#it’s 2024 now and I still have the deepest crush on him

[diamondzart]

My first drawing of Nefario this year. Boi doing some chemistry, let’s just hope that’s not something that can blow up an entire building if you spit in there :D

[leavemeslowly]

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

"Well, hey. These things just snap right off."

If you want a sharp image to explain Republicanism in the time of Trump, you could do a lot worse than this Gary Larson cartoon. For decades, men like Bush and Rove and even Reagan understood that the real power of the GOP was the brutal ferocity of resentful, angry white people who stayed muzzled at election time, under the watchful eye of the managerial class. But now that's all changed.

For decades, a balance was maintained by the Animal Trainers, who were rewarded with power, privilege, and low tax rates; while the dancing bears were tossed the fish of abortion politics, and the performative, dog-whistle racism that made them feel like the most special beasts in the circus.

Then Trump came along, and said, "Well, hey. These things just snap right off," and suddenly the guys with the whip were scared out of their goddamned minds.

Thus, the last four years.

Now we're at the end of that game, and what the media and the loudest assholes in the GOP still don't seem to understand is that we - the rest of America - don't need to be afraid of them anymore, because on November 3, we stepped out of the cage and locked them all inside.

I know there's still a whole lot of trauma around Donald Trump and "the base," but honestly, we kicked their asses - and since that thrashing, they have only gone nuttier, crazier, and more racist - while we're busy doing the people's work. One of the ex-President's lawyers tried to make the case yesterday in the Impeachment trial, that the Democrats are desperate to convict Trump, because we are afraid of running against him again in four years - but I just find that utterly laughable. There are several opponents who might pose a real challenge, but a defanged, de-Twittered Trump ain't one of them. The only power that fool has anymore is to the Republican whip-hands inside the cage with the ravenous bears.

I'd love to think that a few dozen Republican Senators would do the right thing, and convict that traitorous moral leper . . . but to do so, is to expect heroism from a coward. For years, this spineless pols manipulated and conned their own constituencies, and now they are utterly beholden to the whims of the radical crowd. The funniest thing right now is that their silence won't even save them. Several - regardless of their fealty to the monster - will face primary challenges in 2022 or 2024. That tragic simp, Marco Rubio will assuredly be forced to suck himself off in public for a year, all while blasting out Bible verses, and Ivanka will STILL come steal his seat. Hell, the beast will probably make him thank her for the humiliation, and he'll do it because he's a broken, terrified clown.

But us?

These people aren't scary at all.

I don't mean they're not dangerous. They are. They have killed, and they will kill again. But they're not frightening, now that the nation can see who they really are. They're not frightening, now that the Biden Administration is actually governing the nation again - with recovery checks, and vaccines, and a new child-benefit for families, and maybe even a serious bump in the minimum wage.

It would be wonderful if some Republicans would rejoin the civilized world, but the far more likely reality is a shrinking rump of radicalization as they move from national to regional party, and I'm okay with that. I do wish that we could get a conviction out of this trial. That would be far better for the nation, as we forge our own history. It would be wiser and more respectful to our founders and our deepest principles, if we could draw a line in the sand this week and say: NO MORE.

But if that doesn't happen, it just means we get to crush their treason more slowly. It means we get to keep the cage locked, and watch out of the corner of our eye while they devour one another, and we go on with the rest of the show.

Up next: Covid Relief, Cabinet nominations, and a growing economy; and before we get too bored with the smooth sailing of rational governance, you can be absolutely assured that Trump's warty orange ass will be hauled in front of judge and jury again, before you can say, "Aw, shit, that bear just bit Mike Lee in the bulbous, sweaty head."

Onward to Day Three!

Michael Hussein Tallon

[docholligay]

The Hunger

This was one of the commissions from my Patreon! Benjamin asked for something with Kyoko, and I was ONLY TOO HAPPY TO OBLIGE. I took some liberties with the dialogue, so, be prepared, those of you who have the entire scene memorized. 2024 words.

Hunger was an intimately known pain, and it was for that reason, perhaps, that Kyoko filtered her experiences through it. Loneliness was just hunger for company. Sorrow was just hunger for happiness.

She took a bite of the apple, the juice of it popping in her mouth. Of all the hungers she could not fill, those odd and esoteric ones that echoed off the walls of the church, lit red and gold in victory and defeat by the stained glass, there was at least the most base of them, which she could now fill easily.

There was always a bag full of food behind the altar, and it comforted her to see it, to remind herself that she would never know that low and hollow aching in her belly. Not again.

The other hungers, she told herself, she had subdued, too, laid them deep in a lined grave in her heart, where the walls were very high, and they could not touch her with their bony, starving fingers. She found fullness in the pursuit, in the conquering of each witch, in the feel of her strength swelling as she set her Soul Gem against a Grief Seed, pulling the darkness, that hunger for light, away from it.

It would not have been a life for everyone, or even most people, but it fit Kyoko Sakura. She had never understood Mami, that girl whose wish was only to live, who did not know what it was to hunger for innocence or goodness.

Then again, she can’t have been that good, trying to rope other girls into making a contract.

But it had not been malice, Kyoko conceded to the avenging angel in the window, whose light streamed over her. No, it had been a simple human stupidity, an inability to see anything other than what she wished to see, a belief that if she filled the loneliness, the power would not bring about more and deeper hungers. We believe what we need to be true.

Sayaka had found that deepest, darkest hunger inside herself.

Kyoko comforted herself with the knowledge that she had tried to tell Sayaka the truth, that there was only one way to live, and that was to square with everything you were and had done, and to know that in fighting the darkness, you become a part of it. It was all about negotiating hungers.

But Sayaka could not do that, and now she hungered for truth, the lie eating her body with each swing of her sword. It was only a matter of time.

Kyoko opened the snack cake, and ate it in one bite.

__

She was a fool to have loved him, and a greater fool for having imagined that her sacrifice meant anything at all in the rooms of his heart. He didn’t know, for one, and for two, it was always a mistake to wish something for someone else. It was to say that you understood someone’s heart better than they did, to know what they needed more intimately.

And, it had been Kyoko’s observation, that people wished for gratitude more than anything else.

All of these things being true, she still felt compassion for the girl fighting alongside her, lost in her own swirling morass of hunger for love, her own deep desire that she would not fulfill. She was killing herself, Kyoko knew, in that way that magical girls sometimes did, pretending it was to be pure and to be noble, just thirsting for the end, not caring who they hurt when their witch’s form was revealed.

They never thought it selfish. We believe what we need to be true.

“For as much happiness as you wish on one person, you cannot help cursing someone else,” hers eyes welled with tears as she looked over at Kyoko, “That’s the way it works for us magical girls.”

Her words, echoed back to her now, felt less of the honest and fair advice she had always intended them to be, and more a curse that she had put on Sayaka herself. She should have known Sayaka was too soft. She needed the lie to bear up under the strain of a magical girl’s power and duty.

“I was stupid... so stupid.” The weight of her sorrow fell upon Kyoko, and she grabbed Sayaka’s shoulders, trying to hold her in hope, if only for this moment, to hold her fast to the earth.

“Sayaka, no.” It was one last desperate plea, not to give in the despair, even as it ate at her bones, not to give it the satisfaction of that final crack.

The world exploded, and Kyoko found herself facing the freshly made witch, already alive with power, aiming death at her with bitterness and hate. Kyoko stared in disbelief for a moment, Sayaka dead, still warm but rapidly cooling, cradled next to her.

“We need to go.” Homura grabbed her elbow and pulled. “Leave it behind.”

Kyoko ignored her, running but still holding Sayaka to her, trying to will life back into her, her own sleeping beauty, hope warring with the reality presented in front of her, and bursting behind her, surrounding her in the grim truth.

The heavy weight of the useless body in her arms, an anchor that kept her from fighting, from killing the witch and slaking the hunger inside her, grew deeper. Even as Homura had said, plainly, in a way Kyoko might have, should have appreciated once upon a time, that this was Sayaka, this ugly and distant creature howling at them.

She had told Sayaka to let that boy go, so many times, and here she was, willfully dragging her own lost cause. It could almost be funny, in another lifetime.

She looked off, Madoka’s cries as if from underwater, blending into the night. She had always known, somewhere in her heart, that what Homura said was true, that evil and good had to exist in the balance, and that the power for good and the capacity for evil slept inside the heart of each human. That she had ignored the truth made it no less real.

She raged at Homura, the hunger filling her, the hunger for justice, the hunger for honesty, burning and boiling within her. Every truth she had known had been shattered, over the course of her life. Everyone had lied to her. But the most rage she saved for herself, for knowing she had bought the lie. That she had dared to believe, somewhere within her, that if she was honest with herself, this was a game that could be won.

It had all happened so fast. It had all taken place in shadow and in blur, from the moment Sayaka had begun to cry softly for the boy who broke her heart to here, in Kyoko’s room, trying to hold her in his world, slipping like water through Kyoko’s hands.

She looked down now, at Sayaka’s body. Kyubbey had said he didn’t know if there was a way to get her Soul Gem back, but that didn’t strictly mean it couldn’t be done. No, Kyoko you know better than that.

“I’ll get her back.” She echoed the words on the air, a chant to herself.

It was a lie, wasn’t it?

No. It’s not a lie if you believe it.

And so she would. The day was not lost, and Sayaka waited for her rescue from the world-wise and clever Kyoko. She could call to her, she could stop her, and draw her back from the brink. We believe what we need to be true.

Everything Kyubbey had done, every bad wish that had ever been made, every cry in the night as her father had slaughtered her family, could be fixed. You could go back. You could make it right. You could call to the witch and find the girl inside, and love and light would break the spell.

All these things were true. Kyoko believed them. She had to.

__

“I don’t know,” she had lied to Madoka, “Maybe when I slice that witch in half, instead a Grief Seed, Sayaka’s Soul Gem will pop out.” She laughed. It was easy to smile and be the villain, wasn’t it? No, she was no villain. She was a believer. The things she said were true, where it mattered. She had looked up at the sky, unable to make eye contact with Madoka. “It’ll be like one of those stories where love and courage triumph over all.”

She felt a hollow pang of hunger, deep within herself, and shoved it away.

She looked at the entrance to the witch’s labyrinth, feeling Madoka shaking behind her. One of those stories. The kind I used to love. This is your chance to not be a story.

She swung wide the doors to Sayaka’s witch, a painted and cut collage of sorrow, beautiful and sad, that boy, him, at the center of it all.

Kyoko gritted her teeth. “Call out to her! Make her remember!”

The symphony rang in her ears, and it was all Sayaka, the rise and fall like weeping of the screeching violins, all keening together in perfect harmony. Could the other girls hear it? The desperation? The hunger for a love spurned? Or was that a hunger that only Kyoko and Sayaka knew, different sides of the coin, embossed on silver, but the design so very different?

She looked back at Madoka, whose eyes were wide, filled with the cool blackness of Sayaka’s new form, conductor to her own pain and hurt and loss, screaming at Sayaka to stop, to remember them, to remember herself. Keep going. Don’t stop. As soon as you stop, we’re lost.

“This is payback, isn’t it?” She chuckled to the witch that had been Sayaka, and jumped nimbly from the wheel that threatened to crush her. “Well, I guess I deserve that. But you just wait, when you’re not mad anymore,” She jumped again, “You’ll remember. You’ll come back.”

She was beginning to understand how Kyubbey could have delighted in lies, coating her tounge now like fine caramel, the same gold that streamed from the church windows.

The witch grabbed Madoka tightly, squeezing her with everything it had, and that damning light, bright red now, and not gold, shone upon her lie, and she sliced off the witch’s hand. Sayaka’s hand. The world crumbled around her, the truth lying bare in front of her, and she mumbled, in an old, hopeful way, as she did when she still believed those stories.

“God, I’ve been through enough. Aren’t you watching?” Her body glided to the ground. “I should get one good dream. One happy ending. That’s all.”

But she was answered only by the crush of her body into the tile, and she struggled to her feet. Madoka was passed out behind her, cradled in Homura’s arms, in that same protective way that Kyoko knew, and suddenly she knew the symphony sounded the same to Homura.

“Take care of her,” Her eyes flashed to Homura, and she threw up a wall effortlessly behind her, as effortlessly as all the walls she had constructed in her life. “You were right, you know. You can’t fight with something weighing you down.”

She could still feel the weight of Sayaka in her arms, dragging her, holding her fast, and she discovered she no longer cared. Kyubbey and Homura and her father and the world, they could have it all. She would reach out to Sayaka, and, somewhere, they would be together.

She hadn’t been able to give the truth, and she hadn’t been able to give her salvation, but she could at least give her company.

“Go.” She looked away from Homura, who held Madoka fast. “I’ll take care of her.”

She could hear Sayaka, somewhere deep inside the witch, screaming and aching with a deep and low hunger. Hungry for company. Hungry for happiness.

She gave her smirk, her tooth just pressing out over her lip. Kyoko knew hunger, too.

Heroism was just hunger for death.

She jumped forward toward the witch, her Soul Gem flying through the air.