#so as long as that is the reality id much rather elevate the voices of those among them who at least try to use

[queerasian]

since we’re on this topic, jeremy strong, sarah snook, and brian cox are the main succession cast members who publicly called for a ceasefire in gaza last year (along with a painfully short list of others in the industry). here's brian cox reading "If I Must Die" by Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer who was killed Dec 7.

so if we must spend time on celebrities’ voices (+ disproportionate cultural influence) on the current crisis we should at least elevate the right ones.

[tangtownie]

You Should See Me In A Crown - Natasha Romanoff x Dark!Reader Insert (AU)

Author’s Note: So, this is my first time trying to write something dark…

Think it might land in the category of soft!dark, but be warned none the less!

Super nervous about posting this, but I actually ended up really liking this one myself, so hopefully others will as well.

Reader is from the Red Room Academy, just as Natasha, only reader never left them. I took some creative liberties when describing the Red Room Academy, so that it fit my idea better, which is also why this story is marked as an AU.

The Russian nickname for Natasha means ‘darling’, ‘pet’ or ‘beloved’.

I incorporated some lyrics from the song, tell me how many you can find? 🧐

Regarding the timeline, I imagine this would take place after Natasha brought down SHIELD and shortly after Bucky joined the Avengers.

Also, shoutout to @a-little-counter-esperanto for being kind enough to beta this for me and offer some moral support! 🥰

Once again, this is marked dark for a reason! There might be topics that are triggering to certain people, so please be responsible about your media consumption.

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of violence and murder, dark!Reader, messed up “family” relations, weird/sexual obsession with a sister figure.

Word count: 2.252

Song Inspiration: You Should See Me In A Crown by Billie Eilish

I was perfectly concealed, blending in with all the mindless idiots making their way down the street. If this hadn’t been New York, and people actually paid attention to what happened around them, they might have noticed the warning sign that was the concealed weapons on my body. Or my too heavy boots beating down against the concrete. Carefully eyeing the tower, I counted the people moving in and out of the building. “Bite my tongue, bide my time.” I mumbled quietly, catching the attention of a passerby. We had in fact been biding our time, monitoring the tower for months, counting the number of armed guards on site at any given time. However, it seemed that these soft Americans had their most precious protectors under lock and key at all times. Biting my tongue, I tried not to scoff. One would assume that the Avengers were more than capable of handling themselves, but apparently their employer did not.

Not that it mattered, the more people in the tower, the more people there were for my sisters to play with. My sisters who were all watching me, waiting for my signal. Finally, we had found our missing piece and none of us were leaving here without her. I had been searching for her for years, using the Academy’s missions to get intel on my long lost sister. In time, Mother had found out and I had been forced to deal with that. Fortunately, it was nothing a little thallium poisoning couldn’t handle for me. One less complication and Mother would never get between us again. No one would. Catching the rays of the sun on the edge of my watch, I slowly rolled my wrist, the light reflecting up on a window in a perfect circle. “Wearing a warning sign.” I didn’t know where my sisters were located, but I knew they had all seen my signal. I moved swiftly through the masses, discarding my disguise along the way, and quickly found myself standing in front of the tower.

The first window shattered, as I opened the door, a flurry of bullets following the first one. Civilians were screaming: scrambling to get away, guards were rushing in from all sides: barking commands rushing through their radios and glass continued flying through the air as my sisters blew the lobby to pieces. A few stray pieces of glass tangled in my hair, light reflecting off of them as I moved gracefully through the chaotic scene, while the bloodcurdling screams piercing the air sounded almost like a symphony. Humming quietly to myself, I pulled my gun from the holster on my hip and aimed carelessly before shooting a guard in the face.

The bullet lodged in his eye and he fell to his knees, screaming. His body spasmed out of his control and with a final gurgling scream, he fell limply to the floor. “I love the way they scream.” I really didn’t need to kill him to swipe his ID, but alas why should my sisters have all the fun? After all, I was the one running this mission. The glass crunched underneath my boots and blood splattered all over me whenever my sisters killed the ones that got too close to me.

Making it to the elevator was easy: the guards and civilians continuously dropping all around me. Once inside of the elevator, I pressed R for residential. Wiping some blood from my cheek, I caught a whiff of gunpowder on my dark glove and I inhaled again, greedily, as pure joy filtered through my system. Raising my head to look at my reflection, I was met with a dazzling vision wrapped in all black. I could see the bumps from my arsenal of knives and guns strapped to my thighs, hips and arms. My hair was tied back tightly, the glass shards framing my head like a crown, and blood smeared across my face. “You are so pretty.”

The elevator dinged as it reached the residential floor. Unlike the others, this was ominously silent. By now the precious protectors would now that I had come looking for them. Or rather her. I had come for her and I would die before leaving without her. “Natalia?” I called out for her teasingly. “I know you’re here, любимый." I was met only with silence. Humming quietly to myself again, I fished a knife out of my holster and jammed it into the keypad of the elevator. The keypad sputtered and sparked before I pulled the knife back out, leaving it hanging down the side of the wall.

Flipping the knife carelessly, I scraped it against the wall, as I started moving down the hallway. “Our sisters are so looking forward to seeing you again, sweet Natalia.” I was almost reunited with her and joy filled my voice as well as my body. A flash of movement caught my eye and I turned just in time to see someone charging at me. A quick sidestep and he flew past me. He was tall, broad and dark. Every inch of him wrapped in black leather. His gaze was burning with fury, when he turned to look at me.

“Soldat,” I cocked my head in recognition, a smirk curling around my lips. “I see you’ve betrayed the cause as well.” The burly soldier snarled at me in response and a bubbling laughter rose from my throat. “Poor little Soldat, still have the manners of a raging beast, I see.” The deranged soldier lunged at me again, and it took all of my power to block his fist. The metallic whirring getting louder and louder the more weight he put into it. Grunting with effort, I could feel his arm slipping through mine and his fist met my face with full force. My entire body was slammed backwards into the wall and it felt as though my brain was vibrating from the hit. For a second everything went dark, but the taunting scoff from Soldat ripped me back to reality instantaneously.

Pushing myself from the wall, I growled back at him. To think that my dear sister had been trapped here with these abominations of nature for so long… But no matter, we were here for her now and we would take her away. I simply needed to put down this caged animal in front of me, and we could be on our way. “Watch me make ‘em bow.” Anger flashed in the eyes of the beast as I spoke and he charged again: his metal hand shooting out and wrapping around my throat. His eyes burning while he tightened his grip until all that could escape me were choked off gasps.

I fumbled for the needle in my pocket. I knew it contained just enough sedative to take down a deranged super soldier and while I had anticipated using it on a certain overeager Captain, this seemed like an appropriate use. When I finally grasped the needle, I plunged it into the side of Soldat’s neck. The drug took effect immediately: the beast’s eyes drooping and his ironclad grip on my throat loosening. As my feet touched the floor again, his hand slipped from my throat and he landed with a loud thump. I wasn’t certain how long it would keep him down, so for good measure I grasped one of my knifes and plunged it into him: his stomach, chest and shoulder before I sliced along the inside of his arm.

Loosing my patience, I started down the hallway again. I had to find her and save her. How could Mother ever have thought that Natalia was safe here? Kicking down every door I met, I eventually found her room. The soft scent of jasmine and lemongrass wafted over me and I couldn’t resist the temptation to go in. “You smell so sweet.” My fingers softly grazed over her walls as I moved inside and let the smell of my dear sister take over my senses. Her room was warm and inviting with throw blankets and pillows everywhere and I knew that I had been right. This—she—was exactly what our sisters needed, a comforting and warm presence.

Natalia’s bedroom was immaculate as always, not a single item out of place. Stopping at her dresser, I needed to feel close to her. I tore open a drawer and pulled out a sweater. The material was much softer and smoother than anything I owned and I burrowed my face in it, so that I could really smell her. A sense of calm washed over me and I let myself fall backwards onto her bed, so that I could be surrounded by her scent. My sweet Natalia, how I had missed her. “I fell for those ocean eyes.”

There was nothing I hadn’t missed about her: her eyes that would sparkle like the stars on a bright and cold night. Her deep, soothing drawl. Her soft and luscious hair that I could almost feel running through my fingers. All of it making up the resilient, courageous and ruthless warrior that I had loved for as long as I could remember. My sweet, dear sister. We would be together again soon and then nothing could tear us apart ever again. A sudden sound snapped me back to attention and I quickly got off the bed, hiding beside the doorframe to her bedroom. The steps were careful and calculated, yet soft. A smiled curved over my lips as I recognized them.

“Natalia, любимый, I’ve been looking for you.” Her steps froze at the sound of my voice. I slowly emerged from my hiding spot with the smile still on my lips. Natalia had never looked quite as beautiful as she did with her gun pointed at me. “Oh, любимый, I’m not here to hurt you.” Natalia’s stance wavered just a little and I was elated to see her giving in to me. “I’m here to help you escape, sweet sister.” Confusion washed over Natalia’s face and I smirked as I was reminded that she had always been one of our more simple-minded sisters.

“Mother fell ill.” I explained it simply to her. My darling, simple sister did not need to know all the gory details of what I’d done to find her. “And some of our weaker sisters were flailing without a strong leader, so… I stepped in.” An emotion I didn’t quite recognize flashed over Natalia’s face and she lowered her gun a little. “But as you know, любимый, I’m not exactly a nurturing person and while I see no use of such foolish sentimentality, some of our sisters have requested that you re-join us.” I watched her closely, as I finished my sentence. “We are going to run that place together. That, and any other place you want, my sweet love.” Anger flashed in Natalia’s eyes and her gun was back in my face instantaneously.

I didn’t let her reaction deter me, though. I loved her and I knew that she loved me too. I gently placed my hand on her cheek and dragged her closer to me. “I cannot do this without you, sister. I cannot live with you… Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?” I placed my other hand on top of her gun and pushed it down until it was pointed at my chest. “If you won’t let me help you, then you’ll have to kill me, любимый.” Natalia’s eyes widened and jumped back and forth, from my face down to my chest. “Tell me, sweet sister. Which do you imagine is worse? Living without you or dying first?” I gently brought my hand up to her other cheek and pulled her closer to me, until our foreheads were resting on one another.

“любимый, my love, don’t resist me.” I whispered the last words before crashing my lips onto hers. The feel of her soft, full lips against mine was even better than I had dreamt. I gasped ecstatically into her mouth and let my hands slide into her hair. I tightened my grip on her hair, when she tried to pull away. She could breathe when I let her. Until then, I would kiss her as long as I pleased. A tear slid down her cheek and I understood. She had finally accepted that we were supposed to be together and that we would rule alongside each other. “You will be the most perfect Mother, любимый.” I whispered against her lips.

Suddenly, a burning feeling spread through my chest and I could hardly breathe. “любимый, do you feel it, too?” I gasped. “We are finally becoming one.” Each syllable hurt more than the last and I barely registered Natalia’s gun clattering to the floor. Something warm ran down my chest and my legs almost collapsed under me. I clung to Natalia and she fell to the floor with me. She wrapped her arms around me and I was in heaven. “You are so beautiful, sweet Natalia.” Even as my vision blurred and I could feel the pull of a deep, dark sleep, I could not pry my eyes away from her. “Sister, I feel so tired…” My voice was cracking from all the effort it took me to speak, but she was here. My true love, my dear sister. I had finally found her again. “Sleep, sister. Everything will be alright.” My sweet Natalia’s voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness took me.

Okay, so Tumblr was acting all crazy when I was making this post, so hopefully, it'll work! 😬

Also, as always, would love feedback in any form! Comment, reblog, messages! It doesn't matter. ❤️

[houndin-around]

Covenant | Maul

warnings; slight age gap? I guess, can’t remember if there’s cursing oops, boss-employee relationship

a/n; First ofF I’M DROPPING THIS BC IT’S A SPECIAL SOMEONE’S BIRTHDAYYYYY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENNA ILY<3 @hxldmxdxwn 

- I’ve been avoiding dropping this because I’m super self conscious about my writing but oh well here we goooo! This is a more modern AU even though I use a lot of SW terms/lore but i’ll probably branch out as we go on throught he chapters. Takes place in coruscant and reader is 23! Maul ios around 30-31 haven’t fully decided yet. Uh hope everyone enjoys this!!

Summary; Getting an opportunity at a reputable company, you’re eager to show everyone what you’re made of. The only odd part is...no one knows who the owner is. 

not my gif

Curses rolled off your tongue as the silence was disturbed by the raucous alarm emitting from your phone. Hurriedly you tried to silence it, avoiding waking up your partner that is sleeping next to you. The clock read 4:55 am and the sky was still pitch black. Yet the lights of Galactic City never died, it was hard to get rid of the illumination in your room. Even some curtains weren’t enough to block the livelihood, something you still have yet to get used to. Staring up at the ceiling, the dread of leaving the warmth that consumed you whole was winning the battle lulling you back to sleep. Another ear-piercing song flowed out of your phone causing you to jolt upright. Rubbing the back of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips before you tossed your legs over the side of the mattress. From the second alarm, your boyfriend grumbled before turning over, aggressively pulling the sheets over himself.

Today was the day of your brand new job. Anxiety nestled in your gut the more you thought about it so you tried not to. Two years ago you were leaving Naboo and your family after school. It was one of the hardest things that you had to do, and being an adult wasn’t easy or all that it was chalked up to be. Living on Coruscant was a totally new experience. Everyone dressed so differently-- obsessing over the latest fashions, erasing the idea of modesty as well. Luckily for you, that’s when you met Kenth Madon. Upon arriving, your ship was having difficulties, and you needed a mechanic. Out of all the shops around you, you chose his almost as if it were fate. Due to frequenting his shop, Kenth got the courage to ask to see you outside of the permanently grungy, gas smelling establishment. It wasn’t your first relationship, although it has been quite a while. It was nice to have someone give you the type of attention Kenth did.

Since he grew up on Coruscant, your boyfriend claimed to know what real fashion was. Hinting at the fact yours was a little outdated. So,  he helped you restyle your wardrobe as you lacked any type of pizazz when it came to fitting in. At least according to him. During your outing, you still were drawn to rather lackluster choices of apparel, but at least it was slightly updated. Slipping on a white puff-sleeve shirt, you quickly tucked it into the black dress pants you were insistent on getting. The reality of putting on this outfit made your palms sweaty, your heart lurch up in your throat. with the realization of starting this new chapter in your life. Grabbing your white one-button jacket, you scanned your room one last time before placing a feathery kiss on Kenth’s stubbled cheek.  

—————————

“Next stop: Galactic Square. Please, refrain from getting up early and blocking the exits. Thank you.” the feminine voice echoed throughout the subway train.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, staring out of the viewport of the train. The job itself was competitive and the position wasn’t guaranteed. Nineteen other candidates were presenting their brand new prototypes for QuanCom, as well. The business that created the HoloNet, the Holocomms, comlinks, and much more. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This job could start you down a successful track, but you didn’t care. It was honestly only for the good-paying credits, since it was hard to find a job degree or not.

With a sudden stop shoving you against the seat, you quickly checked the time on your iPhone. 6:00 am. “Kriff!” you hissed to yourself. You were told work began at 8:00 am, so what in the hell were you going to do for an hour and a half? Being early helped ease your anxiety, though being this early only fueled it-- making it a lose-lose battle. Waiting for the other passengers to exit, you soon rose to your feet, swiftly leaping off the train. Examining the underground tunnels, your eyes shifted all over trying to locate the staircase leading upwards. It was crowded in the subway, yet it didn’t compare to the hustle and bustle that hurried by on the streets of Galactic City.

Humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, and species that you could swear you’ve never encountered before shouldered past you, as if you didn’t even exist. One long blink and an exasperated sigh later, you began to move your feet in the direction of QuanCom. The directions on your phone were confusing. The arrow rotating every once in a while was unable to read your location. Regardless, you continued hoping it was the correct way. The sudden smell of caf penetrated your nostrils, causing you to scrunch up your nose.

“If they sell caf, they probably have some deychin tea and maybe some food…” you trailed off hurriedly toward the small shop named “Caf Project ''.

Inside, it was cozy, brick-lined walls with a large sign hanging over the counter. Swallowing thickly, you stood back just far enough to show you were thinking of what you wanted, but really you were trying to stifle the anxiety welling back up as your mind kept going blank. A jingling sound interrupted your inner battles, and so did the voice of who was walking in.

“I don’t care. I told you to get this done yesterday. Not an hour before I arrived at the office. Is it really that hard to follow through? Do you not realize the utmost significance of this report? I swear I’m dealing with a bunch of imbeciles. Sith give me strength…'' Sucking in a breath, he glanced at you, brow raised. “Shut up for a second, Tannis.” He demanded before turning to you. “Are you in line?”

Your face went completely blank, just a second ago it sounded like he was about to murder whoever he was speaking to. But while speaking to you…his voice was smooth like silk, endearing actually. Swiftly shaking your head “no,” he stepped forward and flashed a warm grin at you, incisors slightly visible. Once again he continued yelling at someone, the barista not even batting an eye. His order was briskly made, though he didn’t even give any notion to what he had wanted. You couldn’t help but examine this stranger before you, attired in a charcoal grey suit that was paired with a very light grey dress shirt with two buttons undone. On his feet were freshly polished black Oxfords, his outfit so simple yet so suave. Once he handed the cashier some credits, you noticed a glimmer on his wrist, by the looks of it one kriffing expensive watch.

Adjusting the lanyard around your neck that holds your ID for QuanCom, the stranger with geometric tattoos all over his face turned to face you. You noticed a shiny stud piercing on the upper cartilage of his left ear. Maintaining some eye contact, you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. He was quite handsome, and his ivory horns…wow, you thought to yourself, cheeks running hot. “Get yourself together...you’re with someone,” You reminded yourself.

Lips parting, he studied you up and down.

“Good luck.” The words were quietly mumbled as he continued listening to what you assumed to be an employee, on the other line.

“Thank you,” you mouthed back, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you continue to fidget with the lanyard.

Maybe, he had heard of the big job offer at QuanCom? Advertisements were flaunted everywhere; it was hard to miss them. Shaking your head lightly, you step forward, showing that you’re ready to order.

“I’ll have a small deychin tea please and…uh- um..a croissant?” Everything on the menu food-wise wasn’t too appealing, but you needed something in your stomach to satisfy the beast. “Uh..how much, sir?” you inquired, pulling some credits from your spotless white jacket.

Shaking his head, the cashier's lips opened to a wide grin, “No need, miss, the man before you covered your order. You’re all set!”

There was that wave of nausea again. Why would he do that? Who even was he? Was it just his generosity for the day? Or did he think you couldn’t afford much based on your attire? Sighing, you frantically think about what you’ll be expecting for this job, continuing on your path toward the QuanCom headquarters. Getting closer to your destination, you glance over your phone, once more checking the time. 7:50 am. Finally, what felt like forever was finally here, and you were so eager to start on a positive foot.

Entering the monstrous building, people were hustling all around you-- confused, lost, and eager to get their days going, as well. You had to remind yourself that you were here as competition and not as a friend for anyone. Though right now, you could really use a friend and some directions as this place was large and filled to the brim. Inspecting the environment, you noticed a few flimsies posted. Maker’s sake, it made things easier by telling you where to go. Padding toward the nearest elevator, you crammed yourself in amongst the other bodies seemingly all going to the same exact floor. Not being able to help it, you held your breath midway until the doors opened on floor 18. Exiting, you followed the tall, skinny woman down the hall to meeting room 1804. To your amazement, it was already quite full, so you took a seat nearest to the door, pulling out some flimsy and a stylus so that you’re ready to jot down any information. The room was white-walled with very little decor besides a large glass table in the center. This is where the fun begins, the long drawn out rules and regulations.

“Alright! Now that we’ve gone over the workplace protocol and the prototype expectations, I will pair you up into four groups of five.” Her voice was raspy, though flat enough to make your eyelids heavy. Everyone around you was also struggling to fight the sleep that tried overpowering them. Names being called brought you back to attention every now and then, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I’m sure Kenth sees more attractive women daily anyway…” you try to convince yourself.

“(Y/N), Fox, Steela, Hardcase, and…Finn. You five will make up group three.” The grouping continued slowly, but the names rang in your mind over and over. “Alright, now that groups are established, get to know one another and start some planning. Each member in your group has a very different degree path; this will help you all utilize one another's skills to create the best results for QuanCom. You have three weeks until you pitch your prototypes to Dooku, the COO.. Remember, 5 pm concludes your workday, so get to it.”

Sitting around your new coworkers, you fumbled around with your stylus, afraid to make the first move for introductions. It seems that you weren’t the only one being fidgety;  the gentleman named Hardcase was bouncing his leg vigorously. If you were correct, he and Fox were clones. After the bill was granted clones rights and citizenship, they ended up all over the system. So many felt that cloning was unethical, especially for the fact they were treated similarly to droids. Though it was nice to see the two making something of themselves.

“Guess I’ll start! The name’s Hardcase. Yes I’m a clone, and--yes--I’m perfectly capable of thinking for myself. I’m great with my hands and can assemble anything together. For a short while, I was working as a mechanical engineer for the GAR.” The clone oozed with excitement and enthusiasm, which was quite entertaining. Clad in a pink-hued dress shirt and a blue suit, which matched his facial tattoos. On his feet were freshly polished loafers still tapping the ground.

“Well, I’m Fox. My skills are geared toward CAD and any type of 3D rendering. Once I devote myself to something, I see it through. You can trust me on this project; I assure you that,” he barely showed any type of emotions compared to his counterpart. His attire was dark-- suit, shoes, everything. It said a lot about him and which made you anxious.

“Well, I’m Steela! Researching is my speciality. Problem-solving is also a breeze. I’ll be able to find the answers in order to help us advance to a whole other level! I enjoy leading projects like this, since I know I can keep us on track one hundred percent!” The excitement radiating from her was encouraging. She seemed like a strong woman ready to lead this team to success. She wore brown high waisted dress pants with a matching blazer, and white blouse. On her feet were suede, caramel heel booties.

“I’ll go next…” the young Twi’lek’s voice was soft and elegant, soothing to everyone in the group. Just as she was about to speak the double-doors swung open.

“Asajj, we have a problem,” her voice hushed but full of urgency as she glanced around the room. “Tannis was fired. We need to fill her position. Now!”

“Gods, I knew this was going to happen. I told her she wasn’t ready for this position. Now he’s going to take it out on me,” Asajj let out a long sigh, arms folding across her body. The woman that just emerged looked similar to her, though her face was more relaxed.

“(Y/N), can you come over here for a second please?”

Everyone in the room glanced up at you before continuing their tasks.. Rising from your chair, you crossed the room sliding past everyone with ease. Asajj acted like she was presenting the finest delicacy in the galaxy; arms held out at you.

“I think she’ll do. A tad on the quiet side, but I’m sure Mr. Crimson can work with it,” Her response was more of a question, as both women had their eyes upon you.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice. You cannot run this and take on two secretary positions. You’re going to need the help,” The woman’s pale grey eyes burned into you.  

“Fine. Take her to Mr. Crimson. You better hope he approves,” Asajj warned, giving you one last glance.

Quickly grabbing your belongings, the conversation you just had replays in your mind.

“Tannis,”

Why did that name sound so familiar? Who’s Mr. Crimson and why did you have to go see him.  Your mind whirled around, anxiety eating away as you set foot in the elevator. It felt like a full rotation cycle before reaching floor twenty. Being led out you walked down a hallway that was decorated lavishly. The flooring was a beautiful dark marble. Each step you took echoed off the walls. Nearing the end of the hall, both of you walked through another set of tall glass double doors. Entering the spacious room, you can’t help but notice the viewport walls. Also catching your attention were two long black desks. They were set across from one another stacked with datapads and pieces of flimsy. Towards the middle was a closed black door that had a frosted glass panel. Without a doubt this room was breathtaking and even though it lacked decor compared to the hallway, the view of Galactic City made up for it. Light knuckles hit against the panel three times, waiting for a response.

“What is it now?” The aggressive tone was enough to send a chill down your spine.

Slowly opening the door to peek her head in. A few words were exchanged before she fully opened the door, motioning for you to follow right behind. Inside was a long glass desk, the legs were black; matching some of the furnishings or complimenting them. In front were two rounded leather chairs, the area rug underneath a bright white. Paintings and picture frames hung on the right side of the room, though you were too afraid to really gawk at them as a gruff voice began erupting again. There he sat, his black leather chair facing the viewports behind his desk seeming to be amidst another phone call.  Something about his voice was all too familiar but the fear bubbling inside you made it difficult to pinpoint. Soon enough he swung his chair around slamming the phone down, right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt yet another phone call, Leys. If it’s not about numbers, you know, the job I pay you to do? Then leave. I’ll fire you too. I’ve had it with everyone’s complacent behavior. Any fool could be my financial officer, so if you as so step out of line again, you’re done,” The snarl erupting from this man was horrifying, bringing you back to the Caf shop.

It was him! The same eerie tone used then too, and yet he was able to turn it off so quickly when addressing you. Your hands began to clam up, eyes not even daring to meet his.

“Yes sir, I understand I’m very sorry. I just wanted to bring you Tannis’ replacement,” voice quivering, Leys bowed her head and hurriedly left Mr. Crimson’s office leaving you behind, alone and defenseless.

A satisfied chuckle was released from Mr. Crimson as he watched his employee scatter from his office. Brow raised in your direction, his stare intense, a sneer presenting itself. “Well. Take a seat.”

His hand motioned to the smaller round chairs, eyes never leaving you. Pushing his seat back just a smidge, a polished shoe crosses over his left thigh and his hands fold against his stomach. Releasing the breath you were holding in, you padded over to the seat in front of his desk sitting as straight as humanly possible.

“It seems I’m in need of another secretary. But it’s not an easy job-- I need someone reliable, someone organized, and to understand the urgency of when I say to do something, they do it,” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice dropped a little lower, eyes narrowing. “It is a permanent job that is until mistakes are made. Pays reasonably well especially for dealing with...someone like me. Seems Asajj and Leys picked you and they’re typically alright when it comes to the judgment of character.”

Something about the way he spoke to you made your heart skip a beat. Even the way he stared at you had your arms lined with goosebumps. Trying to compile a coherent sentence was no easy feat with his eyes burning into you.

 “I-I, um..” fumbling over your words caused your cheeks to run hot. “Well...first off I wanted to thank you for this morning. You really didn’t have to pay for me...but I greatly appreciate it. As for my work, I am quite organized and pay attention to directions given, but I don’t exactly have the experience in being a secretary, which would probably be important…” trailing off, you broke eye contact with him to glance at a red light blinking on his phone.

He barely acknowledged your thanks, just giving a small nod. A deep hearty laugh left his lips, “Any fool could be a secretary, but you don’t seem like a fool. No, just the way you speak and hold yourself exudes intelligence. Normally a secretary is chosen from within the company, as an outsider could be one that would leak vital information about QuanCom to its competitors. Someone that has worked their way up the ranks, whom I could trust. However, due to obvious circumstances here we are. If you so choose to take this job you will have limited access to certain databases as I need you to earn that trust. Understood?” The sneer plastered itself once more upon his face, incisors visible this time.

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll make sure I do this right Mr. Crimson!” a little bit of enthusiasm worked its way to you, eyes lighting up like Coruscant itself.

“Please, call me Maul.” he pleaded, followed by a half-smirk.

Rising to his feet, he outstretched a hand that you mirrored. His callused hand engulfing yours in a gentle embrace. Just this morning you were going in ready to compete against nineteen other candidates, and here you are sealing a deal with the CEO of QuanCom to be his second secretary. Breaking the handshake, he opens up his desk drawer pulling out a datapad, handing it to you.

“That will be yours. You’ll need it for all the paperwork and emails. You’re free to take it home, just don’t lose it. Asajj will send you some emails tonight that will need to be completed before you come in tomorrow morning at 6 sharp. Once you do that you’ll be set up in our system and able to begin your duties. You’re dismissed for the day, but you will be paid for a full day. Just a small token of gratitude.”

Taking the datapad in your hands, you gave a curt nod, ensuring you understood the importance that was just given to you. Getting yourself together along with your things, you exchanged a few words expressing how grateful you are for this new position. Heading toward the door, you outstretch a hand to grab the handle. Just as you’re about to open the black door, his voice cuts the silence.

“Oh, one last thing, don’t mention our little encounter this morning to anyone. Some may think... I’m beginning to play favorites.” his voice honeyed paired with a smirk and eyes ogling you, trying to take in one last visual before you leave.

---------

taglist: @maulfrk​ @honestlystop​ @pinkiemme​ @idiotonastar​ @nawpitynopenope @maulieber​ @rishi-moon​ 

[elaz-ivero]

Poetry Fieldnotes ||Broken Artists Collective||

[image description: a block print with a bright red border around a greyish blue grainy image. Atop it is a pair of discoloured hands, palms facing forward, red and outstretched. Above the hands in white Garamond font are the words, Broken Artists Collective and in smaller font, and other poems. /end id]

Over the past week, I may or may not have fully embraced the concept of a broken artist finding myself unable to conjure up a single creative thought unless I'm lying on the floor surrounded by scrawlings and broken-spined books. For a long time, I have been trying to cater my work to a series of magazines that clearly yearn for a very specific 'type' of poetry that I am incapable of producing. These poems are ones that applied pressure, the ones that were crammed into inattentive submission boxes and were returned in empty emails.

Here are the poems,

[image description: a photograph of a boy laying down looking upward, a lit cigarette stands upright in his mouth and his features are overlayed with the shadows of ferns and other plants. He wears an orange collared shirt and around him are the words in white Garamond font, Floor Bound Echo Location. /end id]

Floor-bound Echolocation is a disjointed 403-word prose poem that is a coalesce of liminal spaces, chaotic ingenuity and a reversal of grief. Like many of my poems, it describes a series of small events and feels more like a corrupted scene from a novel than a stand-alone poem. It's a short tale of a brother and sister cleaning out the garage-workspace of their genius, estranged and recently deceased cousin. It opens as follows...

All the lines are in lowercase and of sporadic length, every so often a single random word is isolated and highlighted. These are the words that were isolated throughout the poem.

//enigma //a test of patience //satisfied //memorized

I adore this poem and it feels strangely personal (my own experiences often slip into my work unconsciously like fears finding their place in dreams) as a creative I fear the idea that a lot of my work and unwritten ideas will never be read or known. The poem focuses on one of the cousin's creations, a geometric pattern drawn in chalk on the concrete floor. This pattern, its design obsessive and laid out like a triggerless trap takes over the narrative of the poem. The characters wash it away and the pattern, the physical manifestation of this dead cousins genius clings to the idea of being appreciated, recognized.

[image description: a boy sits up against a wall in a barren green and blue-tinted room, to the right of the image, is a window showing trees outside and beneath it a gas heater is attached to the wall. The boy's wearing a similar orange shirt and on the wall beside him are words, 'it blends and swirls with the oiled water and tidals along the length of the driveway to passer-by's what remains of it asks, begs, to be, memorised.' /end id]

I wrote 'floor-bound...' in a day and made subsequent edits over the course of a couple of days, I tend to write out my ideas and make minor changes to word choice and sentence length before I add in the details that make each poem unique. The isolation of individual letters was a way to almost mimic the process of looking in a cluttered space you'll see something recognizable and latch onto it.

Status: Submitted

[image description: A girl with long black hair, olive skin and a tired solemn expression face forward, an unlit cigarette held loosely in her mouth. She stands in a red elevator, the doors are closed and on the left on the image is the metal switchboard showing she has reached level 12. On her right is the word, 'Peephole'. /end id]

Peephole is a mirrored poem and is split into 'Inside', and 'Outside' with Inside, aligned to the left and Outside, aligned to the right, they are reflective of each other, mirrored. Peephole is about a young drunk woman staying inside her boyfriend's cramped apartment inspired by the 43-Square-Foot rooms in South Korea and an image from the article below inspired the entirety of this poem.

She, aware that the apartment seems to reject her, steps out into the hallway, the 'Outside' which feels apocalyptic with a burning wining sun and a ghost standing by the elevator, a personification of her sickness silently assessing how she is still alive and if she could find her way home in this state. The women in turn assess how this hallway faintly reminds her of the one from 'The Shining' leading into a breaking of the fourth wall.

[image description: A photograph that looks similar to a corrupted piece of film, tinted red and showing a woman's profile looking toward the right. Words on the left of the image read, 'I take an imaginary drag as if setting the scene of some ninety's horror, slasher, mounting suspense with the final girl, alone, a lonely lamb how easy would it be to just end a film right here.' /end id]

The tone of the poem is gritty, realistic and almost elusive in its design. I love writing poems without intending to care about its audience, with no closure, no clarity, no kindness. This poem is an amalgamation of all the recent media I've consumed, 'The Shining', Final Girl, Wikipedia dives into the housing crisis and psychological horror. I love writing poems that reflect a blend of culture, using language as a way to implement distinctive voices in my writing.

[image description: Another room tinted green, on the bottom of the image head barely in frame is a women looking off into the distance, above the cigarrete she holds red smoke reflecting in the shine on her face twirls and unfurls. Text reads, 'Tiger balm and salt, "kapuahi ahi" his whisper hurts my ears and sounds like, toungue on velvet, tooth in cheek.' /end id]

Status: Submitted

[image description: a close up of a brides face covered by a sheer veil in front of a black background, her eyes are tinted with red eyeshadow and she looks forward with a bored stare. Large text in the upper left-hand corner reads, 'Chekhov'. /end id]

Chekhov, my most recent poem is- as the title suggests- from the perspective of a gun, a woman on her wedding day is left at the altar by a cheating groom and hunts him down in the orchard venue with an heirloom of a gun. I love the perspective of this poem, the way it slowly reveals the origin of the 'voice' and grows darker and darker as the wedding dress soils and darkens with dirt and blood. Few of my poems spur from ideas rather than images but the idea of a furious bride filled with anguish and horror brought this poem to life.

[image description: a young bride looking behind her as she runs toward a patch of dark trees in the middle of a field. One hand holds up the edge of her white dress, it's evening. Text on the left-hand side of the image reads, 'Darling when my steel feels soft, revoke your vows and kiss something just as cold and cocky. /end id]

This poem is split into three stanzas, before the wedding, during and the evolving aftermath. I feel like I could extend this into a short story saving the strange gunpoint perspective till the final scene.

Status: Completing

[image description: A black and white image of a boy looking up, his expression a mix of horror and fear while blades point down at him and hold steady inches from his neck. The image is a still from "Ivan the Terrible" by Sergei Eisenstein. Text aside it reads, 'The Sound of Hamlet Rehearsed. /end id]

The sound of Hamlet Rehearsed, inspired by my own recent exploration of scriptwriting and theatre. The sound of Hamlet Rehearsed is about a boy being held accountable during a faux court hearing, on stage on opening night. The narrative slowly switches from fiction to reality as it dawns on him that the punishment is about to be dealt and he struggles with understanding how much of his reaction is performance or authentic. It's structured in a sporadic unbroken series of words and moments.

Tone-deaf touchtone tipping point Ziplock bags and scented zip ties off script the boards atop the trap door tremble imagine the conductor beneath torch amongst teeth briefly making out direction from diction.

Status: Editing

Those are the poems I've been working on! I'm not going to write any more poetry until I come to my poetry course next trimester and instead are going to focus on short stories (I'm developing two right now, three-course meal and Wren versus the Russian Government) and continuing by Worldbuilding Diaries series.

-E

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝misunderstanding dramas.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Bakugou goes to his S/O's dorm to talk to her but overhears her talking with another boy and they’re having a really romantic/flirty conversation and he leaves thinking she’s cheating on him. When in reality, they were just practicing for a drama.」

A bit of angst? 

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Dormitories are suddenly a trend now, at least, in Bakugou's opinion. With the rise of villains, the schools decided to take it upon themselves and establish their own dorms so students don't have to go far to reach school. The dorms always contained the facilities you could possibly ask for. Bakugou never complained about being in the dorms, he was given the privilege of owning his own room. One thing that's annoying the distance between his dorm and your own. The two of you lived in the same neighborhood and never had any problems when it came to meeting up. But now, your parents had sent you off to the school dorms, stating that it will be easier for you.

It was true though. The dorms were just minutes away from the main building, no need to worry about transportation fees. You often complained about how far you were from him but Bakugou knew that this was for the best.

After another long day, Bakugou wanted nothing more than to just lay down and do absolutely nothing. As soon as he reached the dorms, he showered and made himself dinner. His muscles ached and begged for rest, especially the ones on his arms. Pushing himself a bit too far caused it, he was prepared for it but he didn't expect to feel like he was run over by a truck or something.The moment he reached his bed, his phone rang which he responded with an annoyed huff.

"What?" he said without looking at the caller ID. He didn't care who it was, he was just too tired from training and school work. Bakugou heard an all too familiar giggle from the other line.

"Is this how you greet me, Katsuki?" you asked, leaning against your bed as you gazed at the ceiling.

"Tch, what do you want?"

"Wanna come over this Saturday after your classes? I have some drama practice with a friend so I will be in the dorms the entire day. You're free after lunch time right?" you questioned. Bakugou had to admit that it has been a long time since the two of you saw each other. He had been busy with his own studies and all that and you were no different. As you laid in bed, you waited for his response.

"Hah? Why would I waste my time visiting your sorry ass?" the ash blonde replied. You let out a whine at his tone, frowning slightly as you sunk further into your bed.

"Then, I guess we won't be seeing each other until next month....." you sighed exasperatedly, closing your eyes a bit. On the other line, Bakugou rose a brow after hearing your tone. He might be ignorant to most things but hearing your change of tone. He'd rather fucking die than admit that he's actually worried.

"What?" was all you heard from him. Even though it was a Bakugou-like response, you can tell that you've caught his interest.

"We have a study trip this Monday and we'll be at Miyagi for a week and right after that, I have a big play so I will be very busy....." you said with a small hum. Bakugou blinked a few times, rubbing his temples in annoyance. It wasn't as if he didn't want to see you, in fact, he really wants to see you especially after such a tiring week. He wants fucking cuddles, that's what he concluded.

"Fine. You better be at your dorms tomorrow after 2." 

"Yay! Thank you!"

"Tch, whatever. It's not like I have anything to do anyway. Besides, I don't want you being all sad and shit." Bakugou muttered the last part to himself, cheeks turning red from embarrassment. Though it was annoying to say stupid cheesy stuff like that, it was more annoying if you hated him. He couldn't imagine a day not talking to you. Bakugou genuinely loves you after all.

"By the way, Katsuki....."

"What is it now?"

"I was lying about the study trip. I'm actually very free."

"You.....!"

"Goodbye, Katsuki! Text me before you sleep, love you, my cute firecracker!"

It's quite funny to say that he still loves you even after messing around with him to this extent.

"Where are you going, Bakugou?" Kirishima who was seated at the couch questioned as Bakugou walked through with his shoes in hand.

"None of your fucking business." the ash-blonde replied in response.

"Probably to visit his imaginary girlfriend." Kaminari teased. His classmates who claimed to be his best buds―Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero, have caught him texting to you one day and teased about talking with his girlfriend. And Bakugou, being Bakugou, just casually mentioned that he was―as a matter of fact―texting his girlfriend aka you. 

Of course, the three so-called friends of his did not believe what Bakugou had said and demanded evidence. He replied harshly like usual, stating why he would go through all that trouble. So, the three boys teased the ash blonde for having an imaginary girlfriend. Sometimes it got on his nerves and was tempted to bring you over for proof so they could just shut up. However, there was no reason for him to involve you in his mess anyway. The moment he finished putting on his shoes, Bakugou shoved in his phone into his pocket and lightly glared at Kaminari.

"Shut the fuck up, Dunceface." With that, he left the dorm and Kaminari let out a small sigh.

"I wonder what he's actually going." the blonde muttered.

Bakugou took the usual route to your dorms. It's not a complicated route, just a bit far from the UA dorms. As he rode the train, he watched the moving scenery, thinking about what you were doing. He did remember you saying you had some sort of practice but not sure what kind you were talking about. Unlike himself who enrolled into UA with the objective of wanting to be a hero, you chose something completely different. The world of entertainment always never failed to make your day and you want to brighten up someone's day with a song or a play. It's not like you don't have a combat-type quirk, in fact, people told you that your quirk can be used to save people. But of course, it's your life and the path you choose is in your hands. 

Stepping off the platform and making his way out the station, Bakugou set out to your dorm. He pulled out his phone and left you a message, not bothering to wait for a response. Much to his surprise, his phone didn't vibrate in his pocket and there were no notifications from you either. Your dorm was already within his view and you hadn't responded, Bakugou huffed and began to walk a bit faster. 'Fricking idiot telling me to come and not reply her damn phone!' he muttered. 

He got through the security with ease, stating his business and all that before walking to the dorms. Some of the residents recognized him and told him that you were in your room doing something. The moment he reached your room, he took in a deep breath as if readying himself for scolding you.

"Stop saying such embarrassing things." he heard your voice. Bakugou stopped when he heard another voice coming from your room. He leaned closer until the voices were much clearer. Thanks to the small gap from your door, he was able to hear your conversation.

"It's not embarrassing, it's just a fact." he heard a male's voice. Who were you talking to? He thought you were busy practicing.

"You're making me blush..... you probably say call other girls beautiful too. So I'm just one of the very many you've complimented." you replied.

"No, I don't just compliment any girls. You're an exception. You're smart, beautiful and kind. Everything I want in my girl. That's why I asked you out." the other occupant chuckled. Bakugou's eyes widened in surprise.

Was he a joke to you? Was your entire relationship just a fucking pass time for you? Bakugou couldn't believe that you were capable of doing such things behind his back. He never pegged you to be the type to cheat on him. It was annoying more than it hurt but the ache in his chest made him want to yell at whoever the guy in your room was and tell him to back the fuck off from his girl. But all he could do was just leave hall angry, not even bothering to barge in and demand answers from you. Why did you cheat on him? Did you get sick of him? Or did you finally decide that he didn't give you enough love?

Bakugou gritted his teeth angrily and he brushed past your classmates who cowered under his angry gaze as he made his way out of the dorms. Why didn't you just break up with him if you were sick of him? Then again, would he want such a thing? Bakugou valued his relationship with you but he never showed it. Maybe it was because of that you decided to get someone who would probably express their love? The sound of your laughter reverberated inside his head and he could imagine you smiling and laughter with another guy. It was frustrating, was he not the type to be in a relationship? Was he not doing enough for you?

"He's late....." you mumbled, laying down on your bed. There was nothing much to do and you've been waiting for Bakugou to come. He was never late and always on time. What if he got into trouble or some sort of accident? Worried, you grabbed your phone and dialed his number. The phone continued ringing and suddenly you were cut off. That's odd. Bakugou never rejects your calls. You grabbed a jacket and put it over your t-shirt, grabbed your wallet and keys before going out.

"Oh? You're back already? That's fast." Kirishima looked over to his shoulder to see Bakugou walking towards the elevator.

"That's none of your fucking business." 

You reached the UA dorms in about half an hour because of the complicated routes that caused you to stray off from the right path. Since UA had been attacked by villains a couple of times, you had to go through a security check for a while. When you finally managed to get through, the sun was almost setting. Searching for Class 1-A's dorms wasn't easy either so it took longer than you expected to reach there. As you pushed open the doors, you were greeted with the sound of student laughing over something, engaged in some sort of conversation. You stepped inside, letting go of the door as you thought of what to say.

A small squeak left your lips when the door behind shut itself. Upon hearing the loud noise, everyone turned their attention towards you. The tension was thick as the students of Class 1-A looked at you, wondering who you were.

"Ah.....um, I'm looking for Katsuki―er, Bakugou? Is he here?" you questioned.

"Are you sure you're looking for Bakugou?" a blonde haired male questioned in disbelief, eyes wide in surprise. You tilted your head, nodded slightly.

"Yes. Is he here?" you asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable as everyone gazed at you as if you grew another head.

"Just take the elevator to the fourth floor. It's the one near the end with his name on the door." you heard a smooth voice pointed out. Your eyes landed on a bi-colored haired male who was standing by the counter of the kitchen holding a mug of coffee. You bowed, stuttering a thank you before jogging towards the elevator.

"Eh? What? Eh!?" Kaminari's mouth fell open in shock and was unable to form a proper sentence.

"Did you just witness that and find it hard to believe because I did! Bakugou has a girlfriend!? Unbelievable!" the blonde screeched, ruffling his hair and turning towards Kirishima and Sero who were equally surprised.

"Holy shit, he wasn't lying." was all Sero managed to say.

"And he managed to get himself a really cute one! The way her shorts hugged her waist and―Ack!" Mineta cried out in pain.

"Perving on someone's girlfriend isn't manly, dude."

A few knocks on Bakugou's door caused him to stir awake from his slumber. He hadn't realize he had fallen asleep but remembering why he was in bed in the first place made him groan. He was thinking about his revelation related to you, a bit too much. Maybe telling whoever was knocking on the door to fuck off and leave him alone would do him some good. When he opened his door, he didn't expect the source of his problems standing right in front of him.

"Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? It's because you didn't come and didn't respond to my calls! I was worried you know."

"Tch, just mind your own business and leave me alone." Bakugou grumbled and sat on his bed while you stood at the doorway, closing the door behind you.

"Katsuki.....Is there something wrong?" you asked cautiously. Your boyfriend tends to bottle up his own feelings, making it hard for you to deduce what he was going through. It was troublesome, yes. However, you loved him too much that such a trait posed no threat to your relationship. 

"You're what's wrong, acting all innocent like that. Did you fucking believe for a second that I wouldn't find out!?" Bakugou snapped at you. It was rare that he flipped out on you. His eyes were filled with different emotions, there was anger, frustration, betrayal and a hint of sadness. You had no idea what he was talking about but with the way he was looking at you, all you wanted to do was apologize.

"Katsu, what are you talking about?" you tried staying calm to not add more fuel into the fire.

"Fucking pulling that innocent shit on me again when you fucking know that you're cheating on me. Am I a fucking joke to you?" Bakugou questioned angrily. You opened your mouth to protest but the male spoke before you could do so. He let out everything he had been bottling inside without giving you a chance to say anything. But just from listening to him, you couldn't believe that he thought you were cheating on him.

"Why the fuck did you even get into a relationship with me if you already had someone else!?"

"Katsuki, I'm not cheating on you!" you said it in a loud voice that he had never heard before.

"Don't fucking lie to me! I saw it with my own fucking eyes! Being all romantic with that shitty guy in your room calling you his girl or some shit like that! You're a fucking cheater, don't you fucking talk to me ever again!" he yelled at you. Before you knew it, you threw a punch right at his face. It wasn't strong, considering you have never done anything physical before but it managed to catch him off guard. He rubbed his cheek and turned to glare at you angrily but all the words got caught up in his throat when he saw you crying. 

Tears streamed down your face and your nose was turning red from all that sniffling. You didn't even bother wiping your tears away and let them fall down on the ground.

"I told you I was practicing for a drama! I guess you were to busy not giving a fuck to listen! Do you not trust me when I said I love you.....?" your voice wavered in the end. You pulled out your phone and swiped through a few things before shoving it towards him.

"I was practicing for a drama and you out of all people should know how important it is to me! I guess our relationship is nothing if you don't even trust me. When was the last time you even told me you love me anyways?" you mumbled before turning around and leaving his room. Bakugou slowly looked at your phone, realizing that you had given him your script for the drama you will be performing in your school. He went through a few parts and saw the exact dialogue you were saying in your own room earlier that day.

How could he just jump into conclusions without confronting you? All those things you said were true. He was behaving as if he didn't trust you. He never actually voiced out how much he loved you, thinking that he was expressing it enough in his own way. Bakugou dropped your phone and rushed out of his room to see you slowly trudging towards the elevator. 

"Wait!" he called out.

"[First Name]!" Bakugou seized your wrists and pinned you against the wall. He studied your face for a while. You avoided his gaze and looked down to the ground, tear stains visible on your cheeks as you sniffled lightly.

"Fuck, I can't expect you to forgive me. But I need to tell you how fucking sorry I am. Sorry for not believing you, sorry for not listening, sorry for doubting you and fuck.....sorry that I don't say that I love you." Bakugou's head was now facing downwards, too ashamed to meet your eyes. You slowly looked up, getting a glimpse of his eyes, noting how he was so close to crying. You knew how much he struggled voicing his feelings, to see him in such a vulnerable state pained you.

"Katsuki....."

"Don't fucking leave me, [First Name]. I love you. I love you so goddamn much." his grip around your wrist was stong but it was trembling. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his back and rubbing it in a motherly manner.

"It's okay. I forgive you. It's just a misunderstanding.....It happens in relationships." you managed to smile a bit, patting his back like how a mother would do with her own child. He buried his face onto your neck, wrapping his arms around you tightly as if you'd disappear any second.

You weren't sure how long the two of you had been standing there but it was starting to get a bit awkward. Lucky for you, not one went to check up on Bakugou and if they did come, he could just yell and tell them to fuck off or something. It was starting to get a bit late too, it would take some time for you to get back to your dorms.

"Katsuki.....it's late, I gotta go back." you mumbled softly into his ear. The male grunted against your neck and refused to budge, in fact, his grip got a bit tighter but not till it felt like you were suffocating.

"Katsu, you gotta let go."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not letting go." he growled lightly.

"But I gotta go home before it gets too late, you know." you pouted.

"Just stay here." he grumbled.

"Don't be unreasonable, Katsuki. I don't think they'll agree to having an outsider like me stay here. Where am I gonna stay anyway?" you said. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up, carrying you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Katsuki!" you squeaked in embarrassment, hands grabbing at the back of his shirt as he began walking towards his room. You covered your eyes out of embarrassment and felt Bakugou set you down on his bed. The ash blonde crawled in next to you on his bed. 

"Just stay here." he said, slinging an arm over your body and shifting closer. You sighed, giving him a small smile as you kissed his cheek.

"Fine. But you're taking full responsibility of me." you huffed at him. This side of him was rather cute but annoying at the same time. You never thought he would be the clingy type. Normally, you would be the one to initiate all these cheesy shit — as Bakugou always said. But how could you just deny him when he was being so cute?

Total: 3344 words Published: 31.08.2019

So, I tried to use my phone to type this whole scenario and it was hell. At least to me, it felt like hell. I had been sick so my nose was extremely stuffy when I typed this. So that probably resulted in this angsty piece of work! Apologies for not making it fluffy but at least the ending was nice?? Please don't hit me ― author Hibiki/Lou

Completely shocked by the amount of red squiggly lines present in this request Lou had typed. Lou + phone = no order and two times the typos. She works faster though? Maybe it's because there are no distractions? Anyway, thank you for requesting, sorry that this turned out to be angsty.....― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[grimreaper-9972]

Forbidden part 2 18+ tony x peter

“So what kind of cock do you like peter?” Tony asked and smirked as he looked at the boy, flinching into reality. “I’m sorry what ?” Peter asked in his soft voice. “What kind of coffee do you like peter?”Tony asked, pretending he was asking this exact sentence a second time. “Oh , sorry i thought i heard something else and i'm more of a caramel latte person unless there is nothing else then i'd have a plain black columbian roast or espresso Tony.”Peter said with a soft smile as the elevator stopped and they walked past Alice who peter turned to and looked at wide eyed. “HELP ME APRIL “ Peter mouthed to her silently to her wide and encouraging smile and thumbs up Peter stared at her till he and Tony were out of the glass doors. “So do you drive peter?”Tony asked while ruffling the kids hair and leaning in closer to the boy. “No, I'm planning on getting lessons in motorbike riding.” Peter said with a soft hum to his voice as Tony led them to a bright red corvette and clicked the button to open up the car doors for himself and petter he easily got into the driver's seat and looked up at the still standing boy. “I don't bite unless I'm asked to kid” Tony said with a deep and suggestive eyebrow wiggle that made Peter laugh in the most angelic laugh Tony had ever heard. He wanted the kid to always be laughing like that around him. It made his heart stop. With his tension broke Peter finally got into the car and the doors slipped closed. “On the way to the tower i'm gonna get you any coffee you want and then i'm going to show you around stark tower and your done for the day, and you can chose to leave or help me in the lab for fun and we can order eat in because if you are anything like me then you are as bad as me at forgetting to eat when in a lab and without restriction also you will be in time allowed to start your own projects in my lab.”Tony said explaining how things would work while also focusing on the road as he had began to drive as soon as the boy was in his car not giving him any chance to fright again and smiled at how hard it was for him to keep his focus of the divinity besides him , he smirked because it was the first time in a long time that he liked somebody enough and found himself attracted enough to another human being especially one fully clothed. “Thank you Tony but im sure ill be fine without one just yet and i'm rather excited to be working with you personally sir and i'm glad for the opportunity and i'd like that si-Tony id like to stay with you if i’m no bother other wise i am good at making myself scarce “ Peter began while rambling a bit making Tony look over at the way the boy blushed so prettily there simply was no other way to explain it the boy was pretty in simplest terms . Tony reached out and ruffled the kids hair gently he knew this was something he was going to spend a lot of time doing but he couldn't complain. “Kid if you were a bother i wouldn’t have even suggested it.” Tony said softly before turning back to the road and soon the doors to stark tower opened and Tony drove them inside to the garage and stopped the engine smiling at the boy genuinely his first genuine of many with the boy.

Tony slowly stood from his desk and moved around and held his hand out for Peter to shake, wanting to feel the boy’s skin on his own just a bit even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel the rest of the boy’s skin and body quite so easily.

Peter smiled softly and reached out wrapping his slender hand around Tony’s large and callus hands. “So what is the first work i'll be doing Tony?” He asked a soft blush covering his cheeks as wide eyes looked up into deep bronze ones.

Tony smirked, holding the soft and silky smooth hand in his own he almost blushed feeling how perfect the boy's hand fit his own it made him wonder just how much of the boy’s body would fit him as perfectly. “First I want you to come and make yourself at home in my personal lab as we will mostly be working from there and I may need you to work on something’s there on your own when I'm at meetings or I am needed as iron man after all.”Tony spoke with easy confidence. “Yes sir, i mean Tony .” Peter said, grinning wider his face, a look of pure innocence. “I’m glad i get to work with you and that you think I am good enough to work with you personally.” Peter said happily and genuinely. ‘Though i do wish you knew exactly what else i wish i could work on for you.’ Peter thought to himself and ran a hand through his hair and slowly letting go of Tony’s hand and smiled waiting for the next thing that the man would say to him.

Tony stood watching the other male thinking of something along much similar roads as his eyes swiftly raked up and down the boy’s body once more. “Come i want coffee and im getting one you too then we will talk about the finer details of the change to come into your cataract and also i would like you to spend three nights at the stark tower for early mornings and for the times that we end up working well into the night. ‘And other things I want to do to you well into the night baby boy.’ Tony added on in his head and took the boy out the room with his arm around his shoulders. 

They stepped into the glass elevator Peters face was deep red in blush his skin like fire underneath Tony’s touch but he wouldn’t complain ever it just made his heart flutter with want and as far as he would ever think that is as much touching as he would get from the older man after all what could peter other to a man that had everything and could have whoever he wanted and in his mind anyone who said they wouldn’t say yes to a hookup or more with the man was lying through their teeth but it also did make him wonder about people like Bruce banner and Hulk it made him wonder what effects came from a high gamma induced orgasim and sperm and if the genetic genes were different than that of the human counterpart to the hulk.

[todorokiaimee]

Blues In The Night    2. I’ll Be Seeing You

Previous chapter | Chapter Song

Todoroki Shoto. THE Todoroki Shoto was talking to me. What is life? Aimee chuckled to herself as she walked down the busy Tokyo streets. The cool fall air tickled her nose as she adjusted her coat tighter around her body. The walk from the coffee shop to her apartment wasn’t very long, but she somehow dreaded it just the same. With every step she took, every swish of her wide hips, there was a new pair of eyes looking her away. She was different. She knew that. 

Even after over 10 years of living in Japan, the looks never got any easier. Maybe it would have been different if they only stared because she was Black. Usually, the only Black people walking around in Tokyo are visiting celebrities. Hell, no one would complain if the reason people stared was that they all thought she was Beyonce. But the truth was, she was no Beyonce. However, she was quite bootylicious. Maybe too much. Most people were not ready for this jelly. And that was the most difficult part of her walk. 

As she made her way down the street, people would divert their path walking towards her. When she was a young girl, she thought they were just being polite. She realized the truth would she would hear snickers from behind her after she passed. Ever since then Aimee did her best to just keep her down, try not to call too much attention to herself. Now don’t her wrong, she loved herself. She loved her skin, she loved her hair, and she certainly loved her big black ass. But above all, she loved herself too much to put herself in a vulnerable position without a good cause.

Walking up the stairs to her second-floor apartment, she unlocked her door to be greeted by a rather loud meow. “Well hello to you too, Mochi,” She giggled as she picked him up, closing and locking the door behind her. Mochi was the first friend she made in Japan. She found him starving in the street as a kitten and she instantly took him in. Perhaps Aimee was a bit overzealous in her feeding him and nursing him back to health. Now Mochi was no longer a skinny kitten, but a very fat cat. 

Flicking on the light switch, she walked into her bohemian paradise, kicking off her shoes. A soft light filled the room, illuminating the many tapestries that lined the walls of her modest home. Her apartment is what a real estate agent would call cozy, aka fucking small, but she lived alone and the rent was cheap so that was a-okay by her. With Mochi in tow, she walked into her bedroom, dropping him on her plush four-post bed, the antique frame creaking as she sat down on the edge. Aimee wasted no time getting undressed, opting for a cozy kitten onesie instead of her signature high waisted jeans. 

After getting comfortable she shuffled over to the large wardrobe opposite her bed. Upon opening it she was met to the familiar sight of her voodoo altar, on the top shelf sat a picture of her late mother, Annette. “Hello, Mommy. You will not believe what your little girl got herself into today.” She smiled as she kissed her fingers, and then brought them to her mother’s lips. Draped across the frame was a string of pearls, a family heirloom passed down from mother to daughter, the last gift she ever received from her mother.

Just as she was about to light the incense on the altar, Aimee heard a loud sound from outside the door. She jumped as a hush fell over her, looking around the room she noted that Mochi was in the bedroom with her, the only other inhabitant of the home. Steeling herself, she grabbed the small saber from the altar and crept out the bedroom door and down the hall. Her heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears as she tried desperately to control her breathing. Peeking around the corner, she eyed someone behind the refrigerator door. Activating her quirk, she took a deep breath, lifting the sharp saber up high. 

“Hey you got any of those donut things left?” a familiar female voice rang out and a pink mess of hair popped up from behind the door, eyes hidden behind a large pair of goggles.

Aimee sighed in relief and whined, “Hatsume! I nearly killed you!” She huffed, laying the saber down on the kitchen table. “And they’re called beignets.” The ravenette clutched her chest as she willed her wildly beating heart to calm down. 

“Well do you have any? I skipped dinner because I was so excited about working on my new baby! Your father is gonna absolutely love it!” Hatsume closed the fridge door and plopped down in the seat across from her. The two had met a few years ago at a local craft store of all places. Hatsume was picking up fabric for a client’s hero costume and Aimee was picking up yarn for a little crochet project. The two started talking and once Hatsume found out that Aimee’s father was in the military, she couldn’t get rid of her even if she wanted to. 

“Pause on that. First, let’s talk about how you got into my house. I know I locked the door.” Aimee crossed her arms eying her friend expectantly. 

“Psh locks? Locks cannot deter the genius that is Hatsume Mei!” She cackled. “Besides, you were late. Would you have me wait outside in the cold? What kept you?”

Aimee blushed and tried to suppress a small smile. “Well... about that.” 

“OH STORY TIME!” Hatsume laughed and rested her chin in her hand, staring wildly at her friend. Aimee filled her in on all the happenings at the coffee shop earlier that evening, having to stop many times for Hatsume’s surprised reactions and comments. “You know, Todoroki and I went to high school together.” 

Aimee gasped. “What? I mean I knew you went to UA but you never said anything about going to school with THE Todoroki Shoto.” 

“Wow, your fan girl is showing there.” Aimee blushed and bit her lip, sinking into her chair. “And you never asked. Besides I was in the support course and him in the hero course, obviously. We rarely crossed paths. I really only knew him through Deku.” 

“Casual name drop.” The dark-skinned beauty smirked as she got up to pour herself a glass of sweet tea. She offered some to her guest but she politely declined. 

“Hey! Don’t tease me about the one that got away. Besides this about you and Todoroki!” 

Aimee scoffed and sat back down in her seat. “Um excuse you, there is no me and Todoroki. Just one chance encounter.” She paused, sucking her bottom lip cheekily. “One chance encounter that is permanently etched into my brain and will someday tell my grandchildren how the sexiest pro-hero of my time almost barbequed me and I would have provided Tabasco had I known.” 

“All I’m saying is, the Todoroki I know, doesn’t go out of his way to talk to people unless he has to. Total strong silent type. For him to go through all of that, means something.” 

Aimee shook her head and chortled. “Quit trying to make something out of nothing. I’ll probably never see him again. Now hush up and let’s get you something to eat.” 

Hatsume clapped her hands in excitement, ready for a meal. “Yes, ma’am! And never say never!”

—————————————————-

Todoroki stepped into the lobby of his luxury high rise building, nodding politely to the doorman. “Great job today, Mr. Todoroki. I saw you on the news again,” the doorman jogged up to him pressing the button to operate the elevator. Shoto gave the man a small thank you while stepping inside the doors, his mind wandering off thinking about the day's past events. 

After the ride up to top floor, he walked across the hall and unlocked the door to his quiet penthouse apartment. He tossed his keys on the end table by the door while taking off his shoes. Out of habit, he scanned over his spacious apartment. The minimalist sleek and modern decor greeting him just the same as always. Nothing was out of place and everything was spotless. 

Shoto trudged over to his home office, sitting down at his desk. He sighed at the paperwork left there that seemed a mile high. Opening up his laptop, he got to work on his reports, or at least he tried to. He had every intention to, really he did. But his mind just kept wandering, remembering his fateful meeting with a certain raven-haired beauty. Aimee. Shoto smiled and shook his head at himself. He finally got the nerve to talk to her and he went and thoroughly embarrassed himself. Yet, remembering her sweet and caring face, she didn’t seem to mind all that much. 

Focus Shoto. He sighed and got back to work, typing away. Unfortunately, that resolve lasted all but ten minutes. Somehow he found himself on Google, typing in her name in the search box. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he was genuinely curious. Instagram huh. He clicked on the link to find a page, covered in pictures of Aimee. Her at festivals, her with a comically large cat, her in… is that a classroom?

Just as he was about to lurk deep into her page, his cell phone rung, pulling him back to reality. Checking the caller ID, he quirked a brow at the name listed. “Midoriya, what can do for you?” 

“Todoroki, hi um.. Sorry to bother you, but did you ever get a chance to look at that case file I sent over to you? Uh, no rush or anything!” The green-haired boy had grown leaps and bounds from the time they had met in high school, but he still had that some nervous disposition. 

 Shoto huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No sorry. I was... distracted.” 

His old friend hummed knowingly, a smile in voice, “Ah, too busy getting wrapped up with a little lady?” He laughed as Shoto’s eyes widened. 

“What? No, we just met.” 

Deku shrieked on the other end of the phone. “Wait! I just saying stuff to be funny! You actually met someone?!” 

Todoroki, couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. “Yes, I suppose I have.” He winced as he pulled the receiver away from his ear, Midoriya shrieking once again. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy for you! So where did you meet her? What’s her name? What’s her quirk? Is she a pro-hero too, or is she in support? Not that she has to be in the hero business at all, I’m she's a great catch no matter what her profession. I mean she has to be if she caught your eye after all this time.” 

Shoto sighed as his friend continued his barrage of questions without pause. That’s another thing that never changed about Midoriya, constant muttering and word vomit when he’s excited about something. “Midoriya… Midoriya!” 

He suddenly stopped talking with a small squeak. “Sorry. Did you catch any of that?” 

Todoroki chuckled lightly, “Somewhat. Her name is Aimee and we met at that coffee shop I like to frequent on my days off.” 

“What’s she like? What does she look like?” 

Todoroki smiled, looking back at her pictures on instagram. “Well, she’s nothing like any woman I ever met before. She has this long curly black hair and clear dark skin...She has these large kind eyes… a smart mouth which might actually be my favorite if it doesn’t get me in trouble first.” Todoroki could go on but he suddenly felt embarrassed all over again, thinking about what transpired.

He almost forgot Deku was on the line until he heard a squeal through the phone. “Oooo Shoto you got it bad! You are so smitten!” He giggled giddily while Shoto blushed, still scrolling. 

“Of course not, how could I be? I just met her.” 

“Well did you ask her out a date?” 

“No… Well, I’d like to…” Todoroki paused, looking at picture she posted with a certain pink haired woman. The hell? “Midoriya, who was that crazed woman with the pink hair that created your support items while we were at UA?” 

“Huh? Oh Hatsume, but what does she have to do with you asking your crush on a date? Are you trying to change the subject?” Midoriya asked quizzically. 

“No, I’m looking at her instagram and she has a picture with Hatsume. They look like friends.” Todoroki studied the picture closely trying to figure out how the two would have crossed paths. 

“Wow, really? Small world. And jeeze, you really do have it bad if you’re already lurking on her instagram. Just call her and ask her out. I’m sure she’ll say yes.” 

Shoto hummed before something donned on him, groaning loudly. I’m a dumbass. “I didn’t get her number,” he mumbled. 

“Well, you obviously found her IG so just send her a DM.” 

Todoroki thought on it and sighed again. “That’s no good. I don’t even know the password to my account as my PR assistant runs it. Plus doesn’t that avenue carry a certain stigma? I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me.” He could always just look her up in the police database since he has access as a pro hero, but that would be an abuse of power. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. “Midoriya, can you call Hatsume and ask her for her info for me?” 

Midoriya clicked his tongue and replied in a small voice, “I would… but Uraraka would probably kill me,” He giggled nervously thinking of his girlfriend’s angry face. “Look, you said you met at the coffee shop you both like right? Just hang around there and I’m sure she’ll turn up sooner or later. Plus I think it will go a lot better if you ask for it yourself.” 

Todoroki hummed in agreement before closing out of Aimee’s instagram page. “You’re right. That’s the proper thing to do. Hopefully, I’ll see her again tomorrow. Now about the actual reason you called. You said it was a string of missing persons cases that you suspect are connected, correct?”

———————————-

The next day after his usual patrols, Todoroki set out for the coffee shop with a new purpose. He was going to ask Aimee out. Even if it killed him. And it just might with her quick wit and sharp tongue. Wanting to make a good impression, he dressed in dark wash jeans and paired it with a cream cashmere sweater. He figured it was best to keep it simple and not appear like he was trying too hard, but he also wanted her to know, he looked quite different out of his hero costume.

Walking inside, he scanned the room for her trademark black curls to no avail. Damn, she isn’t here. His face noticeably fell, as he walked up to the barista, giving her his order. “Everything okay, sir?” the barista gave him a quizzical look as she prepared his americano. Todoroki nodded and paid, taking his coffee to a booth with a clear view of the entrance. He resigned to wait around for a bit. Surely Aimee will come by before too long. Right?

Two hours later Shoto groaned to himself, staring at his long-finished americano. That’s it. She’s not coming. She probably went and found a new place to get her coffee where she wouldn’t be subjected to my dangerous flirting. A ping from his cell phone alerted him to a text message. Seeing it was from his father, he reluctantly opened it, as it could be something work-related.

Flames for Brains: Come back to the agency asap.

Flames for Brains: I read over the files you sent me from Deku.

Flames for Brains: There may be something to this.

Shoto: Okay. Be there soon.

Shoto got up with a huff and threw away his cup, heading for the exit. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Although, I suppose I could try again tomorrow. He hummed to himself as he walked out onto the sidewalk, headed towards his father’s agency when he saw her. Aimee. She was slowly walking toward him, her eyes cast down into a book. He took a moment to really take her in while she was otherwise preoccupied. Her usual curls now rested on top of her head in a loose bun, a few tendrils escaping to frame her round face. The generous curves of her body were dressed in a crisp white tee paired with a brown leather jacket. Her jeans hugged her hips like they were made for only her. He looked at his watch, knowing he only had a few minutes and it may be now or never. This was his chance. “Miss Faurie? Miss Faurie!” 

Aimee looked up from her book to find none other than Todoroki Shoto, calling her name. HER name. In public. Actual real life. Heat rose to her cheeks as she stopped and took in his form as he towered over her. Fuck he’s hot. “Oh um.. Hi. How are you doing this fine evening?” This fine evening? What are you doing, talk normal you dummy! She cursed herself internally. 

“I’m doing well and yourself?” Todoroki cringed at how formal he sounded. 

“I can’t complain.” Aimee and Shoto looked everywhere but each other, too nervous to say anything else. Aimee was the first to buckle. “Well you must be a busy man, so I’ll get out of your hair...” She went to sidestep around him to leave when Shoto panicked. 

“No, wait!” Aimee blinked in surprise at his sudden outburst as Shoto cleared his throat. “I would like to take you out on a date... If you would have me that is,” he said in a much softer voice.

“Why?” The word slipped out of her mouth before she could think to stop it, her face getting hotter by the second. But what would Japan’s most eligible bachelor want with her? Could anyone really blame her for being a bit skeptical? “I’m sorry, I just don’t know why someone like you, would want to go out with someone like me,” she said in a small voice. 

Todoroki looked down at her angelic face and saw a look in her eye that he thought he’d never see. Doubt? It was almost heartbreaking to see coming from the woman who could reduce him to a flustered mess in five words or less. Shoto gently took her free hand, looking into her eyes for any cue to step back. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Actually, if I’m being honest, you’ve been on my mind ever since you left the cafe yesterday, and I would personally love the opportunity to find out all the reasons why.”

Hot damn, now that’s just not fair! Aimee could have melted right there at his feet, if she weren’t trying her hardest to at least seem cool and collected. Mama always said ‘a girl had to play hard to get, or else her man will play hard to keep.’ Shoto nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unintentionally giving Aimee a front seat view of his bulging bicep. 

“Consider it a do-over for yesterday. I can’t let that be the last impression of me.” 

Aimee thought it over like she wasn’t obviously going to say yes, just to make him sweat a little. With a curt nod and smile, she pulled out her phone, handing it over to the duel quirked hero. “Deal. Put your info in and I’ll text you so you’ll have mine.” Todoroki eagerly keyed in his info before passing her phone back to her. “And by the way, you don’t have to call me Miss Faurie. Aimee is just fine.” 

Todoroki gave her a small smile and a nod before checking his watch. “My apologies but I really need to get going. I’ll text you.” 

Aimee smiled to herself as she typed away on her phone. “No worries, I’m sending you my info now.” As they bid each other goodbye, and started to walk in their opposite directions, Shoto felt his phone buzz in his hand.

Unknown Number: Let me guess, you like your women like you like your coffee? ;)

Shoto’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink as he looked back just in time to catch Aimee shoot him a wink in real life. This is gonna be fun.

Chapter 3

[dramaqueeenamby]

The Tulips Are Too Red

A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me. 

Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.

So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer. 

Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling. 

Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.

----

It Is Winter Here

Chapter 1

It is Winter Here.

There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.

But I’m not most people.

I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.

Like I said.

Not most people.

I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.

“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”

“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.

Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”

“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.

She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.

“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”

Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.

“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”

Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”

She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”

“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”

“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”

“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”

I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.

On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.

She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.

Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?

Like I said, hawk.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.

He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.

“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”

I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”

Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.

The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.

After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.

“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”

“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”

“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.

“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”

I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.

I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.

She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.

We’ve come a long way.

“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.

As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.

With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.

Creep.

When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.

Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.

My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.

“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.

“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”

When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.

“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.

Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.

“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”

“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”

I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.

“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.

Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread,  and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.

The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.

Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.

“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”

Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”

“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.

“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”

“Your tits or your ego?”

She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”

Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”

“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.

“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”

“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.

When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.

“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”

“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.

We all are.

Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”

“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”

She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.

I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.

Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.

“I’m here for night check.”

I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.

He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”

I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”

With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.

Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.

Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon and anon. I love this type of AU too, my dear.

Words: 2088 Warnings: Loki wins the battle of New York, implied smut

You were one of the few people who had been allowed to keep their job. As a skilled lawyer, your work was it mainly to help innocents winning in court. Even now after things had changed so drastically, with Loki ruling Earth under his command, setting up new laws and an entirely new way of life—a life you had been living in fear for weeks now.

The God of Mischief himself didn’t scare you much. You barely ever saw him, except for the news. Most of the time, he hid in his “palace”—Stark Tower, which he had taken residence in until his own castle was finished. A castle made of gold, paid entirely by the citizens of New York. Taxes had never been more outrageous but surviving was bearable. You swallowed your rage when looking at your pay cheque and you imagined your pillow to be Loki when you brought your fist to it repeatedly.

What you were scared of were the Chitauri. Ghastly creatures, aliens from outer space speaking a foreign language. They were patrolling through the city at all times, making sure no one stepped out of line. If they did… death was merciful compared to the horrible consequences that threatened you when you disobeyed King Loki’s laws.

For you, it was even more difficult to hide. There was a reason for why you were so good in your job and there was one, simple explanation: You could read minds. Not all the time, needless to say. But if you concentrated enough, quiet voices in other people’s heads would whisper out loud their thoughts.

It was a useful skill, even if sometimes rather scary. Some people, so you knew, had terrifying thoughts that kept you awake at night, especially when they imagined pictures and lively experiences of theirs—for you could see those too. So when a murderer in court thought about how he had driven his knife into a body over and over again, the images would come back at night to haunt you.

Life could be easier for sure. Back when the Avengers had still lived, back when freedom was something all but natural to each and every single citizen in New York… back when you had still smiled every day.

But it was about to become even worse. You were woken early by the doorbell that morning, yawning tiredly and wondering who would possibly disturb you this early on a Sunday. When you opened the door, you spotted your boss, handing you a letter with a regretful expression on his face.

“It couldn’t wait,” he started without greeting you properly. “I’m so terribly sorry, (Y/N).”

Panicking slightly, you took the letter and ripped it open. Your boss didn’t want to watch. He nodded one last time, then turned on his heel and left. Nervously, you shut the door again with your leg, your eyes never leaving the paper in your hands.

It was an invitation, a request for a skilled lawyer to help in a case, underneath an address.

Stark Tower.

You sank to the ground when your breathing stopped altogether.

The Chitauri guarding the entrance shot you dangerous glances when you approached the building, your heart beating like a steam hammer and your hands sweaty. The letter had not informed you about what you were needed for—only that you were not to reject. Why Loki had chosen you out of all people, you did not know. Somehow, he had to be aware you were the best lawyer New York City had to offer.

There was a human waiting for you when you stepped inside, his eyes icy and blue. You had heard on the news that it was Loki’s sceptre that had caused his automatic behaviour. He took the letter from you when you handed it to him, then asked for your ID before allowing you to step in the elevator, which brought you closer to your terrifying ruler with every floor you passed.

Ding. The metal doors opened, presenting a vast living area with windows instead of walls. The view was amazing but the man who had taken residence in it… he was even more beautiful in reality. Raven hair, blue eyes, a sharp jawline and a mischievous smirk on his thin lips… oh and you loved his hands. Loki’s fingers were slim and long and you knew without touching them they would be soft. The rest of his body… it was godly, to say the least.

Was this a trick? The worst monsters were invisible to the naked eye.

Loki must have noticed your awe when you lay eyes on him. Chuckling, he lifted his hands to invite you inside. You were still standing in the elevator, frozen to the spot.

“Please… come in.”

There were Chitauri guarding the area too when you obeyed and slowly approached him, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. You had been wrong. You were even more afraid of your king than those disgusting aliens—from them, you at least knew what to expect. Loki was unpredictable.

“So… (Y/N),” he began mysteriously. Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name. “Word has it you are New York’s best lawyer. Is that true?”

You were too scared to speak. Instead, you settled for a timid nod. Relief flooded you when he allowed you to sit down.

What do you want from me?

Your eyes flew to his sceptre. He was holding it swiftly, ready to strike with it. Was this what he wanted? Was this going to be your fate? A mindless doll, obeying his every order without knowing what you were doing?

“No worries, my dear, if I had wanted to take your free will, I would not have sent you an invitation.” He mused, noticing your discomfort.

“Then what do you want?” You finally chirped.

“Oh, is there no need for formalities? I am your king, little one.”

And that arrogant bastard wanted you to address him so. He was stalling you. Cocky idiot.

Your heart skipped a beat when you finally dared to look him in the eye again, your mind focusing on his. Come on, Loki, tell me what you want. Eager for the whispering voice inside of his head, you narrowed your eyes and then… nothing. His mind was blank. It felt like hitting a wall.

“It is very rude to read people’s minds without permission, my dear.” You suddenly heard him say.

No. It was then you realised what he really wanted from you. You working as a lawyer was unimportant. Your supernatural skill on the other hand… how had he found out?

“I… I didn’t… I mean, I… how did you…?” How were you to justify this? Curiosity? Loki was your king. If anything, it was disrespectful to intrude his privacy.

“I have been practising magic for centuries, my dear. I notice when people try to invade my mind—and I have learned to prevent it.”

You should have figured that before trying to do so. Biting your lower lip, you locked eyes with him again. The mesmerising blue in them paralysed you once more. Was he mad at you now?

“I want you to work for me. Your skill is, quite frankly, remarkable for a mortal. It will be ridiculously easy finding those who seek to betray me.” His suggestion made sense. Of course he would want to find a way to keep his people at bay—he couldn’t possibly mind-control them all. But he was the villain in this story. How would you ever work for a criminal?

“And what if I don’t want to help you?”

“Do you not?” Loki smirked, tilting his head a little. “You did not seem too repelled by me when you first stepped foot into my humble home, little one.”

Blushing, you faced the ground. Great. So your ruler knew you were physically attracted to him too.

“So? I know what you have done. I have seen the footage.” You spat angrily.

“Then you know what I am capable of if you dare disobey me,” Loki replied calmly, unaffected by your outburst. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, your gaze following the seductive movement. “You will not do that, now will you?”

Woosh.

Like a tidal wave, you were flooded with images when suddenly, Loki lifted the barrier he had protected his mind with and practically forced his thoughts onto you. You tried keeping them out but you still saw him, even heard him, his lust and desire pulsating through every single thought.

You saw yourself standing naked before him, kneeling on the ground and devouring his cock eagerly. You saw yourself tied to his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your body, slowly and intimately. You saw the two of you fucking like wild animals in every thinkable position and then, you practically felt yourself cumming for him.

A moan escaped your lips when Loki finally retreated, an evil smirk playing on his lips as you fought for composure, your fingers clawing at the soft material of the couch. If the imagination of having sex with this man was so intense already, how would it really feel like?

Had this… been his attention? Loki had told you he could keep you out of his thoughts if that was what he wished. His smirk gave him away. Yes. He had done this purposefully.

“Let’s say I agree to work for you. What’s in there for me? How can I know you won’t just kill me at some point?”

More pictures. More sweat, more passion, more sex. Your breathing quickened. You were unable to shut him out at all. If he was trying to arouse you, it was working. But if he only wanted to sleep with you in the first place, then why had he asked you about your skill? Was your body some kind of bonus to him?

“I am not a whore,” you growled, clenching your fists wrathfully. “Stop this immediately.”

“You give me orders?” Loki raised his eyebrows in a warning manner and although you did feel the fear cursing through your body, you went on.

“Answer me!”

The God of Mischief chuckled. “I will not kill you… not if you behave and I will not lay a hand on you unless you beg me to. And beg me you will, little one.”

Now, you saw yourself swallowing his load. So much of it… you could almost taste the salty semen on your tongue when you let it run down your throat…

“But… I can’t just show up whenever you need me! I have an apartment, a job, a life!”

Loki frowned. “You’re right,” he said. “Your old apartment will not do. You will move in here with me so I can keep a close eye on you and make sure you do not betray me.”

Paranoid bastard. “No! No, I can’t, I don’t want to. Who do you think you are?”

Now, Loki rose to his feet. The barrier was back up and not a single thought reached yours when he glared down at you, daring you to continue.

“I will have your belongings brought here—until then, I suggest you learn how to properly treat your king. Kneel.”

“I don’t even think about it!”

“I said… kneel.” Growling like a wolf, the sound of his dark voice rippled through you and vibrated in your chest. Anxiously, you did as you were told. I will not kill you… not if you behave.

It was just like how he had imagined it to be—only in reality, both of you were wearing clothes… for now. Instantly, your eyes travelled down to his crotch… longingly.

“Is there anything you want, little one?”

Arsehole.

“No,” you mumbled through gritted teeth, tearing your gaze away from him. There was a bulge forming in his tight leather pants, you could see it—and you practically ached to touch it. Loki was right. He could read you without reading your mind like you could. He was better than that.

Chuckling darkly once more, he tilted his head.

His words shot waves of heat directly between your legs. There was no way you were going to be able to keep up the act much longer. You hated him for what he had done but then again… he seemed so tender, so playful and oh, so handsome…

“Well, if there is… do not hesitate to ask, my dear. I promise, I take good care of my servants.”

A/N: If you liked this story, would you care to support me a little by buying me a cuppa? I would appreciate it so much! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | JuminxMC Good Ending Continued | Ch. 6 Daily Routine

***SOOOO I moved to Texas! I'm so sorry there wasn't a chapter last week, but I was moving and didn't have access to wifi. Welcome back to wifi world, though! This week you will get *two* chapters, so that I can make up for it. The extra chapter will be posted on Friday and regular Monday posting will resume after that.

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“My darling, I need to go to work.” Jumin’s voice thrummed low as he nuzzled my shoulder. He was always like this in the mornings. My husband would wake up to make breakfast for us himself, not wanting our special time in the mornings to be interrupted by the help. This normally meant morning snuggles as well. At first it had been somewhat embarrassing to snuggle in the mornings, memories of our night spent together flitting through my mind, but in the month since our marriage, I had become more used to this.

Jumin’s hand trailed between my shoulder blades and down my spine as he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. His movements were always slow and languid. He’d developed a habit of turning me on and leaving me wanting and missing him until he returned home, teasing messages sent between us throughout the day, but he was always a perfect gentleman somehow. It was a strange thing to be thinking about something like sex and yet still appear as pristine and pure as he did.

“Are you sure you can’t hire someone to fill in for you, just for today?” I asked every morning and Jumin always chuckled, his gray eyes lighting up. “I’m afraid not, my love, but I’ll be home as soon as I’m able to come back to my wife waiting for me with open arms.” He pushed himself up now and gently brushed his hand over my forehead, checking for any sign of heat. “Are you feeling alright?”

Another of our daily routines. We weren’t actively trying for a child, just letting it happen, but Jumin still wanted to be sure of how I was feeling. I nodded and he nodded in return, getting up from the bed to start getting dressed. Watching him from the bed was a wonderful experience, the way his well-toned muscles rippled as he pulled on item after item. My favorite part was watching him tie his tie, such a quick and seemingly elegant motion rather than a series of steps. Again, he would come to brush a kiss against my lips before he left, going down the elevator to meet Driver Kim in front of his building.

I had pushed up onto my elbows but now flopped down onto the bed with a huff. Reality was, I was starting to feel ill, but not in the way he was asking. My period was on its way, I was rather sure of it. Still, our daily routine would continue as it was. It was boring, though, without the party to manage, I had nothing else to do. Most of my time was spent talking to the others on the messenger and working on a large puzzle my husband had purchased special for me, a large print out of our wedding photo. This still became tedious. What I really wanted was something to keep me well and truly occupied, but if I got pregnant soon, then the pitter patter of little feet would do that for me, wouldn’t it?

My thoughts were interrupted by a phone call, which I picked up immediately. It was always good to hear someone’s voice. I loved Elizabeth 3rd of course, but her soft mewls as she brushed against my legs weren’t good conversation. I hadn’t even bothered to check the caller ID and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice of my father-in-law. “Hello, MC. It’s Mr. Chairman.”

What could he possibly want to talk to me about? Since we had met on the night of the party, I had had little to no involvement with him other than at our wedding and that was still mostly greeting and speeches. On occasion, I would see him in passing at Jumin’s office, sending him a smile and a small wave which he always heartily returned, but never a phone call. “Ah, hello, father. I wasn’t expecting a call from you today, what an honor.” That sounded oddly formal, but I wasn’t sure what else to say really. My heart and mind were both racing and coming up with anything and everything as a reason for his call.

“I am sending Jumin away on a business trip for two to three weeks to negotiate a deal. I was wondering if you might be interested in spending some time with me at my home while he is away, just so you won’t be lonely there with his cat.” Two to three weeks? That was far too long without my husband! To top that off…why would he invite me to his home? I shook my head at myself. Really, my father-in-law was just being polite, although I wished he could send someone else on the trip I knew better than to press the issue. It would be better to share those feelings with my husband. “I appreciate the invitation. Elizabeth 3rd and I would be happy to stay.”

Our routine had been interrupted, but in many ways, it stayed the same. Jumin would call me every morning despite the time difference, asking me how I was feeling and telling me to have a wonderful day. Every chance we got, we were on the phone together, to the point where my father-in-law would often give me strange looks when he passed me in the courtyard on the phone. I would simply wave as always.

He seemed to be running into me in the hallways more and more by the second week, somewhat of a discomfort, and at one point had grabbed my wrist earning him a quizzical look causing him to release me and chuckle. “No worries, continue about your day.” It was starting to get under my skin, but there should only be a little time before Jumin came home. Still, it was odd. What bothered me most was really that I wasn’t allowed to know what country Jumin was in, only his time-zone, so perhaps my husband was in a more dangerous country? Or was it just business secrets?

I was starting to feel horribly ill in the mornings, but I guessed it was simply a matter of my nerves. My period had come and gone, much lighter than usual, which I chalked up to stress, nothing was really out of the ordinary except my husband being an ocean away. I had changed into one of my nightgowns, all hand-picked by my husband, a black silk that brushed against my skin in ways that reminded me of his delicate touch. As I was laying back on my pillows and innocently day-dreaming of my husband, my phone started to buzz and I picked it up to find that it was him. “Darling!”

The eagerness in my voice made my husband chuckle. It was such a glorious sound, his low tones in a soft laugh that melted my heart. “Hello my love. I missed you today. How are you and Elizabeth 3rd doing?” Of course, he missed me, and we spent some time talking before he asked me what I was doing, his voice seemingly as silky as the nightgown which slid over my skin as I rolled over onto my back, looking up at the canopy over the bed. “I’m lying in bed, wishing you were here.” It hadn’t sounded dirty until I actually verbalized it and my face heated beyond belief, particularly when I heard the little intake of breath and the way a soft hum slipped into his tone. “Are you wearing one of your nightgowns? Show me.”

It was a command, certainly not a question, and it was a command that sent heat instantly to that spot low in my body the way only he could do, with so few words or actions. I was powerless to refuse, not that he would have done anything to me if I had, but simply knowing how much he was probably anticipating it, how he was likely already starting to daydream of me the way I had been doing of him, it was a heady aphrodisiac. As quickly as I could, I decided on a few pictures and sent them his way, practically able to hear the smirk on his face as he appreciated them, that soft hum audible only all the more. “I really miss my wife…”

A loud knocking sound reverberated throughout the room, but not mine, his. It wasn’t so strange, it would be morning where he was, but the loud shouting that accompanied it as Jumin called back. “I am on the phone, what could be so important that you would disturb me?” This was followed by the line going dead.

Was it some important business matter? Any heat that had been present evaporated almost instantly into cold as my stomach seemed to become a pit and nausea hit me hard. What was so important? His bodyguards never behaved that way unless something was wrong. Elizabeth 3rd’s mewling from the other room sounded like crying to me. All further attempts to message my husband were met with silence, any attempts at calls went straight to voicemail, and he always picked up for my calls. Where was my husband and why wasn’t he answering me?

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[thecatnamedgandalf-blog]

The Man With The Dragon Tattoo

Chapter 2

Chapter Rating: T [Warning again for bad language]

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9321221/chapters/21467801

Exhausted and feeling as though he had been hit by a train, Jesse dragged himself through the deserted corridors of the hotel. Incredibly grateful that Morrison had by some miracle managed to book out the entire place. It meant that Reyes had been able to house the eight Blackwatch agents on the same floor. Not that he didn’t like the Overwatch agents. No. Wait. That was a lie. He hated most of those bastards. Just because the public adored them it didn’t make them any better than him. He wasn’t the only one that hated their pompous attitudes. The other Blackwatch agents held the same opinions. Well, except for Reyes, but you couldn’t really count him considering he was married to Morrison.

Finally reaching the door to his room he paused, debating if he should report to Gabriel immediately. Usually he would be expected to inform his Commander about something like this as soon as it happened. On the other hand, however, he knew Gabe and Jack were sharing a room and probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at 2am. And not to mention the ass-whooping he would get for not going to Gabe three hours ago. With a soft sigh, Jesse dropped his head against the door. It would be better to just get it over with. He forced himself to stand up straight, absently running a hand over the cut on his cheek. If Reyes was going to get angry there was a chance Morrison would at least be able to calm him down. Not to mention he’d rather not get screamed at in front of the other agents. Despite feeling exhausted, Jesse forced himself to make the trek up the other end of the corridor to Reyes’ room. Although, the second he was there staring at the room number, 528, all his confidence drained out of him. Maybe it would be best to just wait until the morning meeting. That was only four hours from now, wasn’t like it would make much of a difference…would it? God damn it. The boss and Morrison would be so pissed with him if he woke them up now.

Jesse growled softly and shook his head. No. He’d let the boss sleep. Maybe someone else was up. McCree forced himself to walk away from the room towards the elevator. At some point before Overwatch had arrived, one of the reception rooms on the 20th floor had been converted to a temporary Blackwatch operations room. Terminals had been set up along the walls, giving the room an earie vibe. Swiping his ID card on the temporary lock that had also been installed, god damn it must have taken a lot of persuasion to get the hotel to agree to all the changes, Jesse strolled into the room. To his surprise and relief there were three other agents in the room.

The senior agent in the room was a 6ft 4 Scotsman called Michael Kane. His physical build almost identical to Reyes’ own, despite Kane never having gone through the SEP. He stood at the back of the temporary operations room, looking between a tablet and one of the monitors. About three feet to his left stood Natham Geras, a short slender man from Athens, and one of the quickest men alive. Next to him sat the steely-eyed English agent, Johnathan Pope. He was perhaps Jesse’s favourite agent next to Reyes, the man having helped him set up numerous pranks around the base. Being the youngest and least experienced man in the room, Jesse suddenly felt no bigger than an ant. Yes, the men were decent people and wouldn’t beat him for no reason, but that didn’t mean they would give him a verbal beating. Jesse took a deep breath and walked further into the room, the door automatically shutting behind him.

“Mornin’” He said softly, not quite comfortable with the silence of the room.

Geras looked up from the terminal he was observing. “Kaliméra Jesse” He greeted “It is not like you to be up this early” Jesse shifted from one foot to another, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Somethin’ happened earlier ‘nd I didn’t wanna wake the boss.”

“Does it have something to do with the cut on your face?” This time it was Kane who had spoken. Jesse blinked and brought a hand up to touch the cut on his face, not quite sure how Kane knew. The man hadn’t even looked up his tablet.

“Uh…yeah” By now he had the attention of all three men and was feeling even more uncomfortable.

“Sit your arse down” Kane ordered. He placed the tablet on top of one of the terminals and walked towards the other men. Jesse cleared his throat and sat down in the chair closest to him.

“Was it one of the Overwatch twats?” Pope asked propping his feet up on a spare chair. “Not like you to get into a fight McCree”

“Nah” Jesse replied “I’m more than capable of knocking them out if they touch me. Was havin’ a smoke out in the garden a few hours ago, mindin’ my own business when Hanzo fucking Shimada snuck up on me” Immediately the other three men stiffened, Pope leant forward resting his chin in his hands.

“He attacked you?”

“Sorta?” A raised eyebrow from Kane and Jesse continued “Told me he knew that we were investigatin’ them and if we get doin it he’d kill me ‘n the Commanders” When the men didn’t say anything Jesse couldn’t help himself, he started rambling. “I’m worried I fucked up, but I was so sure no one caught me doin’ anything. Hell, Reyes said it was a good clean job. Dunno how Shimada knows anythin’ but I swear on my hat I did everythin’ by the book” Geras chuckled and moved to stand beside him, placing a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Irémise McCree.” Jesse blinked “I said calm down.” Jesse’s mouth made an ‘O’ shape.

“Shimada was probably playing mind games kid” Kane said though he sounded unconvinced by his own words “If Reyes thinks you did a good job, then you did. He was probably trying to unnerve you, size you up and work out if you’re a credible threat or someone who can be easily disposed of.” Ah. That raised some problems. If Shimada truly knew nothing and had been fishing for information, Jesse had just confirmed his suspicions and made the rest of the investigations incredibly difficult for Blackwatch. Retreating into his own mind Jesse questioned whether he should inform Kane of his slip up. “McCree!” The shout of his name immediately brought him back to reality. “You’re looking guilty, what did you do?” Now he felt even more pathetic than before, he couldn’t even keep a straight face for God’s sake.

“I definitely fucked up” Jesse confirmed, dropping his head into his hands with a groan. “I’ve really fucked up”

Pope raised an eyebrow and shared a brief look with Kane “What did you do Jesse?”

“When Shimada was up in my face I…” He sighed “I snapped at ‘im. Told ‘im that it ain’t right to go around killin people like they did in Hong Kong.” The blank looks they gave him convinced him to continue “Also said that I’d find anythin’ he was hidin’” The three men groaned in unison, as though they had practiced it beforehand.

“Pope go and get Reyes.” The man nodded and left the operations room. “God damn it McCree. How many times have we told you to watch what you say?!” Kane demanded, standing up and looming over him. “If the Shimada knew nothing then you just confirmed his suspicions! And if he did, you’ve just shown him you’re a fucking weak link!” Jesse had begun to sink in on himself during the Scotsman’s tirade. Kane continued to rant at him, his Glaswegian accent thickening to the point where Jesse struggled to understand some of the things being roared in his face. A jab about his mama being ashamed of him struck deep, and his eyes began to burn with tears. The abuse was nothing new. He had heard it all during his time with Deadlock, but coming from one of the men Jesse admired it stung.

“Arketá, arketá!” Geras shouted as he forced himself between Kane and McCree, one hand on the bigger man’s chest. “So far nothing has been compromised. If Shimada already knew we were investigating his family then Jesse has done nothing wrong. Silence would have confirmed his suspicions, and lies would have resulted in more investigations and possible torture.” It was rare to see Geras angry with one of their own, but the man’s voice had risen several decibels as he ranted. “There is no point shouting at McCree when the deed has been done. Nothing can be done now and we must work around it. If he is to be published it is the Commander’s decision, not ours.” Geras bristled as he continued speaking “Insulting the boy and using his mother against him is low. You should be ashamed.”

“He isn’t a boy Geras. He’s twenty-two for fuck sake”

Geras snorted “He is the youngest of all of us, and shall be a boy in my eyes until he surpasses me in height.” If he didn’t feel so utterly shitty Jesse would have chuckled. No way was he ever going to hit 6ft. His mama and pa had both been tiny as well as grandparents, Jesse came from a long line of short people. Jesse risked a glance up at Kane and relaxed ever so slightly when he saw the other man was still focused on arguing with Geras. He took the time to wipe away the tears, hoping that no one would notice them. Of course, it was that exact moment when Reyes walked in. The Blackwatch Commander stiffening as soon as he caught the distraught look on McCree’s face.

“Jefe” Jesse croaked and Reyes saw red. He’d been woken up at 2.30 in the morning, pulled away from his peaceful dreams and Jack curled up in his arms, and told he was needed in operations control. Now his mijo looked petrified and had been crying. Someone was getting punched. Hard.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He demanded. Immediately Geras and Kane went silent, standing to attention when their Commander stalked over to stand in front of them both. “Answer me!”

“I fucked up jefe” Reyes looked in Jesse’s direction. The young man had lowered his head and was fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “I told Hanzo Shimada we were investigatin’ em.” That had not been the answer he was expecting. Reyes stared at him for a few moments.

“How and why?” Jesse shifted in his seat and repeated the story once more. When he was done, Reyes sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Mierda” He cursed, taking a seat beside McCree. “This is an issue, yes. But it does not mean you can scream at the kid, Kane.” The man in question frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “I remember you fucking up several times when you were still new. Give him a break, not everyone can be an emotionless fuck.” Kane bristled but otherwise remained silent. “We just need to up our game. From now on only Matthews and Zhou will be doing any form of infiltrating, at least until we are certain the Shimada’s are not following our every move. In the mean time, we carry on as we’ve been doing.” Reyes turned his attention back to Jesse “And if Shimada’s taken an interest in you, the last thing we need is you vanishing for hours on end” Jesse blinked, his brain taking a few seconds to catch up on what Reyes was hinting it.

“But jefe-“Reyes raised a hand, instantly silencing Jesse.

“Don’t argue with me McCree” Reyes said, digging into his back pocket and pulling a cigarette out. “Until this calms down, if it does, I’m putting you under Morrison’s command.” He lit the cigarette with a lighter produced from another pocket. Jesse was stunned. Yeah, he’d been expecting to be pulled off a few operations, but to be put under Morrison’s command? That was a punch to the gut. “Get yourself to bed McCree” Reyes ordered taking another drag of his cigarette. “I’ll inform Morrison about the changes once he’s up.”

Jesse forced himself to his feet, snapping out a salute to Gabriel and scampered from the room. The walk back to his room was hazy, whether that was a result of his exhaustion or shock he wasn’t sure. Either way, when he finally managed to get back to his room it took a lot of effort to take his clothes off before collapsing onto his bed. He glanced at the digital clock at the side of his bed, 3.05 am. He’d be lucky to get any sleep. Jesse sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling, running his hands over his eyes. Tomorrow was going to be awful.

--

“Guten Morgen meine Freunde!” It was far too early for Reinhardt’s boisterous voice Jesse lamented, why he had chosen to see beside the massive man was a mystery. By the time he had finally fallen asleep it had been past 4 am, which meant he’d had about 3 hours sleep at most. The lack of sleep combined with the knowledge he would no longer be working with Reyes, had Jesse feeling like he’d just been hit by a truck. No. Being hit by a truck would be preferable. He finally managed to pull his eyes away from his food and watched as Morrison and Reyes sat themselves down at the table.

“Morning Reinhardt, McCree” Morrison said, carefully setting his plate and coffee down. Beside him Reyes grunted a greeting and buried his face in his own mug of coffee. The man looked as though he’d been awake since Pope had woken him up. His exhaustion only served to make Jesse feel even worse. Not only had he disappointed the man who’d saved his life, he’d caused him to get even less sleep than he normally had. God. He really needed to stop screwing up. Jail really wasn’t an appealing idea.

“You look tired Gabriel” Reinhardt began, scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs. “Is everything ok?” Reyes muttered something unintelligible. Whatever he said wasn’t suitable for polite company as Morrison rolled his eyes, and slapped the back of his head. Huffing Gabriel straightened up and put his half empty mug down.

“Long night” He grunted, stealing a rasher of bacon from Morrison’s plate. “The Shimada’s keep causing more problems.”

“Speaking of the Shimada’s” Oh Lord. Jesse practically curled in on himself as Morrison spoke “You’re not in trouble Jesse” Jack said softly, setting his fork down. Uncomfortable with the attention from the three veteran soldiers, Jesse forced himself to sit up straight and look Morrison in the eyes. He and Morrison had never really seen eye-to-eye. The Strike-Commander having been one of those against Jesse’s recruitment. Over the last three years however, that had changed. Mainly since Jesse accidentally walked in on some private time between his Commanders, oh how he had wished for brain bleach that day. “I hear you’re being put under my command, temporarily” He added the last word almost as an afterthought.

“Yes sir”

Jack nodded and took a quick swig of his coffee. “I can’t assign you to one of my squads, the sub-commanders don’t know how you work.” Oh great. “That being said, Reinhardt your squad are going to patrol the old factory district this morning yes?”

“Ja” Reinhardt confirmed.

“I’m assigning Jesse to your patrols for now.” Jesse paused in his eating, fork hovering a few centimetres from his mouth.

“Das ist gut” The second Reinhardt started chuckling Jesse set the fork down and braced himself. If he’d still been holding his fork the food would have gone everywhere, as seconds later Reinhardt was pulling him against his side. “Jesse is most welcome to join us!” Jesse risked looking at Reyes and wished he hadn’t. The man was smirking, which only deepened the wound. He was glad to not have Jesse under his command. And here Jesse thought he’d made Reyes proud. Obviously not. “What do you think Jesse?” Jesse snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at Reinhardt.

“Huh?” Well done Jesse, that was intelligent. Reinhardt laughed and squeezed him a little tighter, not that Jesse had thought such a thing was possible.

-- He never did find out what it was Reinhardt had asked him, Jesse thought sullenly as he walked through the streets of Hanamura. Visibility was limited as a thick fog had rolled in during the first hour of their patrol. Light rain only added to the dreary and unsettling atmosphere. The sounds of Reinhardt’s loud footsteps and those of himself and the other agents echoed through the empty streets. Jesse glanced up at the rooftops, blinking multiple times when a few rain drops landed in his left eye. He pulled the edge of his hat down to protect his eyes. Movement on a roof three buildings away caught his attention. So not to bring attention to himself he slowly dropped back until he was walking beside Reinhardt.

“I have seen him” The older man rumbled softly, startling him. Jesse had to give it to Reinhardt. The man might be boisterous and large in stature, but he missed nothing.

“This normal?” Jesse asked

“Ja. They have been following us since we first arrived.” Reinhardt cleared his throat, swinging his hammer up to rest it on his right shoulder.

“Jefe and Morrison know?” A nod.

“The Strike-Commander informed me of your…altercation last night.�� Reinhardt began. “Do not think of your reassignment as a punishment Jesse.” His voice was softer than Jesse had ever heard before, though that did not stop Jesse from making sure the other agents weren’t listening in on their conversation. “Having you in the public eye is important. The Shimadas cannot- Brown! Woodley!” Up ahead two of the agents had started brawling pushing one another, but it was Brown throwing the first punch that caused Reinhardt to intervene. Reinhardt cleared his throat and continued “Pardon. As I was saying, if the Shimadas are aware you were involved in Blackwatch operations, your presence on my patrols prevents them from making claims against you. You cannot be investigating them if you are seen by my side.”

Jesse was silent. What could he say to that? He’d spent the better part of the last twelve hours thinking Reyes was disappointed and ashamed of him. It made sense. It was possible that Jesse was the only agent the Shimadas knew to be involved. If it that was indeed true, then ensuring he was constantly in the public eye would limit any damage should the Shimadas make public claims against Overwatch.

He was snapped from his thoughts when one of the agents shouted. “Sir!” Followed by the sound of guns being pulled from their holsters. Jesse and Reinhardt promptly sped up, marching to the front of the patrol. It was Woodley who had shouted, his pulse rifle now aimed at three Shimada scouts who had walked out of a side street and now blocked their path. The three scouts parted and Hanzo fucking Shimada walked towards them, his younger brother (Genji was it?) by his side.

“Shimada-san” Reinhardt greeted, lowering his hammer and signalling for his men to lower their weapons. Though reluctant each man did as he bid. “I apologise. We were startled by the sudden presence of your men.” The Hanzo that stood before them now was different to the one Jesse had encountered the night before. Gone was the smirk, replaced by pure stoicism. Instead it was Genji who bore the grin.

Even knowing how foolish he was being Jesse was unable to stop himself from admiring Hanzo. He knew Hanzo was a violent man, one who would kill to gain what he wants, but there was something about him. Perhaps it was the hair, a curtain of black silk falling over his shoulders and down his back. Perhaps it was those eyes, darker and warmer than any he had ever seen before. Or perhaps it was that voice, a warm and rich baritone that pierced his heart. And those lips. When he finally came back to himself Jesse noticed Genji was sending a predatory grin in his direction. God damn. Unable to stop himself Jesse tipped his hat to the green-haired Shimada, along with a flirtatious grin. Probably not the smartest thing he had ever done in his life, but god damn if the look Hanzo sent him wasn’t worth it. Reinhardt took a partial step back, ensuring his left leg collided with Jesse, a subtle warning.

“It is of no concern” Hanzo assured him, his attention moving from Jesse back to Reinhardt. “I admit that we did not come across you by accident alone.”

“We could not pass up the opportunity to see the legendary Wilhelm Reinhardt and his armour.” Genji laughed. Oh, the look Hanzo shot his brother would certainly have killed a lesser man. “I must say, you certainly live up to the legends.” Reinhardt chuckled and bowed at the compliment.

“I thank you Shimada-san, but I sense there is something more than a simple desire to see my armour.” Hanzo turned to one of his men and held a hand out, accepting a tablet passed to him by one of his men.

“In the early hours of this morning several our scouts encountered an entourage of rogue Omnics. They had been hiding one of the derelict factories. Unfortunately, during this encounter one of our own, an Omnic named Kanato, who has served our clan for many years, turned on those he would call ‘brother’. It would appear he was no longer in control of himself.” That didn’t bode well. “My men eliminated the rogue Omnics and were able to subdue Kanato. Upon returning to our home he seemed to come back to himself. We believe this is because of the sonic EMP disruptors we have erected along the walls as security measures.” Reinhardt frowned, his hands coming to settle on his hips.

“This is most concerning” He began “I am required to report this immediately to Strike-Commander Morrison”

“I would expect nothing less” Hanzo took a step forward and offered the tablet he still held “You will find a full report on the encounter, and a recording of Kanato’s statement.” When Reinhardt made no move to accept the tablet, Jesse did so on his behalf. If the thing was rigged to blow it would be better for Jesse to lose an arm instead of Reinhardt. Jesse inhaled sharply when his fingers brushed against Hanzo’s. Immediately he retreated and moved to the side, placing a safe distance between himself and the other agents. He had never been a genius when it came to technology, but he was experienced and talented enough to know how to check for anything out of the ordinary. Coming across nothing unusual Jesse gave Reinhardt a single nod.

The German man turned back to Hanzo “Thank you. I am sure we shall meet once more.”

“Indeed. We are of course, fighting a common enemy.” Hanzo inclined his head. “Reinhardt-san”

“Shimada-san” With that the two Shimada’s left with their men, disappearing into the alley from which they had initially appeared. The moment they were gone from view Reinhardt turned to the men under his command.

“We must return at once.”

“No way that was a fucking coincidence” Woodley muttered under his breath.

“Of course not” Reinhardt replied, slapping him on the back “We are in a den of wolves, it would be most unwise to underestimate them.”

Translations:

[Apologies if anything is incorrect. I am relying on limited knowledge and the help of friends, because I sure as heck don’t trust Google Translate haha!]

Greek: Kaliméra: Good morning Irémise: Calm down Arketá: Enough

Spanish: Jefe: Boss Mijo: Son Mierda: Fuck

German: Guten morgen meine freunde: Good morning my friends Das ist gut: That is fine Gut: Good

[douglasacogan]

Does the election of Doug Jones in Alabama increase the prospects of federal statutory sentencing reform?

The question in the title of this post is prompted by this Marshall Project piece headlined "What the Doug Jones Election Means for Criminal Justice Reform." The subheadline of the piece, "The Alabama Democrat represents the flip-side of his predecessor," perhaps best frames the article that follows, and here are excerpts:

Last year, prospects were looking good for a bipartisan effort in Congress to overhaul federal sentencing. But after long and careful negotiations, one senator almost single-handedly torpedoed the measure: the junior Republican from Alabama, Jeff Sessions.

Sessions, of course, went on to become Attorney General, dimming hopes even further.  But Tuesday’s election of his unlikely replacement, Democrat Doug Jones, hands the seat to a former federal prosecutor who has advocated for less harsh sentencing and more alternatives to prison.  “Doug Jones was a groundbreaking voice for prosecutorial reform to end mass incarceration,” said Lauren-Brooke Eisen, senior counsel in the Brennan Center’s Justice Program.  “He was one of the first prosecutors to speak out about how prosecutors can and should help reduce unnecessary incarceration.”

Jones, the former U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Alabama, was best known as a prosecutor for securing the convictions of two former Ku Klux Klan members in the infamous 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, which killed four young black girls.  The men were convicted in 2001 and 2002.

Over the last few years, Jones, who could not be reached for comment Wednesday after his victory, has begun to openly push for changes that would give prosecutors more leeway.  He included criminal justice among his top campaign priorities, taking aim at mandatory minimum sentencing, disparities that send a disproportionate number of blacks and Latinos to prison, and “three strikes” laws.  “These are bipartisan issues Democrats and Republicans agree on,” Jones told a group of Alabama State University students last month. “Try to reduce the crime, keep our communities safer and at the same time cut down the costs of the criminal justice system.”...

It’s too soon to tell what Jones’ election means for federal sentencing reform. Progress stalled under President Donald Trump, and Sessions has stayed true to his law-and-order roots, calling on U.S. Attorneys to seek the highest possible charges and rolling back a guideline that had allowed prosecutors to ignore some drug charges.  Legislators and advocates instead have focused on trying to create more re-entry programs, prison educational opportunities and job skills training.

But Jones’ election elevates one of the effort’s most vocal supporters.  Two years ago, Jones and another former federal prosecutor, James E. Johnson, and other law enforcement officials formed Law Enforcement Leaders To Reduce Crime & Incarceration, a bipartisan, reform-minded advocacy group.  Jones was among members who signed a letter supporting the effort that ultimately died in Congress....  “While I sought harsh punishments for violent offenders as U.S. attorney, not all cases require severe sentences,” Jones wrote on his website. “Judges and prosecutors should be given flexibility and be empowered to decide the fate of those before them in the justice system.”

For the time being, the prospects of any congressional federal sentencing reform rests primarily in the hands of Senate Leader Mitch McConnell and Prez Donald Trump.  Senator McConnell can refuse (and so far has refused) to bring the Sentencing Reform and Corrections Act up for a floor vote even though some GOP Senators have said, as noted here, the SCRA could get 70 votes in the Senate right now.   But the SCRA surely would not get 70 votes in Prez Trump were to come out vocally against it, and Senator McConnell surely will not bring it up for a floor vote if he knows doing so would be against the wishes of Prez Trump.  Those realities likely mean that the new Senate 51-49 math and the new voice of Senator-elect Jones will not in any major way directly impact the prospects for congressional federal sentencing reforms in the months ahead.

That all said, I do think the Jones victory in Alabama still has some political ripples in the arena of crime and punishment.  As he did in the gubernatorial race in Virginia, Prez Trump used his Twitter thumbs to make a "weak on crime" attack on the Democratic candidate in Alabama.  That candidate still prevailed, and did particularly well in the suburbs where it is often thought the "soft on crime" epithet is most effective (although surely other factors mattered to suburban Alabama voters earlier this week).   Including the New Jersey race for governor also decided last month, we can and should now say that in the last three significant state-wide elections, the candidate obviously more supportive of criminal justice reform prevailed.

I make these points not to assert that many political candidates are going to now view criminal justice reform advocacy as a winning political strategy, although I expect (and hope) some will.  Rather, I am making the more subtle (but important) point that no current politician or would-be candidate should any more be unduly afraid that supporting criminal justice reform could doom them in the next political cycle.  For much of the last half-century, the conventional wisdom was that any politician who could be effectively painted as soft on crime was sure to lose in the next election  (and I suspect this conventional wisdom in part accounts for why so little significant criminal justice reform was actually achieved during the Obama era).  With every significant victory by any person who calls for criminal justice reform on the campaign trail, that old conventional wisdom becomes much less conventional and much less wise.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8247011 http://sentencing.typepad.com/sentencing_law_and_policy/2017/12/does-the-election-of-doug-jones-in-alabama-increase-the-prospects-of-federal-statutory-sentencing-re.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[theculturalevolution]

2016:  The Year in Review

by David

What a MISERABLE year!   What a God forsaken year, both politically and personally.   And 2017 doesn’t look any better, at least in terms of public life, and likely a lot worse.  I barely want to discuss it.  Why add my thoughts to the many words already expended on this public farce?  We’ve been in touch with some of life’s truisms:  that we don’t always get what we want no matter how much we want it, that the world is not fair or even reasonable, and that life ends.  But this year of public and private tragedy has been mitigated foremost by my family and friends, and, secondarily by the loving and healing world of pop culture.  It’s times like these when we need our cultural lives, and the implied communities those interests provide us.  

But this has also been the year when the time/space continuum imploded for me, pop culturally speaking.  I mean that my consumption of the stuff I write about became largely unmoored by any sense of temporality.  I watched and listened and read stuff with little sense of when it was produced.  One can, of course, do that now with streaming.  It is a funny way to consume pop culture given that the essence of pop culture is its nowness and its symbiotic relationship to the present.  I know, however, that given the collapse of time/space I (and, I assume, everyone) am in an eternal, solipsistic and existential now.  We all create our own pop universes and live in our own independent popular culture.  I know that because I still don’t believe that Donald Trump is President. That fact shocks me every morning when I read the news. We create our own communities virtual or actual, listen to our own facts and have difficulty comprehending a world unlike our own.   Where is that former standard arbiter of popular taste – the water cooler moment – when we work from home or drink bottled water at our own cubicles.  I was at a gathering recently, talking about TV and no one else knew the shows others were presenting as their own personal current faves.

D. Trump/A. Baboon

Anyway, sometimes life sucks, but much of the time it doesn’t. So in this new, strange, fragmented world I want to present what was culturally significant to me in 2016.  

D. Trump/A. Baldwin

Given the rent in the time-space continuum, the first item of business has got to be the movies I missed in 2015 but caught up with in 2016, and thought noteworthy. 

Sicario – beautifully directed, slick and tense, morally ambiguous, with some character and plot inconsistencies. 45 Years – the best of this lot, a luminous and quiet film about relationships.  Though notice went to Charlotte Ramplings’ vibrant performance, I was bowled over by Tom Courtney’s vulnerable and transparent acting.  A great film.  

45 Years

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl – better than you think.   Diary of a Teenage Girl – more disturbing than you think.   Brooklyn – subtle and sweet. I saw this in the same weekend as the Revenant and my head nearly exploded negotiating the extreme chick/dude movie dichotomy.   The Martian – Golden Globe for best comedy????  Huh?  It was, however, fun to watch. Straight Outta Compton – certainly not on the level of the best films, but enlightening and energetic. The Revanent – beautiful, long and gruesome.  What was the point, again?   Room – creates its own world like it’s supposed to.   Bridge of Spies – It’s not the time for my Spielberg discussion, but FINE, and I mean that as a compliment here.   Carol – so that’s what the 50s were about.

The most culturally significant addition to my social media arsenal:   Instagram (i.e. the only addition to my social media arsenal):  When I wrote poetry I would apprehend my world through snippets of language I gathered in my head.  Now I see the world through discrete visual stimuli, and I have a community to share them with.  A whole new reality, and another way that my caring daughter has shepherded me into this brave new world.    

Best Concert:  Ghost Light Radio Show at The Big Chill Cantina in Rehoboth. Sometimes the best band in the world is your neighbor’s cover band playing for a crowd at an open air beach bar on a beautiful summer night:   “Maggie May”, “Copperhead Road”, “Interstate Love Song”, “What I Like About You”, “Thinkin’ Out Loud” and tons more songs that sound great with beer.

GLRS

TV: Glittering Prizes – 70’s British series about friends from Cambridge University that I finally caught up with forty years later.  What an unusual, touching, intelligent pleasure.  

Veep – binged this one.  The joy of invective, hatred, self interest and wild profanity!  Politics as humiliation!  The delight of pure id!  Julia Louis-Dreyfus offers one of the all-time greatest female comedy performances, fearless in her full embrace of the characters’ substantial flaws. Unlikeableness reaches new levels. This series was absurdly hilarious and outlandish when Obama was President,  and now is devastating and nightmarish with Trump.  In a surreal moment I watched the final episode about transfer of power the night before the inauguration.  Arghhhhhhhhhh!

JL-D/Veep

Fargo – The first season explores the nature of evil in the world.  Stunning and dark.  

  Red Oaks – Endearing coming of age Amazon show set in the 80s in a New Jersey country club.  Top notch directors and two mensch actors in Richard Kind and Richard Mazur (in a bit role).  Like Philip Roth in setting and theme, if not in tone or quality.

  John Oliver and Bill Maher – how else to stay informed?

Modern Family - Still....

Blackish- preachy but wacky.

Movies: Moonlight – lovely, powerful and transfixing, the most worthwhile film of the year. Both this film and the other best film, Manchester by the Sea, are characterized by their examination of emotional constraint, and by their deep and specific sense of place: the ocean is key in each film.  

Moonlight

Manchester by the Sea – I just loved this sad, upliftingly depressing movie about how things happen that can never be made right.  Kenneth Lonergin has a distinct voice (see You Can Count on Me – another favorite of mine) Casey’s performance was specific and heartbreaking.  Extra points for Kyle Chandler and his FLN connection.  

Manchester by the Sea

Hell or High Water – excellent modern Western with traditional Western atmosphere of bleakness and destiny.  It portrays  a desolate, marginalized population who would rather support a bank robber than a bank, and sheds light on those who embrace Trump.  Jeff Bridges is, as always, fantastic. Arrival – abstract, metaphysical and poetic sci fi about language, communication and time.  A really unusual popular movie. Great Amy Adams. American Honey – teenage wasteland.  Is that Shia LaBoef acting like James Franco?  Captain Fantastic – intriguingly ambivalent.  Plaudits to Viggo Mortensen. A Bigger Splash – slick and sensual thriller where one character talks too much and one is silent.  Memorable Ralph Fiennes and Tilda Swinton.

                                                       *****

Hidden Figures – movie of the week template elevated by sterling execution and good intentions.  Usually good intentions are a negative for me, but this corny thing gets away with them.  Sully – Tom Hanks used to do swagger; now he excels in anxiety.

Love and Friendship – Jane Austen film without the usual stick up its ass.   La La Land – meta without irony.  I experienced this as a film about the issues in making a movie musical in 2016:  I thought it was quite cerebral.  I really did not get the heartwarming stuff.  And Ryan Gosling?  He was so cool and edgy in Half Nelson, an amazing performance.  When did he become so stiff?  Is it the cost of his working out?   Florence Foster Jenkins – better than you think Sing Street – charming and goofy.  Also better than you thought it would be,  especially for this afficianado of teen comedies and music.   Loving --  reserved and moving.  Another film that got away with good intentions. Fences – Great play, too stagey, too bloviating.  

Sasha Lane/American Honey

MUSIC Music from here, there and everywhere entered (and re-entered) my world this year.  

Josh Ritter – Sermon on the Rocks: When I heard these songs on WXPN this year, they just popped, especially “Birds of the Meadow” which always made me take note.  

“Sunshine Superman”:  The vastly underrated purveyor of the terminally hippy dippy, Donovan, wrote and sang this 60’s single of pure joy.  One of the things that makes Donovan so special is the inventive arrangements of his songs.  Just listen to the baseline.  And the same sunshine that “came softly through my window today” in this song was evident to Joni Mitchell who saw “the sun through yellow curtain lace” on her “Chelsea Morning,” and to the Vaselines “and the sun shines in the bedroom when you play” in “Son of a Gun,” two other songs of unadulterated hedonism.   Let’s also remember another single,  Donovan’s purest expression of hippy mindlessness and flower power, “Atlantis,” which always brings a smile I can’t wipe off my face no matter how hard I try. Performing “Atlantis” on TV in the 60s, midpoint through the song, Donovan whispered “Hail Atlantis” in his most wispy voice, and then stood up in his white Nehru gown, and started throwing blossoms. You gotta believe the 60s were sweet!  For Donovan’s tart musical antidote to this treacle, listen to the bad vibes made manifest in his “Season of the Witch.”  In fact, the entire Sunshine Superman album is well worth the listen.  If you like it, try Mellow Yellow next.  

Donovan

“Autumn Sweater”:  Yo La Tengo:  oh! Yo La Tengo! I’ve been loving their quiet covers album Stuff Like That There from 2015 all 2016, read a decent book about them, and been listening to their other albums, most notably I Hear Two Hearts Beating as One from whence comes “Autumn Sweater”:  Minimal sound, trance-like sensual beat, mysterious, obsessive lyrics, whispered vocal.  Over their long career, this band bit off a piece of Velvet Underground, added a dollop of 60s trash, and built the little band that could (how mixed is that metaphor?): has it been 30 years now of regularly released, lovely soft/ harsh excellent music?

Yo La Tengo

“Falling Rain”:  trance-like folk rock cover from Karl Blau that lasts 10 minutes but only seems like 6 minutes.  Loved it every time I heard it. 

  American Band by Drive-by Truckers –They play churning, passionate classic two (or three) guitar rock that splits the difference between those rivals Neil Young and Lynard Skynard, with sharper politics than either (but more limited melodic gifts.)  They’ve maintained consistently empathic songwriting for over 20 years and 11 studio albums, and, deeply affected by the current political turmoil going on in the USA, this piece may be their best yet.  From Treyvon Martin to Robin Williams.  Words of wisdom:  “Killing’s been the bullet’s business”; “You don’t see too many white kids lying bleeding in the street.”  

You Want it Darker -- Leonard Cohen: I don’t have to go through the list of those major music artists we’ve lost this year.  Though Bowie and Prince are undeniably giants, the two whose loss affected me most deeply are Merle Haggard and this man who left his profound, clear-eyed, stirring goodbye note.  It completed his extraordinary and singular life work, and listening to it is heartbreaking.  An earlier song by L. Cohen I’ve always loved is his epic about “Joan of Arc,” a stately waltz, making manifest his major theme: the confluence of sex, death and spirit.  This final album is its epitome. I treasure the three times I was able to see him perform.  

L.Cohen “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling”:  This song, that never really left, re-entered my consciousness through a radio interview and a book passage this year.  I loved it when I first heard it: I remember responding to its deep, echoed sound of profound sadness in November of 1964.  I’ve been thinking about what 13-year-old me made of its message of romantic despair and loss.   I realized that this song did not chiefly resonate with feelings of sadness I already had; it instead taught me one way of how to be sad in love that I took with me and held deeply.  I learned how to be depressed in a bad relationship from this song.  Art doesn’t only resound with our prior feelings, it provides emotional education.  

“Cigarettes and Alcohol” – Oasis: tuff “Bang a Gong (Get it On)” remake.

Patti Smith sings “A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall” at Bob Dylan’s Nobel Prize induction:  Dylan is great; since 1964 he’s been my hero; I adore him. One could make a case for Greatest Songwriter Ever!  He clearly extended the range of song to include literary influence -- Beat and Surrealist poetry chiefly -- like no one ever has done -- (I’ll have to check that statement out with my Classical Music friends.)  But I experience some melancholy at the choice because his victory denies the prize to my favorite contemporary writer, the richly deserving Philip Roth.  They are not going to award this to another American Jew for decades.  Patti’s genuine emotional presence and humility at the ceremony along with the songs current relevance add layers of complexity to this whole Nobel process. Incredible performance and incredible song. Hail, hail Bob, Patti and Philip!

  Books: Tess of the D’Urberville—a classic is a classic because it amazes.

Thomas Hardy

The Anatomy of a Song by Marc Myers -- Taken from his column for The Wall Street Journal, 45 songs from Lawdy Miss Clawdy to Losing My Religion are discussed through interviews with creators about how each song got to be.  Tidbits about songwriting inspiration are less interesting than the production details, but most of these allow you to hear the song in a new way, and to get some neat factoids.  I found it compulsively readable and it has stuck with me more than some of the other music books I read this year.  Fun! 

Taras Bulba – Gogol.  Yes, Taras Bulba.  Explains Putin (and Trump)

After Dark by Haruki Murakami -- elegant exploration of mediated reality.  Lovely in its unity of time. 

Last Night by James Salter -- Sharply written, stunning stories about adultery.

The Ghost Writer and Exit Ghost – Roth at his best.  Extraordinary complexity, passion and humor in two short page turners -- a book and its sequel -- separated by almost 30 years.   They book end Zuckerman’s story, and offer a prelude to Roth’s retirement. What tremendous place do these contemplative and impulsive men -- Nathan Zuckerman, Rabbit Angstrom (see John Updike) and Frank Bascomb (see Richard Ford) -- occupy in our time.

P. Roth