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peppusae · 3 years

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[semi eita] ambivalence ch. 3 (nsfw)

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

ambivalence: semi eita x reader (ft. tendou satori x reader)

genre: smut

word count: 2k+ words

ambivalence

ch 3: all night

It’s a bit embarrassing to meet eyes with both Semi Eita and Tendou Satori after that night.

Tendou keeps his promise: You can see that he is dying to ask you what happened, but he remembers his promise and does not ask you anything about Yamagata’s frat party.

And you’re glad, because the sober version of you has already felt like that while remembering all the shameless things you’ve told Semi to do.

It’s even worse because it looks like Semi has the intention of being friends with you; he actually gives you a smile when you pass by each other during changing lecture halls, or when he finds you sitting with your friends at campus while he’s going back to his dorm.

The one time he caught you on your own by your locker, he had come to say hello to you, and you dropped your 589-page textbook onto your foot, almost coughed up your lung, and then blasted away to the library, too embarrassed to even respond back.

No wonder Satori looks so worried each time he looks at me… It looks like Semi hasn’t told him anything, and he is worried sick about finding out what was wrong with me.

It’s a good thing the week that followed was so jam-packed. You had 3 assignments back to back, and working on it during every minute besides your lecture hours meant that the week passed by in absolutely no time.

It’s a Saturday evening, and your usual Saturday evenings were ordering in food with Tendou, and the mad crazy adrenaline you two synergized together forcing you two to have sex - and these were the best kind, because it was during occasions like those when Tendou was his roughest - impatient and slamming into you with all his might so that he can fill you up before you’re food arrived.

Today, you’re laying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to a little funk and soul while you wait for your meal to arrive.

It’s a bit sad to eat your food on your own, so you watch old re-runs of your favourite show while you eat.

Halfway into the second episode, you’re interrupted by a call - from a number you don’t even recognize.

Usually, you would ignore unidentified numbers, but you remember that you one of your lecturers would call to - very annoyingly - give unnecessary feedback on everyone’s reports.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I’d have killed Satori if he gave me the wrong number.”

It’s weird because it’s crazy how Semi could recognize your voice instantly when all you said was a simple hello.

And It’s even weirder that you recognize Semi’s voice, too - Not when most of the speaking he did was in a very groggy, whiny drunk voice.

Hearing him now, his voice is much deeper than you recalled it to be, and your hands start to shake.

“Semi?!”

“That’s me. I asked for your number. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

It’s a bit odd that he would choose you out of everyone he knows and is acquainted with, so when you ask what you can do for him, you can hear a loud sigh from his side of the line.

“Not over the phone, though. Do you know my dorm number?”

Semi Eita is hot. You aren’t going to deny that. You remember everything he’d done and how good his tongue felt as he fingered you as if his life depended on it. The thoughts are embarrassing and it never leaves your head while you finish up the rest of your food, not forgetting to brush your teeth and put your hair up into a bun before you take out your keys and head outside.

Shiratorizawa Academy houses it’s university branch students in dorms divided into two wings of the building. The girls reside in the right wing, and the boys in the left. The academy is actually quite lax about rules, despite this separation; the only rule is that the students were not allowed in the rooms of opposite gender students after dinner at 9 pm.

The gays and lesbians win, for that rule . You think to yourself, finding it a little humorous while you take the lift for the fifth floor. Semi had sent you a text with his dorm room number, and you walk into the hallway, passing by the doors and finally coming across room 514.

Semi opens the door when you give a knock, and he welcomes you in while he gives a little hesitant smile.

No words are exchanged while you enter the room that looks like an exact replica of yours. Honestly, there isn’t much one can do to make their room that much different from another person’s. Because all of the rooms house only one student, the rooms are just big enough to fit a bed, a small cupboard, and a study desk. There’s only so much one can do to decorate.

The bedspreads are neat, and his desk is filled with various textbooks and notebooks, but otherwise, the cramped room is quite clean, for a guy’s place. You glance at Semi, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, remembering how you avoided him so hard for the week, but you’ve come instantly when he asked for a favour.

“So? What did you wanna ask?”

Semi takes a moment to look at you while he closes the door. The way he takes a step closer to you makes you flinch, eyes going wide and taking a step back instinctively.

“What-”

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

“Semi, what-”

Your sentence is interrupted when he takes two more steps towards you, and your move back till your back hits the door with a loud smack.

“I’m… not…”

“I didn’t make you go home that night so that you’d avoid me. I just didn’t want to do anything to you while you couldn’t even tell my face from someone else’s.”

“I wasn’t that drunk…” You fib instantly.

“Did you not like it?”

Your jaw drops open. For a moment his upset expression shifts to a little sad one, and it makes your heart race because that was the complete opposite of what your mind was reeling about.

“No! I liked it!” You end up blurting out. “God, I’ve been thinking about you literally every night since.”

While you want to smash your face against the wall in embarrassment, Semi responds with a little blink, tilting his head to the side.

“Then act like it.”

Those are the last words you hear before you feel his body against you, and Semi kisses you in an urgency that makes you moan as soon as you feel his tongue on your lips.

“The way you act in public and the way you do when I touch you are worlds apart.” Semi states in between kisses, his fingers rubbing circles on your skin from underneath your shirt.You’ve never felt so cornered and so embarrassed, your face heating up already because even the way Semi kisses is you insane, like he wishes you to devour you while he has you pinned against the wall.

“Please…”

“Lock the door.” He says, moving away, and as fast as you open your eyes, they shut right away when he begins to kiss your neck. Your entire body is shaking by now, legs feeling so wobbly as you try to keep your little whimpering sounds as quiet as possible and reach a hand out towards the door. Your hands are shaking like crazy while you lock the door, and Semi does not waste a single second, taking a step away from your neck - which instantly makes you frown - and asks you to strip.

You take a few seconds to get over the high.

“What?!”

“I’ve been really, really patient for long enough.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bed where you sit down, legs still feeling way too wobbly to keep standing. “So strip.”

The way he runs a hand through his hair is so hot, and you’ve always known that he was really, really good-looking, but it’s the first time you’re actually attracted to him, so your hands are shaking a lot while you unbutton your shirt, undoing your bra and standing up to take off your pants. Semi cups your face, kissing your lips once again and you lose focus a bit while you try to take off your panties.

“Please, please, please. ”

Semi softly makes you sit down, still not breaking the kiss and you can hear him unbuckling his belt, the sound of his jeans dropping down making you feel wetter than you already are. You slowly open your eyes, watching the way his eyes look a little hazy and half closed, biting at his bottom lip while he peels off your panties and throws them away.

He leans in, and you move back, lips meeting once again feeling his tongue once again in your mouth while he gets on the bed, slowly leading you to the head. When you rest your head on one of your pillows, you aren’t able to open your eyes because you can feel two fingers sliding inside you without warning.

That makes you gasp, the sound of his fingers going in and out of your cunt so loud that you find yourself turning red in embarrassment. You open your eyes, barely able to see the way Semi watches your every move, and eyes going a little wide when you grab hold of chunks of his hair from the pleasure.

Instead of adding more fingers, Semi bends down, tongue slowly swirling around your clit and making you arch your back.

You could swear your brain short-circuited for a moment when he softly sucks on your clit right as he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, curling them inside and making your legs come closer together at how different it feels, like he knew your body so well to be curling in right at the place that makes you see white.

When you pull at his hair and moan once again with shaky legs, Semi rubs his lips on your clit, and you’ve never ever felt this way, so much that you come right away, all over Semi’s fingers.

Your head reels, and you open your eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but Semi...

Semi is surprisingly, agonizingly slow in his actions - much more so than Tendou.

And not just that, but Semi is mad stubborn.

You learn this from the way he glances at you with his face smeared with your juices - and then plunges another two fingers inside you again.

“S-Semi!”

“You finally called my name.”

“S-Semi, don’t-”

“What? I thought someone like you would want another orgasm right away?”

Your eyes go wide at what he said, and before you could say another word, he licks inside your cunt again, his agonizing rubs on your clit making your stomach form yet another knot right away, your legs shaking much, much more than it did the first time.

You feel so good, but you’re so embarrassed that you try to close your legs, calling his name - But Semi holds both your legs tight and apart, tongue never leaving your clit for a single second, pressing kisses and sucking so softly that your legs shake like crazy.

You don't realize just how much he had you under his control, until you come all over his face yet again, your entire body shaking while you have your eyes shut tight at the electrical feeling you’re experiencing.

“[Name]. How do you feel?”

You finally open your eyes while you try to catch your breath, and Semi is hovering over you now, pecking your lips softly before he slowly lies beside you. You extend an arm to the side, and Semi raises an eyebrow, saying nothing but coming closer to you, burying his face into your chest.

“I will never get enough of that, oh my God.” You mumble, wrapping your arm around Semi’s neck, feeling his hot breath on your chest. You think you hear him chuckle, you think you even heard the rustling of clothes, and you think you also heard the door close, but you can’t recall anything while you slip from the little line between consciousness and sleep.

---

#semi #semi eita #semi eita smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu setters

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headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne · 3 years

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Sekiro Chain 1

Original prompt: Kuro teaches Wolf how to play Shogi. Mun's note: I love how this chain turned out. Everyone did such an amazing job. Please show your apprecation for the characters by checking out their work and consider giving this chain a reblog.

@ghoulsteak

In Kuro’s tower, the summer air is warm and still. The sliding doors stand open to let what breeze there is pass through unimpeded. Sun streams in through the western door, painting a bright square across the tatami. Motes of dust spiral in the light.

Kuro can see Wolf from where he sits reading, a dim figure with only a foot caught in the sun, seated with his back to the opposite wall. It’s easy to forget he’s there, both because Wolf has been present in the corner of Kuro’s eye for a long time now and because being forgettable is a trait the shinobi has carefully cultivated.

He stands now and pads silently across the floor. Time for another inspection, Kuro supposes; another circuit around the tower’s perimeter (cliff side included), another quiet pass among the sun-streaked piles of books in the upper room. Wolf is always conscientious in his checking and rechecking, but today he seems to be wound even tighter than usual. On a day as beautiful as this one, that strikes Kuro as something of a shame.

As Wolf steps back inside from his patrol, Kuro sets down his book. “Wolf,” he calls. The shinobi’s head turns. “Would you like to play shogi with me?”

“I do not know how, my lord.”

“That’s no matter. I can teach you,” Kuro says.

Kuro himself learned from Owl. The old man taught him the game years ago while he lingered at the castle. He kept to himself whether was simply resting between outings or sniffing around amongst the servants and courtiers. Kuro has beaten him only once, and he suspects that the old man threw that game. He is as difficult for Kuro to read as his son is easy.

But still, he offers Wolf the same reason for learning as the Owl gave him. “They say shogi is good for the mind. It helps one practice strategy.” He knows Wolf struggles to justify doing things that don’t reap tangible results. The shinobi’s chief leisure activity, insofar as he can be said to have one, is sleeping. Wolf inclines his head in agreement.

Wolf seats himself across the table, and Kuro begins setting up the board. He explains the rules of the game to him; they’re a lot to take in, but he knows Wolf prides himself on only having to be told something once, and thus does not repeat himself. He listens in silence, nodding from time to time or interjecting with a murmured question, and they begin to play.

A minute and a half passes. Wolf loses.

“Hrm,” he says, brow furrowed. Kuro hides a smile with his sleeve.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to take it easy on you, Wolf,” he says.

A slight shake of the head. “Of course.”

“Again?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Kuro offers him no advice. He doesn’t want to teach Wolf to play like him; even after three years’ worth of rainy days spent at the board, he suspects his own style is still too much like the Owl’s. He wants to see how Wolf plays shogi.

As they begin again, he watches the shinobi’s expression. Between turns, his gaze darts about the room, quicksilver eyes beneath a stone brow. His attention is divided a dozen different ways. This, rather than his inexperience, is why Kuro beats him again.

“Again?”

“Certainly.”

Perhaps, Kuro thinks, he should ask him to play next in a room with shuttered windows and a single, easily barred door. He can see the roots of Wolf’s technique, the shape of his quick, guarded mind beginning to describe itself upon the board, but he won’t let himself become immersed in the game. Wolf can’t let go of his awareness of the tower’s points of entry and escape, of the distance between the palm of his hand and the hilt of his sword.

Kuro begins to push Wolf’s slow offense back, intending to corner him on his own side of the board. Confident in his advance, he overreaches. Wolf capitalises on the chink revealed in his armour and cuts behind Kuro’s lines. As he finishes his move, he glances up at Kuro.

“Hah!” Kuro sits back in surprise, eyes alight. A hint of a smile runs along the furrows of Wolf’s face, and is gone just as quickly.

“I apologise, Wolf,” he says. “I underestimated you.”

Wolf inclines his head. “It is no matter.”

As the game continues to its close and the game after it begins, Kuro watches Wolf’s hold on his vigilance relax a little more. Perhaps there’s something comforting to him after all about a battle with no stakes, an enemy who wants nothing more than to pass a summer afternoon.

@dragonbasket

@fateoftheundead

“Are you ready, Wolf?”

Sekiro nodded and knelt before the low table across from the young lord, who busied himself shuffling a stack of papers. Kuro’s movements were not that of a studious priest, or a graceful shinobi, but guileless and clumsy like the youth he was.

“Why is this necessary for my mission?”

“Your sentiments are pure and honorable, but the pursuit of knowledge and understanding is just as pure, just as honorable.”

“As you insist. I do not know exactly what it is I do not know.”

***

The Wolf turned his head back and forth, flustered as he had ever been and rarely showed. “As I told the Heir, I do not know what it is I do not know. I… have heard that that is a good place to start. To start knowing.” A snort emerged from the background, amidst the wooden idols.

Emma, the mild doctor, approached, frowning in the direction of the snort. “That is true. Do not be so hard on yourself.” She took a seat. “Please continue.”

Sekiro handed the stack of Kuro’s scrolls to the man seated on the ground, who blinked with wide open eyes at the documents. Fujioka gave the smile of a man retreating from a tiger. “So whaddya need me for, anyway?”

“My letters are insufficient. You are the right choice, despite your grumbling.”

“Fine, fine, some compliment.” Spreading the papers out, he bent his head to the scroll he had selected. “So… I have heard it said, oh monks, that… hmm, I dunno that’s the best way to begin. You’ve got far more wisdom than you know, Wolf, but these doctrineses may be too big a breakfast. Tell me- what scriptures did you learn as a child?”

Sekiro sighed. “I remember very little from before I was orphaned, and once the Owl had adopted me I had very little time for scriptures or doctrines.”

Another scoffing laugh came, and this time it’s owner came closer. The Sculptor rose creakily and made his way over as well, though much less gracefully than the doctor.

“Ahh, these old bones need a stretch anyway. The Owl? Ukonzaemon Usui? One slip of the pen and he would have been a cloud-and-water man. Bah, you’re more a cloud-and-water man than the old fool ever could have been.” He bowed deeply to Fujioka, his wooden left arm almost scraping the floor. “Forgive me, scroll jumbler. Forgive me, Wolf. Please continue.”

“I suppose that I know as much as anyone. Gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā?”

Seeing the lost look on his face, the others in the room repeated the simple sutra. “You all know it. I’m gald I knew it as well. Perhaps this is not the correct interpretation, but it has always struck me... gone, gone, everyone gone... What does it mean to be shinobi? If we become one with the shadows, then do we exist at all?”

Fujioka beamed. “Oh, that’s wisdom alright, Wolf! As direct as the 6th Patriarch’s famous verse, and maybe as good.” He looked around sheepishly. “What? I know stuff.”

“Do you know who else had something to say about the Heart of Wisdom?” The Sculptor’s grimace was unreadable. Emma turned to him, but cut him only with the gaze of her eyes. “Master Hakuin! Do you know what he said about our beautiful Heart? Scripture scrolls dug from piles of garbage!”

“Garbage?” Emma’s face at last betrayed a hint of anger.

“Easy, sweet doctor. I mean no offense. We may pare our nails at the foot of a burning lamp, we may polish a brick into a mirror, but these base things are not bad. Simply a glimpse of truth. These,” he said, flinging a gnarled finger past the Heir’s donated stack of scrolls. “are wonderful in their own way, but for a man of my inclinations, I prefer the schematics our Wolf brings back. To build wondrous things!”

“Not from piles of garbage.” Sekiro’s face grew dark as he thought back to where he had found many such scrolls and the like that he’d found, in pockets and pouches, in dark corners used as hiding places, and he thought of the secrets he’d found as well, the deep crimson secrets that lay at the heart of men. And monsters.

“Of course, Wolf. Now, of all the treasures you bring back to our little ryokan... I prefer the sake best.”

“Sake!” Fujioka theatrically covered his face, mimicking the voice of a mortified grandmother. “In the midst of our scripture study! Would that not violate the Fifth Precept?”

“Indeed, indeed, sir, but there is one sin that the Tathagatha held more grave than any violation of the precepts.”

“What is this sin, Sculptor?” Emma’s face had lost all anger and she seemed genuinely curious.

“The disruption of the Sangha! Chaos amongst friends and disciples! Vituperation!” He grinned. “I am an old man. I get cranky when I do not get my sake. And when I get cranky...”

“The next time I find any sake, I will bring it right back. For the Sangha, that is.”

“Make sure you do. My friends, is anyone else cold? Without a little something to warm my belly, I feel every draft.” Without waiting for a response he walked over to the hearth where a few embers struggled to produce rarefied strands of flame. “We’re out of firewood.”

The others ignored him and Fujioka produced another scroll from the pile. “The Hekiganroku... some of these things the Heir sent us are quite advanced. Don’t get me wrong, I find a quality koan to be pleasing on its own merits, but the solution of these... beyond me.” The information broker squinted down at another scroll. “Oooh, ooh. The Heir left a little note in the margin. ‘Master Dogen’s commentary is superb.’ Aha! Dogen.” Fujioka became suddenly excited and turned his squint towards Emma. “Waittaminute...”

“I was indeed apprenticed to Dogen.” A faint smile. “Not the original Dogen. He was centuries ago. How old do you think I am?”

Before the broker could reply, Sekiro piped up. “Doctor, you don’t look a day over 200.” She rewarded him with a widening smile at the quip. She rubbed her hands together.

“It is cold. My Master Dogen would sometimes pretend to be a Zen master and jump out of corners to frighten me. He made a crude kesa out of bandages and covered his hair with a sack to seem bald.” She paused in thought. “I am not sure why.”

“Students must sometimes go along with their master’s teaching, I am sure.” Sekiro nodded.

Fujioka continued. “No offense, Wolf, but I got something here from the Hekiganroku that reminded me of you, and our dear ol’ sculptor. Case 54...” He recited the koan and put the scroll down.

“Yunmen Extends His Hands. I see. But I have only one hand.”

“Between the two of us we have two, Wolf,” called the Sculptor from the background, still puttering noisily among the idols. “Yunmen would slap us well if that were the case.”

Sekiro stood momentarily from where he’d crouched across from Fujioka and stretched his back before sitting again. “I recall some dharma if you forgive my rough understanding.”

“Of course!” The broker smiled in anticipation despite himself.

“Yunmen’s koan reminded me of another great master fond of hitting his disciples. Rinzai! What a fearsome teacher. There are tales that I have heard of his striking pupils to teach a lesson, but his most impressive act was worthy of a shinobi. In the meditation hall, during the most serene meditation, he would appear out of nowhere beside any monks whose minds were wandering, and beat them with a stick!”

“That stick is called the kyosaku and the monks must raise their hands and ask to be struck. It is an efficacious remedy for a sluggish mind.” Emma nodded to Sekiro as she rose as well. “I think I prefer your version, though.” “Aha! A fine Buddha indeed.” The Sculptor appeared with one of his wooden idols, one of surpassing craftsmanship. Without any hesitation he flung the idol onto the fire. The others reacted with a combination of horror and disbelief that led into a general clamor. Sekiro himself adopted a blank expression, as there was certainly a finer point to this act that he did not understand. “Protest all you like, it’s only a statue.”

“Of the Tathagatha. Such shame you bring with your recklessness,” seethed Emma. The sculptor scoffed.

Having recovered from his initial shock, Fujioka looked into the Sculptor’s eyes. “This is something I heard about once. That old pervert Ikkyu once did the same. But...”

“A common error, sir. Not Ikkyu, but Tanka.” He turned to Emma. “Do you mean to say that I burned the Buddha himself? Some relic of the Shaka Nyorai?”

“No, it is simply a wooden statue, but-”

“Simply wood,” he interrupted. “Then you do not mind if I burn another as the night grows colder?”

No one spoke for a long moment.

Fujioka broke the silence. “Ya think maybe we studied enough for the young master? I’d like to know for next time... I mean, if there is a next time... who are the masters you’d wanna hear more from?”

“Let us decide which sage would win in a battle, then!” The Sculptor’s face creased with amusement. “Wolf, who do you think?”

“Rinzai, of course. His stealth and fearsome strikes would take the day.” He turned to Emma. “What would you say, doctor?”

“Eno, the patriarch. His touch could make even the most ephemeral things as immovable as mountains. They say in a distant temple he sits mummified, unmoving but still meditating. True strength.”

“I dunno if the Heir thinks this is appropriate. Says here the Buddha himself specified that this subject is not suitable for the path to enlightenment.” He leaned forward with a sly whisper. “I would be like Dorin. Simple, happy teachings, and could spring through the trees like a monkey. Or a shinobi.”

“My turn,” said the Sculptor. “I am sure of my preference for the toughest master. Eka, Damo’s disciple. A great general before that, a fearsome warrior. To prove his devotion to becoming a student of Damo, he cut off his own arm and presented it to the patriarch, and became a great teacher in his own right. Invincible.”

Sekiro’s intuition prickled at him. He tensed, sensing something akin to danger, but...

The sculptor removed his wooden arm and held it aloft. “Wolf, I’ve seen how well you adapted to my previous arm. Such clever uses of the humble mechanisms I installed. But this thing? What use is it? I carved one arm with the other arm. Eka did not even replace his. So perhaps...” He shivered. “Is it cold in here?”

The sculptor tossed his wooden arm onto the fire.

There was no outcry from the others. Only a shocked silence. The sculptor rubbed the bare spot where his shoulder terminated. “Now, Wolf, about that sake...”

A slight smile. “For the Sangha?”

“For the Sangha.” Another uncomfortable pause, then the Sculptor let loose with a cackle.

In the warmth and light of the fire, the others joined him in laughter as the arm lit the room with its flames. @thefatladysang

@poisonhemloc

The old route to Senpou Temple started in the silvergrass field. Genichiro had never been to the temple, but there was a first time for everything. He needed the Mortal Blade, now, that was held there. The crimson one. The black one was further but much easier to get to, and relatively unguarded- but he didn’t want to risk the black one, the one that would kill Grandfather if he used it too much. Grandfather staying alive was the only reason the Interior Ministry hadn’t fully attacked Ashina. And he didn’t dare hasten the illness’s work before he had the Dragon’s Heritage, true immortality, not the Sediment’s poor version. With the Dragon’s Heritage he could stand up to the Interior Ministry, and win.

Grandfather had obviously thought the Sediment was making him unstable, when he stopped to tell him where he was going. A little part of Genichiro still wondered why he had even taken the time to do that. And wondered why he had come out here, where he had lost against the shinobi for the first time by a hair’s breadth, when the more reliable route to Senpou now ran through the dungeons. He turned to leave-

-and a strange depression in the grass caught his eye.

There was an arm. There was the shinobi’s arm, laying here unrotting. It had been a month, something should have at least tried chewing on it, but it looked as though he had just cut it off.

Some part of him knew why. He waited for the knowledge to work its way to the front of his mind through hazes of red.

The Dragon’s Heritage. The same as Tomoe. And Genichiro remembered a spar between Grandfather and Tomoe, when he was younger, before Takeru had died and Kuro had been born.

Neither of them were trying to be careful, but Isshin was always better at swordplay than Tomoe; xe had shined with archery instead, and taught Genichiro. And Isshin had cut off Tomoe’s right arm, with the same lunge Genichiro had used for the shinobi. And had given Genichiro a look, as Tomoe collapsed, and held the arm next to the stump, and when Tomoe revived it had reattached. And it had been like Isshin had never cut it off.

It must have been due to the Dragon’s Heritage. And now…

The prosthetic Dogen had spent days, months, working on, had been given to the shinobi. Every shinobi trick conceivable could fit in it. It would be better, smarter, to leave this somewhere the man would find it, and have him reattach it and lose the prosthetic and the advantage it gave.

But the rational train of thought was being drowned out by the louder, much more insistent voice that had listened to Orangutan complain, sometimes loudly, every time he was at the castle, about the arm he had lost continuing to hurt. And several soldiers, and samurai, who had also lost limbs and complained about the same thing. He shouldn’t delay any longer though, he needed to be moving. Genichiro grabbed the arm and left for the dungeons.

There was a brazier not far from the entrance, next to the cave Doujun had been reduced to using. Genichiro knocked it over and dropped the arm on top of the coals, watched it smoulder, and then catch when he dumped fabric- Doujun probably brought it over to tend to the stab wounds but they were fine, the Sediment was healing everything- and watched as the arm caught and blazed. He had a lot of things he needed to do but… he could wait, for a few minutes, ignoring Doujun grumbling as he retreated to the little cave and watch the armor distort and melt and the arm reduce to blackened bones before he turned and left for Senpou.

Isshin watched the shinobi nod politely, and stand. He would be after the Crimson Mortal Blade, now, like Genichiro was. He half turned- and tensed up, and grimaced, just for a second, but Isshin saw it. The prosthetic definitely twitched, and his good arm looked like he was going to grab at it for a moment, before he went back to the blank face he always wore.

“Something wrong, Sekiro?” Another little hint of emotion, he did not like that Isshin had seen that and commented on it. Now, would he lie, or admit to it? And which would make that shadow in his eyes worse?

“...Just for a second, my… injury, hurt. More than it has. I… believe I need to talk to Lady Emma.”

“Go then! Emma knows what to do with severed limbs.” Isshin watched him leave, not using the prosthetic’s grappling hook like he had to get here. Not using the prosthetic at all, actually. He would have to ask Emma what had happened. He had not painstakingly arranged for this man to get to Kuro and helped him hone his talent for killing just for his arm to twinge a little and have him give everything up.

Wolf had opened the library window Kuro hadn’t been able to budge as soon as he was back, and talked to Kuro, and now was approaching Emma. He looked tenser than he had, had Isshin given him bad news? And he hesitated for a moment, before seemingly resigning himself.

“Something… happened, to the injury.” Emma fought to keep the shock off her face, Wolf was asking for medical help beyond the gourd? When she went to check in with Isshin would she find him cured, talking to a normal, sane Genichiro?

“Okay. We need to take the prosthetic off anyway, I need to check the bandages. What happened?” Wolf had been keeping his voice quiet; Kuro hopefully was too engrossed in reading to notice, and Emma stayed quiet as well.

“It felt like I touched metal held in a fire, with the cut part of my arm.” Emma frowned, helping him remove the prosthetic and the remainder of the kote, not touching the scarf he was overly protective of. Pain from the missing limb, that happened a lot, and he had said it felt like burning. And pain in the remaining limb, from being cut. Burning in the remaining limb was not normal.

Wolf tensed up when she started unwrapping bandages, too, but that was normal for him. There were clean bandages up here, at least, Emma didn’t want to reuse what she was unwrapping. She should have changed everything when he woke up, but there was no way he would have trusted her enough to let her. Nevermind that she had bandaged the arm in the first place and been changing it while he’d been unconscious, and worried that it never looked like it was healing, just not bleeding as much.

Now it did, it looked… like he had said, like someone had cauterized it. Which was normally what Emma would have done anyway, except the Dragon’s Heritage should have healed it completely.

“You were just talking with Isshin?”

“Yes.”

“...Well, it cauterized itself. I don’t know why. It’s still going to hurt- it might hurt more, for a while. I need you to stay here for a few hours, at least, in case something else happens.”

“I cannot. I have Lord Kuro’s orders to fulfil.” Like he hadn’t asked Emma to check his arm. “I will-”

“Not leave until tomorrow at earliest.” Loud enough Kuro heard, hopefully. “Give your arm some chance to heal, since it’s finally started to.” She ignored the dirty look that flashed across his face for a moment as she placed new bandages and helped replace the remains of the left kote that the prosthetic tied onto.

Kuro walked to the front of the library as Wolf pushed Emma’s hands away and finished tying on the prosthetic himself.

“Wolf, please, if you are in pain the ingredients can wait.” Kuro was frowning, one of his hands was fidgeting with the book he still held. “And you did just duel Genichiro. Everything can wait til tomorrow morning, Wolf.” Kuro was probably too far away to hear a bitten back sigh.

“Of course, my lord.”

Emma had her own quarters at night, and Kuro had blankets in this room and had insisted on giving Wolf one of them; he had insisted on giving Wolf several of them, actually, and it had taken a few minutes of careful discussion before Wolf convinced him not to, but he wouldn’t be budged on Wolf having at least one and continuing to refuse was inviting him to order Wolf to accept more. How much Kuro seemed to care for Wolf- Wolf, who had failed at Hirata, who had spent too long trying to find Kuro and get to Ashina, and then failed again immediately- was. Strange. It must have been because Wolf was the only person left from Hirata, this was not how masters treated their servants. At least Wolf would stay awake if he was here, stay on guard.

And he failed at that, too, jerking awake in the middle of the night, biting his tongue to stop a yell like he had with Isshin, feeling like his missing arm had been crushed. It was still gone. The pain persisted for a few minutes, before fading back to the burning pain he had been trying to tune out. Emma was not being told about this, if she came before he left in the morning; Wolf had a duty to his lord, and he did not want to be delayed again because she thought he couldn’t work through pain.

Genichiro, angrier already than he had been, stomped back down the passageway, snapping at the soldiers he had ordered to keep watch down here to pay attention. Senpou was a waste. The monks were easy enough to kill, not one of them could block a swing from him, but every bridge to the monastery was broken. What was he supposed to do, scale Mt Kongo itself just to get to the main hall?

So the black blade would have to do. Open Gate. The weaker of the blades, sure, but it was enough. It was closer too, easier to get to; why had he even bothered with Senpou Temple? He should have gone straight for it. Yes, Grandfather thought it was tied to his life, but no one really knew, just some shrine maiden twenty years ago wrote a lot of stuff on a scroll to justify keeping the sword. It was all speculation. And it was just in a shrine halfway to Hirata and north. And Dragon’s Heritage or not, it would kill the shinobi for good and Kuro wouldn’t have a choice, and with enough of the generals sharing immortality they would drive off the Interior Ministry.

...Here was the remains of the fire where he’d burned the arm. The bones looked blackened, but still recognizable. Genichiro stamped on them as he passed, splintering them into pieces, and continued out of the dungeons, back out of the castle, before it was light.

#sekiro shadows die twice #fanfiction #fanart #sekiro chain 1

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sgrayonderii · 4 years

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trials of izanagi

SSM20 #8: Let’s play pretend

Sakura tells Sasuke the reasons why they should get married. RTN!AU (Rated T)

When his father calls for a family meeting, Sasuke half fears it’s been finally revealed that he was the one that burned down the garden shed and not the neighborhood teens as he claimed.

But when his mother also arrives with a stern expression, Sasuke realizes this is worse than a bit of light arson.

He fidgets at the dining table nervously as he watches his father nod to his mother to begin.

“As you know,” she starts, “you are getting to age where one should consider settling down.”

Sasuke groans.

“Mother!” But she raises her hand to silence him.

“Sasuke, this is a good opportunity for you and the clan.”

“What about Aniki?”

His mother’s face adopts a sour look, not pleased to be interrupted. “Your brother has his own duties. You should only concern yourself with your own.”

Sasuke tries to protest once again but his mother’s stony features leave no room for argument.

“I’d expect you not to embarrass yourself or the clan,” Her expression is one of usual exasperation at his antics. “Sasuke, it is time for you to grow up.”

---

Sasuke has always been quite bitter that his brother is allowed to gallivant around the countryside with his band of questionable acquaintances while the responsibilities of their clan are dumped onto him.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to get married either! Having spent so much of his life devoted to his family’s whims, Sasuke at least wants to choose who he wants to spend his life with.

Secretly, he quite enjoys the daydreams where he comes home to have a quiet night with the love of his life and what he is sure to be their small squadron of children.

So Sasuke comes up with a plan.

He supposes if he makes himself an utter unmarriageable fool, this nonsense would be over. Even a name as prestigious as Uchiha would not be enough to secure an engagement if he is the most undesirable human being in the world.

So the day of the marriage interview, he tries to look like the failure his family assumes he is. Sasuke puts on a sweat suit he wore out to training two days ago paired with his sandals and mismatched fuzzy socks. He doesn’t brush his teeth and doesn’t even style his hair. He even spends a few days trying to grow a beard.

Sasuke looks like an absolute disaster. Which is quite a hard thing to do he might add; curse his beautiful face!

He arrives at the casual diner he had chosen feeling confident and clever, because what could be more disappointing to start off a potential marriage than a place he knows has more health violations than he has fingers?

That is until he realizes who his mother managed to set him up with.

Sakura-chan, beautiful as ever, is sitting in the sticky booth the hostess leads him to with a cup of what he is sure is black coffee.

Sasuke immediately regrets every life choice he has ever made. He wonders whether activating the Izanami right now would save him from dying of embarrassment.

A thousand thoughts are running through his head all at once. Is this a joke? What is Sakura-chan doing here? What about Menma? Should he turn around and walk out like nothing happened?

However she glances up at him with those lovely eyes of hers and Sasuke cannot help but blurt out the most pressing thing tumbling around in his short-circuiting brain.

“I thought you wanted to get married for love?!”

Not missing a beat, “Good morning to you too, Sasuke. I see you know how to impress a lady.”

Sasuke wonders if he can throw himself out the window.

But his pride dictates that he cannot embarrass himself anymore in front of Konoha’s fairest, so he squares up, grits his teeth, and slides into the booth.

“Don’t change the subject,” taking in her own outfit. White coat and business casual. So it must be clinic day. “Why are you here Sakura-chan?”

He cannot think of any reason why Sakura would suddenly want to marry him; Sasuke has always considered the greatest tragedy and irony in his life is the fact that the love of his life does not feel the same way. So he waits for her explanation.

Sakura, to her credit, always is cool and collected and is logical to a fault. She does not shy away from his questioning facing him directly to answer.

“Your mother asked me to consider a marriage into the Uchiha clan.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, “Just because you two get along doesn’t mean you have to humor her, especially when it comes to getting married!”

She takes a sip of her coffee, now not quite looking at him. Almost guilty. “She told me that if I married either you or Itachi-san, your clan would back my bid for Hokage.”

Anger bubbles in his stomach. Envy burns down his throat. Betrayal is bitter on his tongue. It is one thing for his mother to meddle in his life, it’s another for Sakura to be so callous as to use his love for power.

“Why are you meeting me then?” His brother might be a flighty vagabond, but Itachi is the heir and he is the spare.

She seems to understand what he is truly asking. “Sasuke, you are a rising star in the Konoha. The people of this village trust you greatly.”

“You can’t stand me.”

“You’re annoying but I don’t hate you.” She smiles sadly, as if enjoying a particularly cruel joke. “I don’t think I could hate you, truly.”

“Sakura-chan, with all due respect, between your father and the Fifth’s recommendation, I don’t think you need my family at all.”

Sasuke takes a deep calming breath to hide his frustration, trying to act nonchalant, “But if you still want to get hitched Kitten, I’m all for it.” He even throws in a lighthearted wink.

She ignores his last comment. “My father and Tsunade-shishou are popular with the people, but the council is not fond of either of them. Too peace loving apparently.”

“My family isn’t very popular with the council either.”

“But the Uchiha clan is one of the oldest clans in Konoha, its influence is enough to convince other families. Enough to over rule the council.” Sakura smiles wryly, “In return, the Uchiha clan will have ties with the Hokage office. Think of it as a strategic alliance.”

This is just like Sakura, cold and calculating. Sasuke does not hate it; her ambitions are part of her charm.

“What’s in it for me then?”

“If you do accept, your parents would be satisfied you are an upstanding, successful citizen and will no longer have any right prying in your affairs.”

He doubts that it would stop them but allows her to continue, “I also don’t plan to…interfere with your extramarital activities.” Sasuke begins to feel a sense of dread as Sakura continues, “A marriage of convenience if you will.”

This is his boiling point and he finds himself shouting.

“No, it’s a sham! How you could have completely given up on love?!”

Sakura is a woman who has always been loved shallowly and one can only be the object of admiration for long before realizing it’s only empty reverence. The one thing she always craved is the unconditional love she lost so long ago along when her parents passed. Sasuke cannot believe Sakura can give up that so easily.

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand anything Charasuke!” She is now equally angry, “Do you think I want to use my husband’s name to get the Hokage’s seat!? How everything I’ve spent my life working for amounts to nothing in the eyes of the council?! ”

“It doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness for this!” Because even now, even though his affections for her are unyielding and painful and true, he just wants her to be happy.

To find love and be loved, even if it isn’t with him.

“I’m running out of time!” She is shaking now, in anger, in frustration, in a hopelessness Sasuke has never seen. “Tsunade -shishou told me that the council is considering making Menma the Hokage after she retires.”

“Menma? What? He can barely carry conversation!” And he is impulsive. Just as likely to start a war as he is to end it.

Sakura looks sick, “Menma has a strong shinobi, but that’s all he is. He is not suited for politics. He only knows how to end conflicts with shows of strength.”

“Do you really think that Menma will actually accept the position?” Because regardless of their disagreements, Menma is still his best friend. Menma isn’t the type to seek power wantonly.

“Maybe, maybe not. But he is now married to the Hyuuga family. And you know how easily he can be influenced.”

Sasuke wants to defend his friend’s honor but he admits she has a point.

“So when your mother came to me about this...I don’t know I just thought this might be my only chance.

I know this is unfair to you, which is why we can just pretend to be a married couple in name only. You are under no obligation to change your ways Sasuke.”

Sakura is resigned to her fate to a supposedly loveless marriage and Sasuke hates it.

“But I cannot let Menma and the council turn this village into a battlefield. I cannot let them ruin my parent’s legacy.”

This is insane. It’s not right. She may be the logical one, but he has always been the romantic.

This is not at all how he imagines their life together would be.

Sakura takes in his uncharacteristic silence as the end of the conversation and gathers her things.

“You don’t have to answer me right now, just think about it.” And with that she departs, leaving him alone in the booth.

---

Sasuke has always pretended that his family’s obvious favoritism and Sakura’s indifference towards him, never bothered him.

He distracts himself with pretty girls and pretty flowers. But really, he just does not have the courage to face the reality of being the fallback and second place.

That no matter what he does or how hard he works, he will never measure up to the Uchiha’s prodigal son or even his best friend.

He just wants someone to look at him and only him.

And maybe that's why he has always been so drawn to Sakura, the daughter of fallen heroes.

Because maybe she just also wanted someone to see her tears. To realize what was underneath her facade.

The pretty girl who cries when she is alone so she doesn’t bother anyone else, yet in front of the rest of the world is the image of stunning grace and confidence. Who heals him when he bleeds and listens to him when he cannot bear the expectations of his family anymore.

He admires her bravery. He falls for her kindness.

Sasuke loves her, he has for a long time.

He wonders if she knows this.

And so that’s why he is waiting outside the clinic later that afternoon, in his best clothes, clean shaven, with a bouquet of lavender flowers.

No more pretenses.

He will give her his name, the world, and their marriage will be anything but loveless. He will make sure of it.

A/N: This was an AU of another AU WIP that went of the rails. Thank you for reading! Happy SSM20 and stay safe!

#sasusaku #SSM20 #SSM20d8 #sasusaku month #sasusaku fanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #sakura haruno #sgrayonderii #sgrayonder #hope the tags are working!

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kjack89 · 4 years

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Personal Gain (Chapter 5/6)

Yeah, it’s definitely gonna be six chapters.

Happy Halloween! Hope you are all having a fun, safe celebration!

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here and Chapter 4 here (or catch up on AO3).

The key to most physical magic with inanimate objects was understanding that at least one of the components was once alive. Sure, it was several million years back in some cases, but as the quote went, ‘we are all stardust’ blah blah blah.

Courfeyrac didn’t remember the exact quote, but the sentiment was what mattered. And the sentiment was what was going to allow him to break into Enjolras’s apartment.

All it took was a little persuasion to remind the metal in the lock that it had once lived in the earth before it was dug up and smelted, and it was easy enough after that to politely request that it unlock for him. Combeferre had tried to figure the process out once and almost had a nervous breakdown; he’d had an easier time understanding one of Joly’s stranger theories of magnetism.

But the important thing was that it worked, and Courfeyrac slipped into Enjolras’s apartment, a handful of already-spelled, nondescript crystals ready to cast and maintain the spell that would finally force Enjolras and Grantaire to admit to each other what they thus far had refused to.

Courfeyrac grinned triumphantly as he glanced around. He already knew Enjolras was out, having sent Combeferre to meet up with him for coffee, and Grantaire and Bahorel had a standing boxing match to keep him occupied, which left Courfeyrac with about forty-five minutes to get the crystals placed and ensure the spell was cast.

He doubted it would take him even a fraction of that time.

Four crystals were carefully placed in the cardinal sides of the apartment: along the north wall, tucked on a bookshelf behind a few first year law textbooks that Courfeyrac doubted Enjolras had opened in close to a decade; as far east as the apartment went, dropped into the tank of the toilet in the bathroom (Courfeyrac couldn’t help but giggle as he did so); in the south of the apartment, placed behind the alarm clock in Enjolras’s bedroom; and the west, in the kitchen pantry behind a stack of expired ramen.

“Disgusting,” Courfeyrac said, wrinkling his nose as he shifted the ramen packets back into place. “Hopefully Grantaire actually feeds you real food when you two finally get together.”

The fifth and final crystal went in as central a location as Courfeyrac could manage, hidden in the pot of some houseplant, almost certainly a gift from Jehan at some point, that Enjolras had not yet managed to kill. After Courfeyrac pressed the crystal into the soil, and ran his fingers over the leaves, frowning at how dry they were. “Perk up,” he ordered, passing some vitality into the plant, the leaves almost instantly perking up and greening.

Satisfied, Courfeyrac straightened, glancing around the apartment. There was something odd about it, something Courfeyrac couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he frowned slightly, trying to place what felt like it was missing. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he dug it out, reading the text from Combeferre. Enjolras ended coffee early. He’s on his way back. Get out of there.

Courfeyrac slid his phone back in his pocket and glanced around one more time. “Alright, one last test,” he said aloud. He paused, trying to think of what to say. “I hate—” The words seemed heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to get out what he was trying to say.

Meaning the honesty spell was working.

He nodded officiously and headed out, closing the door after him with a satisfied snap. He placed his hand on the door, the wood grain warm underneath his palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, grinning as he heard the lock slide back into the place.

His job there was done. Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

If he was being honest, Courfeyrac expected for Enjolras and Grantaire to walk into the next Les Amis meeting holding hands and blushing as they told their friends that they were dating.

“You’re an idiot,” Combeferre told him as he glanced expectantly at the doorway, almost vibrating with excitement.

“Better an idiot than a cynic,” Courfeyrac shot back.

Combeferre gasped with mock-outrage. “You take that back, he said, and Courfeyrac grinned, thought he straightened when he saw Enjolras.

Who came in alone.

Scrolling through his phone.

And looking like absolutely nothing was different.

“Told you so,” Combeferre muttered, and Courfeyrac elbowed him.

“Hey Enj,” he said brightly as Enjolras approached. “How are you doing?”

Enjolras just grunted as he sat down, not looking up from his phone. “Did you see this about the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals and vote by mail ballots in Minnesota?” he demanded, gesturing at his phone as if Combeferre and Courfeyrac could read whatever was on his screen.

“Uh, no,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Combeferre, whose expression was resigned. “Have you seen Grantaire recently?”

“Huh?” Enjolras said distractedly. “No, uh, I actually have seen him in a few days.”

Now Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged startled looks. “Really?” Combeferre asked doubtfully. “Did you two have a fight?”

“The only fight that I have is with the courts and their asinine rulings,” Enjolras said with a scowl, still looking down at his phone as he furiously typed something.

Combeferre cleared his throat and stood, gesturing for Courfeyrac to join him. “Care to explain?” he asked when they were out of Enjolras’s earshot.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Grantaire’s been busy?” he suggested. “It just seems like they haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, and this plan relies on them being together.”

“It sure does,” Combeferre said, with something like disapproval. “And, uh, did you consider what would happen if they didn’t spend any time together?”

Courfeyrac stared at him. “Look, even if they’ve fought recently or something like that, Grantaire will wander back into Enjolras’s apartment eventually.” Combeferre didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac nudged him. “C’mon. Trust me. It’s only been a few days. It’ll be fine.”

Combeferre opened his mouth to say something but at that moment, Joly, Grantaire and Bossuet spilled into the room, all seeming in their usual good spirits, and Courfeyrac glanced over at Combeferre, smirking slightly. “See? He’s just been busy.”

“If you say so,” Combeferre said, following him back to their seats.

----------

Two weeks later, Courfeyrac was beginning to think that Combeferre was right, and he hated when Combeferre was right.

Enjolras was just as distracted as ever, barely spending any time at Les Amis meetings before disappearing, assumedly to his apartment, and Grantaire seemed to be spending most of his time with his other friends, his mood getting darker and darker as the days went on.

Whatever fight they’d had, clearly it was enough for Grantaire to be avoiding Enjolras’s apartment, thus casting doubt that Courfeyrac’s plan was going to work.

“How long is this going to go on for?” Combeferre asked Courfeyrac in an undertone as Enjolras discussed something about Poland’s abortion ban with Feuilly while Grantaire watched them, nursing a beer, his expression dark.

Courfeyrac sighed, stirring his drink with his straw. “Well, the spell only lasts for about two more weeks before I’d need to renew it,” he said with another sigh. “But I don’t want either of them to spend two more weeks like this.” He scowled as Grantaire drained his beer. “I don’t know why this is happening. This plan was supposed to be foolproof!”

“In fairness, you didn’t plan for Enjolras and Grantaire having some kind of fight that’s kept Grantaire from going to Enjolras’s apartment,” Combeferre said reasonably. “Maybe you can talk to Grantaire, see if you can find out what happened and, you know, fix it?”

“What, use my magic on whatever they’re fighting about?” Courfeyrac asked skeptically.

Combeferre gave him a look. “I meant talking to him and getting him to make up with Enjolras. All magic aside, you’re generally pretty good at that.”

Courfeyrac considered it. “Well, it can’t hurt,” he agreed, tossing back his drink and going to join Grantaire. “You look like you need a refill,” he said by way of greeting, and Grantaire looked up at him, smiling slightly.

“You read my mind,” he said, standing up and grabbing his empty beer bottle before following Courfeyrac to the bar. “Though I think I actually need a stronger drink rather than a refill.”

“Yeah, you looked like you had something on your mind,” Courfeyrac said, leaning against the bar. “Something happen with you and Enjolras?”

For a moment, Grantaire’s expression seemed frozen, then he snorted, picking at the label of his empty beer bottle. “You, uh, you noticed that, huh?” he asked gruffly.

“Pretty hard not to,” Courfeyrac said evenly. “But this seems worse than your usual fights.”

Grantaire sighed. “Honestly, I’m not even sure that we’re having a fight. I don’t know what this is, or what I did, or...anything, really.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “What’s going on?”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Everything was going fine – great, even – and then all of sudden…” He trailed off as the bartender brought him a shot and a fresh beer, flashing her a tired smile before picking up the shot. “Sláinte,” he said, toasting Courfeyrac with the shot before downing it. “All of a sudden, it’s like Enjolras didn’t even want to be in the same room as me. Like he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Courfeyrac’s insides ran cold. “But didn’t he…” He trailed off, trying to figure out a better way to ask the question that didn’t reveal too much. “I thought he was spending a lot of time at his place?”

“All his time!” Grantaire burst, looking miserable, and Courfeyrac blinked in confusion.

“But—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“And I thought I was doing the nice thing, letting him keep his place, y’know? Because I know my schedule can get weird, and so can his, and even though living with him is all it feels like I’ve ever wanted, I also want him to have his space when he needs it, but if I had known he was going to spend all his time there—”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Thankfully, Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, well caught-up in a rant now, his anger and sadness and fear mingling in his expression. “He has not slept in bed with me for over two weeks. He barely looks at me – I don’t even remember the last time we kissed.” He broke off, swallowing hard, and Courfeyrac was horrified to see tears in his eyes. “I swear to God, Courf, he is the love of my life but I don’t think I’m his. Not anymore.”

Courfeyrac’s stomach was somewhere around his knees, and he clutched the edge of the bar to keep himself upright. Grantaire was looking at him as if expecting him to say something, and Courfeyrac cleared his throat before asking weakly, “Uh...when?”

He had meant it to be more elegant, and for a moment, when Grantaire just stared at him blankly, he thought desperately of ways he could clarify his question, but it was too late. “He didn’t even tell you?” Grantaire asked quietly, and Courfeyrac winced.

“He- well, that is- see, the thing about Enjolras—”

“He didn’t even tell you?”

Grantaire no longer looked sad – he looked pissed. “We start dating six months ago, move in together over a month ago, and he doesn’t even tell one of his best friends?”

Courfeyrac hesitated. “I, uh, I don’t think Combeferre knows either.”

Grantaire eyes flashed. “Son of a—”

“But I’m sure Enjolras was planning on telling us!” Courfeyrac added hastily. “At some point. Probably.”

But Grantaine just shook his head, his expression stony. “He wasn’t,” he said. “I should have realized it was too easy. When Enjolras said he wanted to try this thing for real, I didn’t believe him at first, but I thought, what the hell? What’s the worst that could happen? And then after a few months when he told me that he loved me, that he wanted to take this to the next level and move in together, it was everything I ever wanted, so I didn’t question it, but I...I should’ve realized…” He trailed off. “Well, I should’ve realized it was too good to be true.”

He grabbed his beer and turned to leave, but Courfeyrac reached out and grabbed his arm. “He loves you,” he blurted, and Grantaire just shook his head, not looking back at him.

“He couldn’t even be bothered to tell you, one of his best friends, that we were dating. That we were living together.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not love.”

“He didn’t tell us about you because he loves you.”

Now Grantaire turned to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

For one brief, desperate moment, Courfeyrac thought about using his magic to get himself out of this – a quick illusion spell, or a temporary forgetfulness, something without too lasting of effects so he could get out of there and figure out what the hell he was going to do.

But he had already caused this, with his spell that was meant to get them together and instead had driven them apart.

And he owed Grantaire to tell him, if not the truth, then at least something that might help. And his magic wasn’t going to help him with that.

“Enjolras loves you,” he said, as honestly as he could. “You two are perfect for each other, and everyone knows it. Probably before you both did. He loves you, and he doesn’t know what to do with that, because he’s him, and you’re you. That’s why he didn’t tell me and Combeferre, because if he tells us and it all falls apart with you— He wouldn’t know what to do with that either.”

Grantaire shook his head slightly but didn’t try to interrupt, and Courfeyrac barrelled forward. “He loves spending time with you. Why do you think you two have spent so many late nights together at the Musain, or his old apartment before you moved in together? How many times have you two got into a knock-down, drag out fight that should’ve ended with him banning you from Les Amis but never has? Because he wants you there, wants you in his life.”

Though Grantaire’s expression had softened, just slightly, he still didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I know Enjolras. Almost better than anyone else. And he would not have taken that first step with you, let alone moving in together, if he was not 1000% convinced that this was what he wanted. That you were who he wanted. That you were the first person he wants to see each day and the last person he wants to see at night.”

For some reason, even though Courfeyrac was talking about Enjolras and Grantaire, he kept thinking about Combeferre, of all the time they had spent together in the past several weeks – the past several years, if Courfeyrac was being honest.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that right now. “I know things between you and Enjolras are weird right now. But I promise, if you hang in there, things will get back on track for you.”

“When?” Grantaire asked, a little desperately.

“About twenty-five minutes, give or take,” Courfeyrac muttered, thinking of how long it would take him to get to Enjolras’s apartment and neutralize the attraction spell.

“What?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed, and Courfeyrac shook his head and forced a smile.

“Let me buy you a shot,” he said. “To, uh, help pass the time until things get better.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Yeah,” he said firmly. “How about—” He caught sight of a familiar-looking bottle and couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “How about a shot of Jäger?”

Grantaire wrinkled his nose. “Pass,” he said dismissively. “I can’t stand Jäger.”

“Really?” Courfeyrac asked. “I didn’t think there was any alcohol you didn’t like.”

Grantaire laughed. “Understandable, but, God no. I hate licorice.”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to reply but froze, something rising unbidden in the back of his mind. Licorice root – star anise – ginger – ginseng...all flavors in Jäger.

And all components of the love potion he had used on Enjolras.

The love potion Combeferre had watched him make.

“Earth to Courf,” Grantaire said loudly, and Courfeyrac blinked, looking back at him. “You buying me that shot or what?”

“Uh, yeah, here,” he said, opening his wallet and tossing a few bills on the bar without looking. “Sorry, I— there’s something I have to go do.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “Everything ok?” he asked.

“Fine,” Courfeyrac said, digging his cellphone out his pocket. “Or at least, it will be.”

He didn’t wait for a reply from Grantaire, already weaving through the crowd toward the door, typing a text message as he did.

Meet me at Enjolras’s. We need to talk.

>>Read chapter 6 here>>

#exr #courferre #enjolras #grantaire #courfeyrac #combeferre #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 5

27 notes · View notes

snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

FFT: f--k you and the horse you rode in on; adam page [m]

Notes:

originally sent to me by @vonschweetz on snarkandsarcasmwrites which I’m turning into my main now, i chose to post this here on it’s own little post. This is my Ivy and Adam universe, but it’s the What If’s version, not to be confused with the Wild Side version. Yes, they are different. whew- that was a mouthful.

Summary:

Ivy and Adam run into each other again after years of being apart. There’s hurt there. Will they work through their pain or make things messier by having a one night stand and going their separate ways all over again? Alternate chapter / universe /ending to What If’s.

Warning:

FEELTH. unprotected sex, strip club vip room mention, body fluids, exotic dancer OFC. Alcohol tw.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

“Hey, how much you think it’ll cost to hire one of the girls to come n’ dance for me for the night?” Adam’s tone was smooth as the whiskey he was pouring into his glass as he asked the club manager.

He felt so sleazy doing it because he never did it, but tonight was a really, really bad night. When he was lonely and just… Craving intimacy. Craving her, the one that got away all those years ago. The need to feel less alone outweighed the sleazy thing he was doing. He tried to justify his trip to this seedy little club on the Strip as him paying someone who might actually need the money versus just settling for some buckle bunny and having to deal with the fallout later. Either way, he found himself thinking as he solemnly slammed back the fifth of whiskey, it’s still sleazy and it ain’t you.

But bein alone tonight is somethin I don’t wanna do. I can’t do it. I know where my mind’s gonna go. It’s gonna go to Ivy n’ the way things played out. I’m gonna wind up exhausting all the what could’ve beens and what if’s and maybe’s until it drives me insane…

As he weighed his decision against the way it made him feel sleazy, blue eyes lazily roamed the dimly lit strip club and when he saw her -the exact reason he’d been driven to seek out the comfort of a stranger tonight, his entire body tensed and he coughed. His eyes locked on her, watching the way she grinded and wrapped herself around that silver pole. A shiver passed through him that went straight to his cock and settled, making it stand at attention and push firmly against the zip of his jeans. The manager noticed his intent stare and chuckled. “Oh, she’s gonna cost ya, cowboy. She’s gonna cost ya real good. That’s one of the best girls I got, man. And she just recently started workin as one of my girls upstairs in VIP too… So yer in luck. If you got the cash and she agrees to a few hours with ya, of course.”

“Is she… Is she available? You think she’d agree, I mean?” Adam was in disbelief at the fact that he’d even asked that. And in disbelief that the girl he loved years ago was working in a place like this as a dancer.

His eyes shifted from the manager to the way she peeled off a pair of painted on leather chaps, tossing them to the side. It left her in a pair of skimpy high cut black leather Brazillian cut panties. He shifted in his seat as he felt his hardened member twitch and strain even harder against the heavy dark denim covering it. He wished he’d gone for wearing underwear, but wearing them all night during the rodeo earlier left him chafed enough.

The club owner eyed the pile of winnings in his hand and chuckled, giving a half-assed shrug. “Dunno, Hangman. Why don’t you walk over n’ ask her, hmm?” was asked as the man nodded in her direction.

Her dance had just ended, she was leaving the center stage, slinking towards where Adam sat talking to the club owner. At first, she didn’t bother looking at him, instead she addressed the club owner.

“Got anything for me tonight, Slade?”

“Got ya a cowboy, Ivy.” Slade chuckled and gave a nod to Adam who stood nearby, lingering with his eyes darting all over the place. Slade could tell the guy wasn’t used to doing this, it almost made him want to laugh. But sooner or later, all of the cowboys and wannabe rockstars that came out to Vegas wound up at one of these establishments.

Ivy gave a soft laugh. “They all think they’re cowboys or rockstars out here, Slade. Cash up front, right? And the usual, a few private dances, the VIP treatment.”

Adam couldn’t stop staring at her. As a result, he wound up overpouring the whiskey and it wound up soaking through his jeans. He coughed to sort of get her attention and the second her eyes locked on him she blinked.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard, raising a hand to drag it through her hair. She hadn’t said anything. As soon as Adam said her name, she eyed him and all those emotions in her eyes just seconds before vanished. She’d always been good at shutting down. Apparently, she’d just gotten better at it.

“Well if it ain’t West Virginia’s favorite cowboy… what brings you out to Vegas, hmm?” Ivy kept her best neutral tone as she said it, keeping her distance from Adam. She hadn’t back then and she’d wound up falling too hard. She still hadn’t gotten over him, even now, years later.

Adam swallowed hard and he took a deep breath. “Rodeo’s in town. I thought you were out in Florida. Heard you married yourself some soap opera guy.”

“Annulled, actually.” Ivy shifted her feet and nudged the club owner, getting him off to the side. “I can’t do this, Slade. Not with him. You’re the one who makes the rules here, Slade, not me.. No personal ties. Hands off and all that, remember?”

“He’s the only taker you got tonight, Ivy. And poor idiot literally just gave me his entire nights winnings. This could be good for the club and you, lil bit. It’s your call this time. You’re one of my best girls, I trust ya.” Slade gave her a wink and Ivy blew at her bangs, thinking it over. Slade did have a point.

“Yeah, well..” Ivy trailed off as she remembered the debt on her grandparent’s ranch and the cost of hiring hands to pitch in when needed. She found herself thinking about her own potential business venture she was saving up for, re-opening her grandmother’s diner in town, and she found herself thinking about her savings. She sighed and swore to herself under her breath, dragging long and delicate fingers through light caramel colored locks. “Fine. I’ll do it. But he better have money because I’m charging double. If he’s such hot shit on the pro circuit right now, why the hell wouldn’t he just pick up a fuckin bunny at the show?”

Adam overheard most of the conversation and spoke up. “Didn’t wanna.” he barely met Ivy’s gaze and when he did manage to meet it, Ivy found herself cringing at the icy look in his eyes. Adam’s jaw tightened and he started to protest, but when he tried, no words would come.

“But you’re here… at a club paying enough cash for an all night private session upstairs…” Ivy’s brow quirked and she eyed him while smirking. “Either way, stud. you’re on the clock. Let’s just get this over with.” no matter how hard she tried to keep up that all business facade, she was starting to feel it crack. She was starting to feel fidgety under his intent -and cold, stare and she found herself jittery. She knew he was standing there, most likely judging her. He was the one who hadn’t tried to respond to her whenever she did try to reach out. He was the one who never came for her, despite his promise that he’d never let anything happen to tear them apart. He was the one who went off and got all famous from the looks of it.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Ivy Jane.” Adam snapped as calmly as possible as he tore his eyes off of her and stared down at his mud covered Ariats.

“I never said it was nice to see you the first time, Mr. Page.” Ivy responded in a chilled tone as she turned on her heels and started to slink towards the back of the club, to the stairs that lead up to a second floor of the place. A place where few ever got access to.

Adam stopped her halfway up the stairs. “You got no right t’ be angry at me, Ivy Jane. You’re the one who left.” he practically growled the words as he gripped her wrist, staring up at her. Right now he was hurt and confused and so fucking bitter. Everything conspired against them, it always had from the beginning. Their families hadn’t gotten along and constantly butted in and kept them apart mostly, but what was really making him angry was that standing here in the stairwell now, with her right in front of him, was that he was clearly seeing that they’d both had chances. And neither of them had tried or fought, they’d both been too scared to just cut off their families and rely on each other. … we were kids then, though… Adam tried to remind himself, neither of us felt like we had a choice… And not only that, he could just look at her and tell that somehow, she was hurting and angry and bitter too. And probably full of blame. He had to admit, he was full of it himself because she’d basically disappeared and not once did she try to reach out, not once did she try to contact him and at least give him closure.

“I didn’t have a fucking choice, Adam.” Ivy didn’t mean to say it like she did, she hadn’t meant that little bit of hurt and longing to creep into her voice. She sighed and shook her head. Adam’s shoulders slumped and he muttered an apology. But then the mild anger he felt at finding her again, here of all places, that kicked in and he grabbed hold of her waist, turning her to face him when she faced away and started to walk up the remainder of the stairs.

“The hell are you doin’, anyway? This ain’t you, Ivy Jane. This… This ain’t th’ girl I love.”

“Yeah, well… Shit happens, Adam. I think you meant loved, by the way, because you certainly seem to be acting as if I’m dirt beneath your feet now.” Ivy shrugged it off, trying to make herself forget the way his hands felt all over her or the way it felt to hear his voice again after all this time. Trying to convince herself that he had every chance to come out to Florida and find her after high school and when he didn’t and he chose to go on the rodeo circuit instead, that was her answer as to what he really felt.

“I’m not actin like that, Ivy Jane…But this? This is.. What do you get from it, huh? Because I’m failin to understand it.” Adam ground out through a clenched jaw as he glared down at Ivy.

Ivy glared right back up at him, shaking her head and giving a bitter laugh. “I tried writing you, Adam. I tried calling, I tried everything. I tried to let you know what happened that night. You ignored it. My choices now aren’t really your problem. Not that there’s anything wrong with anything I’m doing. And you’re the one who came in here and paid for an entire night private session upstairs, so what exactly does that say about you, huh?” Ivy snapped right back, her tone growing increasingly bitter.

“I didn’t know what t’ do! You were supposed t’ come meet me n’ leave that night and y’ never showed! What was I suppose t’ do? Just forget ya didn’t show and skipped town and try to pick up where we left off? If I’d ever gotten anything ya sent to begin with! I never heard another word out of you!” Adam exploded before he could stop himself and before he’d fully processed what she said seconds prior. As soon as what she’d just snapped at him really sank in, Adam went quiet.

Ivy’s lip quivered for the smallest of seconds and she tensed all over at the anger in his voice. “I was tryin t’ get ya away from there, darlin. All ya had to do was come to our spot that night, leave with me… I promised to take care of ya. I never woulda broken that promise.” as he felt himself getting angry because until right now, he’d never even stopped to consider that Ivy might have tried reaching out. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew exactly why he’d never known and he made a firm mental note to talk to his meddling family the next time he got the chance.

Before finally cutting ties, because this was… If what she said was true, and he had no doubt it was because he’d never known Ivy to lie and she looked entirely too… Hurt… Bitter… right now to be lying, either way… this was the straw. This was it, this was too much interference on the part of his family. And probably her own, Adam found himself thinking, because god knows her old man hated me for whatever reason.

It was a lot to take in at once and combined with the raw pain he felt right now at finally seeing Ivy again, which was all he ever really wanted to begin with, he now had to deal with what they’d both become thanks to their families grudge and the way life was shitty and it stacked the deck against them and their love for each other practically from the word go.

“Look. It’s water under the bridge. Obviously, it wasn’t meant to be. Let’s just… Do this and go our separate ways.” Ivy’s voice trembled slightly as she said it, turning the knob to one of the private rooms above the club, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Adam suddenly couldn’t let it go. And thanks to the abundance of alcohol coursing his veins right now, he wasn’t thinking totally clear either. All he did know was that he had one last chance and he was taking it.

Ivy saw that flash in his eyes and before she could even fully process, Adam was pinning her against the wall beside the door and reaching out past her, turning the lock on the door. His mouth crushed against her mouth hungrily, almost greedily and his hands were all over her. Ivy started out with her hand firmly against his chest, hell bent on shoving him away and keeping a safe distance, but Adam wasn’t having it. And by the time Ivy had to catch her breath from the deep and needy and angry biting kiss Adam was pulling her deeper into, the hand against his shirt wound up tangling in it instead. Her other hand seemed to grow a mind of it’s own, reaching up, tugging at the messy ponytail he wore his hair in currently, even though she knew the rules like the back of her hand and she knew that this was a taboo, them kissing in the stairwell like this… As soon as she’d pulled his hair free from the hair tie, the scent of his shampoo mixed with whiskey and sweat filled her nose and a flood of old memories never truly forgotten came flooding back to her in a rush all over again.

Adam’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip, tugging and his fingertips dug into the soft curve of her hips hard enough to leave marks behind, rubbing her against him roughly. “You were supposed to be mine. Not workin here, like this. Not dancin…I was supposed to take care of ya.”

“Adam, don’t… Please… If we start thinking about this…” Ivy pleaded, her hands shaking as she lowered the one tangled in his hair to the belt buckle at his waist, trailing the tip of her finger over the intricate design on the metal and resting her hand over the buckle, tugging him closer. Despite everything inside her telling her that not resisting was a bad idea and doing this was an even worse one, not really talking and getting closure first was probably the WORST decision of the current ones she’d been making tonight, Ivy suddenly didn’t care. Ivy didn’t want to stop or think about what might happen next, she didn’t want to fight against the pull to Adam that came rushing right back all over again when she’d locked eyes with him downstairs. “I don’t wanna think. Or fight.”

Seconds trickled by slowly as she stared up at him, biting her lower lip. Literally every single thing that kept them apart for so long was racing through her brain and she could tell it was eating away at him too. That it probably had been for a long time now. Maybe even as long as it had with her.

“We’re… Not supposed to… Touch. Or you’re not supposed to touch me.” Ivy managed to tear her mouth away from Adam’s again to let him know what was expected. Adam gave a solemn nod and Ivy rose to tiptoe slightly, muttering dangerously close against his lips all over again, “But Slade did say that this was my call… And I…” she trailed off, sighing and shaking her head, gently shoving him back into the chair that stood just behind Adam, slightly off center of the room. Adam’s eyes met hers and he tucked his fingers beneath her chin to hold her eyes on his. “You what, Ivy?”

“I just need you…” as the words left her mouth, Adam just barely ghosted his hands down her sides, sliding her a little closer to him. Ivy whimpered as she felt him straining at the stiff dark blue denim and before she could stop herself, she was rocking herself over the bulge twitching and straining at it. Adam’s head lowered after he met her gaze for a second or two, a questioning look in his eyes as if to ask if what he was about to do was alright. Ivy nodded and rose up slightly, putting her chest eye level with his mouth. All Adam could do was drop his head down, bury his lips in the exposed cleavage peeking out and in his face and let out this frustrated groan against her skin.

None of this was supposed to go this way and it frustrated him that it had. Ivy’s hips moved in a figure 8 and with each brush of soaked black pleather against the crotch of his jeans,Adam’s fingertips dug into her ass just a little more, he was cautious to at least try honoring the no touch rule Ivy warned him about after the kiss broke a few minutes before. Ivy pressed down a little harder, taking shaky breaths, leaning in and ghosting her lips against his own as she muttered softly, “Missed you. I was so afraid I fucked it all up when you didn’t… Come for me.”

Adam broke at her words, a sharp breath as his hands raised, caressing her cheeks, pulling her mouth against his as she continued to ride his lap, grind against his thigh and rub herself against him as much as she could. His tongue slipped past her lips as he muttered quietly into the deepening and dizzying kiss, “Darlin, I didn’t know.. Nobody told me you were tryin to get in touch. I tried to write you too. Tried callin, tried everythin. I never woulda just let ya go if I hadn’t thought.. That was what you wanted. Never.” he stared her down, emphasizing his words with carefully placed kisses against every bit of exposed skin within his reach. And as if it weren’t enough, he tilted her chin, making her look down at him, hands ghosting down her sides, careful to move immediately back to the arm of the chair just to be safe, pouting as he did so. “I really did. I.. I thought not hearin from ya meant you finally couldn’t fight everything against us anymore.”

“Adam, no. No.” Ivy’s mouth nuzzled against his neck as she started to sink down in his lap, making his head fall back and his eyes flutter open and shut. When she started to crawl out of his lap and she settled on her knees between his thighs, he grunted, his hips bucking upward as a helpless and needy whine fell from his mouth. “Ivy, darlin, what…” he felt her hands working his legs open wider, trailing up and down his thighs, gripping as she made her way back up his body and into his lap and turned to face away from him, rocking her ass back and forth over the throbbing bulge strained against rough denim. He hissed and leaned forward, his chest pressing into her back, his hands leaving the arm rest of the chair and lingering on the insides of her thighs as his mouth pressed against the side of her ear, “Missed you so fuckin much, darlin. So much. I never stopped thinkin about you.. Hell, I dream about you every night.” he admitted in a low and husky growl, sending a shiver racing through her that he felt as soon as it did. Ivy’s hands twined with his, ghosting over her body, lingering on her chest, squeezing as she whimpered.

“Oh Adam.” her words caught in her throat and her head fell back, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Yeah?” Adam whispered back, his lips dancing down the side of her neck and seconds away from snapping. He’d been kept from her too damn long. And he was tired of it. It had to end tonight.

“Take me home… Somewhere. Anywhere.” Ivy muttered quietly, rubbing herself against his lap a little harder and a lot more urgently.

“Can go back t’ my Airstream over at the fairground.” Adam managed to mutter the words as Ivy turned around in his lap. Adam stood, not bothering to put her on her own feet and as he stopped to open the door he mumbled against her neck “There a back way outta here?”

“Yeah.. Go down the hall and take the stairs. It’ll take ya out into the alley.” Ivy breathed into the kiss that she pulled him into feverishly. The door shut behind them and Adam walked down the hall hastily, stopping at the top of the stairs to press her against the wall. Ivy’s legs wrapped around him and she rubbed against him, whimpering and clinging to him, the tips of her fingers digging into his scalp and tugging at his hair, her other hand lightly digging into his shoulder as she attacked his mouth hungrily.

“Fuck.” Adam managed to gasp just as he descended the stairs and fumbled with the handle on the door at the bottom, hurrying to step out into the alley. From there it was a short walk around the building, and after stopping a time or two between the building and the parking lot where his truck sat waiting, they were finally standing beside it. Adam scooped her up, opening the passenger door and sitting her inside, the restrictions of the club and the VIP room gone by now and all he wanted to do was touch her. Feel her body, her mouth against his own, know that he wasn’t imagining it, this was real and they were together again at last.

Logically, he knew they had a lot to talk about, but for tonight, talking was the last thing on his mind. Their lips came apart swollen and bruised and Adam took a long and deep breath just to try calming himself down a little and Ivy’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him back in all over again, taking his face in her hands, pulling his mouth back against hers all over again. “Adam, I..”

The kiss broke and Adam pressed the side of his finger against her lips to stop the flow of her words, pressing his forehead against hers. “Don’t wanna talk, okay? Just.. Don’t wanna think about all the shit that went wrong. Not tonight.”

“I need to say this.” Ivy insisted. Adam bit his lip, his stomach churning nervously as he peered into big brown eyes, waiting, wondering what she had to say so bad that it couldn’t wait. Ivy’s teeth clenched his lower lip and she muttered into heated little kisses against his mouth, “I never stopped loving you, ever. God did I try. I just.. I couldn’t.”

“I know, darlin. I know. I feel the same way.” Adam reassured her, a hand slipping to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her mouth into his completely as his other hand worked up the insides of her thighs, squeezing as he pulled her close again, letting her cling to him. “I gotta drive.”

Ivy gave a soft laugh and nodded, trying to ply herself from his arms. Adam hurried around his truck and climbed inside, starting the engine and taking a side road out of the parking lot because it was shorter than going through town to get back to the fairgrounds. His hand wandered over the console, grabbing for her thigh, squeezing after he’d raised her hand to his lips. Ivy bit her lip, legs falling open ever so slightly. Before Adam could stop himself from doing so, he was growling quietly and shifting in the driver seat, leaning over to whisper boldly against her ear, “We might make it inside. If you’re lucky. Keep it up, Ivy Jane.”

Apparently, she was trying to get herself fucked against the side of his Airstream because her next move was to lean across and ghost her lips up the side of his neck while lowering her hand and slowly moving it up the inside of his thigh, lingering over a now throbbing bulge. His breath caught in his throat and Ivy gently nipped at his earlobe as she giggled almost whisper quiet against it. His hand skimmed along the inside of her thigh, fingertips disappearing beneath the hem of those black pleather hot pants she was wearing. As soon as his fingertip grazed against soaked fabric, he groaned, biting his lip and tried to make himself focus on the road.

As his finger slipped beneath the fabric barrier and slowly slid over her slickened folds, Ivy shivered and a quiet moan escaped her lips. Her hand found it’s way back down to his lap and Ivy stared at him a few seconds, tongue rolling over vibrant red lips.

“What, darlin?”

“Oh, nothin…” Ivy hummed innocently as her fingers tugged at the zip of his jeans, lowering it slowly. Too slow. Adam gripped the wheel and almost as soon as he felt her hand curl around his thick length, pulling it free from his jeans, he took a few long and shaky breaths, sinking into the seat just a little bit. Her tongue trailed slowly over the tip of his member, circling it, then trailing lower, moving down the side of his shaft, trailing it’s veiny length.

“Darlin, fuck.” Adam groaned, thighs tensing at the delicious and slow torment that was her tongue, gliding over his cock. Her lips wrapped around it and his hand tangled in her hair, tugging. The parking lot of the fairground came into sight and Adam let out a long and ragged breath as he felt her mouth latching on greedily, the hum that passed those lips as she bobbed her head up and down sending vibration racing down his length. By the time he got the truck parked and the engine killed, he was white knuckling the steering wheel with one hand and breathing so heavy it almost sounded like he’d ran a marathon. He leaned his head back against the head rest of his seat and bucked his hips against her mouth carefully, praising in a husky whisper, “Fuck, darlin.. So good with that little mouth of yours. C’mon, baby. Deeper.”

When she trailed her tongue right down the underside of his length, he growled and groaned aloud more than a few times, eyes fluttering open and closed as he bucked in his seat all over again and tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging a little. “Ivy, fuck yeah. Feels so good.” he groaned over and over.

Ivy hit her gag reflex and Adam thrust against her mouth all over again, lowering his hand to tilt her chin and make her stop, look up at him, leaning down to crash his mouth against her mouth sloppily and muttering into the kiss, “Best we move this inside, darlin.”

“Adam.” Ivy whined and pouted, but Adam shook his head and got out of the truck, hurrying around to her side, reaching in to unfasten her seatbelt and scooping her out into his arms, jogging in a hurry towards the silver Airstream parked haphazardly nearby. Her back met the door of his camper and his hand disappeared right back up the hem of her hot pants, fingers hastily brushing her soaked panties aside as he growled against her neck and buried his fingers knuckle deep into her heat, working her open, bucking himself into her, teeth snagging on skin and leaving marks behind. When he finally got the damn door unlocked, he stepped inside, locking it behind him, tossing his key onto a butcher block countertop. He stepped into the back of the camper, gently tossing Ivy against the mattress and sinking down, his hands gripping the waist of her hot pants, tugging both hot pants and soaked panties to the ground in less time than it took Ivy to bat a lash. As his hands parted her thighs, she rose to prop on her elbows, staring down at him. Adam hooked his arms beneath her thighs to hold her legs open and his eyes met hers as he licked his lips and lowered his head, dancing his lips right up the inside of her thighs.

Ivy’s hand lowered, gripping at his hair, trying to tug his mouth up higher and Adam chuckled quietly against her skin, leaving little kisses and bites behind. The second she felt his tongue rolling over her folds and heard the greedy loud slurping she whimpered almost helplessly when she tried to rock her hips upward and realized that Adam had such a tight grip on her thighs that she really couldn’t move. “Adam.” she panted, biting her lip, whimpering even louder as his mouth closed over her clit, tongue circling the small bundle of nerves, teeth snagging on her skin to mark her up. “Fuck, darlin. Still taste so sweet. And you’re so wet for me already.” his nose bumped against her pelvic mound as he mumbled against her cunt and his tongue started to descend, trailing right over her folds, sending a shiver racing through her body. Ivy’s toes curled in the bed sheet beneath her, and Adam’s grip loosened slightly. The second it did, Ivy was writhing and rocking her hips upward against his mouth as much as she could and Adam slipped two fingers deep into her heat to join his tongue.

“C’mon, darlin. Let go. Let me taste.” Adam coaxed, not that Ivy needed much of a reason and as her orgasm washed over her, leaving her shaking and whimpering and moaning on the bed below him, Adam raised up, unbuckling and then unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging off his boots and then kicking the denim free from his body, lowering himself and settling over her, his hand disappearing down between them to guide his cock over her folds, making her shiver all over again and whimper, pleading with him.

“C’mon, Adam, now.. Need you now.”

“I know, darlin, I know.” Adam mumbled quietly against her mouth, his tongue parting her lips as he sank his length deep into her dripping heat, laying still and kissing her all over the face and the neck as he touched her everywhere, hands unable to be still. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Ivy could only nod and seconds later, moan his name loud enough to be heard outside the trailer as he started to fuck into her slow and deep, the mattress creaking steadily beneath the two of them as Adam’s hands captured her hands at either side of her head and his mouth conquered her mouth and then drifted down, lingering on her throat, leaving even more marks behind.

Ivy’s legs wrapped around his hips to pull him even closer, drive his cock in even deeper and when he bottomed out, he growled hungrily into her mouth. Her hand raised, tangling in his hair and tugging at it as Adam started to fuck into her harder, faster, their moans and panting labored breaths joining in the sound of the bed creaking beneath them both. Ivy’s head fell back as she felt another orgasm building and Adam’s hips started to snap erratically, crashing into hers, almost bruising as his pace quickened. “Ah… Fuck. Adam, fuck… Don’t… Don’t stop, baby, c’mon. I’m so.. Close.” Ivy’s eyes fluttered open and shut and her arms wrapped around his neck as Adam’s mouth crashed against her own and he muttered quietly, “Fuck, darlin… Feels so good, holdin you again. So good. Never gonna let…” his breathing hitched as he deepened the kiss and finished, “Let you go again. Ever.”

“Promise me.”

“I mean it, baby girl.” Adam growled as his teeth tugged at her lower lip and his cock bottomed out, sending her right over the edge, her orgasm shattering through all over again. Adam felt her clench around him and he gripped onto her tighter, trying to slow down and brace himself, anything to keep from getting off right away, but nothing worked, especially with Ivy whimpering beneath him, pleading and begging him not to stop, begging him to fill her up.

Ivy’s nails raked down Adam’s back as she felt the throbbing warmth of his release as it filled her and she clung to him, kissing his neck and shoulders, Adam kissing her on the forehead and cheeks, both of them trying to come down from the high of their orgasm.

Adam flopped down onto the mattress and reached out, pulling Ivy on top of him, locking his arms around her as he muttered softly, “I really do mean it. We’re gonna be okay. And I won’t lose you again.”

Ivy leaned her head down, brushing her mouth against his as she mumbled in a quiet yawn, “I know you mean it. And I don’t wanna lose you again. I… If you asked me, I’d pack up and leave with you right now. I just.. I wish I’d been able back then.”

Adam’s hand trailed lazily over her spine and he shushed her, nodding. “I know, darlin. I should’ve known it all along. Feel like an asshole because I didn’t.”

“We’re really gonna be okay..” Ivy’s voice was softer, he could look up and tell she was starting to drift off and he chuckled, pressing his lips against hers as he reassured her again that they were going to be okay.

This time was DIFFERENT. Adam was going to make sure of that.

#adam hangman page fanfiction #adam hangman page fanfic #adam hangman page fic #adam hangman page oneshot #adam hangman page imagine #// no one under 18+#// alcohol tw #// body fluids tw #// sm*t content #// part of my what if's universe - a total au and ending for it

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machinemakerthings-blog · 6 years

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Legion 2 Success Takes Hardwork

As rightly said, there is no alternative to hard work; the team Legion 2.0 from Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar College of Engineering and Research (DBACER) have a profound grip on the principle. BAJA SAE a platform engineering students turned out to be bliss for the Legions.

Run by Society of Automotive Engineering (SAE), BAJA SAE is an incredible opportunity for the engineering students to engage in extensive research and field work and to give out an unmatchable automobile that can survive the harshest elements of the rough terrain. Team from various Universities from across the world participate in this high adrenaline kicking competition where the sustainability and speed of their designed automobiles are challenged. The event is held in India, China, Brazil, South Africa and Korea. In India, the event is run by SAE.

All cars must adhere to SAE rules, and pass SAE’s technical speculation. A car may not be allowed to race until it passes all the safety inspections. There are multiple dynamic events. The dynamic events include hill climbs, sled pulls, rock craws, and suspension and traction events.

Static event such as written report, presentation and design evaluation are provided by participating teams. Also, a cost report that provides all the background information necessary to verify the vehicle’s actual cost which is used to rate the most economically feasible for production.

The motto of the event, ‘Dream Dare and Drive’ was an apt phrase that gave the right adrenaline kick to these enthusiasts. Legions stood as the fifth best team in the competition. Their dedication and passion could be seen as they stood up to all the challenges, giving neck to neck competition to all its opponents. Legions secured fourth position in the endurance assessment which was a big achievement for them. The team went on with all the zest, racing, fixing the A-arm that was torn apart in the middle of the race; the crafty hands of the students were never at rest.

The event was no less than an institution. The platform was apt to learn and practice skills, teamwork, management and so much more. As per Rutwik Sawarkar who is the vice captain of the team, the team members stood together and considered themselves responsible for their success and setbacks. The spirit of these students was that of a true sportsman.

This fascinating experience led them to working hard on their project and develop a more enduring and sophisticated ATV. Atharv Bhagade, captain of the Legions 2.0 said that they are currently working on the vehicle and are planning to hit the track soon, with an improved design.

Atharva Bhagade (Team Captian)

Participating in BAJA SAE INDIA was a wonderful experience. Decade of ‘DREAM DARE and DRIVE’ as their motto suggests, was absolutely correct. The adrenaline and passion along with dedication is what BAJA stands for and with high hopes my team ‘Legion 2.0 ‘excelled in every aspect.

Mahindra SAE BAJA 2K17 was up to its standards. Tougher tracks than before, tough challenges to face and worthy opponent above all. But then our team was determined and as we know, nothing worth having comes easy. We faced top judges during our evaluation, giving a neck to neck competition to our opponents in all the levels of evaluation. We faced many brake outs, even got our A-arms torn apart, yet we all faced the challenges together, with all the dedication we fixed our A- arms in the ongoing race, we joined the endurance soon and we tested our success.

A lot of improvements are to be made, mistakes to be improvised and a lot more enhancement to be done with all the valuable experiences and knowledge. Now we are ready with our improved design and concept and will be back as champions, real soon.

Rutwik Sawarkar (Manager, Vice-Captain & Treasurer)

BAJA SAE INDIA encourages us to dream big and drives us towards growth. This type of exposure encourages young engineers like us to think out of the box.

Each one not only develops technically but also develops skills like management, teamwork and soft skills etc, which are industry’s requirements today. It is most essential to never give up and always be willing to learn from all the experiences and knowledge coming our way. I really appreciate the dedication and the hard work of my team. Each and every member of the team is responsible for success and mistakes in the project.

Sahil Pradhan (Autoist)

This was the first time I participated in SAE BAJA India. Before that I went for ecokart but this was a completely different experience.

According to me a driver has the most fans because driving the ATV in this event is something else. The experience is surreal. The dynamic events and endurance is my favourite part because it tests you physically and mentally.

Finally I just want to say that if you are pursuing Mechanical Engineering and have a passion for Automobile then SAE BAJA is the perfect place.

Mrunalini Kukde (Team Member)

BAJA SAE INDIA taught us to deal with people on different levels, with whomour frequency does not necessarily have to match. You can take a bag full of learning, experiences, success, and failure from the event. Both from your as well as others.

Why you chose Engineering?

We don’t need to sit in frontof computer or assemble circuit or code. Our labs require us to be active and use a wide range of machine. We start it out in the labs and it’s a lot of fun. This course really does open to endless opportunities.

What are your Expectations from the field?

Mechanical engineering is perhaps one of the oldest disciplines in the field of engineering. In the past mechanical engineering worked mainly in construction, aviation, industrial production etc. But now the scope of mechanical engineering has expanded and involves streams likeMechatronics, Robotics and so much more.

Do you face any Problem in this field as a girl?

Mechanical engineering is the branch of engineering that is mostly devoid of girls. For the guys in mechanical engineering a girl is a rarity but for a girl it is a constant struggle to keep up with all the insanity around her. The biggest problem a mech girl faces is that nobody else can get proxy attendance for her – as a single girl in a class. But 4 years make you get used to it and you become one of their own.

Aparna Jogwe (Team Member)

My experience in e BAJA was very fascinating. I learnt a lot from the people there.

Why you chose Engineering?

I chose mechanical engineering because it respects the importance of your work. You get the opportunity to create something tangible and useful that can strengthen the backbone of modern human life.

What are your Expectations from the field?

Mechanical engineering is the broadest branch of engineering and hence it offers job opportunities even after graduation. So I expect it to be useful for me practically as well as economically.

Do you face any Problem in this field as a girl?

I wouldn’t be paranoid about this because being a ‘GIRL’ doesn’t put down or raise my level in the competition. So I will say it’s equally difficult for me as it is for any other male student.

About Us

THE MACHINE MAKER, an authentic magazine from the house of MART Info media Private Limited with 14 years of experience in Indian manufacturing sector, is all geared up to cover the growth of this new age manufacturing sector in India with special thrust on the makers who will make this happen. Read and Advertise with us to be part of this growth.

THE MACHINE MAKER

2nd floor Ariana, Bhumkar Chowk, Marunji Road, Wakad Pune-411057

Phone no: +91-788-780-0015

Email Id: [email protected]

Website: https://www.themachinemaker.com

#SAE

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imtiredandstressedpleasehelp · 6 years

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As we celebrate the Fourth of July and American independence, let us not forget another hard-won battle: the battle for women’s healthcare, which the Trump administration is working so hard to reverse. I was fortunate enough several years ago to interview the arguing attorney for Roe v. Wade, and it doesn’t cease to amaze me how far we’ve come. It is more important than ever to fight against the Trump administration, lest we lose more lives. I’ve attached the interview, for those who wish to read it. Stand with me today as we fight for rights to our own bodies.

SW: Offices.

RM: Is this Ms. Weddington?

SW: Yes.

RM: Hi, my name is (my name) and I’m contacting you to conduct an interview for a National History Day research project.

SW: Right. I was expecting your call.

RM: Yes. So, this year, our theme is ‘Taking a Stand in History’, and I chose Roe V. Wade as my topic, and more specifically, you as someone who took a stand in history.

SW: Okay.

RM: So can I ask you a few questions?

SW: I’m ready!

RM: Thank you! So, how did you get into this case? What inspired you to take it on?

SW: Um, when I finished law school, I couldn’t get a job with a regular law firm, so I was working for a professor, and there was a group of people-mostly women but a couple of men-who were graduate students at the University of Texas and-am I going too fast?

RM: No, you’re fine.

SW: Okay, um, and they had started an effort to, um, be able to tell women how to get birth control. And in addition, people would sometimes say, um, “I’m already pregnant, where do I get an abortion?” So they had tried to begin to collect that information, because even though abortion was illegal, except to save the life of the woman, which, nobody knew what that meant. Um, there were places in Texas that did abortions illegally, but women could also go to California, where it was closer to being legal, or they could go to Mexico, where it was illegal, but there were some good places and some really bad places. So they wanted to be able to tell women where the good places were and keep them out of the bad places. So, we were talking to it over coffee in the coffee bar in the law school one day and they said, “Well, y’know, all of our efforts to give people information would not be nearly as effective as if we could have the law declare it unconstitutional and get abortion to be legal.” And so eventually they said, “Would you mind doing a case with the goal of overturning the Texas law?” and I said, “Well, y’know, I haven’t really done regular law practice, so it’d probably be better if you got someone who had done a federal trial kind of case-

RM: Right.

SW: And they said, “Well, how much would you charge us to do this case?” and I said, “Oh, I’d do it for free.” and they said, “You are our attorney.” And so that’s how I got the case. And so I talked to one of my, uh, other people in law school, or who had been in law school with me-she had been out practicing at that point-and her name was Linda Coffee- L-I-N-D-A C-O-F-F-E-E, and she was practicing law in Dallas, and so I called her to ask if she would be co-council for free, and she said she would, and so, uh, we began to try to put together the case. And as it turned out, it was very lucky that I was at the law school because that gave me access to the law professors, and I could go and ask them questions about various aspects of the, you know, getting ready to do a class-action, so it was not just for one person, it was for a group of people, and, y’know, a variety of other questions, so they were very helpful to me. So that’s how we started out.

RM: That’s really interesting.

SW: Yeah, and it’s, uh, y’know, your first contested case, you’re going to the US supreme court, I would have said, “Oh, no. *Laughs* I don’t think so.” But of course, that’s exactly what happened.

RM: Right. So, going along with that, out of all of the cases you could have chosen to take fresh out of law school, why this one in particular?

SW: Well, first because the people who were trying to counsel women were my friends-

RM: Aha.

SW: And they asked me to do it. And then, uh, they were part of what we then, at that time, called the Women’s Liberation group, a group that would, you know, sit and talk about the various parts of law that needed to be changed. Uh, volunteers would do counseling for women who called in, and so it was one of those things that it was a time in history where women were really trying to get rid of, oh, for example, women, at that point, could not get credit unless they had their father or husband’s permission. And that seemed bad to us and we wanted to change that, and so once I got in the legislature, we changed that. And, um so there were a whole series of things that we thought were limiting of women in an inappropriate way.

RM: That’s...I’m sorry to keep repeating myself, but that’s a fantastic thing to take a stand for, especially fresh out of law school.

SW: Yeah! And so we were actually able to do, you know, a lot of things, and so it was a time when we were trying to expand the arena on which women could make their own decisions.

RM: Right.

SW: And get rid of some of the laws saying, “Women can’t do this, women can’t do that.” I know this is far before your history, but um, when I had been in high school, we played high school basketball but the rules at that time on women’s basketball was that you could only run half-court.

RM: Right. I recall reading that in your book.

SW: Yeah, and then you had to throw the ball to somebody on the other side of the court. And that was ridiculous! So we eventually got that changed.

RM: That’s a fantastic thing to change.

SW: Yeah, and then there’s a whole buncha stuff I put in the book about-where it was talking about, um, the day I argued in the supreme court. Three of the four people who argued-there were two different cases, the Texas case and the Georgia case, and three of the four people who argued that day were women, and so people around the court were calling it Women’s Day, because they couldn’t remember a case or a time when there had been three women arguing in the same morning or the same afternoon. And then, when I got to the court, there was no women’s room in the lawyer’s lounge.

RM: That seems like something they would have to have.

SW: Well, uh, they didn’t have to then and they had very few women who argued, so they just had never thought it necessary. And then eventually, when Sandra Day O’Connor got there, she started talking about it. And when Ruth Bader Ginsburg got to the court, they had two of them saying, “You have got to have a women’s room in the lawyer’s lounge!” And it wasn’t for their personal use, ‘cause they had a women’s room in their chambers, but it was for the women who would come and argue.

RM: Yes.

SW: So today, if anyone goes to argue, be it a man or a woman, there will be a place.

RM: There should be.

SW: Yeah, exactly. *Laughs*

RM: You’d think that’d be common sense.

SW: Yes, but times change.

RM: So, how did the process of arguing the original case and the appellate affect you-emotionally or otherwise?

SW: *Sigh* Well, obviously, I felt a great deal of responsibility to try my hardest to win, because it would affect so many people. Um, and, I didn’t have much experience doing contested cases. Uh, that made me more nervous and more anxious to do a really good job. So the first case we tried, as you know, in the district court in Dallas. And Sarah Hughes was one of the judges on that three-judge panel. And you may remember, I’m sure your parents would, that Sarah Hughes was the person who swore in Lyndon B. Johnson, who was vice president, until Kennedy was shot in Dallas. And then Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as president. And Sarah Hughes swore him in.

RM: And she was on your panel?

SW: Yep! So there were three people, one of whom was a woman, and that was Sarah Hughes.

RM: That must have been hard for you to argue for someone who swore in a president.

SW: Well, I think we may have argued-I can’t remember if she had sworn him in before we argued or after-not sure about that.

RM: That’s still something that must have been difficult for you.

SW: Well, she was a very well-known woman lawyer, and there were two men-obviously very well known. So yeah. Just appearing in federal court was difficult or awe-inspiring, shall we say.

RM: I can imagine.

SW: And then, you know, we won that case, although they refused to grant an injunction. We had asked them to tell the federal, uh, like the state district attorney in Dallas and others to quit prosecuting doctors because then we thought, you know, they would be willing to do procedures. And the court ruled that they felt that law enforcement officials would abide by the decision of the three-judge federal court. So they didn’t want to issue an injunction when they didn’t have to. And then the district attorney, um, shortly after that-well in fact, it was the day after that, the day after the opinion, he had a press conference and he said he doesn’t care what any federal court said, he would continue to prosecute. Now, part of that was probably the district attorneys in Texas are elected, so he may have said that partially to get reelected. Uh, but it was fortunate for us, because it gave us the grounds for doing a direct appeal to the US supreme court. Normally, we would have had to go through the federal circuit, uh, the fifth circuit before we could go through the US Supreme Court. But there’s a rule that says, “If local law enforcement officials refuse to abide by the decision of a federal court, then you can go directly to the supreme court.” So we went directly from the three-judge court in Dallas to the Supreme Court. And they accepted the case. So you know that eventually we argued the case twice. And the first time, there were only seven judges on the US Supreme Court. Because two had, for reasons of health and other things, had resigned. And so there were only seven judges. And the Court, the supreme Court, ruled that there was no, they would prefer to have the case re-argued at a time there were nine judges on the US Supreme Court, rather than missing two. So we came back in 1972, we argued it the first time in 1971, and then we came back in 1972 when there were nine judges on the bench. And we eventually won. It was January 22, 1973.

RM: So, going along with that, too, what impact did you hope the case would have?

SW: Well, I hoped the case would make the anti-abortion laws illegal; would overturn them throughout the country so women would have access to abortion. And in Dallas, um, when we were working on the case, there was a ward at Parkland Hospital which was the hospital that Justice-s’cuse me, Kennedy, President Kennedy, was taken to when he was shot, and at Parkland Hospital there was a ward-

RM: The Infected Obstetrics Ward?

SW: Tell me again?

RM: The IOB?

SW: Uh-huh. The IOB Ward. And so doctors knew what often happened to women who had illegal abortions. Um, and so they were anxious to help. And the justice who wrote the opinion was Harry Blackmun of Minnesota, and he had been counsel to Mayo Clinic, so he knew a lot about medical issues. And that’s why I think it’s good that he wrote the opinion.

RM: So, what did this case represent for you?

SW: Well, a number of things. One, a win in an important place. So, winning a case in the Supreme Court is huge for any lawyer. Um, now, some lawyers spend a lot of their careers doing supreme court cases. They’re real experts in supreme court cases, and I never did that because I decided if I didn’t win-and I didn’t know if I was winning or not-that I would run for the legislature and try to change the laws there. So I did win, and I was the first woman from Austin-Travis County to be sworn in to the Texas Legislature. So that’s the way we changed the law that you had to have your husband’s or your father’s signature to get credit and, you know, a lot of other things. So partly it was a professional success. And then, of course, it’s something I’ve continued to focus on all the years since. So now I’m ready for y’all to take over.

RM: Next question. What kind of personal opposition did you face as a result of this case?

SW: Well, obviously, when I was running for election, to the Texas Legislature, there were a number of people here in Austin who were very opposed to abortion and were therefore opposed to me because I had done the case. But luckily, Austin is a place where there is a greater number of people who were in favor of abortion being legal for women. And so I got their support in a very determined way. And that was a big help in running for office. And there are various times when you wonder, you know, is somebody opposed to me based on the fact that I did the case, or is it something else? You’re never quite sure, but more people are in favor. And of course when I was in the legislature, there were a number of people-a minority, but there were a number of people who were strongly opposed to Roe versus Wade and were trying to overturn it. So although I will eventually be buried in the state cemetery, which is a place for members of the House and of the Senate, there are a few people I wouldn’t want to be buried by because they were so opposed. But luckily, there are other places. *Laughs* Fine by me.

RM: Right. So, I think I only have a few more questions for you. I think we’ve already covered this, but do you regret taking the case and would you take it again?

SW: Ah, I would take it again. I don’t regret it. I would admit, I’d be much more careful about the person who would be the plaintiff in the case. Because it never occurred to me that you would have a person who would agree to be the plaintiff-and the main thing we needed was a pregnant plaintiff-because, um, you have to have someone-it has to be a genuine case or controversy. So if you’re doing a case that relates to abortion, you obviously need a pregnant plaintiff. So Linda Coffee had a friend in Dallas who, um, worked with various women to help with adoptions if they did not want to keep the child themselves. And he called and said he had a plaintiff-a client of his who was pregnant and did not want to be. And so he set her up to come meet with us. And we explained that it would not cost her anything-we would pay the court costs, we would pay all the other expenses. And so she said she would be happy to help. And luckily, she signed an affidavit about her facts at Linda Coffee’s office. And so Linda’s secretary saw that she was very pregnant. So that made me feel better because then I was sure she was pregnant. But later, she changed her mind, as you probably know, and decided she was against abortion. And she worked with a man named...I can see him, now let me think of his name. Oh, um, it was just a guy who was very opposed to abortion. And so he said, “Oh, come work with us, and you and I can go around and speak together and you’ll speak first and then I’ll speak. Then we’ll take up a collection and you’ll get part of it and I’ll get part of it.

RM: She pretty much turned on the case.

SW: Yeah! Absolutely. In fact, she filed a lawsuit at one time asking to overturn the case, which the court threw out, because it was many years after we had won the case. It wasn’t timely, as we say in the law. Um, and then, there was another part where she had said...it was an interview for a writer for Housekeeping, and he said, “How did you get pregnant?” and she said, “I was working in rural Georgia in late 1969 for a seedy carnival and I was staying in a seedy motel. And so I was walking back to the motel one night from the carnival, and three men-a black, a white, and a Hispanic-brutally raped me. And I think of that as really odd, because I don’t think of those three people being together in rural Georgia in 1969. And so I just never felt good about that. And then later, she did an interview with Carl Rowen, who was a well-known interviewer for one of the national TV channels, and he said to her, “What about the rape?” and she said, “I lied.” She didn’t feel committed to the truth. And another time she said that she had actually had two children before Roe versus Wade. One, her mother had taken from her on the basis she was unfit to raise the child, and we put that in our affidavit to the court, that she had had a prior child, and her mother had taken that child, and then that she was still pregnant again. But she had a second child between those two, and the father had taken custody. But she never said that to us when we were talking to her about starting the case, so I still don’t know if that’s true or not true.

RM: That would be good information to have for you.

SW: It would be good, but it’s not necessary in the sense that we could file the lawsuit without knowing about it-and we didn’t know about it. And later, if a member of the press said to me, “and she had two prior children, didn’t she?” and I said, “I really don’t know. She only told us she had one, but she’s done interviews where she mentioned having two. So I really don’t know.” It’s not helpful, but…

RM: Last question. If given the chance, would you change any part of the case?

SW: No. I would get a different plaintiff, um, but the things I argued are still the same. Now, you have some things. There’s been research on how many women have had abortions. I know more of the statistics now than I did then. So I could include more of those. But I wouldn’t change what I argued. And I know what of the supreme court, of the constitution I argued. I’d still argue the same. I might add some other things from cases since then, but um, I’d present it...and you know, it’s hard to criticize yourself when you won the case.

RM: Very true. I think that just about wraps that up. Again, I just want to thank you for letting me interview you and I’m really, really grateful for this.

SW: Well, I’m happy to do it and I hope you got some good points in regards to the competition and that you win! So if you win, let me know!

RM: Yes ma’am!

SW: Okay!

RM: Thank you for your time and enjoy the rest of your day!

SW: Thank you so much. Bye (my name)!

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teded · 8 years

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Can US Customs and Border officials search your phone?

Recent detentions and seizures of phones and other material from travelers to the United States have sparked alarm. Below, ProPublica details what powers US Customs and Border Protection officials have over you and your devices.

A NASA scientist heading home to the US said he was detained in January at a Houston airport, where US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officers pressured him for access to his work phone and its potentially sensitive contents. Last month, CBP agents checked the identification of passengers leaving a domestic flight at New York’s John F. Kennedy Airport during a search for an immigrant with a deportation order. And in October, border agents seized phones and other work-related material from a Canadian photojournalist. They blocked him from entering the US after he refused to unlock the phones, citing his obligation to protect his sources. These and other recent incidents have revived confusion and alarm over what powers border officials actually have and, perhaps more importantly, how to know when they are overstepping their authority.

The unsettling fact is that border officials have long had broad powers — many people just don’t know about them. Border officials, for instance, have search powers that extend 100 air miles inland from any external boundary of the US. That means border agents can stop and question people at fixed checkpoints dozens of miles from US borders. They can also pull over motorists whom they suspect of a crime as part of “roving” border patrol operations.

Sowing even more uneasiness, ambiguity around the agency’s search powers — especially over electronic devices — has persisted for years as courts nationwide address legal challenges raised by travelers, privacy advocates and civil-rights groups. We dug out answers about the current state-of-play when it comes to border searches, along with links to more detailed resources (below).

Original post on the TED-Ed Blog. Click below to read further!

Doesn’t the Fourth Amendment protect people from “unreasonable searches and seizures”? Yes. The Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution articulates the “right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures.” However, those protections are lessened when entering the country at international terminals at airports, other ports of entry and subsequently any location that falls within 100 air miles of an external US boundary.

How broad is Customs and Border Protection’s search authority? According to federal statutes, regulations and court decisions, CBP officers have the authority to inspect, without a warrant, any person trying to gain entry into the US, and their belongings. CBP can also question individuals about their citizenship or immigration status and ask for documents that prove admissibility into the country.

This blanket authority for warrantless, routine searches at a port of entry ends when CBP decides to undertake a more invasive procedure, such as a body cavity search. For these kinds of actions, the CBP official needs to have some level of suspicion that a particular person is engaged in illicit activity, not simply that the individual is trying to enter the US.

Does CBP’s search authority cover electronic devices like smartphones and laptops? Yes. CBP refers to several statutes and regulations in justifying its authority to examine “computers, disks, drives, tapes, mobile phones and other communication devices, cameras, music and other media players, and any other electronic or digital devices.”

According to current CBP policy, officials should search electronic devices with a supervisor in the room, when feasible, and also in front of the person being questioned “unless there are national security, law enforcement, or other operational considerations” that take priority. For instance, if allowing a traveler to witness the search would reveal sensitive law enforcement techniques or compromise an investigation, “it may not be appropriate to allow the individual to be aware of or participate in a border search,” according to a 2009 privacy impact assessment by the US Department of Homeland Security.

CBP says it can conduct these searches “with or without” specific suspicion that the person who possesses the items is involved in a crime.

With a supervisor’s sign-off, CBP officers can also seize an electronic device — or a copy of the information on the device — “for a brief, reasonable period of time to perform a thorough border search.” Such seizures typically shouldn’t exceed five days, although officers can apply for extensions in up to one-week increments, according to CBP policy. If a review of the device and its contents does not turn up probable cause for seizing it, CBP says it will destroy the copied information and return the device to its owner.

Can CBP really search my electronic devices without any specific suspicion that I might have committed a crime? The Supreme Court has not directly ruled on this issue. However, a 2013 decision from the US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit — one level below the Supreme Court — provides some guidance on potential limits to CBP’s search authority.

In a majority decision, the court affirmed that cursory searches of laptops — such as having travelers turn their devices on and then examining their contents — does not require any specific suspicions about the travelers to justify them.

The court, however, raised the bar for a “forensic examination” of the devices, such as using “computer software to analyze a hard drive.” For these more powerful, intrusive and comprehensive searches, which could provide access to deleted files and search histories, password-protected information and other private details, border officials must have a “reasonable suspicion” of criminal activity — not just a hunch.

As it stands, the 2013 appeals court decision legally applies only to the nine Western states in the Ninth Circuit, including California, Arizona, Nevada, Oregon and Washington. It’s not clear whether CBP has taken the 2013 decision into account more broadly: the last time the agency publicly updated its policy for searching electronic devices was in 2009. CBP is currently reviewing that policy and there is “no specific timeline” for when an updated version might be announced, according to the agency.

“Laptop computers, iPads and the like are simultaneously offices and personal diaries. They contain the most intimate details of our lives,” the court’s decision said. “It is little comfort to assume that the government — for now — does not have the time or resources to seize and search the millions of devices that accompany the millions of travelers who cross our borders. It is the potential unfettered dragnet effect that is troublesome.”

During the 2016 fiscal year, CBP officials conducted 23,877 electronic media searches, a five-fold increase from the previous year. In both the 2015 and 2016 fiscal years, the agency processed more than 380 million arriving travelers.

Am I legally required to disclose the password for my electronic device or social media, if CBP asks for it? That’s still an unsettled question, according to Liza Goitein, co-director of the Liberty and National Security Program at the Brennan Center for Justice. “Until it becomes clear that it’s illegal to do that, they’re going to continue to ask,” she said.

The Fifth Amendment says that no one shall be made to serve as “a witness against himself” in a criminal case. Lower courts, however, have produced differing decisions on how exactly the Fifth Amendment applies to the disclosure of passwords to electronic devices.

Customs officers have the statutory authority “to demand the assistance of any person in making any arrest, search, or seizure authorized by any law enforced or administered by customs officers, if such assistance may be necessary.” That statute has traditionally been invoked by immigration agents to enlist the help of local, state and other federal law enforcement agencies, according to Nathan Wessler, a staff attorney with the ACLU’s Speech, Privacy and Technology Project. Whether the statute also compels individuals being interrogated by border officials to divulge their passwords has not been directly addressed by a court, Wessler said.

Even with this legal uncertainty, CBP officials have broad leverage to induce travelers to share password information, especially when someone just wants to catch their flight, get home to family or be allowed to enter the country. “Failure to provide information to assist CBP may result in the detention and/or seizure of the electronic device,” according to a statement provided by CBP.

Travelers who refuse to give up passwords could also be detained for longer periods and have their bags searched more intrusively. Foreign visitors could be turned away at the border, and green card holders could be questioned and challenged about their continued legal status.

“People need to think about their own risks when they are deciding what to do. US citizens may be comfortable doing things that non-citizens aren’t, because of how CBP may react,” Wessler said.

What is some practical advice for protecting my digital information? Consider which devices you absolutely need to travel with, and which ones you can leave at home. Setting a strong password and encrypting your devices are helpful in protecting your data, but you may still lose access to your devices for undefined periods should border officials decide to seize and examine their contents.

Another option is to leave all of your devices behind and carry a travel-only phone free of most personal information. However, even this approach carries risks. “We also flag the reality that if you go to extreme measures to protect your data at the border, that itself may raise suspicion with border agents,” according to Sophia Cope, a staff attorney at the Electronic Frontier Foundation. “It’s so hard to tell what a single border agent is going to do.”

The EFF has released an updated guide to data protection options here.

Does CBP recognize any exceptions to what it can examine on electronic devices? If CBP officials want to search legal documents, attorney work product or information protected by attorney-client privilege, they may have to follow “special handling procedures,” according to agency policy. If there’s suspicion that the information includes evidence of a crime or otherwise relates to “the jurisdiction of CBP,” the border official must consult the CBP associate/assistant chief counsel before undertaking the search.

As for medical records and journalists’ notes, CBP says its officers will follow relevant federal laws and agency policies in handling them. When asked for more information on these procedures, an agency spokesperson said that CBP has “specific provisions” for dealing with this kind of information, but did not elaborate further. Questions that arise regarding these potentially sensitive materials can be handled by the CBP associate/assistant chief counsel, according to CBP policy. The agency also says that it will protect business or commercial information from “unauthorized disclosure.”

Am I entitled to a lawyer if I’m detained for further questioning by CBP? No. According to a statement provided by CBP, “All international travelers arriving to the U.S. are subject to CBP processing, and travelers bear the burden of proof to establish that they are clearly eligible to enter the United States. Travelers are not entitled to representation during CBP administrative processing, such as primary and secondary inspection.”

Even so, some immigration lawyers recommend that travelers carry with them the number for a legal aid hotline or a specific lawyer who will be able to help them, should they get detained for further questioning at a port of entry.

“It is good practice to ask to speak to a lawyer,” said Paromita Shah, associate director at the National Immigration Project of the National Lawyers Guild. “We always encourage people to have a number where their attorney can be reached, so they can explain what is happening and their attorney can try to intervene. It’s definitely true that they may not be able to get into the actual space, but they can certainly intervene.”

Lawyers who fill out this form on behalf of a traveler headed into the United States might be allowed to advocate for that individual, although local practices can vary, according to Shah.

Can I record my interaction with CBP officials? Individuals on public land are allowed to record and photograph CBP operations so long as their actions do not hinder traffic, according to CBP. However, the agency prohibits recording and photography in locations with special security and privacy concerns, including some parts of international airports and other secure port areas.

Does CBP’s power to stop and question people extend beyond the border and ports of entry? Yes. Federal statutes and regulations empower CBP to conduct warrantless searches for people travelling illegally from another country in any “railway car, aircraft, conveyance, or vehicle” within 100 air miles from “any external boundary” of the country. About two-thirds of the US population live in this zone, including the residents of New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia and Houston, according to the ACLU.

As a result, CBP currently operates 35 checkpoints, where they can stop and question motorists traveling in the US about their immigration status and make “quick observations of what is in plain view” in the vehicle without a warrant, according to the agency. Even at a checkpoint, however, border officials cannot search a vehicle’s contents or its occupants unless they have probable cause of wrongdoing, the agency says. Failing that, CBP officials can ask motorists to allow them to conduct a search, but travelers are not obligated to give consent.

When asked how many people were stopped at CBP checkpoints in recent years, as well as the proportion of those individuals detained for further scrutiny, CBP said they didn’t have the data “on hand” but that the number of people referred for secondary questioning was “minimum.” At the same time, the agency says that checkpoints “have proven to be highly effective tools in halting the flow of illegal traffic into the United States.”

Within 25 miles of any external boundary, CBP has the additional patrol power to enter onto private land, not including dwellings, without a warrant.

Where can CBP set up checkpoints? CBP chooses checkpoint locations within the 100-mile zone that help “maximize border enforcement while minimizing effects on legitimate traffic,” the agency says.

At airports that fall within the 100-mile zone, CBP can also set up checkpoints next to airport security to screen domestic passengers who are trying to board their flights, according to Chris Rickerd, a policy counsel at the ACLU’s National Political Advocacy Department.

“When you fly out of an airport in the southwestern border, say McAllen, Brownsville or El Paso, you have Border Patrol standing beside TSA when they’re doing the checks for security. They ask you the same questions as when you’re at a checkpoint. ‘Are you a US citizen?’ They’re essentially doing a brief immigration inquiry in the airport because it’s part of the 100-mile zone,” Rickerd said. “I haven’t seen this at the northern border.”

Can CBP do anything outside of the 100-mile zone? Yes. Many of CBP’s law enforcement and patrol activities, such as questioning individuals, collecting evidence and making arrests, are not subject to the 100-mile rule, the agency says. For instance, the geographical limit does not apply to stops in which border agents pull a vehicle over as part of a “roving patrol” and not a fixed checkpoint, according to Rickerd of the ACLU. In these scenarios, border agents need reasonable suspicion that an immigration violation or crime has occurred to justify the stop, Rickerd said. For stops outside the 100-mile zone, CBP agents must have probable cause of wrongdoing, the agency said.

The ACLU has sued the government multiple times for data on roving patrol and checkpoint stops. Based on an analysis of records released in response to one of those lawsuits, the ACLU found that CBP officials in Arizona failed “to record any stops that do not lead to an arrest, even when the stop results in a lengthy detention, search, and/or property damage.”

The lack of detailed and easily accessible data poses a challenge to those seeking to hold CBP accountable to its duties.

“On the one hand, we fight so hard for reasonable suspicion to actually exist rather than just the whim of an officer to stop someone, but on the other hand, it’s not a standard with a lot of teeth,” Rickerd said. “The courts would scrutinize it to see if there’s anything impermissible about what’s going on. But if we don’t have data, how do you figure that out?”

Patrick G. Lee reports for ProPublica, a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative newsroom. Sign up for ProPublica’s newsletter to read more great reporting in the public interest.

Animation by Nick Hilditch

#teded #propublica #border patrol #rights #what are your rights #know your rights #aclu #laws #law enforcement #protect yourself

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deanssexplorations · 7 years

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Four Dates in One

Regular blog readers know that while I thrive on new experiences in general, groups are sort of my thing. I've been fortunate enough to do a number of threesomes, both with two men and with two women, some foursomes, a six-some, and even three men and a lady (which will be the subject of a future blog entry - I promise!)

One thing that I have not done, but is high on my bucket list, is a foursome with three women. Or even better, a fivesome with four women. My fiftieth birthday was a little over a year ago, and I decided that was going to be my birthday present to myself, being a big birthday and all. I had three friends at the time that I thought were game, but one dropped out of the casual sex circuit altogether. Then another did. So that put a kibosh on that.

I almost did it again in November. I had three friends lined up, but one of them cancelled at the last minute, making it a threesome instead (with Ruby and Rose; that was the precursor threesome to the "How Well Do You Know Us?" entry). Then Rose went and got a monogamous boyfriend and I found myself back at square one again.

Recently my FWB lineup started looking like it might support an MFFF foursome, and I've been putting some thought against it again. A few of my current friends were willing to do it sight unseen, but some weren't so sure. In particular they wondered if they would have chemistry with the other women or not. Which was a totally fair point. I'd hate to have sex with someone I didn't care much for.

So I decided to get everyone together. Because I like to mix it up that way.

I independently checked in with four current friends: Ruby, Wendy, Jody, and Felicia (in the order I met them - don't want to get into any trouble!). The invitation was for a drink after work in the City - ONLY - no sex on the table. It would be no pressure, just a fun get-together of potentially like minded people. There were some interesting exchanges, but if nothing else I think everyone was intrigued to check out who I was sleeping with, so all four said they were in.

Sweet!

We met at a bar one evening last week. I arrived at the appointed time and did a quick scan to see if there were any early arrivers. Not seeing any, I grabbed a seat in the middle of a long, narrow table near the center of the bar, strategically placing myself so two friends could sit across from me and one on each side. It was a high table with barstools around it, setting a more casual vibe than a low table with regular chairs. Just what I was looking for.

Just as I was settling in I saw Wendy wandering over and said hello. And before I could even reach out to give her a hug, I saw Ruby standing there, having just approached from the other direction. So I introduced them to each other and hugged each hello, making myself comfortable in my chosen seat. They each picked a stool across from me and next to each other and we started chatting.

I will admit I found it a bit awkward to break the ice, especially as these are the two "cooler" personalities of the four that evening. So I asked each in turn how her day was, and they did the same. Both had arrived straight from work and were wearing casual office wear. A few minutes later Jody showed up, and since she had come from home - and probably more importantly since she has a big personality - she came dressed for bear. She was wearing a black skirt that ended a good two or three inches above her black stockings, showcasing the garters holding those stockings up. She was wearing a tight black top with a plunging neckline, making it hard to keep my eyes away from her ample cleavage.

Jody didn't see us at first but after I waved her down she came over and gave us a huge hello with hugs all around. She enthusiastically engaged with the other women, asking about their backgrounds and their days. If you had asked me then I would have assumed that Jody had the most go-for-it attire in the bar, but as we continued the conversation, Felicia arrived, in an outfit that rivalled Jody's.

Felicia was also wearing a sexy black skirt, although I doubt anyone at the table even noticed, certainly including myself. That's because she was wearing a black top that went up to her neck and all the way to her wrists - but was completely transparent. It gave us and everyone else in the bar an excellent view of the sexy, lacy black bra she had chosen. Felicia is an exhibitionist, among other things, and I'm sure she was enjoying providing a show for everyone - and even more importantly, doing her best to make me uncomfortable.

In a fun, playful way of course.

With everyone there we continued to break the ice. The newer arrivals ordered drinks to catch up to those of us who had been there a while and we ordered more appetizers for the table.

The conversation really got flowing at that point. Felicia pointed out that she couldn't recall a time she had been in a situation in which she had been chatting casually in a group like that with the full knowledge that everyone else had all slept with the same guy - who was also there. Everyone nodded in agreement.

Leading up to the evening I was excited about the evening but was also to some extent taking it in stride. I figured I had been in many interesting situations in the past and this was just another one. But once there I found it to be a bit otherworldly. I had shared such intimate moments with each of these women - but they were complete strangers to each other - that I found everything odd in an awkward but compelling way. But at the same time I found it to be very much charged and incredibly fun.

It was interesting to watch each of the women and how they handled it. Wendy is an observer and while she engaged easily and frequently, she was the most reserved, and spent the most time taking it in. Ruby is also more of an introvert than an extrovert and while she certainly contributed her share, she was also happy to take it all in. Felicia has a commanding personality and set the tone for much of the conversation, while Jody has an effervescent personality and was letting it all hang out.

One of the themes of the evening was to make Dean embarrassed. Which I have to admit they were quite successful at on more than one occasion. And which almost never happens. The first time was when Felicia pointed out that they had all slept with me and how odd that was. Another time was when one of the women mentioned that they could see everything going on with Felicia given how sheer her top was. "No you can't," she gasped in mock horror, cupping her breasts with both hands, "All you can see is my bra." (As a side note, not to be outdone, Jody's already short skirt kept hiking up and I could see that she had chosen to wear some lacy white underwear that evening.)

At one point they started teasing me about my embarrassment. I admitted I was embarrassed, and they then asked if it was turning me on. "I plead the fifth," I said, only to have Felicia threaten to reach under the table and check. I pointed out that we were in a public place - which would never stop her under normal circumstances - but maybe out of respect for the others she kept her hands to herself.

I'm taking Felicia to Twist (my favorite sex club) this weekend, and at one point she threw out to the table, "Who here has been to Twist with Dean?" I shook my head, laughing, and said, "Everyone." That was definitely a moment in which I felt a warm flush all over my face, and Wendy laughed that I was turning beet red. At which point they all jumped in with advice for Felicia, Jody instructing her not to worry too much about what she dressed in, especially in terms of her undergarments, as they would all be coming off right away anyway.

But probably the most embarrassing and interesting point was when the four compared notes to see who was who on the blog. Since I change everyone's names no one knew off the bat who was who. Jody revealed she was the Car Fuck Girl (although I've subsequently agreed to amend that to Backseat Girl; it seems more ladylike), and everyone nodded in recognition of Felicia's adventurous debut and Wendy's gorgeous pics. But probably the biggest "aha" moment came when it was revealed that Ruby was "Ruby." Since Ruby had been quieter all evening than Jody and Felicia, more than one set of eyes popped out of their sockets when they realized they were face to face with the famous Blindfold Girl, author of Ruby's Week, and one of the architects of the How Well Do You Know Us? game. Not to mention the woman whose pussy the vibrator fell out of right in the middle of the erotic art show.

Time flew by and before we knew it the waitress was closing our tab and the bar was emptying out. We left as a group, everyone hugging each other good bye and offering rides home. I'm delighted to report that many if not all seemed to get along very well, and in fact there has already been more than one instance of offline connections to set up coffee dates.

See what I wrought?

As we were dispersing it came to light that Ruby and Jody could use a ride home and since they were both - kinda sorta - on the way for me the three of us crammed into my car, which is not really designed for more than two people, and continued chatting as I drove them home.

And if you ask me what happened later that night I'm going to once again plead the fifth. Keep in mind the ground rules that it was strictly a NO SEX night. Right?

:-)

#Four Women in One Date #Short Skirt with Black Garters #Sheer Top with Lacy Black Bra #Finding Out Who Was Who On the Blog #Strictly a NO SEX night #Ruby #Wendy #Jody #Felicia

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gibsongirlselections · 4 years

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If John Roberts Isn’t a Conservative, What is He, Exactly?

We are told that ours is a government of laws and not of men. But is it? Those rote words of assurance are called into question by the sad saga of President Obama’s executive initiatives for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, and by President Trump’s ill-fated effort to reverse those actions through his own executive authority. The outcome should be alarming to anyone who cares about constitutional government as pieced together by the American Founders.

The alarm is particularly acute in relation to one man, Chief Justice John Roberts, who seems bent on ensuring that the Supreme Court, as currently constituted, never tilts toward conservatism with any consistency. He was nominated for his current position by President George W. Bush because of his conservative record, but it isn’t clear—and has never been clear, when we look back on it—precisely what he stands for, aside from his own extravagant ambition.

Joan Biskupic, in her biography, The Chief: The Life and Turbulent Times of Chief Justice John Roberts, recounts that Roberts, as he was angling for a seat on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. circuit, wished to remain aloof from the conservative Federalist Society, even as he accepted the Federalists’ endorsement for the position. The endorsement was helpful in getting him considered for the court nomination by the second President Bush in 2005, but it could have proved problematic at confirmation time. Roberts’s political conundrum was explored by The Washington Post’s Charles Lane at the time of his nomination to the appeals court.

“Roberts burnished his legal image carefully,” wrote Lane. “In conservative circles, membership in or association with the [Federalist] society has become a badge of ideological and political reliability….But the society’s alignment with conservative GOP politics and public policy makes Roberts’s relationship with the organization a potentially sensitive point for his confirmation because many Democrats regard the organization with suspicion.”

So he sought to fuzz up the matter, even to the point of being “irked” when a Post business reporter identified him as a Federalist member. He asked for a correction, though he had attended society meetings regularly and had cultivated an ideological alignment with the organization for years. Thus do we see a man seeking to obscure his true convictions, whatever they may have been, in an elaborate finesse. Nothing particularly unusual about this in the annals of Washington politics. What’s alarming with regard to Roberts, however, is that he’s still doing it now as Chief Justice of the United States—and doing it in ways that reveal an airy disregard for some of the fundamentals of the American system. In the DACA case, a clear presidential violation of the U.S. Constitution doesn’t seem to bother him in the least.

At issue in the DACA case, DHS v. University of California, was whether Trump could employ his executive authority to reverse previous executive actions by Obama to extend a kind of immigration reprieve to so-called Dreamers who were brought to the United States illegally as children, through no fault of their own. There is widespread support throughout the country, including within the Trump administration, for extending some kind of legal status for the Dreamers. But the question that emanated from Obama’s action was whether the president could constitutionally issue such an order on his own, thus bypassing Congress. The answer clearly is no.

Obama himself acknowledged that constitutional reality on numerous occasions before he decided to take the action anyway. Under pressure from his liberal supporters to wave his executive wand over the Dreamers, he repeatedly refused on the basis of his not having the authority to do so. “I am not king. I can’t do these things just by myself,” he said in 2010. In March 2011, he added that with “respect to the notion that I can just suspend deportations through executive order, that’s just not the case.” Two months later he added that he couldn’t “just bypass Congress and change the [immigration] law myself….That’s not how democracy works.”

Even after Obama reversed himself on the constitutionality question in 2012, no one ever disputed in any serious way the reality that federal immigration laws, enacted by Congress, don’t confer upon the president any authority to suspend execution of those laws. Indeed, Congress had rejected previous efforts to pass new laws enabling such an approach to the DACA issue.

Then the judiciary gave further clarity to the matter when Obama sought to follow up his 2012 DACA actions with a 2014 executive initiative designed to give an administrative amnesty, along with some federal benefits, to certain parents of Dreamers—up to 4.3 million illegal immigrants. In the same series of actions, Obama also initiated a substantial expansion of DACA.

The courts struck down both. After Texas and 25 other states sued the administration over this second overreach, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld a nationwide injunction against it. The president’s action, said the court, “does not transform presence [of illegals] deemed unlawful by Congress into lawful presence and confer eligibility for otherwise unavailable benefits based on that change.”

The Supreme Court subsequently affirmed the Fifth Circuit ruling and the injunction—as well as the well-established principle that Congress has full constitutional authority over immigration law. The president must bow to that. Obama was right the first time.

Based on those rulings, and an opinion by then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions that the rulings demonstrated that DACA also was illegal, President Trump in June 2017 exercised his executive authority to terminate Obama’s DACA policy. In other words, he used his executive authority to reverse an unconstitutional executive action by his predecessor.

He was stymied by the Court. And the man who threw the wrench into it was Roberts, who joined the four liberal justices and wrote the majority opinion. Studiously avoiding the constitutional issues involved (a Roberts hallmark, it increasingly seems), he argued that the problem was that the Trump administration hadn’t properly followed the niceties of federal laws requiring certain rule-making procedures, with notice and comment-period requirements. Never mind that the Obama administration hadn’t followed any such procedures either in promulgating its previous unconstitutional rule-making.

This is astounding. Justice Clarence Thomas, in a spirited dissent joined in part by Justices Samuel Alito and Neil Gorsuch, called the majority decision “mystifying” in that DACA was “unlawful from the start, and that alone is sufficient to justify its termination.” He also took issue with Roberts’s quibbling assault on a Justice Department memo that sought to justify Trump’s actions based on the DACA illegality. Thomas faulted the Roberts ruling for requiring the Trump administration to “overlook DACA’s obvious deficiencies and provide additional policy reason and justifications before restoring the rule of law.” This, he added, “will hamstring all future agency attempts to undo actions that exceed statutory authority.”

As The Wall Street Journal noted, this is an “invitation for executive mischief, especially by Presidents at the end of their terms. They’ll issue orders that will invite years of legal challenge if the next president reverses them.”

We know why the four liberal justices jumped on Roberts’s reasoning as their vehicle for retaining DACA even in the face of its clear unconstitutionality. Based on years of judicial activism, it seems clear that they don’t care about such things; it’s the outcome that animates them. But what was Roberts’s motivation? Difficult to say, except that he seems to delight in making mischief through jesuitical tangents seemingly designed to avoid getting to the heart of the constitutional issues brought before his court.

There are enough instances of this kind of judicial review to call into question what Roberts actually believes in. His first dramatic tilt came in his famous 2012 actions in the case involving Obama’s Affordable Care Act, in which Roberts accepted the unconstitutionality of the act’s “individual mandate” under the Constitution’s Commerce Clause but justified it, through contortions of logic, as a tax.

As Biskupic writes in her biography, “Some conservatives believed he was not voting his true sentiment, but trying to shore up his reputation and institutional legacy.”

Then there was Roberts’s bizarre majority opinion in last year’s case involving the administration’s desire to ask a citizenship question in the census. While acknowledging that the executive branch has broad discretion on what questions to ask, Roberts declared that Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross’s rationale for wanting the question “appears to be contrived.” Because of timing pressures, the ruling effectively thwarted the administration’s interest without actually addressing the merits of the case; and it did so by peering into Ross’s head and purporting to discern what he was thinking. When laws are assessed based on that kind of rationale, the concept of “a nation of laws” is in serious danger.

In the current court session, Roberts also orchestrated a 6-3 decision stretching the language of the 1964 Civil Rights Act to include under the law’s protections sexual orientation and gender identity, notwithstanding that Congress had specifically rejected such actions. The Court, with Roberts and Justice Neil Gorsuch joining the liberals, essentially amended the statute from the bench, something Roberts had repeatedly criticized during his Senate confirmation proceedings.

But it is the DACA case that truly reveals Roberts’s willingness to tinker with the law and trifle with the Constitution to serve his institutional ends, whatever they may be. His actions left in place an unconstitutional executive-branch action by throwing up artificial roadblocks against a constitutional effort to undo that unconstitutional action.

Back when Roberts engineered the Affordable Care Act decision, The Wall Street Journal perceived what was emerging on the Court. “One thing is clear,” said the paper. “This was a one-man show, and that man is John Roberts.” Today that perception looks more and more like the central reality of the Supreme Court’s internal dynamics. That isn’t good news for conservatives.

Robert W. Merry, former Wall Street Journal Washington correspondent and Congressional Quarterly CEO, is the author most recently of President McKinley: Architect of the American Century (Simon & Schuster).

The post If John Roberts Isn’t a Conservative, What is He, Exactly? appeared first on The American Conservative.

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lodelss · 5 years

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An Outright Reversal of Roe V. Wade Isn’t All We Should Fear The anti-abortion movement can decimate the right to abortion even without getting it overturned.

Across the country, people are talking about abortion as legislatures in the South and Midwest mount a full-scale attack on our reproductive freedom. Naturally, people are stressed and angry. I am too. I’ve been fighting to protect abortion access for more than 25 years.

I’m worried about the future of Roe v. Wade — deeply worried. But I’m worried about more than that. I’m worried that the courts will gut the right to abortion and that there won’t be an outcry because the headlines won’t scream, “Supreme Court strikes down right to abortion.”

Don’t get me wrong. That’s not to take away from outrage over the bans. I’m also agitated about the wave of states — Alabama, Kentucky, Ohio, Georgia, Mississippi, and Missouri — that have passed abortion bans and states, like Louisiana, rushing to add their names to the list. Those of us who care about people’s right to access abortion are right to decry and protest this wave of bans and the contempt for women they flaunt.

The bans tell us that opponents of abortion rights are emboldened. They know they have a friend in the White House, and they think the Supreme Court may be theirs as well. Trump, after all, promised to appoint justices who would overrule the right.

But the court may not go that route, at least not immediately. A reversal of such a prominent and politically charged precedent so soon after Trump's election will raise questions about the integrity of the court. The court would risk being seen as just another political department, one controlled by “Trump Justices.” After all, the court reaffirmed the right just three years ago. The only thing that has changed is the personnel on the court.

What’s more, any headline declaring a reversal of Roe would almost certainly reverberate at the ballot box — and if polling is correct, not to the benefit of the Republican Party. There’s reason to think some justices are not indifferent to that prospect.

Besides, they don’t need the big win to do a lot of damage to women and their reproductive freedom rights.

The Supreme Court, for example, could let stand a decision of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit upholding a Louisiana rule that doctors who provide abortions have to have admitting privileges at a local hospital. This burdensome requirement effectively prevents most abortion clinics from operating. In 2016, the Supreme Court held an identical requirement from Texas unconstitutional, finding there was no benefit to health to justify the burdens it would impose. But the court of appeals said Louisiana was somehow different. (Spoiler alert: It’s not.)

If the court declines to review the Louisiana decision, the Fifth Circuit’s ruling will stand, and there will be just one doctor left in the state of Louisiana providing abortions. Kentucky is pressing to enforce a similar law. If it succeeds, the last clinic in the state would shutter its doors. (Kentucky is one of six states that have only one abortion clinic to serve the entire population.) Today only a court order stands in the way of that outcome. These requirements didn’t generate the national reckoning that this wave of outright bans has, but they could nonetheless all but eliminate abortion access for many women.

Will there be a cry of outrage when one of these states manages to close the last clinic in the state? The moment is coming. For people in that state seeking abortions, when that happens, the reality is the same as if Roe and the later cases reaffirming the right had been reversed.

These “admitting privileges” laws are only one kind of restriction working its way through the state legislatures and courts. Arkansas, for example, wants to require that all abortions be performed only by OB/GYNs, a provision that could shut down clinics without furthering women’s health in any way.

And the Supreme Court is currently considering petitions from Alabama and Indiana asking it to overturn ACLU victories striking down other abortion laws. The one from Alabama would effectively ban abortions after about 15 weeks, even though the court has said that such abortions are a women’s right. Another, this time from Indiana, would ban abortions if they are sought for certain reasons. And a third, also from Indiana, would require women to make an extra unnecessary trip to a clinic before getting an abortion, a requirement that the courts below found would prevent people from getting an abortion.

All of these laws were blocked by the federal courts of appeals. If the Supreme Court takes any up any of these cases, we should all be concerned that they are gearing up to undermine the right as it exists today.

Many people already can’t access the abortion they need. Federal Medicaid bans coverage for abortion, and many women can’t raise the funds. Women living in rural areas can’t always travel the distance to reach a clinic. Yet some states paternalistically require people to travel to a clinic twice before they can access abortion services.

Abortion is still a legal right, but the gap between what that means in practice in states across the country is growing wider by the day. We don’t need to see a reversal of Roe v. Wade for states to shut their last clinic and huge numbers of people have their right to access abortion taken away from them.

There are many ways we can lose our rights. We need to fight them all.

Published May 24, 2019 at 12:30AM via ACLU http://bit.ly/2YDDboC

#IFTTT #Blogger

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nancydhooper · 5 years

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An Outright Reversal of Roe V. Wade Isn’t All We Should Fear

The anti-abortion movement can decimate the right to abortion even without getting it overturned.

Besides, they don’t need the big win to do a lot of damage to women and their reproductive freedom rights.

There are many ways we can lose our rights. We need to fight them all.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8247012 https://www.aclu.org/blog/reproductive-freedom/abortion/outright-reversal-roe-v-wade-isnt-all-we-should-fear via http://www.rssmix.com/

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judithcsmith · 5 years

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Not even the slightest pretense:

Since last night, my Twitter feed has been blowing up with people freaking out over the latest attack on justice, the rule of law and decency coming out of the Trump Administration.

Trump’s Department of Justice sent a brief to the 5th Federal Circuit Court stating that they’ve “changed their minds” about their position in the insane “Texas vs. Azar” lawsuit, and now agree with the plaintiffs in the case that the entire Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act should be ruled unconstitutional and repealed.

Before I get into the latest insanity, a quick review:

The case was originally brought by 20 Republican Attorneys General and Governors in February of last year, and the entire case is the height of chutzpah. It goes like this:

The Supreme Court ruled the Affordable Care Act’s individual mandate penalty is kosher because it’s a tax.

Congressional Republicans changed the penalty from $695 to $0 as part of their 2017 tax bill.

However, they didn’t technically repeal the coverage requirement itself – just the penalty.

Since the penalty is no longer enforceable, the entire ACA must be repealed.

That’s it. That’s literally their argument: “We partly sabotaged the law, therefore we get to sabotage all of it.”

The case has no legal merit

The legal merits of the case are nonexistent. That’s not just me saying that; virtually every legal and Constitutional expert across the political spectrum agrees. Even Case Western Reserve University law professor Jonathan Adler, one of the chief architects of the infamous King vs. Burwell lawsuit (which until now held the crown for the most absurd anti-ACA case to ever make it to the Supreme Court) wrote an article at Reason stating point blank that the legal argument is “brazen and audacious,” and that there is “no basis whatsoever for the states’ argument or Justice Department’s concession on severability.”

Frivolous or otherwise meritless lawsuits are filed all the time, but here’s where things became truly dangerous: Last June, the Trump Administration’s Department of Justice – whose job specifically includes defending federal laws whether they like those laws or not – deliberately threw the fight, announcing that they had no intention of defending the ACA. In fact, they went even further, announcing that they agreed with the plaintiffs for the most part.

As both Adler and University of Michigan law professor Nicholas Bagley noted, this represented a complete dereliction of duty on the part of the Justice Department. Even worse, it basically means the Trump Administration can’t be counted on to defend or enforce any law they don’t want to.

None of this stopped right-wing Judge Reed O’Connor from ruling in favor of the plaintiffs on December 14th (just ahead of the busiest day of the ACA Open Enrollment Period). He did indeed rule the entire ACA unconstitutional, but also stayed his decision pending the appeals process, which is where things stand today.

The next phase is for the case to be heard by the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals, which is expected to happen this July. Regardless of how they rule, the case will then be appealed to the Supreme Court by whoever loses. The Supreme Court will then either hear the case or refuse to do so.

Pretense of compassion?

Last June, when then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions decided to throw the fight, he partially hedged: He agreed with the plaintiffs that the ACA was unconstitutional, but disagreed with what the final ruling should be. While the plaintiffs wanted the entire law repealed, the DOJ asked that “only” the pre-existing condition protections be thrown out.

Yes, that’s right: The very same pre-existing condition protections which became the lynchpin of the entire Republican “repeal-and-replace” fiasco in 2017 … and then got their asses kicked over in the 2018 midterms, all while desperately by insisting that “no, really … we want to protect those with pre-existing conditions! Seriously, guys!”

Needless to say, the “lie-through-your-teeth” strategy failed for the most part, although there were exceptions like Missouri Attorney General Josh Hawley, who was one of the plaintiffs in the case and still managed to win his U.S. Senate race by running ads claiming he wanted to protect coverage of pre-existing conditions. Some people are … easily fooled, let’s just put it that way.

Then, of course, there was this:

Republicans will totally protect people with Pre-Existing Conditions, Democrats will not! Vote Republican.

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) October 24, 2018

I’ll be honest: I never quite understood Sessions’ thinking last June. Repealing ACA pre-existing condition protection requirements like guaranteed issue, community rating and essential health benefits would effectively destroy the ACA exchanges (as Trump insisted he was going to do) even if the other provisions stayed in place.

There’d be no way of calculating the financial subsidies, for instance, since the ACA formula bases those subsidies on the “benchmark Silver plan”… except the benchmark plans are priced on the assumption that everyone of the same age in the same location is priced identically. Once carriers go back to medical underwriting, everyone’s premium would be priced differently … and once the benefits included start being scattered all over the place, there’s no longer any consistent Actuarial Value for the plans anyway.

The only reason I can think for Sessions to take this stance is political: He may have noticed that besides the threat to pre-existing conditions from the 2017 repeal-and-replace debacle, the other issue which really caught people’s attention was the threat to Medicaid coverage. Perhaps he thought that the GOP could survive the midterms if they destroyed the private exchanges but not Medicaid expansion as well.

The veil has been lifted

In any event, even that last, minuscule fig leaf of having the slightest bit of compassion or thought for the health or well-being of Americans was torn off last night. As Bagley put it:

The Trump Administration Now Thinks the Entire ACA Should Fall

In a stunning, two-sentence letter submitted to the Fifth Circuit today, the Justice Department announced that it now thinks the entire Affordable Care Act should be enjoined. That’s an even more extreme position than the one it advanced at the district court in Texas v. Azar, when it argued that the court should “only” zero out the protections for people with preexisting conditions.

… Even apart from that, the sheer reckless irresponsibility is hard to overstate. The notion that you could gut the entire ACA and not wreak havoc on the lives of millions of people is insane. The Act is now part of the plumbing of the health-care system. Which means the Trump administration has now committed itself to a legal position that would inflict untold damage on the American public.

And for what? Every reputable commentator — on both the left and the right — thinks that Judge O’Connor’s decision invalidating the entire ACA is a joke. To my knowledge, not one has defended it. This is not a “reasonable minds can differ” sort of case. It is insanity in print.

How the GOP is reacting

The reactions from various Republican officials so far is pretty telling:

Steve Stivers, NRCC chair until recently, won’t comment on DOJ calling for ACA to be struck down, says he hasn’t seen it

— Peter Sullivan (@PeterSullivan4) March 26, 2019

Kevin McCarthy says to call his office for comment on the ACA case. Won’t comment at his press conference

— Peter Sullivan (@PeterSullivan4) March 26, 2019

… and so on. They can’t think of any coherent response, because, again, repealing the entire ACA – which would include killing off protections for those with pre-existing conditions, Medicaid expansion and so forth – is exactly what they’ve been trying to do for the past nine years. Since they can’t come right out and say that they agree with eliminating all of that, they can’t say much of anything.

My guess is that they’ll eventually go right back to gaslighting again in a few days, but the jig is up (and has been since the moment they passed the American Health Care Act back in May 2017).

A true train wreck for consumers …

As for what would happen if the ACA is eventually repealed (remember, the 5th Circuit won’t hear the case until July, and I’d imagine an appeal to SCOTUS could take as long as another six months after that?), here’s a quick reminder:

Medicaid expansion for over 16 million people across 36 states and DC: GONE.

ACA exchange subsidies for over 9 million people nationally: GONE.

Basic Health Plan coverage for over 800,000 people in Minnesota and New York: GONE.

Discrimination against coverage of 52–130 million* with pre-existing conditions: BACK.

Charging women more for the same policy simply because they’re women? BACK.

Charging older Americans 5 to 6 times as much as younger Americans? BACK.

Requirement that policies cover at least 60 percent of medical expenses: GONE.

Requirement that policies cover maternity care and mental health services: GONE.

Adult children being allowed to remain on their parents plans until age 26: GONE.

Annual and lifetime limits on healthcare coverage claims? BACK.

Requirement that policies cover preventative services at no out-of-pocket cost? GONE.

Tax credits to lower premiums for low- and moderate-income enrollees? GONE.

Financial help to reduce deductibles and co-pays for low-income enrollees? GONE.

A hard cap on out-of-pocket expenses? GONE.

The Medicare Part D “donut hole” being closed by the ACA? REOPENED.

* (depending on how you define “pre-existing conditions)

… but also for the entire healthcare system

…and that’s just for starters. After nine years, the Affordable Care Act has embedded itself into every facet of the American healthcare system. Even if everyone wanted to simply turn back the clock to 2009 (and God knows I don’t), it’s not something which could be done at the drop of a hat. It took nearly four years from the time the ACA was signed into law in March 2010 until the major ACA provisions went into effect, and with good reason.

The entire healthcare industry had to completely retool its billing practices, legal filings, actuarial tables, service contracts, marketing tactics and market position strategies to comply with the new law. Tearing all of that down – again, doing so with nothing whatsoever in place to pick up the pieces – would be a disaster of epic proportions. Utter chaos.

And utter chaos, of course, is exactly what Donald Trump – and, by their enabling and active assistance, the entire Republican Party – lives for.

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mikalajanie · 5 years