#Collector Conference

[pniindia]

Collector Conference Begins: 2 दिवसीय कलेक्टर कॉन्फ्रेंस मुख्यमंत्री विष्णु देव साय की अध्यक्षता में हुई शुरू, कही ये बातें

Collector Conference Begins: 2 दिवसीय कलेक्टर कॉन्फ्रेंस मुख्यमंत्री विष्णु देव साय की अध्यक्षता में अब शुरू हो चुकी है. आपको बता दें कि इस कॉन्फ्रेंस में मुख्य सचिव, विभागीय सचिवों के सहित सभी संभागायुक्त और कलेक्टर मौजूद है. मुख्यमंत्री ने कहा कि शासन की योजनाएं पूरी पारदर्शिता के साथ अंतिम व्यक्ति तक पहुँच जाए और सभी फ्लैगशिप योजनाओं का क्रियान्वयन सैचुरेशन के लक्ष्य को ध्यान में रखते हुए किया जाए, जिससे हर पात्र व्यक्ति को उनके लाभ मिल सके.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

on the one hand i completely understand that in terms of resources it is very hard for small museums to have their collections online in a website bc that requires a LOT of work to write the pages and info and upload photos etc and many small museums do not have those resources.... HOWEVER i am going to become the joker 

[thatskrakenhockeybaby]

My collection. All from this season!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 Lou!! Congratulations 🎊🎉 on 6k!!

So how about Arranged Marriage w/ Simon?

Again congrats to 6k 🙃💛🦡

.⋆｡Give 'Em Hell｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Your parents think you need to get married and settle down, so they called in a favour. A big military man of a husband might do you some good just not in the way they think

Warnings: arranged marriage, sort of sugar baby/daddy relationship, misogynist parents, future revenge, mention of hook-ups WC: 986

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You often wondered about the true scope of your family’s stupidity. Sure, there were moments in your childhood where you had the vivid thought that no one could be as ignorant and blatantly idiotic as your parents were but somehow, they had absolutely hit rock bottom of moronic decisions.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m getting married?” Your mother gasped.

“Watch your tone young lady, that is no way to speak to your parents.” She scolded as your father’s expression hardened. There was no question that your parents were ‘traditional’ believing that women were less than their male counterparts in every way but while they had constantly lectured you on those beliefs, they hadn’t gone so far as to inflict them upon you, until now at least. They even helped you and encouraged you through college!

“You’ve been running wild long enough, it’s time for you to do your duty,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “We’ve let you chase your silly little dreams but you’re getting older and your clock is ticking.” Your father clicked his tongue and reached for the tumbler of expensive bourbon on the table beside his recliner.

“We’ve picked out a good man!” Your mother chirped from her place on the expensive love seat next to your father, “He’s highly decorated in the military, he can give you a good life.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! I’m not marrying anybody! Period!” You snarled. Anger curled in your gut, turning your tone sour.

Your father’s glass slammed down onto the wood, making your mother flinch. “You will marry him or I will make your life a living hell. I make one call and no one will want to hire you, not even as a fucking garbage collector. You know the connections I have. Suck it up and be a responsible adult for once.” 

——————

“I don’t want a husband.” The man across from you made a sound that you thought might have been a laugh. Simon, as you had learned from your parents, was a Lieutenant in a special ops task force. Never married, no family to speak of and copious amounts of money, your mother had gleefully added as she literally dragged you into the official-looking building where you would be meeting your future spouse.

He was by all means, an intimidating man. Almost 6 and a half feet tall and wearing a stupid balaclava with a skull on it, he looked more fitting being in a slasher movie than in a conference room negotiating marriage stipulations. His bulky, tattooed arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him seem even bigger to you, as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t want a wife.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. 

“Then why are you here?” 

His massive shoulders rolled back as his head tilted, cracking his neck. “Same as you— orders.” You hummed under your breath and forced your gaze away from his tanned arms and up to his eyes. He was obviously a quiet man but in no way did that intimidate you. He seemed more pissed off at your father who had so rudely guided (shoved) you into the room than he did at you.

You cleared your throat. “I won’t fuck you.” This time, his laugh was more discernible. His broad chest rumbled with the sound.

“‘M not expecting you to, not unless you beg,” you made a face at him but Simon continued, “I get deployed most of the time, I’d just like someone to take care of the house and spend my money.”

“So I would be your sugar baby.” He shrugged.

“If that’s what ya wanna call it. Do what cha want, I don’t care. We just need to show up to official events together.” 

You planted your elbows on the table between you and stared into his brown eyes. Simon didn’t waver. “So you wouldn’t have an issue with me getting a job?”

“None.” He answered quickly.

“Going back to school?”

“I’d happily pay for it.” You raised an eyebrow before a devious smirk crossed your lips.

“Get a lover?” His eyes blazed while he mirrored your position, the swivel chair beneath him groaning with his mass as he leaned forwards, planting his massive palms onto the table.

“I’d like to see you try.” Against your will, heat raced through your body, setting your nerves alight with the thrum of arousal.  Simon’s mask shifted and you imagined that he was smirking at you. 

You tamped down the feeling of wetness between your soft thighs, forcing yourself to remember exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. “You’re a lot different than I was expecting.”

He huffed. “So are you. Thought I was getting stuck with some bratty trust fund baby who’s never even set foot in a thrift store.”

“I thought you were gonna be a crusty old man who wanted me to put out so he could feel better about his broken dick and receding hairline.” Silence settled between you before suddenly, you both broke into peels of laughter, an oppressive weight suddenly lifted from the room. 

You were relieved; Simon seemed at least like a decent human being if nothing else and it appeared that you could continue living your life, although without the occasional hook up here and there. But considering how handsome you presumed your almost husband to be, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I guess we both got lucky didn’t we?” You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Or just benefitting from the sheer incompetence of the people that thought this was a good idea.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“So, should we do this then?” You asked. Simon rose from his seat and offered you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. As he pulled you to your feet, he uttered:

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

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Ghost/Simon Riley

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[apocalypse-shuffle]

JESSE CROMEANS | CHROMESKULL & ASA EMORY | THE COLLECTOR (Laid to Rest & Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 | The Collector & The Collection)

—

“Romantic Call” (Jesse Cromeans x Fem!Reader x Asa Emory)

| The two of you aren’t supposed to be calling him, he’s busy, but Asa can’t be surprised about you and Jesse pushing his buttons— and Jesse knows for a fact he isn’t too mad either.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, established relationships, smut, porn with some plot, doggy-style, impact play, knife play, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism, competitiveness, polyamorous relationship -married!reader & slight chubby!reader

| Yea, the title is from the Patra song, tho the fic wasn’t inspired by it. (Pic source: Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 & The Collection)

| 2k+ words

Think about it:

Asa’s at a conference. He's interested in some of the new things his peers have done (and utterly disappointed in much more of it) but he’s really growing tired of the bumping.

He’s becoming more and more frustrated at the hordes of people running around without the good sense to watch where the hell they��re going. He developed a headache about two hours into the event and he’s feeling a little too…anxious for the setting.

Asa can keep up a good facade, prides himself on it, but this year’s attendees seem specifically suited to vex him.

He’s sitting now, legs and arms crossed, dour downturn to his lips, and eyes focused squarely on a nasty patch of scars on one of the speaker's hands. The man waves them around religiously so it’s not like they’re hard to track — they’re more interesting than his dragging spiel at least. His words are starting to grate on the last of Asa’s nerves.

At that very moment he’s actually picturing what the little patch of scar tissue would look like sewn into the skin of his forehead. Front and center. It was a nice looking set of destroyed and later rebuilt tissue.

When he feels a buzz in his pocket the man heaves a sigh, brows furrowing.

His phone is set to ‘do not disturb’, because he was a damned professional he could at least pretend to be paying attention, and he knows for a fact the only two people whose messages he set to go through are you and Jesse’s.

He had done it for emergencies only but he has a well based suspicion that the two of you aren’t remotely in any sort of peril.

He won’t admit how welcome the break from all these forgettable people and their pesky droning voices is, but he isn’t too mad about it. He excuses himself silently from the speaker area, not answering until he walks out into the main hall.

─────

“Didn’t I tell you urgent matters only?”

Jesse grins nonplussed at the harsh note of Asa’s question.

“I remember,” he lets the sharp flippant way he signs convey exactly what he thought about that stipulation to Asa before continuing, “but, Y/n, wants to show you something.”

He’s handing off the phone a second later and then you come into view. You hold the device and give him a demure smile, the upturn of your lips as soft as your voice.

“Em,” you greet — and yeah, Jesse knows Asa can’t be too mad at that. The way the creases in his forehead smooth out right after your greeting is proof enough.

“Beetle,” he greets back, sighing. His tone is curt, but one corner of his mouth does tick up in an almost smile. “What's so important you just had to show me?”

Your smile widens a bit more, eyes lighting up, and Jesse rests his hand on the small of your back when you bend over to prop the phone up against the headboard. The way he can feel the shiver going up your spine somehow manages to make him fill out even more, cock throbbing where it’s straining inside the smooth confines of his boxers.

“Just something new,” you propose, resting your head on your folded arms.

You’re both just as scarcely dressed as the other, cool air of the room sliding over your skin and hardening your nipples. Jesse’s blood still warms at the sight you make though. Back arched, ass up at a perfect height for your plush orbs to be aligned with his lowered hips.

At your angle the hand he slides to your ass is also in view of the camera, clear for Asa to see. He squeezes just to provoke the disapproving scowl that flashes across your third’s face.

You yourself laugh at it, airy and melodic, and push into his grip. The fabric of your panties is soft on his palm and he rubs idly over them while his other hand dips a little lower.

“How’s your trip?”

He rubs over the outline of your sex as you speak. The more prominent feel of cloth over your sensitive lips makes you keen and move away, but his hand snaps from your ass to your hip to hold you firm with a strong grip.

“…Interesting,” the entomologist answers after a beat.

Asa sounds irritated all over again and Jesse rolls his eyes. The man goes to a bug convention - his whole damn shtick - and you’d think he’d be living it up, but no. Jesse swears he’s never met someone so committed to being miserable.

He rubs harshly over your clit and you jerk forward.

“So— so not good?”

“Yes,” Asa nods slowly, looking away and tracking something off screen, eyes flaring briefly. “I need something to dissect. Soon, preferably.”

There’s no doubt Asa hasn’t guessed what he’s up to by now but the other man humors you regardless. Sap.

Jesse shifts and a metallic swish reverberates throughout the air. Asa’s eyes snap back to the camera and focus directly on the blade now in his hand. At the same time you twist around to gape at him.

“Eyes,” he signs harshly and you roll yours - he’ll get you for that later - but turn back to watch Asa regardless.

He chuckles, “Is he not being commanding enough, Beetle?”

You make a low upset sound at the words, not confirming or denying them.

“Don’t do that right now…” you murmur. Soft, so very like you.

Your tone is admonishing but both of them ignore you.

Jesse points the glinting blade at the screen where Asa can see it, issuing something like a warning, while using his other hand to pull the sides of your underwear from your body. All Asa does in response is scoff before otherwise backing off. At least for now.

Not wasting anymore time the killer at your back cuts your panties up the sides with jerky irritated movements, throws them to the floor, then places the flat of the blade right against your cunt where the damp curls on your mound act as a thin but plush barrier between your flushed skin and his cool metal. When you freeze the smirk that stretches across his face is mean.

“Jesse—?” You break off with a yelp, him having used the broad expanse of his palm and swung straight for your ass. “Sorry, Boss, I— what are you doing?”

He refuses to answer for a few moments, just watching as you scramble to accommodate the knife with small careful movements.

When Jesse bothers to sign next it’s not even to you.

“You know she argued with me over your surprise?”

One of Asa’s brows raise and his eyes glint with something akin to humor.

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like my Beetle. She didn’t talk back to me the last time I had her all to myself.”

Almost immediately Jesse seems to mock Asa, but by the time you catch him he's only rolling his eyes and is already diverting his attention back to you. The only indication he’d done anything more at all is the irritated scoff Asa gives.

Jesse and you lock eyes through the viewfinder on the screen and he moves the knife from your delicate bits, patting encouragingly at your thigh after putting the custom blade back into its hiding place. Silently you heed his command, pushing yourself to your knees while Jesse himself straightens to his full height in accordance with you, hiding both of your heads from Asa’s view.

After that all the two of you have to do is wait.

Jesse listens aptly for the faint intake of breath from Asa, smiling alongside you when you both hear it. Though you're the only one near vibrating with your poorly contained laughter, so excited your eyes are glittering.

On full display on the meat of your upper thigh, front and center, is a well defined skull with iridescent green beetle wings sprouting from behind it. The green and shimmer pops out beautifully on your dark skin because Jesse’d paid for an artist that wasn’t full of shit; the best money could buy in the area.

Jesse hums, grins sharp, and grazes his thumb lightly over the day-old tattoo before moving so that he can squeeze the back of your thigh with that same hand. Even grimacing your breath still hitches and you groan.

Asa’s gaze is locked fully onto your leg. He swallows thickly, his mouth opening slightly but no words coming out for more seconds than is his usual. Jesse’s grin gets worse.

The other clears his throat, something a little feral in his gaze. “It’s…lovely,” he praises, and has to clear his throat again and fight to school the arousal from his features in real time.

It was times like these Jesse almost wished he could cackle out loud.

“Mhm,” you mumble happily. Jesse bends down to kiss at your throat and you drop your head against his shoulder to give him better access. “I’m glad— ah,” you gasp as Jesse nips at your pulse, “I’m really glad you like it.”

You press yourself back into him with a shudder, thick coils brushing over his shoulder, and rake your stilettoed nails up his back hard enough to make his breath catch.

When you grind down he chuckles before turning your head so you can watch him sign.

“Needy are we?”

You huff, lashes fluttering against the tops of your umber cheeks.

“You’re taking forever, can you blame me? Will you please fuck me already? Please, Boss?” You blink up at him, pouting. “I need it.”

His cock jumps where it’s pressed on the delicate inside of your thigh and when you moan again he can’t find it in himself to deny either of you anymore. Not with his mark on you and those pleas falling past your plush lips.

You’re as receptive as ever when he falls into you, desperate and wanting, and making very good on your promise to let him “claim” you some more once you both got back from the tattoo shop.

Large hands tight on your plush hips he fucks into you just as desperately. Deep strokes that jolt you forward and have the head of his cock hitting gold every few thrusts.

Jesse grunts deep, leaning over you and bringing his scarred face closer to yours so he can look you in the eyes when you start incoherently babbling his praises. He doesn’t even have to prompt you to open them either, your lashes are damp as you meet his dark gaze the second he flattens his front to your back, and you mewl.

The two of you clash with a kiss, sloppy and barely coordinated, all lips and tongue and teeth, but he has no doubt the vision you make is affecting your audience of one. Passingly hopes that Asa’s currently sporting a hard on in front of all those academics and silently mortified by the sheer unprofessionalism.

Jesse shudders, gasps and moans silent, before pulling away and forcing your head down and your ass up. He can’t help but slap the fat of your ass and revel in the yelp you give him in response.

He’s at an even better angle now though and pistons into you hard enough to ache in the way you like complaining about even though it gives you just the excuse you want to be pampered. When your cute happy whimpers and choked moans strengthen he knows he’s well on his way to winning your orgasm and that small look on your face post coitis when you're exhausted and clingy.

It doesn’t take long after that for you to start zoning out and it takes him less than a blink to redirect his next slap to the side of your face. The startled noise you gift him quickly transforms into a deep recked moan and Jesse pounds into you even harder.

You focus back on Asa with the prettiest set of bright brown eyes, dark orbs sparkling with your tears unshed and shed alike.

“Fuck, Em,” you gasp.

“Does it feel good, Beetle? Do you like how he feels in you?”

Jesse watches your eyes roll as he rams the head of his cock into where he knows your g-spot is.

“Y-yea, yeah I do. Fucking,”— you sob—“love when he fucks my greedy cunt.”

“Mm,” Asa nods, face impassive and tone flat, but his attention glued to you. “I bet you do.”

When your eyes roll back again, your pussy clenching tight around Jesse, he can’t help but laugh through a moan of his own. The look his sometimes rival is throwing him is absolutely priceless. It promises something like a struggle when the other gets back.

You loved to watch them go at it, and per your request whoever won their little spats got to take you home during your week off. He’d lost last time but he hadn’t stopped thinking about how to get back at Asa for it.

He’d rather Princess come back from the dead and actually finish him off or Preston take over his business than admit to Asa that the loss grated. You were his wife, occasional threesomes be damned. While he held firm that week on his side of the bet, even reassuring you that it was honestly fine to go indulge yourself in Asa and The Collectors' whims, he still wanted to wipe the smug look off his buddy’s face.

Jesse would win. Even if he had to make you squirt all over your goddamn phone to do it.

He watches the arousal flit across Asa’s face every time you’re too distracted to notice, and how he grinds his teeth to tamp it down before you or anyone at the convention can see.

It’s fucking golden. And it doesn’t take the killer long after that to aim for making sure that he can ruin Asa’s life for the next two days he’s away. Rub it in his face that he won’t be able to get his hands on your dewy heated skin or get the brunt of the reverent look you give Jesse through the camera when he brings the knife back out.

Jesse would have you screaming pretty for him in no time, and the other man suffering all the more for it.

There was a reason why you didn’t (especially considering how much it riled Jesse up) call Asa anything but his fucking name in Jesse’s bed — not Professor or Prof, not his moniker, nothing — and he was going to remind the other man all about that regardless of the murderous glare he kept giving him.

Jesse pulls nearly all the way out, waits for you to whine at him and makes sure Asa can see how you continue to try pressing back on his cock despite him holding you back, then grinds his length back into your soaked cunt in one long thrust. Soaks in the drawn out way you call him Boss — not Jesse — and how you rush to thank him for fucking back into you, and bares his teeth at the burning look Asa gives him.

You start to shudder when he holds the knife to your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and his fingers burrow into your plush cloud of hair to keep your head still as he can. You let him without complaint. Asa’s eyes flash and, barely audible though it may be, Jesse can feel the snarl rumbling up his chest as the squelching sounds of your cunt grow louder and you start fucking back onto him hard enough to bruise.

Yeah he was fucking winning.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

My smut writing abilities are so-so, but I tried. This is also my first time writing both a threesome of any sort, and Jesse and Asa’s dynamic, so hopefully everything registers well.

I had some slight complications so this is a repost, but I doubt anyone even saw the original bar one person so….

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[katuschka]

Touch Starved Pups – One

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader x Josh Kiszka 4.011 words

Welcome to Part One of the story about what happens to two well-behaved, bored and horny romantics when a new feisty, worldly and hot social media manager enters the building...

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): expressive language, promiscuous behaviour, unprotected sex (or still rather just allusions to it , just setting the scene...), oral sex, handjob, kissing, twinfight, fistfight, angst, mockery, consensual teasing game that's borderline exploitative, slightly toxic behaviour...so, to sum it up, this is pure rock&roll filth, folks.

Also, if you like the story and want to get notifications for future updates, you can join the Taglist or see the Masterlist

Hooked? Read Part Two.

I know who I am when I'm alone

I'm something else when I see you

You don't understand, you should never know

How easy you are to need

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me

Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me

Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

Walking down the photo pit after all the other photographers cleared off is my favorite part of the day. Or night, to be more precise. That’s when I shine: strutting along, ready to capture all those best moments that make all you bitches go feral during AND after the show. This is my queendom. I make content for you lot. And I’m damn good at it.

How do I know that? The numbers just skyrocketed after I joined the team. Ka ching! All those poor things that came before me had no idea how to do their job. Tried to do some lifeless artsy shit that might be good for booklets and collectors’ crap that only collects dust, but not followers. They listened to what the band and their management wanted, but that’s not how it’s done. Nuh uh. I listen to you, my dudes. Your screeches, howls and cries. Some say that you’re crazy, but I know better. I’m here to observe what drives you crazy, and then I shall stir it up even more. When it comes to online content, the only thing that matters is what YOU want.

Make no mistake, I create art too. The crucial difference is that it’s not shit. Socials need candid eye candy and I’m here to provide it. 

I gotta admit, they make my job quite easy. All four of them do, but the twins are human masterpieces. Born pretty, they gradually learned that they could monetize it just as much as their respective talents. I didn’t need to come up with a strategy; it’s always been there for the taking. The fact that my predecessors have been mostly ignoring this is a mind-boggling mystery to me. Those guys know for sure that they ruin your panties. I just needed to know how.

So I rolled up my sleeves and went down to the barricade to do my research. Marketing’s no rocket science. Veni, vidi, vici. I just looked at them through your eyes and your own photos, and let me tell you – you bitches aren’t crazy, you are right! Yeah, I saw it too. And I get it. Some people in the team wanna keep pretending that it’s all about the music – which is surprisingly good, by the way – but that’s not what makes you sleep in the dirt and sit on a curb for days, and then again…and again. Those sons of bitches basically fuck on stage, looking very tasty while doing so. Especially Frodo and Patchybeard. Whether it’s a guitar, a mic stand or just plain air – they just shag it! Y’all look like you can feel it, and they’re very well aware. It strokes their egos, so they just keep adding fuel to the fire. The first time I saw that, I just stood there with my mouth wide open and just laughed, and laughed, and laughed. It was a fucking orgy! And then, when it was time to walk into their bright conference room and pretend to do some serious business for a change, I put on my super serious and super professional face, and I told them what needed to be done. 

Let’s just take your usual fangirl stuff and make it official. Sorry, not sorry. You crave it, so what. I keep the Facebook page artsy and businesslike for those gramps and music snobs that would go batshit crazy if they saw any more pictures with sweaty “jummies”, sparkling dicks and marshmallow balls; but anywhere else, it’s a party. 

Some of you keep wondering why they behave like such frenzied horndogs all the time. My lovelies, the explanation is pretty simple. It’s because they are! You wanna know if they are like that in real life? Yes, the answer is yes! It’s good for the show, sure thing, and they’re both true born professionals creating a breathtaking spectacle. “It’s all for you, bla bla bla!” But the truth is that they’re naturals, not really much different offstage. Lusty, filthy, bad. 

Just kidding. They’re sweethearts. Lust-driven, whiny pups that want to be played with. When the show is over, they both follow me backstage like the good boys that they are, wagging their tails at me enthusiastically. 

Ooops, what did I just say? Lemme put my fingers to my mouth and giggle like a coy lady that I’m not. Some of you already suspect it anyway, and it was collectively decided that you should hate me with passion. I guess now I’m famous, too. D’oh!

So, yeah… When I said that it was there for the taking, I forgot to mention that I also wanted to take it. Life on tour is lonely and stressful. I’m not immune to that either. Sex helps. That’s why the rockstars of yore kept fucking everything that dared to come close while they were all high as a kite. Because why not…well, apart from the fact that unlike good sex, drugs actually ruin lives. No, I’m not a fan. 

Times have changed and today’s musicians – and I’m not talking about all those wannabes with backing tracks – really need to work hard to earn their bread.They’re self-aware and sober (Take that with a pinch of salt…they’re sober while actually working.). Often homesick. Sure, some of them are still jerks or junkies. Or both. Not a fan of these either. I worked with some and it was a nightmare. 

But, when I joined the Greta Van Fleet team, I found a bunch of down-to-earth and touch starved homeboys, well aware of their power but hesitant to act upon it. That’s the difference between having a huge dick and being one. They’re – and now let me let out a sob or two for the dramatic effect – gentlemen! 

You know what a sweetheart with a huge dick is? That’s your dream come true. Believe me. That’s just something you want. I certainly did.

Not from the start, though. No. They treat the crew like friends and family, and as much as that was certainly a pleasant change, I wavered initially. They were all so kind and gentlemanly that I just decided to keep my friendly distance, thinking they really were such mama’s boys that they appeared to be…The impression didn’t last long. Soon I heard them making jokes and lewd comments when they thought no one was listening. Some of those comments were about my bouncy ass, too. 

Men, am I right? 

Alas, sweethearts’ dicks are still just dicks, and neglect will gradually take its toll. I could see right through their nervous ticks. 

Jake was the first one that fell into my snares. I didn’t really pursue it; I’m not a monster. Like I said, we were lonely and stressed, and so it just happened one fine day. He craved human contact, and I was there. Life is complicated, but certain things are still pretty simple. Thank god, or whatever supernatural entity you believe in. 

It was a lovely evening in his 2-storey hotel apartment. He often got those, because the others had this habit of gathering together in his room to discuss business – since it was his band – and to get shitfaced in the process. 

We were both sitting cross legged on his bed, both already pleasantly booze-soaked and shrouded in semi-darkness, the only source of light being the dimmed lamps in the main room. I had been giving him a lecture on the importance of a good online presence that evening. Or at least I was trying to do that… When the others got a bit too rowdy, we retreated to his bedroom to have some privacy.

When it comes to online shit, Jake’s the most difficult one. He doesn’t like it. Plain and simple. He had created this cute mask of a smooth and aloof poet slash ancient adventurer, behind which he hides, but you bitches don’t like that. You like watching him talking to his SG in front of thousands like she’s his obedient whore. See, there’s a certain discrepancy in that. I kinda understood where it was coming from, him being in his element onstage and all that shit, but I also needed him to understand my point.

And it was tough. He’s complicated. He likes to pretend to be a tough, mysterious guy, but deep down he’s just a shy and wide-eyed fawn that bounces when you say “boo”. Not always, mind. I learned that  the hard way once when I was leaving his room with scarlet imprints of his fingers on my thighs. However, drunk Jake is a meek and needy cutiepie. I could definitely use it to my advantage. So I poured us more drinks. 

“I dunno, s’not really me,” he countered after I tried to explain one more time. 

I showed him another one of the most recent videos. “Are you telling me this is not you?”

I grew really fond of his quiet “hahaha” every time he felt discomfited and flattered at the same time. Just like now. Stroking his chin with his finger, he shifted nervously and continued: “Well, yeah…uuum…you like this?” 

That was the moment when I knew I had him firmly in my grasp. Yeah, Jakey, I reeeeally like it. Let me just show you how much.

I seized my chance. We laughed and joked and flirted and all that shit. Talking about his desirable body parts that y’all take snapshots of soon turned to physical manifestations and before we knew it, his fly was open, his fat cock hard and out and firmly in my hand. I brushed my thumb gently over his pink and already leaking head before I wrapped my fingers around his shaft once again and started pumping him slowly. He just sat there and watched me with his lips parted, both mesmerized and taken aback by how quickly things escalated. I returned his stare, looking him firmly in the eye while I quickened my pace, and his breathy exhales turned to full-fledged, loud moans. I tried to shush him by forcing my other thumb in his mouth… and that only made it worse. There were still other people in the adjacent room and the door was open, but he just wouldn’t shut up! I had to grab his chin and stick my tongue in his mouth to keep him quiet. 

That sobered him up a bit. He didn’t want me to stop, he just wanted to regain control. Our tongues wrestled for a few seconds before he grabbed my cheeks and returned the kiss in such a manner that made my pussy spasm. I liked that, and we continued like that until he came all over my fingers a few minutes later. Thankfully, someone put some music on in the other room and it muffled his moans a bit, because my mouth could no longer contain them. He howled in it. It was hot.

You know, I’ve had the misfortune to cross paths with assholes who’d just throw me out after that, both satisfied and ashamed that my skills made them finish so quickly and unceremoniously, without fanfare and praises. Not Jake. He had to reciprocate AND prove himself at the same time. He’s vain, but in a good, gentlemanly way. 

After everyone else left, he just fucked my brains out. It surprised me how much he wanted to kiss, and not just my lips (either kind). His tongue was running marathons all over my body, and if I remember it correctly, I think I came five times that night. Not my record, but still a very impressive first-time. 

After that, he just kept crawling back to me, stopping me in empty hallways just to whisper obscene poems about my hungry pussy in my ear. Talking about how he’d feed me. 

He’s a sly one: the kind of a man that would run his fingertips gently down your spine in a room full of other people, while talking casually about fucking you raw, only for you to hear. I mean, that’s exactly what he did once or twice. I’m sure our “conversations” always looked completely innocent from a distance, with only Josh sometimes watching us with his lips pursed. Sometimes his eyes even narrowed a bit. That feisty chipmunk knew from the very start, and I thought I could spot jealousy in that piercing stare of his. I enjoyed that, just as much as Jake enjoyed making me wet in public, and calling it “retribution”. Honestly, I didn’t mind. Punish me as much as you want, baby, and keep using all those fancy words while doing so. Yeah. 

I’m a born provocateur, so I often just asked for more. Every time I saw him start licking his lips absentmindedly, I struck. In the end, it was always him who had to calm down, to keep it cool…to hide his hard dick. 

We both loved it. It was our little fight for dominance. We teased each other and then there would be a reward. 

It was a bit different with Josh. He’s a lover, not a fighter. He doesn’t need to fight for dominance and so he often rejects that role voluntarily.

At first I thought he wouldn’t be interested at all, even though his grabby hands landed on my bare skin more often than some would deem comfortable. But he’s like that with everyone! Including Bob, the chalice filler. It often doesn’t mean a thing. 

I knew it meant something when he almost grabbed my ass once. I tried to experiment with the same strategy I once used on Jake: using his own weapons against him, making him cross the friendly line.

It happened during a soundcheck while I was showing him a preview of my next scheduled post. His weapon was right there, on full display, and I further accentuated it by a subtle, punny caption. It made him giggle and I winked at him. 

“So, you okay with this? I mean, it’s all over the internet anyway…”

“Dear sparrow, if I weren’t okay with this, you wouldn’t be able to take such a lovely picture of it.” His hand first landed on the small of my back familiarly, just like it always did, and as we talked about other pictures in the carousel, I felt his fingers move even lower until the tip of his pinkie slid under the hem of my pants. I cleared my throat ostentatiously and he drew his hand away quickly as if I had burned him. 

“You know, I should report you for harassment for this,” I said matter-of-factly, still looking at the screen, trying to look both cool and unphased, but the twitch in the corner of my mouth gave me away. A true master of reading such subtleties, he slapped his fingers with his other hand and grinned at me. “Naughty me. Can’t blame me. You just smell so nice, sparrow. What is that?” 

“Hypnotic Poison.”

“Right…” He licked his teeth in a vain attempt not to grin even more. To be hundred percent sure, he still asked me if I wasn’t mad. Sure I wasn’t. I had been waiting for this. 

We parted after that, minding our respective businesses, but all those fleeting glances he cast my way during the rest of the afternoon didn’t escape my attention. Later, just before the show, he cornered me in the bathroom, startling me. I almost poked my eye out with a mascara when I noticed him standing right behind me. “Jesus Fucking Christ on a stick, Josh!”

“Yeah, I’m all that.” It was obvious he wasn’t there to take a leak as he kept watching me watch him in the reflection and his eyes grew darker. I slowly turned around and ran my finger down the hem of his low neckline, even more slowly. Tentatively, almost. Never breaking eye contact and with his lips slightly parted, he let me go lower until I reached the zipper head and tugged at it playfully. 

“Black velvet really suits you, you know?” I teased.

“Yeah, I know.” 

Cheeky brat. You wanna play, baby? Let me show you how it’s done. I slipped the tips of my fingers under the hem of his cleavage until I found his left nipple and started running circles over it with my middle finger. His breath hitched and his eyes widened before he seemingly regained his composure and flashed me a sly smile. 

“So…ummm…you and Jake are…exclusive?”

“Wow, you’re pretty straightforward,” I laughed. “No, we’re not. Just having some fun. Why?” 

Why, indeed. He made it pretty clear why, and I let my tongue give him the answer he desired. After the show that very night, he knocked on my door with a shy smile plastered on his face after I opened it. I welcomed him in.

Josh never fought me. He always presented himself on a silver platter and let me do whatever I pleased. Then he repaid me when the payment was due. My initial impression of him being a pillow princess wasn’t completely off, but my god! The man can fuck! Never try to piss him off. Or you know what? DO try to piss him off, because it turns him to a jackhammer. 

I once called him a sissy and the wrath that poured down on me afterwards made me see stars. 

So that’s how it went. They both knew what was happening behind closed doors with the other one, and both were ok with that, as long as it didn’t interfere with their own plans. And that was just a matter of time. 

To tell you the truth, I did wonder what it would be like to have them both, so when the opportunity presented itself, I would be a fool not to encourage it. 

Every once in a while, there are shows where shit just happens and everything that can go wrong, does do wrong. It was one of those nights. Even back at the venue, right after the show, I saw how both their faces were twisted with tension, and maybe the best way to avoid even more trouble would have been to avoid them altogether. They weren’t the only people who had a rough night. I was exhausted, too. If I were a bit more responsible, I would have settled for a nice hot bath and a filthy book, but sadly, I’m a people pleaser. Also, nothing can calm me down better than the smell of male skin.

It was long past midnight when I heard a knock on my door. 

“It’s me, Bebe. Please, let me in.” 

That’s right. He gave me that nickname shortly after we started fucking, even though I teased him that he would never beat those allegation that way. 

If you guessed that I indeed did open the door, you’re right. He didn’t even wait for the invitation to enter this time. The stress was doing us no good. I could smell even more troubleon the horizon, but I ignored it.

“Jake, you can’t just storm inside like this. What if I had company?” It was no use to argue with him. No longer sober to begin with, he was already making himself at home and pouring himself another drink. 

“Please, Bebe, stop teasing. I need you! I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Well, tough luck! Josh asked first.”

“Oh no, no no no! It’s my turn, baby! You can’t do this to me. Tonight was hell. Call him and tell him that you’re mine.” I shot him a sharp look, so he added quickly: “... for the night. ” Well, that only made it worse. 

Funny how quickly they got accustomed to the fact that I was just within reach. I would have been offended if I weren’t aware of how insolently I played with them too. Still, I should have said no, but I’m just human. 

However, the whole situation was already a bit more complicated than that. “I can’t. He’s already here.” 

Jake cast me a confused look before he smiled sympathetically at my feeble attempt to get rid of him. “Where? Hiding in the closet?”

“No, he’s in the shower.”

He just stood there for a short while, contemplating something, before he grabbed my cheeks with both hands and whispered sultrily: “Please, love, just a blowjob then. Your mouth can do wonders, baby. I beg you.” Noticing that I wavered, he bent closer to whisper in my ear: “You can ride my face anytime you want. You know that.”

Again, I should have said no, but the said mouth already started watering when I noticed the rapidly growing bulge. Mentally, he was already hitting my tonsils. I was on my knees in seconds. I knew Josh usually took his time, so maybe it was manageable. And if not…well, surely there was a way to benefit from the hypothetical pickle, should it happen.

And it happened. I was deepthroating him with both his hands holding my head and his head tilted back, when we heard the door open.

“Jesus fuck, Jake!” 

The moment of surprise made me gag. Jake withdrew quickly and started tugging himself back in his pants, which wasn’t easy, given his current state. Josh, however, just stood there completely and unabashedly naked. “Get out!” he bellowed, completely forgetting that it was in fact MY room they were both in. 

“No,” Jake spat back.

They started barking at each other like berserk chihuahuas. I swear, I was seconds from throwing them BOTH out, dicks out and all. They could keep shouting at each other in the hall or even in the main lobby for all I cared, but the wicked creature in me wanted to see how this would escalate. And it escalated majestically. 

I hadn’t bothered to unpack my suitcase earlier that day. It just lay open on the floor with my purple vibrator placed haphazardly on top of my lingerie. Jake spotted it, bent down to retrieve it and before I could argue, he thrust it against Josh’s bare chest while his other hand patted his cheek: “Here, this should do. Now bugger off!” 

I think I stopped breathing for a second. They teased each other quite often, but this seemed downright mean, even to their standards. I think Jake realized it too, but it was too late. We both watched the flames that appeared behind Josh’s dilated pupils and before either of us could react, Josh started after him and pushed him against the wall. And so the party started. In a matter of mere seconds, Jake fist almost collided with Josh’s jaw. Thankfully, Frodo is quite nimble, so he ducked the blow and striked back, his knuckles colliding with Jake’s forearm. Watching them wrestle like that, fuming, limbs intertwined, I was almost sorry I had no popcorn at hand. It was a comical sight: Josh still completely naked, Jake barely tucked back in his jeans. 

Have you ever seen puppies fighting over a toy? That’s them. They were both so needy and neither one ready to give up. It was time to seize the opportunity, so I… started laughíng. Loudly and mockingly. They both let go of each other and turned their heads to the source of that offensive sound: me. 

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning back on my arms and with my legs crossed, contemplating my next move. Realizing I had no panties under my punto tube dress, I decided to Basic Instinct them. Sure, nothing new, but men are simple creatures. A naked pussy is like the Moon they howl at. It’s always new. Moreover, the fact that they never saw me like this before together was surely a great bonding experience of its own. I watched their faces for more clues and grinned viciously when I saw exactly what I hoped for. See, they’re different in many ways including this. Jake licks his lips, while Josh clenches his jaw. I tutted at them, watching how they both raised their eyebrows in a silent question. 

“Guys! You both know very well that I got more than one hole.”

Hooked? Read Part Two.

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @emojakekiszka @hollyco @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @gvfstuddedmajesty @gvfmarge @dayumclarizzel @musicislove3389 @lipstickitty

[melanieph321]

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 2)

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader - Difficult Part 2/3

Part 1 Part 3

Reader is the media manager for Bologna FC and is reluctantly paired up to help Riccardo Calafiori with interviews after a badly played match.

Enjoy!

As expected, the locker room had been cleared of every Bologna player. You entered just as the last person left.

"He's lost his fucking mind." Said the poor boy, fleeing with a sports bag strapped to his shoulder. Despite his warning, you made your way into the locker room, ignoring the stench of man.

"Who's there?" A voice spoke in the distance.

Your heels clicked against the concrete floor as you came around the corner, frowning at the sight of flooding water and empty bottles scattered across the room.

"You?"

You found Riccardo Calafiori seated on a bench, raising his head from his hands at the sight of you.

"Surely, you'll get in trouble for this." You said, referring to the broken whiteboard that lay before his feet.

"Is that supposed to make me laugh or something?" He leaned back against the wall, regarding you with obvious irritation.

"It's time for your interviews." You said, short and firmly. You were told to keep things professional, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

"And they picked you to come with me?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No." He grinned, spitfully so. "Do I have to wait for the others to finish, or do I have priority?"

"No priority. Your red card during the game assured that."

Something darkened in his eyes, causing a shiver to run down your spine. However, with a deep breath, he stood, letting out a sigh. "Fair enough." You followed him with your gaze as he made his way past you, only to come to a stop at the door. "Are you coming?"

You were happily surprised to escort Riccardo to the press conference room. Perhaps people did change?

"So..." You said, offering a quick brief of what's to come. "They'll most likely ask about the red card."

"Of course they will"

"Just cut the answer short by moving on to the next question."

"Got it."

"And if you're asked about the teams lack of performance lately, avoid mentioning names. Perhaps just try repeating what your team manager has said in previews interviews."

"Which is?" Riccardo had to tilt his head to look at you. A remarkable height difference between you.

"That it's natural for a team have a decline in performance arriving at the closing of a long season."

"Bullshit." He snorted.

You rolled your eyes. "Please hesitate to make remarks like that before the press."

"Why? That statement is bullshit and you know it. Everyone knows it."

"Well, it doesn't matter. The club doesn't need you under more fire after yet another questionable performance."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. So please, just do as I say."

"You mean say."

"What?"

"I think you meant to say, please say as I say."

The dent between your brows couldn't be more evident. And all you got was a smug smile in return.

"Moving on..." You said. Muffled voices could be heard from inside of the conference room. You suspected there to be a full house of journalists just waiting to get their hands on a hot-headed player that'll give them something to write about. "Just don't say anything stupid, please."

"You think I'm stupid?"

"No." You cringed. "Okay, yes. Sometimes." It was hard not to.

"Great."

"But it doesn't matter what I think of you. What matters is what the press thinks of the team. That's why all players have to be united in the opinion that the manager expresses."

"An opinion that's bullshit." He pushed open the door, immediately setting off a sea of flashing camera as he marched into the room and took a seat in one of the empty chairs. As the room settled down, all you could do was take your seat somewhere in the back row. Ignoring the darting eyes of your boss who, like you, could sense a disaster coming.

"Riccardo, why the red cards, are you a collector now?"

The first question was quite arrogant, even to you. However, Riccardo handled himself quite professionally, discarding the smug journalist.

"No. I prefer Pokémon. Next question."

Laughter sparked the room, to which the journalist was seated and another rose to his feet.

"Mario Canet." The man said, presenting himself.  "I have two questions: what do you think of the teams' chances next season, and will you still be here to fulfill them?"

"There's forsure potential and frankly I don't know."

A quiet murmur rose in the room, with several journalist exchanging looks of surprise.

"So you are considering leaving Bologna next season?" Said the next standing journalist, replacing the last one.

"There has been talks, yes." Riccardo confirmed. All you could do was bite your nails.

"With what teams? If you don't mind me asking?"

You failed to hear Riccardo's reply, as rapid movement appered in the corner of your eye.

"Whatta hell is he doing?" You boss plotted down in the vacant seat next to you. His face was flushed red, and his forhead once again dabbed with sweat. "Didn't you advise him to keep it short?"

"I...I did. I men I tried to but...."

"No buts. If this goes south both your and my job is on the line, got it?"

"Gotcha." All you could do was fall back in your chair, hoping, no praying that Riccardo Calafiori wasn't the man the world has made him out to be.

"I won't be taking any more questions about my future. I'm here to discuss the game." He said, which lit a match of hope within you. However, it was quickly blown out with the following questions.

"Back to the game then. How does it feel to be voted one of the least compatible defenders in the world."

"Oh, fuck off."

You bowed your head, imagining that you hadn't just witnessed Riccardo knock down a dozen microphones before storming out of the press conference. The journalists seemed at awe for the mare second before pens were put to paper, and everyone started scrambling down the next headline of their articles.

"Yeah, forget about that five percent raise." Your boss said and got up to desperately clean up the mess you made. "And don't bother coming into work tomorrow, you hear?"

"Gotcha."

Part 1 Part 3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

One of America’s most corporate-crime-friendly bankruptcy judges forced to recuse himself

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

"I’ll believe corporations are people when Texas executes one." The now-famous quip from Robert Reich cuts to the bone of corporate personhood. Corporations are people with speech rights. They are heat-shields that absorb liability on behalf of their owners and managers.

But the membrane separating corporations from people is selectively permeable. A corporation is separate from its owners, who are not liable for its deeds – but it can also be "closely held," and so inseparable from those owners that their religious beliefs can excuse their companies from obeying laws they don't like:

https://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/2014/10/13/hobby-lobby-and-closely-held-corporations/

Corporations – not their owners – are liable for their misdeeds (that's the "limited liability" in "limited liablity corporation"). But owners of a murderous company can hold their victims' families hostage and secure bankruptcies for their companies that wipe out their owners' culpability – without any requirement for the owners to surrender their billions to the people they killed and maimed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Corporations are, in other words, a kind of Schroedinger's Cat for impunity: when it helps the ruling class, corporations are inseparable from their owners; when that would hinder the rich and powerful, corporations are wholly distinct entities. They exist in a state of convenient superposition that collapses only when a plutocrat opens the box and decides what is inside it. Heads they win, tails we lose.

Key to corporate impunity is the rigged bankruptcy system. "Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid," so every successful civilization has some system for discharging debt, or it risks collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/bankruptcy-protects-fake-people-brutalizes-real-ones/

When you or I declare bankruptcy, we have to give up virtually everything and endure years (or a lifetime) of punitive retaliation based on our stained credit records, and even then, our student debts continue to haunt us, as do lawless scumbag debt-collectors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

When a giant corporation declares bankruptcy, by contrast, it emerges shorn of its union pension obligations and liabilities owed to workers and customers it abused or killed, and continues merrily on its way, re-offending at will. Big companies have mastered the Texas Two-Step, whereby a company creates a subsidiary that inherits all its liabilities, but not its assets. The liability-burdened company is declared bankrupt, and the company's sins are shriven at the bang of a judge's gavel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

Three US judges oversee the majority of large corporate bankruptcies, and they are so reliable in their deference to this scheme that an entire industry of high-priced lawyers exists solely to game the system to ensure that their clients end up before one of these judges. When the Sacklers were seeking to abscond with their billions in opioid blood-money and stiff their victims' families, they set their sights on Judge Robert Drain in the Southern District of New York:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/23/a-bankrupt-process/#sacklers

To get in front of Drain, the Sacklers opened an office in White Plains, NY, then waited 192 days to file bankruptcy papers there (it takes six months to establish jurisdiction). Their papers including invisible metadata that identified the case as destined for Judge Drain's court, in a bid to trick the court's Case Management/Electronic Case Files system to assign the case to him.

The case was even pre-captioned "RDD" ("Robert D Drain"), to nudge clerks into getting their case into a friendly forum.

If the Sacklers hadn't opted for Judge Drain, they might have set their sights on the Houston courthouse presided over by Judge David Jones, the second of of the three most corporate-friendly large bankruptcy judges. Judge Jones is a Texas judge – as in "Texas Two-Step" – and he has a long history of allowing corporate murderers and thieves to escape with their fortunes intact and their victims penniless:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#shoppers-choice

But David Jones's reign of error is now in limbo. It turns out that he was secretly romantically involved with Elizabeth Freeman, a leading Texas corporate bankruptcy lawyer who argues Texas Two-Step cases in front of her boyfriend, Judge David Jones.

Judge Jones doesn't deny that he and Freeman are romantically involved, but said that he didn't think this fact warranted disclosure – let alone recusal – because they aren't married and "he didn't benefit economically from her legal work." He said that he'd only have to disclose if the two owned communal property, but the deed for their house lists them as co-owners:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24032507-general-warranty-deed

(Jones claims they don't live together – rather, he owns the house and pays the utility bills but lets Freeman live there.)

Even if they didn't own communal property, judges should not hear cases where one of the parties is represented by their long term romantic partner. I mean, that is a weird sentence to have to type, but I stand by it.

The case that led to the revelation and Jones's stepping away from his cases while the Fifth Circuit investigates is a ghastly – but typical – corporate murder trial. Corizon is a prison healthcare provider that killed prisoners with neglect, in the most cruel and awful ways imaginable. Their families sued, so Corizon budded off two new companies: YesCare got all the contracts and other assets, while Tehum Care Services got all the liabilities:

https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/prominent-bankruptcy-judge-david-jones-033801325.html

Then, Tehum paid Freeman to tell her boyfriend, Judge Jones, to let it declare bankruptcy, leaving $173m for YesCare and allocating $37m for the victims suing Tehum. Corizon owes more than $1.2b, "including tens of millions of dollars in unpaid invoices and hundreds of malpractice suits filed by prisoners and their families who have alleged negligent care":

https://www.kccllc.net/tehum/document/2390086230522000000000041

Under the deal, if Corizon murdered your family member, you would get $5,000 in compensation. Corizon gets to continue operating, using that $173m to prolong its yearslong murder spree.

The revelation that Jones and Freeman are lovers has derailed this deal. Jones is under investigation and has recused himself from his cases. The US Trustee – who represents creditors in bankruptcy cases – has intervened to block the deal, calling Tehum "a barren estate, one that was stripped of all of its valuable assets as a result of the combination and divisional mergers that occurred prior to the bankruptcy filing."

This is the third high-profile sleazy corporate bankruptcy that had victory snatched from the jaws of defeat this year: there was Johnson and Johnson's attempt to escape from liability from tricking women into powder their vulvas with asbestos (no, really), the Sacklers' attempt to abscond with billions after kicking off the opioid epidemic that's killed 800,000+ Americans and counting, and now this one.

This one might be the most consequential, though – it has the potential to eliminate one third of the major crime-enabling bankruptcy judges serving today.

One down.

Two to go.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[elvisvideos]

A small clip of Elvis's Press Conference at the Claridge Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee. This wasn't thought to be filmed but evidently some of it was. This is a perfect example of private collectors hoarding footage that was not known to exist. This footage belongs to Peter Schmidt who strikes youtube channels for uploading footage that anyone can buy. He had a youtube channel at one time and this clip was something he shared. Peter is known for taking down Elvis channels on Youtube that upload Elvis footage. He's the world's largest private Elvis footage collector and is extremely stingy. He's hated in the Elvis community and imo rightfully so. February 25, 1961

[transfloridaresources]

Today (05/06/24), 4:30pm, Orlando

[Photo ID: Pink to white gradient image with various logos and info boxes. Text reads: 'Save the date: May 6th 4:30pm. Press Conference. 5205 South Orange Avenue - Orlando, FL 32809. Not one step back! Identification for all! Not one step back. Every Floridian. Every Identity. Every ID.' Logos for Orlando for Gender Equality, Free Mom Hugs, Inc., Dream Defenders, Zebra Youth, Come Out with Pride Orlando, HRC Orlando / Central Florida, Spektrum Health, The Center Orlando, GLSEN Central Florida, HOPE CC. /End ID]

[Photo ID: White box with rainbow border. Text reads: 'Statement on DMV Policy Change. LGBTQ+ advocates from around the state organized and mobilized in great numbers this past legislative session. Through actions like protests, letter-writings, die-ins, and more, we defeated 21 out of 22 anti-LGBTQ+ bills attempting to move through the Florida legislature. One of these bills, HB 1639, sponsored by local representative Doug Bankson, was particularly egregious. It sought to redefine "sex" in a way that excludes transgender, non-binary, and intersex people, and to prohibit a person's state identification documents from reflecting their gender identity. As the bill was heading towards its downfall in the legislature, the Deputy Executive Director, Robert Kynoch, of the Florida Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles (FLHSMV) released a memo to county tax collectors in late January rescinding previous department policy (IR08 - Gender Requirements), which allowed for Florida residents to change the gender marker on their ID to accurately reflect their gender identity. The memo wrongly excludes gender identity from "sex" in an effort to subvert the democratic process to redefine sex - and prohibit gender marker amendments - absent legislative authority. In a similar way, the legislature continued its attacks on the rights of immigrants and people experiencing homelessness in the form of HB 1451. This bill, which passed and was signed into law by DeSantis, restricts the acceptance of community IDs issued by community organizations to immigrants and individuals experiencing homelessness. Community IDs are essential for demonstrating that a person is a resident and member of a given community. It is already tremendously difficult for these groups to acquire valid identification, and this law imposes yet another barrier to identification.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: White box with rainbow border. Text reads: 'Statement on DMV Policy Change. Accurate identification is a human right; we must demand access to legal authenticity for all. Advocates for transgender individuals, immigrants, and people experiencing homelessness must stand together in the fight for equitable access to accurate identification. We demand that the FLHSMV restore their previous IR08-Gender Requirements policy to ensure that transgender people can obtain accurate IDs. Furthermore, we demand that legislatures take action to protect trans people's ability to obtain accurate identification as well as protect the acceptance of community IDs. Join us for a rally and press conference at SPEKTRUM Health (5205 South Orange Avenue) on May 6th at 4:30pm! WE CANNOT LET THEM TAKE US ONE STEP BACK! Signed, Orlando for Gender Equality, GLSEN Central Florida, HRC Orlando/Central Florida, SPEKTRUM Health, HOPE CC, PRISM, Zebra Youth, Youth Action Fund, Central Floridians for Social Equality, Justice Advocacy Network, Voices of Florida Fund/Women's Voices of Southwest Florida, UCF Students for a Democratic Society, Central Florida Queers for Palestine, LGBT+ Center Orlando, Inc., Come Out with Pride, Free Mom Hugs, Inc., Dream Defenders, Corey Hill, Vance Ahrens, candidate State Senate District 19, Amy Phillips, Beverly Washington, Orlando Drag Queen.' /End ID]

[mariacallous]

California Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a bill Monday aimed at advancing the restitution of Nazi-looted art, as well as personal property stolen during the Holocaust and other eras of political persecution.

The legislation is a response to a court ruling that allowed a work by Camille Pissarro to remain in a Spanish museum instead of returning to the heirs of its original owners. The 1897 painting, called “Rue Saint-Honoré in the Afternoon, Effect of Rain,” belonged to Fritz and Lilly Cassirer, a Jewish couple who sold it under duress to escape the Nazis.

The painting by Pissarro, a French Jewish impressionist, now hangs in the Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza in Madrid. The museum has claimed ownership of the work under a “finders keepers” law of property ownership that is unique to Spain.

In January, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals was instructed to decide the case according to California state law. But it ruled that, even according to California, Spain’s legal system took precedence. “Rue Saint-Honoré,” according to that decision, belonged to the museum.

The new California law, signed at Los Angeles’ Holocaust Museum, clarifies that California law should take precedence in local Holocaust art restitution cases. It allows Californians “to bring an action for damages or to recover artwork or personal property, as defined, that was stolen or otherwise lost as the result of political persecution.”

According to the law, “California substantive law shall apply in actions to recover fine art,” and that “the true owner cannot be divested of ownership without actual discovery of their rights in, and the location and possessor of, the artwork.”

The legislation could send the decades-long ownership dispute over the Pisarro painting back to the courts — and award the painting to the Cassirers’ descendants.

“As a Holocaust survivor, the proudest day of my father’s life was in 1947, when he became a U.S. citizen,” David Cassirer, grandson of Fritz and Lilly Cassirer, told the LA Times. “He would be so happy, and grateful, that the people of the state of California have taken action to ensure the return of looted art to its rightful owners.”

Spain is one of the original 44 international signatories of the Washington Principles, a 1998 framework for restituting artwork stolen during the Holocaust. In 2018, Stuart Eizenstadt, the Secretary of State’s special advisor on Holocaust issues, named Spain as one of five countries that fell short on its commitment to the Washington Principles.

Authorities in New York City and around the world have made renewed efforts in recent years to restitute art that was sold under duress due to Nazi persecution. Earlier this year, 21 countries agreed to new standards in art restitution at a conference marking the 25th anniversary of the Washington Principles.

“Restitution is important, not just to get people their property back, but because it is a way to examine the true realities of the Holocaust and keep those facts in the public consciousness,” Sam Dubbin, an attorney representing the Cassirer family, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “It’s stolen property. It’s the Holocaust, which makes it 1,000 times worse, but it’s still fundamentally stolen property. And no one should be able to keep stolen property.”

The oil painting was bought directly from Camille Pissarro by German Jewish industrialist and art collector Julius Cassirer, who passed it down to his son Fritz and his wife Lilly. Lilly was forced to sell the painting under duress in 1939 for about $360 at the time in order to obtain an exit visa for England. The money was then deposited into a bank account that she was not permitted to access.

The painting made its way around the world over the next several decades, eventually landing in the collection of Baron Heinrich Thyssen-Bornemisza, a Swiss art collector and the heir to a German steel fortune. Thyssen-Bornemisza sold his collection to the Kingdom of Spain in 1993, which established a foundation and museum in Spain in his name.

The Museo Thyssen did not respond to a request for comment.

After he learned of the location of the Pissarro painting, the couple’s sole heir, Claude Cassirer, sued for its return in 2005. He died five years later, and now his son David, his daughter Ava’s estate and the Jewish Federation of San Diego County are handling the case.

“For survivors of the Holocaust and their families, the fight to take back ownership of art and other personal items stolen by the Nazis continues to traumatize those who have already gone through the unimaginable,” Newsom said Monday. “It is both a moral and legal imperative that these valuable and sentimental pieces be returned to their rightful owners, and I am proud to strengthen California’s laws to help secure justice for families.”

[salvadorbonaparte]

2024 in Films - Part III

I watched a lot of stuff again, some even for grad school.

August

Lola Rennt (1998) - banger soundtrack and editing

Vertigo (1958) - the most boring of the Hitchcock films I've seen so far

A League of Their Own (1992) - makes me want to watch baseball

White Men Can't Jump (1992) - did not expect jeopardy to be so important in this film, also loved the fashion

The Fall Guy (2024) - my mum loves the original series so we had to watch this and I had an amazing time

Blinded by the Light (2019) - the dialogue is strange at times but a banger soundtrack (obviously) and some amazing editing, very uplifting and I watched this on my flight to the US btw

Good Will Hunting (1997) - I watched this during my first week in Massachusetts before starting grad school here

Alien3 (1992) - this film says so much about gender, actually

Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears (1973) - taking lots of liberties with Texan history and also surprising homoerotic subtext

September

Causeway (2022) - a film that I originally only found meh but then kept thinking about all the time

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) - equally blood libel as the og with an added bonus of cycle of violence, might write an essay about this

Sleepaway Camp (1983) - another horror film that says so much about gender and I could write an entire essay about it

My Best Fiend (1999) - Werner Herzog must be studied under a microscope

We're All Going to the World's Fair (2021) - not as good as I saw the tv glow imo but asking some important questions about online communities and reality

Jacob the Liar (1974) - the film felt a little too empty but I also don't want to say something negative because I am still angry about a bad review I saw

Chris Grace: As Scarlett Johansson (2024) - absolutely transformed the way I think about stand up comedy

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) - the old lie dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

The Shock (1923) - as ableist and racist as you expect from the 20s but with a great performance from Lon Chaney

Trap (2024) - I actually really enjoyed this, even though I was waiting for an even crazier plot twist

Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll (2014) - a documentary that nearly made me cry

Hudson Hawk (1991) - technically a rewatch but I need to speak my truth and it's that I like this film

All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) - I have so many issues that this would take an entire post or even conference paper

The Russians Are Coming! The Russians are Coming! (1966) - had me in stitches half the time, I love a good cold war comedy

The Bone Collector (1999) - spooky!

Monkey Shines (1988) - also horror and gender but also silly

Death in Venice (1971) - boring :/

October

UPSIDEdown (2013) - I watched this one twice, once with the director, also had lunch and coffee with him, I had an issue at first with how child protection service is portrayed but that part is apparently real, also he cast a neurodivergent kid, which is awesome

The Master (2012) - I love when men are also poorly trained attack dogs, also can you imagine sending that guy to the cult from Midsommar? Also still haunted by Philip Seymour Hoffman

Like Stars on Earth (2007) - neurodivergent kids need neurodivergent role models!!!

The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum (1975) - I have so much to say about this tbh

Farewell Disco (1990) - at first I found this kinda boring but then I was also enchanted by the inclusion of Sorbian culture

The Kangaroo Conspiracy (2022) - just read the books

November (so far)

Srikanth (2024) - fairly standard biopic, meanders a bit but solid soundtrack and performance

Innocent Witness (2019) - this one impressed me so much I recommended it to multiple people, also I'm an autistic person who is besties with my lawyer so bonus points for that, I could talk a lot about this too

Hunt (2022) - Probably less confusing if you know more about Korean history, fun plot twist and imo some homoerotic tension

Scarlett Innocence (2014) - tbh I didn't even watch the whole thing because I don't go for erotic thrillers, I just watched the scenes where Jung Woo Sung is a poor little meow meow

Inseperable Bros (2019) - some dialogue was a bit awkward but that might have been the translation, I like that this was about interabled platonic relationships

Remember You (2016) - the first plot twist is predictable as hell but the second one hit me in the face like a brick

The Childe (2023) - Kim Seon-ho has the range (creepy and babygirl) (covered in blood and coughing up blood)

The Good The Bad The Weird (2008) - not only the best western I've ever seen but also one of the best films I've seen this year at all

Sympathy for Mr Vengeance (2002) - very unsatisfying, but in a good way

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 10 - Jagged Lines

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Horizon.   Thank you so much to @sinvraal for being an amazing beta!

Chapter 10: Jagged Lines | Read on Ao3

11 December 2185, Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System, Normandy SR-2

Shepard comes out of his briefing with the Illusive Man a different person than when he went in. Cold, brusque, locked on a target only he can see, like a grenade without a pin. Jacob takes up position on the far side of the conference room table. As if that will somehow minimize the splash damage.

“Seems like we got something,” Jacob observes, as Miranda, Dr. Solus, Vakarian, Massani, and even Jack file in and take up places around the table, where a projection of a planet Jacob isn’t familiar with rotates slowly. Only the krogan is missing.

“Colony in the Traverse lost comms an hour ago.” Shepard speaks into the comm. “Joker, I need a course laid in to get us to the Iera System in Shadow Sea. Right now.”

Jack leans a hip against the table, twirling a mote of dark energy through her fingers, about as far from Miranda as Jacob is from Shepard. If squad cohesion is the goal, Shepard’s got some work to do.

“Uh, that’s a tall order, sir. Iera isn’t exactly next door.”

“I don’t give a shit, Joker. Get me there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“EDI, I need everything you have on the planet Horizon.”

“Downloading requested information to shore party datapads.”   

Jacob flips on his own datapad and opens EDI’s freshly delivered file to do a quick skim. For several of the colony abductions, Freedom’s Progress included, comm failure had been the first sign of trouble. But by the time the silence had been noticed, attempts made to raise them, and scout ships deployed to investigate, they had been far too late to even see a collector, much less stop them.

The Illusive Man had set up monitoring programs for virtually every human colony in the Traverse. Seemed like a monumental amount of resources to spend on what amounted to looking for a needle in a haystack.

…Unless you actually find the needle.

“Long range scans from the Illusive Man don’t show anything in orbit,” Shepard goes on. “We’re going to do our damndest to get there before the collectors make their move.”

Pipe dream, Jacob thinks. He skims through the data. “Population’s over six hundred thousand. If this really is the collectors, it’s the largest colony they’ve hit yet. Could mean numbers.”

“We’ll adapt,” Shepard says flatly.

Miranda taps a nail against the conference room table. At the rate she speed reads, she’s probably already through most of the report. “It has to be the collectors. Human colony in the Traverse, independent from Alliance control. They’re a perfect target. This could be our chance to test the countermeasure and gather some intel on what they’re doing with these colonists.”

“And save more people from abduction,” Jacob prods.

“Of course.”

Solus paces back and forth from his spot beside Shepard, three paces each direction. “Countermeasure ready to be tested. However, if seeker swarm density exceeds test models—”

Shepard cuts him off with a scowl. “We’ll adapt.”

Jack folds her arms across her chest. She hasn’t touched her datapad. “What’ll they give us in a fight?”

“We know they have at least one ship capable of taking out a frigate without breaking a sweat,” Jacob replies. “As for the rest, guess we’re about to find out.”

Garrus swipes at the holo projection of Horizon on the conference table, the reticle of his visor flickering as he adjusts the HUD interface. A rendering of the main colony site map takes the place of the planet. He points a talon at something on the southeastern perimeter. It flashes red.

“Since when do independent human colonies have Alliance AA guns?”

Shepard’s iron gaze flicks away. “Since a few weeks ago, apparently.”

“Is Alliance on the ground?”

The gravity well does a somersault. Jacob’s eye twitches. Like nails on a chalkboard.

“Yes.”   

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Attention To All My Elvis Presley Family And Elvis Presley Friends On And Everybody In General On Tumblr;

Just Making You All Aware There Is A Leaked B/W Photo Of Elvis Presley Not A Nice Photo Of Him Deceased That The Funeral Undertakers In Memphis Tennessee Took Of Him Out Of Respect To For The Love And Respect I Cannot Even Though Ive Seen It Myself Ever Post Anything That Some Evil Sicko As Already Posted It And Shared Sadly You Are Always Going To Get Sick And Twisted People Who Do Things Like This They Probably Arent Even A Fan Or A EP Collector But Out Of My Love And My Greatest Respect For The Man The Music The Legend And The Legendary Elvis Aaron Presley 1935-1977 I Could Never Ever Disrespect Is Timeless Memory.

Rare Elvis Presley Candid Photo MDSQ Gardens Press Conference June ' 1972

[harrisonarchive]

Footage from The Beatles’ Sydney press conference (with Jimmie Nicol), June 11, 1964. Remembering John on what would be his 83rd birthday.

“[George] made lovely jokes at his own expense, sending himself up for being young. I gave them all their Christmas presents one year, all wrapped up. John opened his first and it was an Olympia Press version of the Marquis de Sade. George picked up his and said, ‘What’s in mine then, comics?’” - Astrid Kirchherr, The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968) “His humor. Lennon was incredibly funny. Sarcastic, bitter. That was what I liked most about him. And of course his musicality, that‘a obvious. But when you were with him, it was always a lot of fun. George Harrison’s humor, by the way, was very, very similar. Very Liverpool. George is known as the quiet Beatle — he wasn’t quiet at all. He could be cross and biting, and also very sarcastic. It was just that nobody noticed.” - Klaus Voormann (in response to the question, “What is your most formative memory of John Lennon?”), translated from Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 2009 “[John Lennon] was a history, he was a trivia collector, a concerned man, but also very flippant as well. Cruel and generous. George would say he’d give you anything off the walls. So would George.” - Derek Taylor, Ticket To Ride (1989) “When we were doing this record [for Cloud Nine] ‘When We Was Fab,’ I thought a lot about John, because he wrote, I think, the best Beatles songs that I can think of — like ‘Walrus,’ ‘Glass Onion,’ and ‘Strawberry Fields.’ Those obvious John-songs. You know, I miss that side. I miss that in music, when I listen to other records. There’s nobody who does anything that’s that neat; that fun and unusual and sarcastic and loving… he was great, he was brilliant, and he was a great soul. Still is.” - George Harrison, Guitar World, April 1988 (x)

[mcheang]

Spot the difference

When Zoe and Alya become replacement heroes, Marinette could have told the kwamis to pass on the message to avoid wearing the rings! Except she was kinda depressed and their decision had been a shock to her.

However as she went to visit Alya to congratulate her, she also had a list of things to beware and avoid, among which was the alliance ring.

Alya dismisses Marinette’s concern, reluctant to give up the latest technical fad and unable to think of an explanation for even doing that. Besides, does Marinette know how much these things cost?

After the events of Deflagration, Marinette, Alya, Tikki and Plagg are curious how Monarch discovered their secret identities so quickly.

What is the difference between Marinette and Alya? Could it really be the alliance ring?

Plagg: actually, now that you mention it, Chat Noir doesn’t wear an alliance ring, but Kitty does.

Everyone is stunned.

Alya hesitantly says, “And Kouki wore 5 alliance rings on his hands, Nora was complaining to me about him being such a spendthrift. That was the only time we faced an akuma with the powers of 5 miraculous. Did the other akumas wear multiple alliance rings?”

Marinette: no.

Alya said what everyone must be thinking. “So the alliance rings are how Monarch transfers the powers of the kwami.”

Tikki: you think Gabriel might be Monarch after all?

Marinette: i don’t want to think it could be true, but we can’t discount the possibility. I know he was the Collector before but the arrival of Mayura means he has at least one ally who could akumatize him on his behalf.

Alya: it is too much of a coincidence that Gabriel should be akumatized right after he loses the grimoire, the most incriminating clue that would lead to Hawkmoth.

Plagg: if Gabriel really is Monarch, there’s only one way to know for sure. He’ll have my mark on him after the wax museum.

Alya: right…how are we going to see Gabriel’s arm? A vaccine?

Marinette: not to mention, i am certain that Monarch would want to hide such a clue with makeup.

Plagg: there’s only one way to know for sure. A spy mission. Send me Marinette, no offense but out of all of you, I blend in the most easily.

Alya: right, then how do you explain kwami buster?

Tikki, who knows Plagg knows the Agreste mansion best of them all, speaks up. “No, he’s right. We need to send in Plagg.”

Marinette twiddled her fingers. “Especially since the Resistance’s last plan with Gabriel epically failed.”

Plagg avoids meeting Adrien, knowing he won’t take kindly to his father being accused again. But he really goes all out in exploring the house. He does more than sneak into Gabriel and Nathalie’s rooms, he searches for hidden lairs and vaults. He finds Monarch’s lair easily enough, and his captured friends!

Plagg reports this to Marinette. Grimly, she starts planning. “Gabriel must be hiding the rings under his gloves.”

Alya: what are you going to do now?

Marinette: I’m going to arrest Monarch in the last place he expects. When do you think Gabriel is making his next public appearance?

Alya: uh…no clue. I’m still surprised he went to the parent teacher conference.

Marinette: we need more heads. Plagg, you can go to Chat and-

Plagg: actually, it might be better if you leave Chat out of this.

Marinette: why?

Plagg: I can’t say.

A pause before they move on.

Alya: what if Adrien has his friends over, is that enough of a public setting for you?

Marinette nodded. It will do, but I have to ambush him easily.

Alya: you can count on the resistance.

Sure enough, Alya knocks Gabriel unconscious and lets Ladybug in through the window. Adrien is stunned when Ladybug exposes his father as the villain.

As the resistance stands watch over the bound villain, Ladybug summons her lucky charm to find his lair.

She frees the kwamis. Gabriel is arrested but there is still the question of who Mayura is, either Tomoe or Nathalie. Anyway, they are both taken into custody where Nooroo happily outs them.

Adrien then has to move away to Paris after the public backlash and stay with his aunt. Plagg offers the miraculous again but Adrien politely declines, instead promising to help recover the Peacock from his cousin should he show his face again.