papers inside your desk.

"More like rude women if I'm being honest, mate." he says, shaking his head with a small laugh, his hand moving out in the presentation of the joking statement.

"Girls been making fun of your glasses?" you say in a genuinely surprised, higher pitched voice, your elbows are on your desk, your hand to your chest in tandem with your statement.

He nods with his mouth open, brow furrowed as if he's trying to think of where to begin with his thoughts.

"How very rude," you say with a nod of your head to interrupt his thoughts. "Making fun of a man's glasses." you tsk, shaking your head dramatically, seeing his grin slowly build as you carried on your animated task of cheering him up from the idea. "All terrible I'm sure. Self-loathing, projecting, feral mannered tarts." you continue your insults until you begin to laugh at your over the top delivery.

"Not nothin' like you, are they Gen?" his voice is lower than you anticipated but the praise immediately goes to your head and projects itself onto your face loudly.

"I've yet to meet a woman that is." you flash a beaming, pride-filled smile at the statement. A laugh that sounds ill-intentioned bubbles out through your shapely lips.

Pt 11 These Stones Will Shout

[sleeplessinsiswati]

Toxic Masculinity—A Contagious Kind of Pollution

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My bad, I know I’m late.

*grumble and murmuring*

My bad. Look, i said my bad.

*lower murmuring*

Look, in my defense, I had the post locked and loaded on the queue and then my internet went out. Boom. Now can we get on with what we came here for?

_________________________________________________

As you may know about me, bell hooks is one of my favorite authors. She has inspired me, moment after moment and time after time, to grow and love myself and others more wholly and fully.  In her writing she uses a combination of autobiographical, common-sensical language and academic, theoretical research to shed light to the various topics. Here, I will attempt to scratch at the masterpieces of her work, and use both theory and my experience to shed the light of truth concerning what I know about what the world has come to refer to as toxic masculinity.

Your story may be different than mine, but toxic masculinity is something that affects each and every one of us. Let me state again, masculinity is not the issue here; there is nothing wrong with “being a man” or being strong or having power. The issue comes in when notions or ideals of manhood force boys and men to be emotionally unavailable, makes us believe we are not enough as human beings, or encourages us to exploit and take advantage of others in an ultimate quest for power. There’s no way around the reality that this is no way to live, and there is the crux of the argument—living. Most of the things that we come to know and associate with being a “man” and “manhood” have to do with survival. Hunting, fishing, fighting, scanning a room and sizing people up, sports, fitness, taking a hit and not complaining, the list goes on and on. Most of these are guys grasping at straws, trying to get a piece, a bit more power than they had before, in order to survive. But this is not living. 

This is why the first step to growth, and leading a healthier life absent of toxic masculinity, is reflection. You must look over your life, your experiences and genuinely ask are you living or are you surviving. Patriarchy, being a system where men and masculine energy dominate spaces of power or with power and women, children, and weaker men are seen as inferior and vessels willing to be dominated or controlled, makes us believe that survival is the ultimate resource and that there are constant, looming threats to us accomplishing this goal. Though at times this may be true, it is not always true, and if we walk through life always scanning rooms with balled up fists we doom ourselves to early graves filled with bitterness, emotions we’ve never experienced, and a life devoid of love. There is more to life than reliving childhood traumas day in and day out, but that more does not come without being able to reflect and to heal. 

I don’t remember at what point in my childhood I started hating my dad; I know that it was not always that way. There’s a distinctly fond memory I have with him—wrestling my older brother and I, both of us no older than seven at the time, he pinned us down and stood on our chests saying, “ Who’s the man? Who’s the Man?” Gerald and I were half hysterical laughing, half having an asthma attack, and shouting, “ You’re the man! You’re the man!” He laughed saying, “ No, God’s the Man. Say, God’s the Man.” We giggle between gasps, “Okay, God’s the Man!” Mom came on to the scene from the back room of our duplex and looked at Dad with that look that only Black mommas can deliver; we were sorry that we got dad in trouble, but to this day I love that time in my life, I love that memory. 

Perhaps it was the pressures of two lives, two similar personalities, and an age difference spanning over three decades that caused there to be so much friction between us; don’t ask me what the first argument was even about, because I couldn’t tell you. I think that it was the silence that ultimately led to it all. Questions not asked by a son out of fear, and questions left unanswered by a father unaware of the shadow his figure casted. What I do know is that early on in my adolescence I became disillusioned with childhood, with being looked down upon and thought to be foolish, and I know it had a lot to do with Dad and things he said, or how he said them. Something as simple as walking into the room that Gerald and I shared, looking around and making an expression, and finally looking at us and shaking his head was all Dad needed to do to express his disappointment. Honestly I appreciated the silent expressions a lot more than the verbal ones, which seemed to have a back-breakingly painful bite to them. Gerald grew to be calloused and joke about it, but I was raw to it; words more than belts and punishments are what would break my spirit. Around fifth grade I realized that love didn’t really matter, or at least it didn’t mean anything—I loved my dad and he kept smoking cigarettes even after my brother and I begged him to stop; I loved my mom but I couldn’t tell her what I felt about the world because she couldn’t protect me from it; I loved my brother but I felt he constantly belittled me, silenced me, and made me feel like I was stupid (I’m sure he took a few pages from Dad’s book, in this way); I loved myself, or I thought I did, and yet I constantly belittled myself, telling myself that in this world I would have to be stronger. Love could not change anything about life, it just made you feel like you couldn’t even more.

Eventually I gave in to this belief system—years passed and I graduated to full blown “I don’t give a fuck about anything”. I was afraid, powerless and with those tools as weapons I was ready for anything at any time because I felt I had nothing to lose; I felt I had lost so much of my soul already, it wouldn’t matter even if I lost my life. Hotheaded athlete, I knew how to mask my shrewd and heartless demeanor with cool, chauvinistic locker-room thuggery. I acted chill, I wanted to be chill, but in my mind, at any moment I was a shoulder bump away from a full blown “nigga moment”, as so accurately defined in The Boondocks. I was a ticking time bomb, an emotionally unavailable mess all throughout high school, and college was more the same with less of the guard rails.

But before we keep going forward, let’s go back. Black Baton Rouge has become well-known in modern society (before the Alton Sterling murder) for one reason in particular, as far as I am concerned, —Lil Boosie. Now, I’m not talking about “Zoom” or “Wipe Me Down” Lil Boosie, that’s mainstream Boosie. I’m talking “Set It Off”, “Murder Was the Case” Lil Boosie; Boosie that I met that one time at the Mall of Cortana and he said, “Wassup, lil niggas” Lil Boosie. That one. The Boosie BR natives knew growing up was trap before trap was cool. Street, gutta, whatever you want to call it, Black BR loved it and they had to have it. Hell the whole world came to love it, but Baton Rouge had to have it so much that they had to mimic it; kids, even, began to walk with certain swaggers, talking lingos picked up from lyrics. It was a damn masterpiece from a mastermind, and there was no escaping it. The problem though, is what this success for one man meant for many boys (like me and unlike me) growing up in that era. Is being a man being that kind of man? The kind of man in these songs? Why do these boys think less of me because I’m not a “man” like they think they are? Do they know they’re faking?

These were the type of thoughts that got me chin-checked on more than one occasion, questioning what someone saw as their manhood, or them thinking I was calling them soft. I was a huge fan of Dr. King in my younger days, nonviolence and all, but I made up in my mind after one good fight that Dr. King must have never been to Scotlandville, Baton Rouge, a day in his life, and that was that for nonviolence as a way of life in my mind. In a classic case of if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them, I entered the wade pool of cool poses and posturizing. If a scrap came I didn’t think twice about it, and I was willing to take whatever bruises and lumps came with it from the school or the fight. Not like I was built or raise for all’lat, but didn’t seem like there was much other option. 

Now let’s press play, back at the start of my university academic career. I had finally made it to the platform where I wanted to be—college freshman, class president, track team, chapel assistant, so on and so forth. And the shit felt as plastic as a maxed out credit card. The aggression, the fight that I had come to know and hate and love—for all its pain and all  its suffering, I missed it; it was home, my home. Not much more than a self-righteous leader already, I quickly threw off the mask of who people wanted me to be as the smart, politically correct leader after freshman year, and allowed my passions to roam freely. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, for no reason other than I wanted to. 

It wasn’t until I nearly lost my opportunities to continue my studies and was threatened with the potential for never finishing undergrad, that I sat down and contemplated what went wrong, and why. It was then that I had to take a journey through my mind, into my past and confront the decisions I made, the reasons I made them, and the consequences of those actions. It was here that I discovered and acknowledged the pain in my past. The memories of desperately wanting the approval of my father, and simultaneously being pained by not living up to his seemingly impossible expectations; Times where he seemed to be emotionally unavailable hurt me more than any belt whooping ever could; fleeting thoughts of being silenced or crying inconsolably from feelings of inferiority or brokenness. From these starting points I came to resent the presentation of manhood before me in my father, and the power that came with it, with hoping to one day overcome (or overpower) it by whatever means necessary. That bitterness spilled over into other systems of power and I came to resent almost all, if not all, forms of leadership. Being on the lower rungs of the power dynamic at home and the frustration that came with it did not get any better in the world beyond those four wals; I was short, readily referred to as “nappy-headed”, and emotionally vulnerable. The ego bruises and self-esteem damage I received from early on in my public school career led me to believe that I had to become someone powerful, or to have power, in order to not be disrespected. This belief would haunt me from the moment of its beginning up to this very day. 

Once I realized this, and I was able to accept that for the vast majority of my life I had been living in my past burdened by unforgivness, that I had not been the person I really wanted to be, I began a journey of learning to become for the first time. It was exciting being able to unlearn ways in which I had limited my own humanity for fear of not being perceived as manly or displaying some form of power, but it has also been very painful at times. Admitting to yourself the damage that you have done to others, the damage you have done to yourself, and the damage that has been done to you is not easy. There are people who to this day I feel I owe apologies to, for things that I said or ways that I treated them, Black women in particular; for the sake of recovering acknowledgement I didn’t receive in my youth but desperately wanted, I took advantage emotionally of women who otherwise loved me, cared for me, and wanted to see the both of us to succeed. Some people, most people, are afraid to look into their pasts and examine the truth of their actions because they do not want to face that there may be consequences to their actions; even towards themselves there is unforgivness and bitterness. The truth is, without confronting our past we are bound by them and they have power over us. Only by being able to non-judgementally examine our actions, accept that they were wrong, and pay whatever toll to move forward, can we begin our journey of healing. 

Even I was afraid to begin my journey of unlearning toxic masculinity thinking that I may be vulnerable to the world and it’s threats, but I have come to find my wife and best friend, a life of love and laughter and carefree living, and wholeness through this adventure of learning. Yes, I am now more likely to cry in public and yes I share my feelings more with others, but I now see that instead of living a life silencing parts of who I am and distorting other parts of me to seem more angry or more threatening than I feel, I can just…be. 

And that, for me, is enough. 

Pain is universal: we all experience it, feel it, and suffer. But the only thing equally as universal, and infinitely more powerful is the healing from that pain; that healing is love. I challenge you to ask what ways has toxic masculinity been a part of your life, and then challenge your self to live a more whole, more alive life. Only by ending this vicious cycle can we stop the pollution of toxic masculinity, and breathe the fresh air of self-acceptance, self-love, and truly show our love for others. 

Peace.

[pocket-luv101]

I love Licht’s parents and I wanted to write more of them. This is a mini sequel to [this] and I have another fanfic where Hyde speaks with his mother [here]

“Welcome to Japan, Mr. and Mrs. Todoroki! Let me take your luggage.” Hyde said politely to Licht’s parents and took the luggage from his father. He handed them to Gil and instructed him to take it to their hotel room. The Todoroki family was on the rare vacation together and Hyde wanted to make a good impression on his boyfriend’s parents. His first meeting with his parents didn’t go well but he wanted to gain their blessing. He knew how important family was to Licht.  

“You’re just going to dump our luggage on your mascots after you said you’ll take them yourself? If you say you’re going to do something, complete that task with your own two hands.” Licht’s father gave him a piercing glare but Hyde told himself not to be discouraged. He was nothing if not confident and persistent. He brushed off his cold comment with a friendly smile.  

“It’s late and you two must be tired after that long flight. I know Licht gets terrible jet lag. How about you two go and rest for the night? Kranz already booked our rooms.” Hyde took the key card out of his pocket and gave it to the man. He spoke excitedly as they walked to their rooms. “I’m planning to show you around Japan and then we’ll go to Nezumi Sea. I worked part time as a tour guide once so I know a lot of cool places. It’s going to be a great day.”

“Licht mentioned that you work part time jobs because you moved around a lot. Are you the frivolous type who can’t commit himself to anything?” His assessing eyes told Hyde that he would judge his response harshly no matter what he said. He tried to maintain his confident grin and shook his head.  

In the corner of his eyes, he searched for Licht and hoped he would save him from his father. But he was busy chatting happily with his mother. Licht looked so excited to speak to her again that he couldn’t interrupt their conversation. So, he continued. “I travelled the world and Licht is the most mesmerizing person I’ve met in a long time. I’m going to cherish him.”

“You want me to believe an eighteen year old boy has the means to travel the world? Did you also tell my son that lie to impress him?” Hyde fumbled to find a believable answer to give the man. He couldn’t tell him the truth and say he was an immortal vampire that got by on part time jobs. That would only give him more reasons to disapprove their relationship.  

The rest of their conversation didn’t improve and Hyde was utterly defeated by the end. They eventually reached their separate hotel rooms and he decided to give up for the night. He would have to think of a way to gain his approval tomorrow. Hyde entered his room and walked straight to his bed. He collapsed face first onto the mattress and screamed his frustration into his pillow.

Once he was finished, Hyde rolled onto his back and took out his phone. He wanted to hear Licht’s voice before he went to sleep. They decided that it was best to stay in separate rooms while they were on vacation with his parents. Everything became better when Licht answered. “What is it, Shit Rat? I was about to take a shower.”

“Can I join you? I’m pretty stealthy so your father won’t even notice if I sneaked into your room.” Hyde chuckled when Licht bluntly rejected the idea. Though, he felt more somber at the mention of his father. “I don’t see why your old man hates me so much. I would be a great son in law. Your mom likes me.”

“My mom likes everyone. She doesn’t discriminate against demons. Mom says demons are only fallen angels after all. I still think demons should be purified.” Hyde imagined Licht making his angel pose and smiled to himself. “My father has a bad impression of you. There’s no helping it. The first time he met you, he walked in on us. It doesn’t help that you’re a demon too.”

“There has to be something I can do to make him like me!” Hyde groaned and rubbed his temple. “I wish I could hold you right now. This is the first time I’m sleeping without you in a while. I forgot how lonely it was. Are you sure I can’t sneak over to your room and cuddle?”

“It’s finally quiet now that you’re not here.” Licht wouldn’t admit that it was almost too quiet without him. Their rooms were right next to each other so they weren’t far apart yet Licht missed him slightly. He thought he could get more work done with Hyde in the next room but he couldn’t focus on anything. His mind would always drift back to Hyde.

“Hey, Lichtan, you wanna play a game?” Hyde’s proposal made Licht curious and he agreed. “What are you wearing, Angel Cakes?”

“You saw me five minutes ago so you should know what I’m wearing, Stupid Hedgehog. Black hoodie and white jeans.” He was honestly confused with Hyde’s game. How could naming clothes be a fun game? On the other end, Hyde burst into a fit of laughter.  

“My pure Angel-chan, that’s not how you play the game.” Hyde shook his head but lips curved into a smile. “What are you wearing beneath all that?”

“You want me to talk about my socks? I know you’re a demon but you have some weird kinks. If you want to see what I’m wearing, go onto your balcony.” Licht ended the call with that order. Hyde didn’t fully understand what he meant but he went to his balcony. He opened the glass door and walked outside. He glanced around his balcony and found his angel waiting for him.

Licht was standing on his own balcony. Their rooms were right next to each other so Hyde could easily jump onto his balcony. He was tempted to do so but Licht stopped him. He gestured for him to stay and leaned against the rail. “We both know that if you come to my room, you won’t leave. I want to work on a composition tonight and you’ll distract me.”

“Please? I need someone to comfort me after the verbal beating your father has given me.” He leaned against the rail and reached over to stroke his dark hair. Licht placed his hand over Hyde’s and his eyes softened at his light touch. He turned his face to kiss his palm softly and said.

“There’s your comfort, Hedgehog. Stop worrying about what my father thinks of us because I’m the one you’re dating. If I ever decide to break up with you, my dad’s opinion isn’t going to be the reason I leave you. It’ll be your weird sock kink that drives me away.”

“I don’t have a sock kink!” Hyde pouted and Licht found himself laughing at his expression. Hearing his laugh, Hyde relaxed and chuckled as well. “I love you, Licht. Anything important to you is important to me as well. That’s why I really want your father to approve of us. I’ll find a way to do that so don’t worry about anything!”

“You’re the one worrying about something so pointless.” Licht lowered Hyde’s hand. He didn’t let him go and held Hyde’s hands between them. “Stop trying to act like the perfect son in law and let him know the greedy demon I fell in love with. I don’t want to see you being stupid tomorrow. If you do, I’m drowning you at Nezumi Sea.”

“You always say that but I’m still here.” Hyde grinned. He drew Licht closer so he could kiss him briefly. He reluctantly pulled away from him. He wanted to stay with Licht longer but he knew he had to get back to work. “We might be sleeping in separate rooms but I still want my goodnight kiss. Don’t stay up too late, Angel Cakes.”

Hyde couldn’t fall asleep and listened to the clock tick. He sighed and wondered if Licht was still awake as well. Between the late hour and the long plane ride, he guessed that Licht was probably sleeping. He didn’t want to think that he needed Licht more than he needed him. He sat up in his bed and pushed the blanket off his body.

Licht did tell him to reach for what he wanted. Right now, Hyde wanted nothing more than to simply lay next to him. He could easily sneak into his room with his hedgehog form. With that thought, he transformed into a hedgehog and slipped onto the balcony. He was about to jump onto Licht’s balcony when he noticed that there were people there.

He peaked through the bars and he saw that it was Licht and his father. Hyde didn’t want to interrupt them in case they were speaking about something private. He stopped when he heard Licht say his name. “Why don’t you want me to date Hyde? You’ve always let me make my own decisions because you trusted me. I love and respect you, dad, but I’m not going to break up with him if you ask me to.”

“I never asked you to break up with him. You were right when you said that I didn’t want you to date him. I spent months listening to you complain about him and then you suddenly tell me you two started dating. After speaking with him, I think he’s still the demon you told me about when you two first met. What changed that made you fall in love with him?”

“Looking back, he hasn’t changed much. He’s still loud, annoying and obnoxious. I have to kick some sense into him every other week. He’ll act like a crybaby over the tiniest thing and it’ll take forever to get him to stop whining. Sometimes, I wonder why I fell in love with him myself.” Hyde felt a little disheartened but then Licht went on.

“He showed me what he is beneath all that. Hyde’s sensitive and scared. But he was able to move forward and fight with me when I needed him. How can I not fall in love with him after that? I know he’s going to stay by my side no matter what and that’s where I want him— beside me. I understand if you don’t like him at first but give him a chance.”

“You’re too independent and stubborn to care what I think of your boyfriend so why are you going through all the trouble of telling me this?”

“He’s trying to be a son in law you’ll like. The Shit Rat got it in his head that he needs your blessing and he’s going about it in the most annoying way. I think it’s illogical but he thinks it’s important. What’s important to him is important to me.” Licht repeated what Hyde had said earlier that night. He smiled slightly and said, “You might find there’s more to him like I did.”

“You have your mother’s smile and soft heart. I don’t want anyone to take those things from you. But if you think Hyde is the one for you, I’ll give him a chance tomorrow.” His father gave in.

“Can you not tell him that I talked to you about this? I just know that drama queen will make a big deal out of it.” Licht could only imagine how he would react if he overheard their conversation.

Not far from them, Hyde was blushing furiously. It was rare for Licht to be so open with his feelings. His heart swelled and he wanted nothing more than to hug him. But Licht was speaking with his father about his upcoming tour. He told himself to wait before he teased Licht about the conversation and went back to his room.

I took the weekend to rest my hand so I hope you enjoy the break from my spam XD It might take a while to get the requests all typed up so here’s a small fanfic I meant to post earlier. 

[kasiopeiae]

Mind the Ferns

[shaevira]

For my 55k post I will post my au one shot prompt that’s slightly tweaked for freezerburn . it went a lot different in my head and was a lot sweeter lmao oh well.(also lol @ my attempts to be funny) i also havent written in forever so SHRUGS excuse my shitty writing lmao

words: 2.2k

prompt: Everything is in black and white until you meet your soulmate.

“How did you even meet him again?” Weiss yelled, as she just nearly missed bumping into a different stranger for the 5th time in one day.

Weiss was being pulled through a crowd, almost unwillingly as she was drug behind her best friend, Pyrrha Nikos to a rowdy concert - or was it a battle of the bands? Weiss couldn’t exactly remember as her ear drums were in the process of being blown out by the band currently playing. Either way, loud music and thinking quietly to oneself was on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

To her luck, Pyrrha heard her question - “We met at a festival like this one! We just bumped into each other and boom! Color - just like that!” Pyrrha exclaimed loudly. For a prim and proper duo the two knew how to make themselves heard.

Weiss groaned. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to feel left out. Even if she had just been invited to this screamfest.

But in this case she was, because she couldn’t say ‘no’ to her best friend. Her best friend who had found their soulmate. Her best friend who now had the privilege of being able to see color. As long as she was around her soulmate of course.

As for Weiss, everything remained black and white. Literally.

Weiss had money, lots of it. She could buy anything she wanted.

What she could not buy was true love; the satisfaction of seeing everything and anything for how it truly was.

Her whole world, just like every other soulmate less person out there - was dim.

“Oh! They’re on next!” Pyrrha clapped together her hands in excitement. Pyrrha’s tall and demanding demeanor had managed to get them to the front of the crowd and to where the railings blocked them off from the stage.

A girl with dark toned hair walked on stage. If Weiss didn’t know any better black and white was this chicks aesthetic already. How cliche. Behind her followed two scraggly looking dudes. One had his shirt opened, his washboard abs rippling in the light and the other looked awkward and out of place.

Pyrrha’s Soulmate.

There was one more person to follow behind - she carried drumsticks and lifted them in the air as she posed and grinned. Her light toned long mane flowed behind her and she banged her head; this riled up the crowd who began to cheer loudly. She posed once more, this time flexing to show off how ripped she was before taking her seat at the drum set.

Pyrrha’s soulmate picked up a bass, while the washboard guy picked up a guitar. The slender black and white aesthetic figure took place on mic.

“I’m Blake Belladonna and we are the Bleeding Banshees!” She raised a fist in the air, before clutching onto the mic as if it were a desperate lover.

As soon as these words were said the crowd screamed loudly and the singing - or well - screaming in this case began.

Weiss groaned and pretended to be just as excited as Pyrrha for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. The music was just too much. But if there was one person that kept Weiss’s attention was the girl on the drumset who was dramatically lip syncing along in the back and making horrid faces while doing so. Weiss had to keep herself from bursting out in laughter for several songs.

Soon enough the screaming was over and Pyrrha had once more dragged Weiss off to meet the band. Blake had been kind enough to give them V.I.P passes. How Pyrrha met and befriended this lot of people will always remain a mystery to Weiss.

Weiss and Pyrrha slipped backstage as another band passed them getting ready to start the next gig.

They were soon greeted by three out of four of the band members. Soulmate, Aesthetic, and Abs had come out to meet them. But not, what Weiss liked to call her, Facial Horror.

“Pyrrha!” Soulmate had called out to her before embracing her in his arms.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha grinned and hugged him back.

Oh, right. Jaune. That was his name. Weiss was happy that Pyrrha finally found her soulmate, but at the same time - she was envious. For a variety of reasons. She did not care enough to keep his name in mind.

Pulling out of the embrace Jaune noted Weiss. “Who’s uhh, your pale friend?”

“Excuse me? I’m not pale!” Weiss retorted.

“Hate to say it, but you are pretty pale.” Aesthetic commented, as she seemed to be holding hands with Abs.

Weiss glared at the other couple now. So she was surrounded by people who could see color, but she couldn’t? Who had found their soulmates, and she hadn’t?

She felt a sense of exclusion.

Before Weiss could say anything, Pyrrha cut in before anything could truly escalate. “Weiss, this is Blake, Sun and Jaune. Everyone, this is Weiss.” She had pointed to everyone respectively, as they gave a simple hand gesture back.

“Where’s…?” Pyrrha looked around, Weiss had mentally asked herself the same question that Pyrrha was obviously about to ask.

“Oh, Yang? She opted out. She said she didn’t want to fifth wheel.” Sun commented.

“So, I’m going to be the fifth wheel then?” Weiss raised an eyebrow in discontent.

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come. She may change her mind if she know she’s not the only one.” Blake pulled out a cellphone and put it to her ear.

“Weiss, you haven’t found a soulmate then?” Jaune questioned.

Weiss had half a mind to groan and ask if that was rhetorical question, but instead politely shook her head no.

“Well, you’re in luck then! Yang doesn’t have one either. At least you two will have something in common!” Jaune grinned.

Weiss ultimately decided that Jaune was a special kind of idiot. How the universe decided him and Pyrrha should get together was beyond her.

“Yang’s in. Surprisingly.” Blake said as she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

“What’s she up to now?” Sun asked.

“She’s just putting away her things and she’ll be here in a second.” Blake paused before starting up again. “Hey, there’s this bar down the street we can walk to. You guys mind if we go there tonight?” Blake turned towards the group.

Everyone nodded in agreement. As they had, Yang had run up to the group.

“Aww, you guys didn’t leave without me! What a good group of friends!” Yang wrapped her arms around the shoulders of Blake and Sun shoving her way in between them.

“Of course not. We were thinking about going to that new bar just down the road, you in?” Blake turned her head towards Yang.

“Duh, you already asked.” Yang pulled away now shrugging and putting her arms behind her head. “But uhh...who’s the odd-man out?”

“You mean Weiss?” Pyrrha questioned.

“We-who?” Yang commented, almost in a confused manner.

“I’m right here, you big brute.” Weiss scowled.

“You’re so short! I didn’t see you there.” Yang grinned widely. “Hmm. Big brute. That should be the name of our next song! Thanks Princess.”

Weiss, definitely groaned while the group laughed at her displeasure. How did she get into this mess of a group? Weiss could only hope alcohol would be her systems soon enough.

It didn’t take long for the six man group to make their way to the bar. The walk was one that Weiss had mostly spaced out on. She only heard bits of the chatter which was mostly between Sun, Blake, Jaune, and Pyrrha. Yang messed around on her phone while taking occasional, and very obvious glances at Weiss.

They arrived at the bar and luckily for them, they had been recognized by the owners and given sitting very quickly.

The chatter between the group became more disparaging for the likes of Weiss and Yang. The talk of soulmates and what new color they all had discovered or whichever one was their favorite was something that Weiss and Yang could not relate to.

The more their talk grew the more Weiss and Yang shot down alcohol.

Yang seemed to have had enough and tossed some peanuts at Weiss.

“What the hell, Yang?” Weiss slightly slurred as she had clearly seen Yang take that action.

“You wanna get outta here?” Yang asked - she seemed to handle her alcohol well.

Weiss sighed and nodded. She paid her due and hopped of the stool following behind a very upright Yang.

The cold night air hit them in the face as they both took a deep breath, in near unison.

“That fucking sucked.” Yang laughed as they started their walk.

“No shit. All that lovey dovey bullshit. Colors! Soulmates! Fuck them!” Weiss was inebriated. “It’s not fair! They get all of that and what do I get? A fucking multi-million dollar company.” Weiss scoffed, she made wild motions with her hands and her tone of voice went in and out with emotion.

Yang let out another laugh.

“My dad! He fuckin tried to help me - bless his fuckin’ soul - by putting on a ‘let’s fuckin’ handshake Weiss’ charity to see if you’re the one! Do you wanna know how many sweaty boys I shook hands with that day? Three hundred. Three fucking hundred and NOT A SINGLE ONE MY SOULMATE. We raised a lot of money for charity, but me? I’m still a single fuck while Pyrrha get’s Captain idiot and the abs aesthetic brigade!” Weiss had gone on a full out tirade.

Yang was completely lost in laughter. Yang was tipsy, but she wasn’t gone like Weiss was.

“You know, maybe you’re looking for the wrong gender.” Yang teased.

“Fuck, you think? Maybe if I start touching girls butts I might GET SOMEWHERE.”

Yang snorted down another fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny Yang! Don’t you feel lonely too?!”

Yang stopped her laughter and put on a straight face. “Well, yeah...but watching you say everything I wish I could say makes me feel a lot better. In a sense, I’m not alone. Because you feel exactly the way I do.” Yang kicked at the ground. “In the end I’ve accepted that maybe it’ll never be for me, you know?”

Weiss grabbed the bigger girl by the shoulders and shook her wildly. “You can’t say dumb things like that Yang!” Weiss yelled then pulled away, and covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to puke.” she muttered.

Yang put her hand on Weiss’s shoulder, Weiss turned her head to look at Yang and both girls paused.

“Your eyes...they’re…” before Weiss could say anything she puked all over the ground in front of her.

Yang knew what she was about to say. As Yang could see it too.

Yang had let Weiss finish her business before picking her up and carrying her safely back to their hotel room.

--

The the next morning Weiss woke up with a headache. Everything was in black and white once more.

“Heard you had a rough night.” Pyrrha winked as she squeezed her hair dry with a towel.

“I had the craziest dream I could see in color.” Weiss muttered.

“How do dreams like that even work?” Pyrrha chuckled before returning to the restroom to finish drying her hair.

A light knock could be heard on their door.

“I’ll get it.” Weiss muttered loudly and shuffled her way to the door. When did she put on PJS? She shook her head.

She opened the door and it was none other than Yang Xiao Long.

“Hey.” Yang nervously smiled.

“Hey Yang..” Weiss hadn’t the slightest clue what she was here for.

“I came to see if you were okay, how are you feeling, I brought you these I thought you might like them and..” Yang seemed to spurt out words at a mile a minute all of a sudden as she shoved flowers into Weiss’s arms and pulled back immediately. What happened to the cool nonchalant girl from last night?

“Whoa, whoa..slow down..what are these for…?” Weiss had trouble keeping up as she rubbed her head.

“Can I show you?” Yang cautiously asked.

“Where are you going to -” Before Weiss could finish her sentence her lips were sealed by others. Yang’s.

But Weiss didn’t pull away. Not immediately at least. “Yang what was tha-” she paused, her eyes widened. Suddenly everything was filled with color.

Yang’s lavender eyes stared at her cautiously. Her bright yellow mane flowed behind her as she adjusted her black leather jacket. A small bead of sweat ran down the side of her bronzed neck. There was a small tint of red on Yang’s cheeks, almost unnoticeable but to Weiss everything was so bright. So colorful. Yang was the only thing currently colored, but she shone bright like the Sun.

“Yesterday, when I was carrying you back...It was the most amazing thing just looking at you. You were beautiful and for once I knew what it was like and I just wanted that feeling again...and I..I want that feeling to last forever.” Yang gave a sheepish grin, she wiped the sweat off of her neck and looked at Weiss expectedly.

“It wasn’t a dream?” Weiss muttered. “I’m stuck with the Facial Horror?” Weiss’s eyes widened as she stared at the ground. The red carpeted ground.

“Facial Horror? Wow, Weiss! That’s a really good song name too! First Big Brute and then Facial Horror! Maybe you should join our band!” Yang grinned.

[englishchinesetranslations]

Authored by Pepe Escobar via The Asia Times,

With a Russia-China-Iran triple bitch slap on the hegemon, we now have a brand new geopolitical chessboard...

It took 18 years after Shock and Awe unleashed on Iraq for the Hegemon to be mercilessly shocked and awed by a virtually simultaneous, diplomatic Russia-China one-two.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov (L) meets Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi (R) in Beijing, China on March 23, 2021. Photo: Russian Foreign Ministry/Handout/Anadolu Agency

How this is a real game-changing moment cannot be emphasized enough; 21st century geopolitics will never be the same again.

Yet it was the Hegemon who first crossed the diplomatic Rubicon. The handlers behind hologram Joe “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Nance” Biden had whispered in his earpiece to brand Russian President Vladimir Putin as a soulless “killer” in the middle of a softball interview.

Not even at the height of the Cold War the superpowers resorted to ad hominem attacks. The result of such an astonishing blunder was to regiment virtually the whole Russian population behind Putin – because that was perceived as an attack against the Russian state.

Then came Putin’s cool, calm, collected – and quite diplomatic – response, which needs to be carefully pondered. These sharp as a dagger words are arguably the most devastatingly powerful five minutes in the history of post-truth international relations.

In For Leviathan, it’s so cold in Alaska, we forecasted what could take place in the US-China 2+2 summit at a shabby hotel in Anchorage, with cheap bowls of instant noodles thrown in as extra bonus.

China’s millennial diplomatic protocol establishes that discussions start around common ground – which are then extolled as being more important than disagreements between negotiating parties. That’s at the heart of the concept of “no loss of face”. Only afterwards the parties discuss their differences.

Yet it was totally predictable that a bunch of amateurish, tactless and clueless Americans would smash those basic diplomatic rules to show “strength” to their home crowd, distilling the proverbial litany on Taiwan, Hong Kong, South China Sea, “genocide” of Uighurs.

Oh dear. There was not a single State Dept. hack with minimal knowledge of East Asia to warn the amateurs you don’t mess with the formidable head of the Foreign Affairs Commission at the CCP’s Central Committee, Yang Jiechi, with impunity.

Visibly startled, but controlling his exasperation, Yang Jiechi struck back. And the rhetorical shots were heard around the whole Global South.

They had to include a basic lesson in manners:

“If you want to deal with us properly, let’s have some mutual respect and do things the right way”.

But what stood out was a stinging, concise diagnostic blending history and politics:

The United States is not qualified to talk to China in a condescending manner. The Chinese people will not accept that. It must be based on mutual respect to deal with China, and history will prove that those who seek to strangle China will suffer in the end.

And all that translated in real time by young, attractive and ultra-skilled Zhang Jing – who inevitably became an overnight superstar in China, reaping an astonishing 400 million plus hits on Weibo.

The incompetence of the “diplomatic” arm of the Biden-Harris administration beggars belief. Using a basic Sun Tzu maneuver, Yang Jiechi turned the tables and voiced the predominant sentiment of the overwhelming majority of the planet. Stuff your unilateral “rules-based order”. We, the nations of the world, privilege the UN charter and the primacy of international law.

So this is what the Russia-China one-two achieved almost instantaneously: from now on, the Hegemon should be treated, all across the Global South with, at best, disdain.

An inevitable historical process

Pre-Alaska, the Americans went on a charming offensive in Japan and South Korea for “consultations”. That’s irrelevant. What matters is post-Alaska, and the crucial Sergey Lavrov-Wang Yi meeting of Foreign Ministers in Guilin.

Lavrov, always unflappable, clarified in an interview with Chinese media how the Russia-China strategic partnership sees the current US diplomatic train wreck:

As a matter of fact, they have largely lost the skill of classical diplomacy. Diplomacy is about relations between people, the ability to listen to each other, to hear one another and to strike a balance between competing interests. These are exactly the values ​​that Russia and China are promoting in diplomacy.

The inevitable consequence is that Russia-China must “consolidate our independence: “The United States has declared limiting the advance of technology in Russia and China as its goal. So, we must reduce our exposure to sanctions by strengthening our technological independence and switching to settlements in national and international currencies other than the dollar. We need to move away from using Western-controlled international payment systems.”

Russia-China have clearly identified, as Lavrov pointed out, how the “Western partners” are “promoting their ideology-driven agenda aimed at preserving their dominance by holding back progress in other countries. Their policies run counter to the objective international developments and, as they used to say at some point, are on the wrong side of history. The historical process will come into its own, no matter what happens.”

As a stark presentation of an inevitable “historical process”, it doesn’t get more crystal clear than that. And predictably, it didn’t take time for the “Western partners” to fall back into – what else – their same old sanction bag of tricks.

Here we go again: a US, UK, EU, Canada “alliance” sanctioning selected Chinese officials because, in Blinken’s words, “the PRC [People’s Republic of China] continues to commit genocide and crimes against humanity in Xinjiang.”

The EU, UK, and Canada didn’t have the guts to sanction a key player: Xinjiang party chief Chen Quanguo, who’s a Politburo member. The Chinese response would have been – economically – devastating.

Still, Beijing counterpunched with its own sanctions – targeting, crucially, the German far-right evangelical nut posing as “scholar” who produced the bulk of the completely debunked “proof” of a million Uighurs held in concentration camps.

Once again, the “Western partners” are impermeable to logic. Adding to the already appalling state of EU-Russia relations, Brussels chooses to also antagonize China based on a single fake dossier, playing right into the Hegemon’s not exactly secret Divide and Rule agenda.

Mission (nearly) accomplished: Brussels diplomats tell me the EU Parliament is all but set to refuse to ratify the China-EU trade deal painstakingly negotiated by Merkel and Macron. The consequences will be immense.

So Blinken will have reasons to be cheerful when he meets assorted eurocrats and NATO bureaucrats this week, ahead of the NATO summit.

One has to applaud the gall of the “Western partners”. It’s 18 years since Shock and Awe – the start of the bombing, invasion and destruction of Iraq. It’s 10 years since the start of the total destruction of Libya by NATO and its GCC minions, with Obama-Biden “leading from behind”. It’s 10 years since the start of the savage destruction of Syria by proxy – complete with jihadis disguised as “moderate rebels”.

Yet now the “Western partners” are so mortified by the plight of Muslims in Western China.

At least there are some cracks within the EU illusionist circus. Last week, the French Armed Forces Joint Reflection Circle (CRI) – in fact an independent think tank of former high officers – wrote a startling open letter to cardboard NATO secretary-general Stoltenberg de facto accusing him of behaving as an American stooge with the implementation of NATO 2030 plan. The French officers drew the correct conclusion: the US/NATO combo is the main cause of appalling relations with Russia.

These Ides of March

Meanwhile, sanctions hysteria advance like a runaway train. Biden-Harris has already threatened to impose extra sanctions on Chinese oil imports from Iran. And there’s more in the pipeline – on manufacturing, technology, 5G, supply chains, semiconductors.

And yet nobody is trembling in their boots. Right on cue with Russia-China, Iran has stepped up the game, with Ayatollah Khamenei issuing the guidelines for Tehran’s return to the JCPOA.

1. The US regime is in no position to make new demands or changes regarding the nuclear deal.

2. The US is weaker today than when the JCPOA was signed.

3. Iran is in a stronger position now. If anyone can impose new demands it’s Iran and not the US.

And with that we have a Russia-China-Iran triple bitch slap on the Hegemon.

In our latest conversation/interview, to be released soon in a video + transcript package, Michael Hudson – arguably the world’s top economist – hit the heart of the matter:

The fight against China, the fear of China is that you can’t do to China, what you did to Russia. America would love for there to be a Yeltsin figure in China to say, let’s just give all of the railroads that you’ve built, the high-speed rail, let’s give the wealth, let’s give all the factories to individuals and let the individuals run everything and, then we’ll lend them the money, or we’ll buy them out and then we can control them financially. And China’s not letting that happen. And Russia stopped that from happening. And the fury in the West is that somehow, the American financial system is unable to take over foreign resources, foreign agriculture. It is left only with military means of grabbing them as we are seeing in the near East. And you’re seeing in the Ukraine right now.

To be continued. As it stands, we should all make sure that the Ides of March – the 2021 version – have already configured a brand new geopolitical chessboard. The Russia-China Double Helix on high-speed rail has left the station – and there’s no turning back.

[bountyofbeads]

THE NATIONAL INTEREST 

Impeachment Exposed Trump’s Authoritarian Ambitions

By Jonathan Chait | Published February 05, 2020 | New York Magazine | Posted February 06, 2020 |

One of the few live debates of the Trump era between intellectuals who remain on speaking terms is whether Donald Trump poses a real danger to the republic. His election spurred a burst of warnings from democracy scholars that Trump fits at least an early pattern of “democratic backsliding,” in which populist authoritarians would lead previously healthy democracies into dictatorship (or something closer to it). This warning — the most influential of which was How Democracies Die, by Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt — was met with skepticism from both the far left and the center-right. Even some conservative Trump critics, like Ross Douthat and Bret Stephens, insist the Republic remains safe from Trump’s predations, due to a combination of his own ineptitude or restraints imposed by his fellow partisans.

But his rapid defeat of impeachment charges is a flashing red light. It is not mainly the final verdict, which has seemed inevitable for weeks, that should concern supporters of democracy. It is the entire sham process, which seemed to ratify Trump’s command of his party and encourage his belief in untrammeled power. The Trump who emerges vindicated from his trial is a dangerous man. The behavior of the president and his party should make this more clear to those who have denied it.

When the Ukraine scandal was first exposed in September, it shared important traits with presidential scandals that have come before (Watergate, Iran-Contra, and Bill Clinton’s affair): Both parties agreed the alleged conduct was serious and wrong. While many Republicans denied that Trump had withheld aid and a meeting to pressure Ukraine to investigate his opponents, but at first, very few of them defended such behavior. Lindsey Graham said, “If you could show me that Trump actually was engaging in a quid pro quo, outside the phone call, that would be very disturbing”; Steve Doocy — Steve Doocy! — said, “If the president said, ‘I will give you the money, but you have got to investigate Joe Biden,’ that is really off-the-rails wrong.”

Nixon’s misconduct was revealed, and he resigned. Ronald Reagan was never shown to have ordered the covert arms sale and aid to the contras, but apologized for failing to stop his subordinates from doing it, cleaned house, and was not impeached. Clinton apologized, was impeached anyway, but stayed in office.

Trump’s scandal has followed a novel track. The quid pro quo scenario that most Republicans initially said would be totally unacceptable has been borne out. But unlike Clinton and Reagan, Trump offered no apology, and unlike Nixon, his party did not abandon him. Trump managed a feat his predecessors (who were far more popular) could not, and probably would not have dreamed possible: to redefine his misconduct as acceptable, even “perfect.”

A handful of Republican senators did concede Trump’s behavior was less than perfect. But the two decisive votes, Lisa Murkowski and Lamar Alexander, also concluded that since they had decided not to convict, they would block any further evidence that would discomfit their Republican colleagues who refused to admit Trump had even committed the acts he was accused of. And so Trump can walk away insisting his actions were perfect, and the Senate has vindicated him, while dismissing as irrelevant testimony that proves he is lying. The handful who agree Trump is lying decided to cooperate in a cover-up that will enable him to sustain the lie.

The key development in Trump’s defense turned out to be his legal team’s introduction of the audacious argument that “abuse of power” is not an impeachable offense. The legal reasoning allowed Trump’s softest supporters among the Senate Republican caucus to find their way to the conclusion that more evidence would be unnecessary. After all, since abuse of power is not a crime, it simply doesn’t matter how thoroughly Democrats prove it.

Before the impeachment trial, hardly anybody endorsed this novel constitutional doctrine, which had the idiosyncratic support of Alan Dershowitz. (Dershowitz argued that even if Trump allowed Russia to occupy Alaska, he could not be impeached, an extreme scenario that ought to have illustrated the absurdity of his logic.) But as Republicans embraced it out of sheer necessity, the idea that a president can only be impeached over clear illegality, and not the abuse of legal powers, quickly gained wide acceptance. “It isn’t legitimate to toss a President from office because the House thinks otherwise legal acts were done with ‘corrupt motives,’”  editorialized the influential Wall Street Journal. The Journal and Dershowitz did not say a president can commit crimes, but they did say he can use any formal powers afforded the office in any way he sees fit.

This is an argument that would enable almost limitless abuse. Presidents could not only dangle aid to foreign countries in return for investigations of their opponents, they could do the same with domestic aid. (Want that disaster aid, governor? Let’s talk about an endorsement, or maybe an investigation into my opponent’s “corruption.”) They could offer pardons in advance to allies who commit crimes on their behalf — voter fraud, murdering reporters or opposition-party leaders, you name it.

During the impeachment trial, Maine senator Angus King posed a clever thought experiment. What if the president privately warned Israel he would hold up military aid unless its prime minister denounced the president’s rival as an anti-Semite? Under the Republican legal reasoning, wouldn’t such an action be completely legitimate? (The president could simply claim to be concerned about anti-Semitism, just as Trump purports to be concerned about corruption.) Trump’s lawyers dismissed it as a hypothetical case, not even attempting to show how their constitutional principles would exclude it.

How Democracies Die actually devotes significant attention to this very possibility. A — perhaps the — main threat it identifies is that a president will abuse his powers through legal means, not by violating the law. For that very reason, it identifies democratic norms, not laws, as the defensive wall against autocracy. The powers of government simply offer too many possibilities for abuse to foreclose all of them through explicit laws. Norms are necessary to prevent a president from entrenching himself in power, by using it to reward allies or smearing or intimidating critics.

It is therefore especially chilling that Trump’s impeachment not only centers on exactly such an action (Trump using his authority to steer foreign policy to discredit domestic rivals), but that his fellow partisans got around to defending the violation of norms as a general practice. By insisting that only an explicit crime is impeachable, they are defending not only Trump’s actual misconduct but the entire category of norm violation. The Republican impeachment defense is an almost-literal reprise of the arguments in How Democracies Die, but in reverse.

Nearly as discouraging as their license for presidential abuses of power is their unanimous support for Trump’s refusal to acknowledge congressional oversight, the second count of impeachment. Trump’s lawyers have claimed that he is merely defending presidential turf, in the same manner all modern presidents have. “It was not simply absolute defiance and not simply a blanket assertion that we won’t do anything,” protested Pat Philbin during the Senate trial.

Trump himself has not even bothered with this pretense. “We’re fighting all the subpoenas,” he has boasted. His reasoning for his absolutist position is telling. “These aren’t, like, impartial people,” the president declared of Congress. “The Democrats are trying to win 2020.” The whole structure of the Constitution assumes Congress will maintain political rivalry against the president, so that the ambitions of one branch counteract those of the other. Trump has dismissed the entire logic of the constitutional system. His logic is that of the populist authoritarian. Congress’s political interests make it inherently illegitimate. Through his misleading red maps, constant invocations of his “landslide” victory, reminders of his 63 million votes, Trump is reinforcing his belief that he alone represents the will of the people incarnate.

Yet even the handful of Republicans who expressed a modicum of concern over Trump’s extortion of Ukraine have contemptuously waved away the second article of impeachment, which Lamar Alexander called “frivolous.” Combined with their dismissal of abuse of power, they are arguing not only that the president cannot be impeached over any behavior that isn’t criminal, he can withhold all documents and testimony into any investigation that might establish behavior that is criminal. Between the two, what enforcement mechanism is there against misconduct — other than the president blurting out his crimes in public? (And perhaps, given Trump’s propensity to do exactly that, not even then?)

In the wake of the Mueller investigation, Trump has pushed for, and received, investigations into the investigators. He will almost assuredly do so again. His allies are already working to expose the whistle-blower — a vindictive move that serves the sole objective of intimidating anybody else in government who might report Trump’s wrongdoing. Lindsey Graham is vowing to open the investigation of Joe Biden that Trump tried to get Ukraine to do for him. Trump is trying to block the publication of John Bolton’s book, and Gabriel Sherman reports Trump is trying to gin up a criminal investigation.

Impeaching Trump for his high crimes did not cause or even exacerbate the threat. It exposed a threat that was already there — the president’s authoritarian ambitions, and the complicity of his party. With the honorable exception of Mitt Romney, the Republican Party has engaged in what Levitsky and Ziblatt call “ideological collusion,” the partnering with autocratic politics in order to advance their policy goals, rather than break ranks and join the opposition. Trump has taken note. His next high crime is probably already underway.

**********

IMPEACHMENT SEASON

Mitt Stands Alone: Romney Sole GOP Defector as Senate Exonerates Trump

By Ben Jacobs | Published February 05, 2020 | New York Magazine | Posted February 06, 2020 |

The impeachment of President Donald Trump has ended with Mitt Romney becoming a liberal hero.

It is both an anodyne description of Wednesday’s events and testimony to how jarring the presidency of Donald Trump has been. Less than eight years after Mitt Romney awkwardly accepted the endorsement of the-then reality television show host in attempt to ensure victory in Nevada’s Republican caucuses, he voted for Trump to be removed from the presidency.

The apotheosis of Romney’s journey from severely conservative venture capitalist to leader of the resistance was reached just after 2 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon. Speaking from a binder full of rebukes of President Trump, the Utah senator announced that he would vote to convict the President for abusing his power — the first Senator to vote for conviction of their own party’s president in American history.

Occasionally choking up, Romney posed the rhetorical question whether Trump had committed a high crime and misdemeanor. Then, he answered it with unadorned understatement: “Yes, he did.”

With an eye to his legacy, Romney insisted, “I will only be one name among many, no more or less, to future generations of Americans who look at the record of this trial … We’re all footnotes at best in the annals of history.” However, as the Republican Party’s presidential nominee in 2012, Romney already achieved a status somewhat more exalted than a footnote; in rolling out his decision with embargoed interviews with Fox News and the Atlantic, he seemed aware of the scrutiny that his decision would receive.

Romney spoke to a near empty Senate chamber, although to a much bigger audience live on cable news. Three Democrats were in the chamber with him: Chris Murphy of Connecticut, Brian Schatz of Hawaii, and Patrick Leahy of Vermont. Republican Roger Wicker of Mississippi walked in part-way through, then left quickly. After the speech ended, Romney quickly walked towards an exit while Schatz approached him, saying “Mitt.”

Afterwards, Leahy said that he had just come into the chamber to prepare for his own remarks when he noticed Romney was due to speak. “I was just about to leave. I thought I’ll listen to him speak.” He added, “Almost from the first sentence I could tell by the sound of his voice what he was probably going to say.”

The Vermont senator, who was first elected in 1974, toted a copy of Profiles in Courage around Capitol Hill in recent days in hopes of somehow inspiring Republicans to break ranks. He said he felt redeemed having the book with him, despite some of its historical inaccuracies in describing one Republican who broke ranks to acquit Andrew Johnson. As Leahy noted with a smile, “The man who voted to exonerate Johnson was bribed.”

Although some on Twitter, like Donald Trump Jr., raged against Romney’s decision, Senate Republicans shrugged it off. “It is what it is,” said Josh Hawley of Missouri. John Thune of South Dakota noted that Romney had “made it clear from the beginning … that he was going to go his own way.”

It represented another chapter in the unusual relationship between Trump and Romney. As Thune charitably described it, “I think he and POTUS had a little bit of a complicated relationship to start with.” Since that awkward endorsement at the peak of Trump’s birtherism, Romney cut Trump from speaking at the 2012 convention, denounced him as unfit for office during the 2016 Republican primary, then interviewed with him for a cabinet position after the general election. Until impeachment, they had since reached an uneasy truce with Romney’s election to be the junior senator from Utah.

The final vote was as perfunctory as Romney’s statement was dramatic. But it was certainly solemn. Few senators were chatting on the floor; the gallery was as crowded as it had been during any point in the trial. Former Trump campaign manager Corey Lewandowski, perched with hands folded in front of his face, watched the proceedings. A number of Republican congressmen packed onto a bench on the Republican side of the floor. It was so crowded that hard-right firebrand Steve King of Iowa, arriving late, had to sit on the Democratic side of the chamber.

The clerk then held a roll call on each article of impeachment and all 100 senators stood up in turn to pronounce their verdict of guilty or not guilty.

Republicans tended to wait to do so, standing only as their name was called. Democrats were more likely to stand earlier, often as the name of the senator alphabetically before them was called. The most eager senator was Michael Bennet. He stood up when the roll call on the second article began as Lamar Alexander was asked to render his verdict. Bennet remained on his feet while both Tammy Baldwin and John Barasso gave judgment before the dark horse presidential candidate could solemnly say “guilty.”

Once it all ended, the formalities required a certified copy of the verdict sent to both the House of Representatives and to Mike Pompeo, the Secretary of State who played a key — and still mysterious — role during the Ukraine saga. Then Chief Justice John Roberts departed the chamber and the Senate returned to its normal course of business under Mitch McConnell — an assembly line of judicial confirmations.

The drama of the impeachment process was finally over. After three weeks of legal arguments and procedural maneuvering almost nothing had really changed. Save, of course, for the first line of Mitt Romney’s obituary.

**********

Trump World’s Backlash Toward Mitt Romney Has Begun, and It Will Never End

By Matt Stieb | Published February 06, 2020 12:35 AM ET | New York Magazine| Posted February 06, 2020 |

Prior to the impeachment vote on Wednesday, Utah Senator Mitt Romney was a reliable, if cordial, intra-party heel for President Trump and his most fervent supporters. After becoming the only senator to ever vote to convict a president of their own party in an impeachment trial, Romney may have lost the support of a broad swath of the Republican base for the remainder of his time in politics.

Though the president did not make any public statements chastising Romney or boasting of vindication — saving those sentiments for his press conference tomorrow in which he will discuss “our Country’s VICTORY on the Impeachment Hoax!” — he did post a video accidentally making Romney appear much cooler than he is. (See: sunglasses.)

Donald Trump Jr., an emissary of the family popular among the president’s base, was a little more explicit in a post on Instagram, calling Romney “a pussy.” Trump’s eldest son also expressed a sentiment common among Republican critics of the Utah senator, claiming that the vote was one of jealousy stemming from his 2012 presidential loss to Obama:

Jim Jordan had a simpler analysis of Romney’s decision, calling it a “wrong, wrong, wrong move.” Republican National Committee chairwoman Ronna McDaniel also diverged from Romney, who is her uncle: “This is not the first time I’ve disagreed with Mitt, and I imagine it will not be the last. The bottom line is President Trump did nothing wrong, and the Republican Party is more united than ever behind him. I, along with the GOP, stand with President Trump.” Perhaps the most interesting reaction came from Newt Gingrich, considering that he is comparing Romney’s ideological inconsistency to a president who has changed his party affiliation five times:

The past two GOP presidential candidates have had a tumultuous relationship over the past decade. In 2012, as Trump pushed the racist birther conspiracy, he endorsed  Romney in the 2012 primary: “He’s not going to allow bad things to continue to happen to this country that we all love.” Romney did not extend that kindness to Trump four years later: “If we Republicans choose Donald Trump as our nominee, the prospects for a safe and prosperous future are greatly diminished,” he said in May 2016. That didn’t stop him from pursuing a cabinet position in the “diminished” Trump presidency, which led to an embarrassing and enduring picture at Jean-Georges in midtown. By 2018, the feud had cooled, and Trump endorsed Romney during his easy-street bid for Utah’s open Senate seat. But by October 2019, as Romney condemned Trump’s open-air call for more high crimes, the conflict was hot again. In response to Romney’s critique of his request that China and Ukraine investigate the Bidens, Trump tweeted:

It appears that the 72-year-old senator will now face the ire of the president and his allies for the remainder of his political career. But that is just fine with Romney, who seems to be more concerned with his legacy than the average GOP leader. In an interview with The Atlantic published on Wednesday, he responded to a report speculating that he may be up for another presidential run in 2024, which caused him to “erupt in laughter.” In response to the question, Romney said, “Yes! That’s it! They caught me! “Look at the base I have! It’s going to be at least 2 or 3 percent of the Republican Party. As goes Utah, so goes the nation!” Though, according to one recent poll, Trump is now more popular than Romney for the first time in the Beehive state, the senator has almost five years to prove his mettle before reelection. It may take longer for the whole of the Republican Party to determine if Romney’s decision proves him to be a man of “moral courage” as Adam Schiff suggested, or something closer to Donald Trump Jr.’s astute observation.

*********

[michaeljtraylor]

Mnuchin to face a brutal grilling

Editor’s Note: This edition of Morning Money is published weekdays at 8 a.m. POLITICO Pro Financial Services subscribers hold exclusive early access to the newsletter each morning at 5:15 a.m. To learn more about POLITICO Pro’s comprehensive policy intelligence coverage, policy tools and services, click here.

Mnuchin preview — Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin is in for a brutal grilling this afternoon before the House Financial Services Committee. MM spoke to Cap Alpha’s Ian Katz about what to expect: “[Dems] are going to be very aggressive. They haven’t really had a shot at him like this. And we’ve got the tax return issues and sanctions on Russia and the Fed nominees.

Story Continued Below

“I do think the GSEs will come up and how hard they are going to push on that. These hearings are rarely about international issues [as they are billed to be]. To be a success, Mnuchin will just have to not say anything that angers President Trump, which means he is certainly going to anger committee Democrats.” (Mnuchin testifies early in the day before House Appropriations subcommittee)

Could the GOP stand up to Trump on the Fed? — Our Victoria Guida writes here about the possibility that Senate Republicans, who generally give President Trump what he wants, could draw the line at his efforts to influence Federal Reserve policy:

“[I]nterviews with numerous influential Republicans in the Senate and House show an overwhelming faith in the Fed under Powell.”

Is the Fed in full retreat? — Tim Clark, who started the stress tests for Too Big to Fail banks at the Fed writes in a new POLITICO op-ed that the central bank is unilaterally disarming: “After nine years of pitched battle with the banks over stress tests, the Fed has decided to retreat and, in the process, weakened its capacity to hold them accountable for dangerously bad practices.” Read more.

** A message from the Financial Services Forum: · Achieving the American dream requires a strong financial partner. Whether it’s buying a car, closing on a new home or simply saving for the future, large U.S. banks are a stable source of credit for families and consumers. Learn more. **

GOOD TUESDAY MORNING — Well, that turned into quite an NCAA title game! Congrats to UVA and POLITICO’s Marty Kady! … Email me on bwhite@politico.com and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver on aweaver@politico.com and follow her on Twitter @AubreeWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Victoria Guida on the Federal Reserve’s proposal that would give large banks more time to update their contingency plans for how to break themselves up in the event of bankruptcy. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at (703) 341-4600 or info@politicopro.com.

HAPPENING TODAY — POLITICO PLAYBOOK authors JAKE SHERMAN and ANNA PALMER’s new book “The Hill to Die On” is in stores everywhere today. They will sit down with NYT’S MAGGIE HABERMAN tonight at Community Theater in Brooklyn at 7:30 to talk about the book, and news of the day. The event. Order the book.

MM RANT SECTION — Via Wall Street veteran and Brown economics professor Larry Rand: “As for Bernie and AOC, how can you support MMT yet rail against the so-called “bailout” of the financial system in 2008-2009? What hypocrisy!”

President Trump meets with Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi … House Financial Services subcommittee has a hearing at 10:00 a.m. on the Community Reinvestment Act … Mnuchin testifies before the full Financial Services Committee at 2:00 p.m. … NFIB small business report at 6:00 a.m. expected to tick down to 101.6 from 101.7.

EARLY BANK HEARING PREP — Tons of chatter already about Wednesday’s big bank CEO hearing. Via Compass Point’s Isaac Boltansky: “If you are looking for a nuanced consideration of the regulatory regime for the nation’s largest banks, we recommend looking elsewhere. This hearing is likely to be more politics than policy given the combination of bright lights and populist undercurrents.”

MM EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK — Better Markets will be out today with a report ahead of the hearing entitled: “The RAP Sheet for Wall Street’s biggest banks’ crime spree.” Per release: “The Report released today details, for the first time, that, of the more than $29 trillion in total bailouts, the six biggest banks in the country (Bank of America, Citigroup, Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, and Wells Fargo) received more than $8.2 trillion, or nearly one-third of the total bailouts provided to the entire financial system” Full report.

The bankers will argue by contrast that they are much better capitalized and that post-crisis regulatory reforms have done nothing to make the system less safe. They will also argue that record profits does not mean more risk.

POLL BLAST: BIDEN STILL ON TOP — Our Steven Shepherd: “The spate of negative stories about Joe Biden’s interactions with women hasn’t upended the former vice president’s standing as presumptive 2020 Democratic frontrunner, according to the first national poll of the presidential field conducted since the controversy erupted.”

More on Mnuchin — Larry Summers in WaPo argues that the IRS chief has to release Trump’s tax returns and Mnuchin must not stop him.

Via CAP’s Gregg Gelzinis: “Secretary Mnuchin should be held accountable for casting aside the FSOC’s mission by deregulating the remaining nonbank SIFIs, making it more difficult to use the Council’s tools, and dismantling its institutional capabilities from within. The financial system is less resilient today as a direct result of his actions.”

S&P 500 EKES OUT GAIN — AP’s Stan Choe: “U.S. stock indexes took a round trip Monday, erasing their early-morning losses to end the day close to where they started. The S&P 500 eked out a small gain, enough to prolong its winning streak to eight days, its longest in a year and a half. But the Dow Jones Industrial Average ended lower due to another big loss for Boeing. ”Read more.

FAANG’S RALLY HAS INVESTORS CASHING OUT — Bloomberg’s Sarah Ponczek: “After a three-month rally that’s added more than $800 billion to the value of FAANG stocks, individual investors have decided it’s time to cash out of the high-flying names..” Read more.

PINTEREST SEEKS $11.3B VALUATION — FT’s Nicole Bullock, Hannah Murphy, Richard Waters and Tim Bradshaw: “Online scrapbooking site Pinterest on Monday said it planned to raise as much as $1.3 billion from investors at a valuation of up to $11.3 billion, below the price of its most recent private share sale. The deal could prove to be an ominous sign for Wall Street’s interest in new tech listings” Read more.

A GROWTH SURPRISE COULD SHOCK MARKETS — WSJ’s Paul Davies: “Recession fears have captured the markets’ attention in recent weeks, but some investors say the bigger impact could be a surprise return to growth. In fact, slowdown risks may be fading already, as recent data pointed in a healthier direction for China and the U.S., the dominant forces in the global economy.” Read more.

FED REBUTS TRUMP — CNBC’s Jeff Cox: The Federal Reserve is rebutting … Trump’s assertion that tightening monetary policy is hurting the economy. In a paper published Friday, the St. Louis Fed said the central bank’s move to reduce the level of bonds on its balance sheet — ‘quantitative tightening’ as it has become known — will not have any noticeable negative impact on growth.” Read more.

MORE NAFTA, MORE PROBLEMS — Bloomberg’s Josh Wingrove: “Canada is ratcheting up pressure on the U.S. to lift tariffs on steel and aluminum — threatening to hold up the new continental trade deal and change up its own retaliatory tariffs to have a bigger impact.” Read more.

GOLDMAN PUSHES DIVERSITY EFFORTS — Bloomberg’ Sridhar Natarajan: “Goldman Sachs Group Inc. is expanding the mandate of a diversity initiative it rolled out last year to include people of color as it looks to channel more money toward under-served entrepreneurs.” Read more.

SEC CHIEF RAISES CONCERNS ABOUT RISKY LENDING — WSJ’s Gabriel Rubin: “A top markets regulator said he was concerned about the growth of loans by banks to highly indebted companies, joining other policy makers who have highlighted risks that leveraged loans could pose to financial markets. Read more.

FED LOOKS TO CHANGE BANK REGS — AP’s Martin Crutsinger: “The Federal Reserve on Monday put forward two proposals to modify regulations put in place after the 2008 financial crisis that the banking industry complained were too restrictive. The proposed regulatory changes were approved on a 4-1 vote with Fed board member Lael Brainard opposing the changes. She said they ‘would weaken important safeguards’ put in place after the crisis..” Read more.

GOLDMAN WEIGHS ‘WORLD WITHOUT BUYBACKS’ — Bloomberg’s Lu Wang: “With political scrutiny of stock buybacks growing, Goldman Sachs started assessing an extreme scenario: ‘a world without buybacks.’ The picture doesn’t look pretty. That’s because corporate demand has far exceeded that from all other investors combined, according to strategists led by David Kostin. Since 2010, net buybacks averaged $420 billion annually, while buying from households, mutual funds, pension funds and foreign investors was less than $10 billion for each, Federal Reserve data compiled by Goldman showed.” Read more.

Transitions — Leigh Farris will be global head of corporate communications at The Carlyle Group. She previously was a managing director at Goldman Sachs.

NEW ON THE BOOK SHELVES — Investor David L. Bahnsen’s new book “The Case for Dividend Growth – Investing in a post-crisis world” is available now on Amazon … The latest book from the Mercatus Center’s Tyler Cowen “Big Business: A Love Letter to an American Anti-Hero” is also out now on Amazon.

TRUMP TO NOMINATE NCUA CHAIR — Per release: President Donald J. Trump has designated Rodney E. Hood as the eleventh Chairman of the National Credit Union Administration Board. Read more.

** A message from the Financial Services Forum: The Financial Services Forum represents the eight largest and most diversified financial institutions headquartered in the United States. Our banking institutions are a leading source of lending and investment in the United States and serve millions of consumers, businesses, investors, and communities. We foster deep and liquid capital markets that allow the U.S. government and private institutions to finance public spending and investment. Our banks have substantially increased our capital and liquid resources, and worked with regulators to significantly enhance the safety of the financial system. America’s largest banks are strongly positioned to support U.S. workers and businesses. Learn more about the Forum and how our members’ 1 million employees serve our economy and communities. Follow us on Twitter @fsforum, LinkedIn, and online at: www.fsforum.com. **

Source link

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8312273 https://hashtaghighways.com/2019/04/10/mnuchin-to-face-a-brutal-grilling/ from Garko Media https://garkomedia1.tumblr.com/post/184081337079

[garkodigitalmedia]

Mnuchin to face a brutal grilling

Editor’s Note: This edition of Morning Money is published weekdays at 8 a.m. POLITICO Pro Financial Services subscribers hold exclusive early access to the newsletter each morning at 5:15 a.m. To learn more about POLITICO Pro’s comprehensive policy intelligence coverage, policy tools and services, click here.

Mnuchin preview — Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin is in for a brutal grilling this afternoon before the House Financial Services Committee. MM spoke to Cap Alpha’s Ian Katz about what to expect: “[Dems] are going to be very aggressive. They haven’t really had a shot at him like this. And we’ve got the tax return issues and sanctions on Russia and the Fed nominees.

Story Continued Below

“I do think the GSEs will come up and how hard they are going to push on that. These hearings are rarely about international issues [as they are billed to be]. To be a success, Mnuchin will just have to not say anything that angers President Trump, which means he is certainly going to anger committee Democrats.” (Mnuchin testifies early in the day before House Appropriations subcommittee)

Could the GOP stand up to Trump on the Fed? — Our Victoria Guida writes here about the possibility that Senate Republicans, who generally give President Trump what he wants, could draw the line at his efforts to influence Federal Reserve policy:

“[I]nterviews with numerous influential Republicans in the Senate and House show an overwhelming faith in the Fed under Powell.”

Is the Fed in full retreat? — Tim Clark, who started the stress tests for Too Big to Fail banks at the Fed writes in a new POLITICO op-ed that the central bank is unilaterally disarming: “After nine years of pitched battle with the banks over stress tests, the Fed has decided to retreat and, in the process, weakened its capacity to hold them accountable for dangerously bad practices.” Read more.

** A message from the Financial Services Forum: · Achieving the American dream requires a strong financial partner. Whether it’s buying a car, closing on a new home or simply saving for the future, large U.S. banks are a stable source of credit for families and consumers. Learn more. **

GOOD TUESDAY MORNING — Well, that turned into quite an NCAA title game! Congrats to UVA and POLITICO’s Marty Kady! … Email me on bwhite@politico.com and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver on aweaver@politico.com and follow her on Twitter @AubreeWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Victoria Guida on the Federal Reserve’s proposal that would give large banks more time to update their contingency plans for how to break themselves up in the event of bankruptcy. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at (703) 341-4600 or info@politicopro.com.

HAPPENING TODAY — POLITICO PLAYBOOK authors JAKE SHERMAN and ANNA PALMER’s new book “The Hill to Die On” is in stores everywhere today. They will sit down with NYT’S MAGGIE HABERMAN tonight at Community Theater in Brooklyn at 7:30 to talk about the book, and news of the day. The event. Order the book.

MM RANT SECTION — Via Wall Street veteran and Brown economics professor Larry Rand: “As for Bernie and AOC, how can you support MMT yet rail against the so-called “bailout” of the financial system in 2008-2009? What hypocrisy!”

President Trump meets with Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi … House Financial Services subcommittee has a hearing at 10:00 a.m. on the Community Reinvestment Act … Mnuchin testifies before the full Financial Services Committee at 2:00 p.m. … NFIB small business report at 6:00 a.m. expected to tick down to 101.6 from 101.7.

EARLY BANK HEARING PREP — Tons of chatter already about Wednesday’s big bank CEO hearing. Via Compass Point’s Isaac Boltansky: “If you are looking for a nuanced consideration of the regulatory regime for the nation’s largest banks, we recommend looking elsewhere. This hearing is likely to be more politics than policy given the combination of bright lights and populist undercurrents.”

MM EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK — Better Markets will be out today with a report ahead of the hearing entitled: “The RAP Sheet for Wall Street’s biggest banks’ crime spree.” Per release: “The Report released today details, for the first time, that, of the more than $29 trillion in total bailouts, the six biggest banks in the country (Bank of America, Citigroup, Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, and Wells Fargo) received more than $8.2 trillion, or nearly one-third of the total bailouts provided to the entire financial system” Full report.

The bankers will argue by contrast that they are much better capitalized and that post-crisis regulatory reforms have done nothing to make the system less safe. They will also argue that record profits does not mean more risk.

POLL BLAST: BIDEN STILL ON TOP — Our Steven Shepherd: “The spate of negative stories about Joe Biden’s interactions with women hasn’t upended the former vice president’s standing as presumptive 2020 Democratic frontrunner, according to the first national poll of the presidential field conducted since the controversy erupted.”

More on Mnuchin — Larry Summers in WaPo argues that the IRS chief has to release Trump’s tax returns and Mnuchin must not stop him.

Via CAP’s Gregg Gelzinis: “Secretary Mnuchin should be held accountable for casting aside the FSOC’s mission by deregulating the remaining nonbank SIFIs, making it more difficult to use the Council’s tools, and dismantling its institutional capabilities from within. The financial system is less resilient today as a direct result of his actions.”

S&P 500 EKES OUT GAIN — AP’s Stan Choe: “U.S. stock indexes took a round trip Monday, erasing their early-morning losses to end the day close to where they started. The S&P 500 eked out a small gain, enough to prolong its winning streak to eight days, its longest in a year and a half. But the Dow Jones Industrial Average ended lower due to another big loss for Boeing. ”Read more.

FAANG’S RALLY HAS INVESTORS CASHING OUT — Bloomberg’s Sarah Ponczek: “After a three-month rally that’s added more than $800 billion to the value of FAANG stocks, individual investors have decided it’s time to cash out of the high-flying names..” Read more.

PINTEREST SEEKS $11.3B VALUATION — FT’s Nicole Bullock, Hannah Murphy, Richard Waters and Tim Bradshaw: “Online scrapbooking site Pinterest on Monday said it planned to raise as much as $1.3 billion from investors at a valuation of up to $11.3 billion, below the price of its most recent private share sale. The deal could prove to be an ominous sign for Wall Street’s interest in new tech listings” Read more.

A GROWTH SURPRISE COULD SHOCK MARKETS — WSJ’s Paul Davies: “Recession fears have captured the markets’ attention in recent weeks, but some investors say the bigger impact could be a surprise return to growth. In fact, slowdown risks may be fading already, as recent data pointed in a healthier direction for China and the U.S., the dominant forces in the global economy.” Read more.

FED REBUTS TRUMP — CNBC’s Jeff Cox: The Federal Reserve is rebutting … Trump’s assertion that tightening monetary policy is hurting the economy. In a paper published Friday, the St. Louis Fed said the central bank’s move to reduce the level of bonds on its balance sheet — ‘quantitative tightening’ as it has become known — will not have any noticeable negative impact on growth.” Read more.

MORE NAFTA, MORE PROBLEMS — Bloomberg’s Josh Wingrove: “Canada is ratcheting up pressure on the U.S. to lift tariffs on steel and aluminum — threatening to hold up the new continental trade deal and change up its own retaliatory tariffs to have a bigger impact.” Read more.

GOLDMAN PUSHES DIVERSITY EFFORTS — Bloomberg’ Sridhar Natarajan: “Goldman Sachs Group Inc. is expanding the mandate of a diversity initiative it rolled out last year to include people of color as it looks to channel more money toward under-served entrepreneurs.” Read more.

SEC CHIEF RAISES CONCERNS ABOUT RISKY LENDING — WSJ’s Gabriel Rubin: “A top markets regulator said he was concerned about the growth of loans by banks to highly indebted companies, joining other policy makers who have highlighted risks that leveraged loans could pose to financial markets. Read more.

FED LOOKS TO CHANGE BANK REGS — AP’s Martin Crutsinger: “The Federal Reserve on Monday put forward two proposals to modify regulations put in place after the 2008 financial crisis that the banking industry complained were too restrictive. The proposed regulatory changes were approved on a 4-1 vote with Fed board member Lael Brainard opposing the changes. She said they ‘would weaken important safeguards’ put in place after the crisis..” Read more.

GOLDMAN WEIGHS ‘WORLD WITHOUT BUYBACKS’ — Bloomberg’s Lu Wang: “With political scrutiny of stock buybacks growing, Goldman Sachs started assessing an extreme scenario: ‘a world without buybacks.’ The picture doesn’t look pretty. That’s because corporate demand has far exceeded that from all other investors combined, according to strategists led by David Kostin. Since 2010, net buybacks averaged $420 billion annually, while buying from households, mutual funds, pension funds and foreign investors was less than $10 billion for each, Federal Reserve data compiled by Goldman showed.” Read more.

Transitions — Leigh Farris will be global head of corporate communications at The Carlyle Group. She previously was a managing director at Goldman Sachs.

NEW ON THE BOOK SHELVES — Investor David L. Bahnsen’s new book “The Case for Dividend Growth – Investing in a post-crisis world” is available now on Amazon … The latest book from the Mercatus Center’s Tyler Cowen “Big Business: A Love Letter to an American Anti-Hero” is also out now on Amazon.

TRUMP TO NOMINATE NCUA CHAIR — Per release: President Donald J. Trump has designated Rodney E. Hood as the eleventh Chairman of the National Credit Union Administration Board. Read more.

** A message from the Financial Services Forum: The Financial Services Forum represents the eight largest and most diversified financial institutions headquartered in the United States. Our banking institutions are a leading source of lending and investment in the United States and serve millions of consumers, businesses, investors, and communities. We foster deep and liquid capital markets that allow the U.S. government and private institutions to finance public spending and investment. Our banks have substantially increased our capital and liquid resources, and worked with regulators to significantly enhance the safety of the financial system. America’s largest banks are strongly positioned to support U.S. workers and businesses. Learn more about the Forum and how our members’ 1 million employees serve our economy and communities. Follow us on Twitter @fsforum, LinkedIn, and online at: www.fsforum.com. **

Source link

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8312273 https://hashtaghighways.com/2019/04/10/mnuchin-to-face-a-brutal-grilling/

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Mnuchin to face a brutal grilling

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Mnuchin preview — Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin is in for a brutal grilling this afternoon before the House Financial Services Committee. MM spoke to Cap Alpha’s Ian Katz about what to expect: “[Dems] are going to be very aggressive. They haven’t really had a shot at him like this. And we’ve got the tax return issues and sanctions on Russia and the Fed nominees.

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“I do think the GSEs will come up and how hard they are going to push on that. These hearings are rarely about international issues [as they are billed to be]. To be a success, Mnuchin will just have to not say anything that angers President Trump, which means he is certainly going to anger committee Democrats.” (Mnuchin testifies early in the day before House Appropriations subcommittee)

Could the GOP stand up to Trump on the Fed? — Our Victoria Guida writes here about the possibility that Senate Republicans, who generally give President Trump what he wants, could draw the line at his efforts to influence Federal Reserve policy:

“[I]nterviews with numerous influential Republicans in the Senate and House show an overwhelming faith in the Fed under Powell.”

Is the Fed in full retreat? — Tim Clark, who started the stress tests for Too Big to Fail banks at the Fed writes in a new POLITICO op-ed that the central bank is unilaterally disarming: “After nine years of pitched battle with the banks over stress tests, the Fed has decided to retreat and, in the process, weakened its capacity to hold them accountable for dangerously bad practices.” Read more.

** A message from the Financial Services Forum: · Achieving the American dream requires a strong financial partner. Whether it’s buying a car, closing on a new home or simply saving for the future, large U.S. banks are a stable source of credit for families and consumers. Learn more. **

GOOD TUESDAY MORNING — Well, that turned into quite an NCAA title game! Congrats to UVA and POLITICO’s Marty Kady! … Email me on bwhite@politico.com and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver on aweaver@politico.com and follow her on Twitter @AubreeWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Victoria Guida on the Federal Reserve’s proposal that would give large banks more time to update their contingency plans for how to break themselves up in the event of bankruptcy. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at (703) 341-4600 or info@politicopro.com.

HAPPENING TODAY — POLITICO PLAYBOOK authors JAKE SHERMAN and ANNA PALMER’s new book “The Hill to Die On” is in stores everywhere today. They will sit down with NYT’S MAGGIE HABERMAN tonight at Community Theater in Brooklyn at 7:30 to talk about the book, and news of the day. The event. Order the book.

MM RANT SECTION — Via Wall Street veteran and Brown economics professor Larry Rand: “As for Bernie and AOC, how can you support MMT yet rail against the so-called “bailout” of the financial system in 2008-2009? What hypocrisy!”

President Trump meets with Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi … House Financial Services subcommittee has a hearing at 10:00 a.m. on the Community Reinvestment Act … Mnuchin testifies before the full Financial Services Committee at 2:00 p.m. … NFIB small business report at 6:00 a.m. expected to tick down to 101.6 from 101.7.

EARLY BANK HEARING PREP — Tons of chatter already about Wednesday’s big bank CEO hearing. Via Compass Point’s Isaac Boltansky: “If you are looking for a nuanced consideration of the regulatory regime for the nation’s largest banks, we recommend looking elsewhere. This hearing is likely to be more politics than policy given the combination of bright lights and populist undercurrents.”

MM EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK — Better Markets will be out today with a report ahead of the hearing entitled: “The RAP Sheet for Wall Street’s biggest banks’ crime spree.” Per release: “The Report released today details, for the first time, that, of the more than $29 trillion in total bailouts, the six biggest banks in the country (Bank of America, Citigroup, Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, and Wells Fargo) received more than $8.2 trillion, or nearly one-third of the total bailouts provided to the entire financial system” Full report.

The bankers will argue by contrast that they are much better capitalized and that post-crisis regulatory reforms have done nothing to make the system less safe. They will also argue that record profits does not mean more risk.

POLL BLAST: BIDEN STILL ON TOP — Our Steven Shepherd: “The spate of negative stories about Joe Biden’s interactions with women hasn’t upended the former vice president’s standing as presumptive 2020 Democratic frontrunner, according to the first national poll of the presidential field conducted since the controversy erupted.”

More on Mnuchin — Larry Summers in WaPo argues that the IRS chief has to release Trump’s tax returns and Mnuchin must not stop him.

Via CAP’s Gregg Gelzinis: “Secretary Mnuchin should be held accountable for casting aside the FSOC’s mission by deregulating the remaining nonbank SIFIs, making it more difficult to use the Council’s tools, and dismantling its institutional capabilities from within. The financial system is less resilient today as a direct result of his actions.”

S&P 500 EKES OUT GAIN — AP’s Stan Choe: “U.S. stock indexes took a round trip Monday, erasing their early-morning losses to end the day close to where they started. The S&P 500 eked out a small gain, enough to prolong its winning streak to eight days, its longest in a year and a half. But the Dow Jones Industrial Average ended lower due to another big loss for Boeing. ”Read more.

FAANG’S RALLY HAS INVESTORS CASHING OUT — Bloomberg’s Sarah Ponczek: “After a three-month rally that’s added more than $800 billion to the value of FAANG stocks, individual investors have decided it’s time to cash out of the high-flying names..” Read more.

PINTEREST SEEKS $11.3B VALUATION — FT’s Nicole Bullock, Hannah Murphy, Richard Waters and Tim Bradshaw: “Online scrapbooking site Pinterest on Monday said it planned to raise as much as $1.3 billion from investors at a valuation of up to $11.3 billion, below the price of its most recent private share sale. The deal could prove to be an ominous sign for Wall Street’s interest in new tech listings” Read more.

A GROWTH SURPRISE COULD SHOCK MARKETS — WSJ’s Paul Davies: “Recession fears have captured the markets’ attention in recent weeks, but some investors say the bigger impact could be a surprise return to growth. In fact, slowdown risks may be fading already, as recent data pointed in a healthier direction for China and the U.S., the dominant forces in the global economy.” Read more.

FED REBUTS TRUMP — CNBC’s Jeff Cox: The Federal Reserve is rebutting … Trump’s assertion that tightening monetary policy is hurting the economy. In a paper published Friday, the St. Louis Fed said the central bank’s move to reduce the level of bonds on its balance sheet — ‘quantitative tightening’ as it has become known — will not have any noticeable negative impact on growth.” Read more.

MORE NAFTA, MORE PROBLEMS — Bloomberg’s Josh Wingrove: “Canada is ratcheting up pressure on the U.S. to lift tariffs on steel and aluminum — threatening to hold up the new continental trade deal and change up its own retaliatory tariffs to have a bigger impact.” Read more.

GOLDMAN PUSHES DIVERSITY EFFORTS — Bloomberg’ Sridhar Natarajan: “Goldman Sachs Group Inc. is expanding the mandate of a diversity initiative it rolled out last year to include people of color as it looks to channel more money toward under-served entrepreneurs.” Read more.

SEC CHIEF RAISES CONCERNS ABOUT RISKY LENDING — WSJ’s Gabriel Rubin: “A top markets regulator said he was concerned about the growth of loans by banks to highly indebted companies, joining other policy makers who have highlighted risks that leveraged loans could pose to financial markets. Read more.

FED LOOKS TO CHANGE BANK REGS — AP’s Martin Crutsinger: “The Federal Reserve on Monday put forward two proposals to modify regulations put in place after the 2008 financial crisis that the banking industry complained were too restrictive. The proposed regulatory changes were approved on a 4-1 vote with Fed board member Lael Brainard opposing the changes. She said they ‘would weaken important safeguards’ put in place after the crisis..” Read more.

GOLDMAN WEIGHS ‘WORLD WITHOUT BUYBACKS’ — Bloomberg’s Lu Wang: “With political scrutiny of stock buybacks growing, Goldman Sachs started assessing an extreme scenario: ‘a world without buybacks.’ The picture doesn’t look pretty. That’s because corporate demand has far exceeded that from all other investors combined, according to strategists led by David Kostin. Since 2010, net buybacks averaged $420 billion annually, while buying from households, mutual funds, pension funds and foreign investors was less than $10 billion for each, Federal Reserve data compiled by Goldman showed.” Read more.

Transitions — Leigh Farris will be global head of corporate communications at The Carlyle Group. She previously was a managing director at Goldman Sachs.

NEW ON THE BOOK SHELVES — Investor David L. Bahnsen’s new book “The Case for Dividend Growth – Investing in a post-crisis world” is available now on Amazon … The latest book from the Mercatus Center’s Tyler Cowen “Big Business: A Love Letter to an American Anti-Hero” is also out now on Amazon.

TRUMP TO NOMINATE NCUA CHAIR — Per release: President Donald J. Trump has designated Rodney E. Hood as the eleventh Chairman of the National Credit Union Administration Board. Read more.

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