[maya-lang-blog]

vincent-brewer

Vincent felt a little intimidated by the cop. Nothing too bad, just this weird unsettling feeling that this person could fuck Vincent up, if he said something that was out of whack.

It was mostly the smile xe gave. Vincent shifted a little in his seat, raising his eyebrow a little when xe finally spoke. “Hm?” Vincent watched xer straighten xerself out, before perking up himself trying to keep a good impression. He noted the wince, hoping that it could tell him something about the person in front of him. Something useful, he hoped.

And something useful he got.

“Yes. Uh, yeah sure. I could drive you around. Like, a ride home or like a patrol thing?” He put his hands up. “Not that it really matters, I’m cool with both. Just wondering. But, yeah it’d be no problem.” He smiled. “I’ll happily be your friend and do that for ya. No favor needed.” He stuck his hand out for xer.

“Patrol. Then home.”

Maya shook Vincent’s hand. For someone who looked near death’s shuffle, the cop’s skin felt warm to the touch, fresh trimmed nails making a gentle clip on the back of civilian’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

--

8:52 PM

Xe fiddled with the radio knobs. Bluegrass. Weepy strains of violin. Indie fodder. Something called Mumford and Sons struck up blearily. 

At xer behest, they were taken at a steady cruise around various blocks. Slow enough like they were checking address numbers, steady glance overs to morbid tunes about yard weeds and finality.

Hairline crack of a yawn. No energy to change the station.

“Vincent,” said Maya, slowly. Odorless feet’ve been on the dashboard, kind of socks you wear beneath heels so they don’t show. “What’s your childhood been? Parts like these--” Prodding the window panorama. “--How’s it get?”

[maya-lang-blog]

marymckinncy

Mary laughed good naturedly as she said, “Yes, I got the American. What brings an American officer to England? Vacation?” She pleasantly guided the officer out of the tavern and out into the street, where the humid city air made Mary’s clothes stick to her skin. As Officer Lang had said, they were approaching a suburban area that practically screamed Mary, from her hairdo to her nice shoes.

“It sounds like a dirty job,” Mary said conversationally, with a small suppressed smile. “I like you too, Miss Officer. My name is Mary, and my deal is I feel much safer with a police officer walking with me to my home.” Even though xe is the inebriated one and Mary was not. Oh, well.

Vacation?

A wall slid. Look at that plane of face and don’t say conversation didn’t turn out a hitchhike leg, bated and waited. Maya rubbed xer eyes. 

“Between you and me, Mary,” spoked up solemn, prong-tongue gone from lotus eater to fork tines. It was that serious. 

“Dirty job doesn’t poke the surface. Newspapers won’t cover it. Internet gets locked up tight as Tienanmen Square.”

Brush that fine lock aside, graze an earlobe with ticklish breath. 

“You posed a very good question. I need you to hear me. Don’t talk about it. Even most police can’t get wind of this, but I said I like you.” Night crows in traffic. Suburbia, languid-limbed suburbiana, hear up what Maya funnels to Mary’s ear.

“I’m in England because the married wives are miles prettier.”

Cackles rang tinny-straight in the pretty pale fold of Mary’s ear.

[maya-lang-blog]

ofstripisms

There’s a sudden change in the other sitting beside her that Allegra doesn’t expect. It catches her off guard, and her brows knit with obvious confusion. She sees something filter across the other’s features, though Allegra can’t exactly figure out what it is.

Clearly it’s upsetting the other, though, for the jacket is collected in a swift movement, and there’s a moment of indecision from the brunette. But then her hand comes out, lightly catching the other’s arm. The grip isn’t tight, easily brushed off if it’s unwelcome, but Allegra doesn’t feel right just letting the other walk away. There’s tiniest hint of guilt and she wonders if she’s done anything wrong.

“Hey,” Her voice is gentle, though her brow is still furrowed slightly. “Are you okay?” Maybe it’s not her place to ask, but Allegra cares, and she can’t help herself.

Barked out: “Don’t.” 

Trembling arm wrenching away and it comes to hang loosely by the side. How do youpick up anythingofthe body in a state likethis, likethis you are so much filmy brightlight on a hard wire jaw. 

Get out, streetside feet pound foot pounds on to see the streetlight red hand stop walking. 

[maya-lang-blog]

ante-up-felix

And just like that, the light heart and the humor were neatly filed away and replaced with sudden seriousness. Maya wouldn’t be moved by the sweeping chill, he was sure; xe’d seen this side of him in prior meetings, and anyways, it had taken a mugging to see xer waste a furrowed brow on him. Even then, there had been neither doubt nor shock at the realization of which slim hand had directed crackling hairline fractures and purple-yellow ribbing.

Xe’d get enough to chew on with those flaked out, yellow wrecks of teeth. Nothing more from his now-pursed lips.

Hands folded, spadelike, mouth suddenly small and flat, Felix wore the skin of a true negotiator like a fifteenth century wolfskin. One finger in the air, swirling up at the high, foux-weathered beams of the ceiling. A smooth white fan creaked above, tilting oddly at every third turn as if straining to slice away at smooth fingernails and thin, pink knuckles.

“First : I want immunity.” Whatever hitch in xer throat, whatever exception, he’d cut it off at the next bend. “I don’t just mean overlooking anything you might dredge up from the past. I mean I need you to cover my means to an end. You find a way to guarantee that if the hand of justice ever makes a grab for my fine ass, it gets slapped away by the wrist.”

“Second : “ And now, stiff antennae, V-d into the air at an angle. There was a stiffness in the gesture, something juvenile– an elementary school threat, like… if xer eyes stiffened with malice he’d see them rolling out over the floor. Or maybe more high schoollevel. ‘I’m watching you.’

“I need transparency from now on. No calling cute secretaries behind my back, yeah?” The smile he wore was very, very cold.

“I need to know what you’re planning. I need to know everything you know. I am half the surveillance on these streets, but the little insights that mean shit all to you might complete jigsaws for me.”

A third finger now, and a thaw in the jawline. “And, third : I want a plus one.” The smile was back now, smarmy as ever, and he slipped into a relaxed, almost amused repose against the back of his wicker chair.

“You know, for a special someone. Blood immunity– covenant shit to help me get what we both need.” It was always nice to have a bargaining chip. Xe’d understand, he was sure.

Of course, xe would probably slam him with at at least 40% ‘Hell No’. But it was good to have a track record. The better he understood xer objections, the better he could play xer for approval. There was plenty of time to change one’s mind, and anyways– if things got too tricky, if things stalled any, he could always find a way to pit the whole situation against Howarth.

“Promise me all this, and I can bring you a haul the likes of which London has never seen, Lang.”

Never knew about fuses until Stidolph pulled that V-fingers. Some kind of relief. If he wants to stoop to low gestures, xe gets to eat.

“Waiter!” hollered Maya. Raptor-like hands gestured for a menu that promptly shunted between sweaty fingers.

Scanning furiously, xe ordered: “Minted lobster salad, avocado spring rolls, enh. .” Hasty nail ticks switched to the back page. “With a bottle of raspberry- “ 

Check the menu again to really confirm that’s what it’s called. Should be rich people soda, right? $6.50 a pop. 

“. . .Organic raspberry effervescence. Thanks. He’ll cover it.” Licks xer chapped lips. “He made me super sweaty in like, ten minutes, so please. Gimme refills when I need.” The waiter processed this statement and brisked off in a lidded smirk.

Gruffly, to Felix: “I should bring Ms. Dahl here. You got deep pockets. I need a better knowledge of her boss’ working schedule. Impressions on his workers, see if he collaborates with anyone else. Who he meets, those he puts aside from scheduling. There. It’s your second point.”

Xe took time to close xer eyes. Forehead tilted down, gentle bobs on shoulders for air in, out. Drink arrives. Maya sips. Sip slugs into coughing. 

He’ll pay for this, so drink up; drink deep. 

Swig it back without tasting. Carbonation rips down a tender, thirsty throat. Emptied out, the waiter (sensing a lush tip) immediately tops it off.  

Tailwind of a belch, Maya adds, “First point, you’ll see Michael. Not my policing specialty; he might handle you. Third one, you have someone in mind, sounds like. You want it to be Michael?”

[dichenlachmandaily]

dichenlachman: Don’t mess with Jill#Sunday #Punch flash back, a little short from #2009.

[ymcbtt-13]

(x)

[cassolotl]

But I know what I am, They know what they are So let me be

[maya-lang-blog]

Michael shrugged with good enough humor and replied, “Almost got run over by a cab on the way here, but yeah, still alive.” He gestured to the seat opposite him for Maya to sit down before making himself more comfortable.

He chuckled a bit at xer comment and was about to say something smart in response and maybe offer xer a coffee or something (his own hands tightened a bit around his Styrofoam cup). But at xer sharp question, his smile froze a little.

“Well,” he finally said. “You certainly get right down to it.” He sat back a little and admitted easily, “I wouldn’t say fraternize, but yes, I do speak to them, drink with them, and the like – but, I mean, I don’t go on heists with them.” 

About to speak, punctured exhalation is what tufts out of Maya after hearing his last bit. Noise xe makes, it’s some unbated breath noise: Hh-ihhhh.

Slowly, xe put xer chin in xer hands, trickling up fingers atop plastic wrap cheeks. Expression goes inoffensively prone as packets of Splenda. 

Maya checks xer cell phone messages. Replies to an e-mail with elbows resting on the tabletop.

Abruptly gets up to go and filter through a large, bustling morning breakfast line. This takes up 12 minutes of their meeting time to place an order, swipe a number-faded debit card, and exchange polite thank yous. 

Faint clink of rubbing ice cubes, hard pits, announce xer return. Iced coffee got a plastic lid and a bright orange straw.

Xe starts drinking from that bright orange straw. Sipping noise goes schluck.

Maya glances against the face of Michael Osburn, who is a Police Officer. 

Schluck. Schluck. Schluck.

[maya-lang-blog]

Vincent watched as the person in front of him crumble a little bit. Was it something he said? If so, damn look what he did. Now that’s something to be proud of. Despite his celebratory thoughts, Vincent kept a straight face as so not to attract more unnecessary attention.

What more did xe need from him? Vincent had told xer what he claimed to know. Xe looked just as tired as he was feeling and gave off an aura that screamed “I really want to go home right now”. But that was just Vincent’s opinion which obviously didn’t matter in this given moment, considering this officer was his ticket to freedom.

He almost jumped at said officer’s sudden answer. Goddammit. Was he totally screwed? Please no. Vincent’s entire body tightened in anticipation for this person’s question.

Vincent does admit to glancing around the room to avoid eye contact with the officer, also hoping to avoid the approaching question. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he could.

Wait a minute. That’s it? Oh please.

Vincent furrowed his eyebrows in an attempt to fake his thinking process. “You know, I did hear a couple of windows breaking and some loud whispers.” He raised an eyebrow. “Mmm…something about delivering to East London?” Vincent guessed. “If that’s all you need, I’m willing to leave right now. You look like you could use some sleep, yourself.”

You look like you could use some sleep, yourself.

“Sure could.” How many teeth could a mouth flash at once? Forced, but xe sincerely felt a stir of appreciation. Rare enough sentiment. 

Done. 

No reason to think he’s anything but a wrong time, right place. Wouldn’t hurt at all to ask a little more. Guess he was just nervous the way most people were at first. 

Brushed up relief at an interview near closing, xe started stippling: “So. So, Londoner.”

Arms pulled back behind xer chair, xe hoists up xer posture. 

“We’re virtually done except for the fact that I have no one else. Everyone else here is stuck on the clock and I--” God, don’t let him dwell on that creaking wince. “--Don’t have much in the way of friends.”

Maya’s left eye involuntarily twitched twice. Jesus. Xe couldn’t sneak down the rue of how much a mess xe must look like.

“I’d owe you a favor if you could drive me around East London. Personally, favor from me to you. Catsitting, couch crashing, whatever. Show me where anything seedy might be. I don’t know the area, but I could do with your help. If you would, Vincent.” Final imploring.  

[maya-lang-blog]

Dame, damn, damned.

Your nyloned thighs rasp against the pew. 6:52 PM.

Suppress belch— church as you’ve ever seen. Tilt your chin up. Englassed Magdelene’s arms, Jesus Christ, deserved better than your butter yellowed teeth soft aglow in smile. 

Oh, Christ. Oh, Jesus. Oh oh baby.

O, Infant.

Let your profane eyes dart atop sacred ground. You want a plump thigh, but dinner’s done and winner’s won. Swing your legs off, let polyester-shrinkwrapped heat dissipate into dead air. Crackle humidity. Totter up enough your stiletto props; now stand 5’6’’ to tower over tiny cop.

There xe swings in: Maya Lang.

Your wiry prey.

[barftroop]

MARTIANS OUT NOW

PROD. MATT MARTIANS

[mary-mckinney-blog]

Mary was rather enjoying seeing the good agent drunk off xer ass, but she kept up her pleasant (if not vaguely terrified) smile and gratefully took the arm offered with a small laugh. 

“I think I’ll do without the cuffs this evening,” she said with cheer, her mood evidently set at least. “Thank you for the kind offer of taking me home.” As they strode to the entrance, she asked conversationally, “So, then, who is this good Samaritan and why does she have a pair of handcuffs handy?”

[maya-lang-blog]

Fresh air got the wallop of a blink and, it set cogs on right, down.

Wobble. Gingerly navigate around curbsides as, yes, easy on up steady. 

Missus PTA supported xer more than vice versa. In such good cheer that for all the vices and verses in the world honesty dispatched in mushroom exhalations of parachuted crates; that simple, that needed.

Clutch on that starched sleeve, pray it leaves a mark. 

“Maya Lang. Watchdog.” Uh, Borzoi. A Buzzfeed quiz said so. “Watchdog like K-9, do you get my American?”

But to be serious: “I am a police officer.” 

And: “Imbibed your tax money.”

Lady, listen: “I enforce a corrupted system that grows mossier the more I prod. Small talk’s like condom-- get too trigger happy and the friction’s gonna rip, try to knock me up and down until I’m out.”

Why’s this dame not ditched yet?

Strong lady. “Think we’re getting close to your house. What’s your name? What’s your deal? I like you, wine mom.”

[scarlctguilt]

“You did?” The tone isn’t one of surprise, simply curiosity, Allegra’s head tilting slightly as she takes in the other. Allegra would not have picked her as the type, but then, a lot of girls end up in places like this that you would not expect. “Sounds like quite the commute.” One Allegra herself would not be willing to duplicate. She supposes she’s lucky in that respect, that her nightly and morning trip is nothing more than a few stops on the underground. “Are you now?” There’s a slightly playful tone to the brunette’s voice then, a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes shine. 

[maya-lang-blog]

Lighthearted/headed/lidded was officer lang, could you hear hammer hard, whiskey drizzle and spine singing that cold thrill of arousa  l-

 -ook at the ways Allegra’s lips play shuffle slick, hair curtain gauzed all soft-seeming lightbulb dimmy thoughts so thick heavy lunkgrinned, revving the imagination sensation of locks against thumbs, wound on index as other pinched ‘tween as you’d seem, as you’d coax on folds of skin, yes, god, just looking at her, Maya felt.

And this lady smells like, smells good like, smells of counterbalance ‘gainst too much blistery floor wax, ‘gainst too much dank counter, ‘gainst xer slim Asian wrists and xer own bony face that don’t find form in mirrors until the metallic tang of a split lip grips pain hard, but look re-FOCUS this sexy lady all lush, all counterbalance ‘gainst-- don’t think about-- you’re thinking about-- not her, not Allegra, you , and a, that word, ‘her’ so comma wrong so wrong, comma, ‘her’

“Mmh.” A clutter sound in the throat piqued by arousal that should not sound so woman. s-

-lides a hand on xer own throat, expecting-- 

no, no bass reverb, and what’s 33 years taught you but the lack of an adam’s apple you transgender you transgenic you transliding away from what should be good heavy drunkenness to take away the sting of wrist slim, face bony yet so unlikekind, what’s liquor and arousal going to do against

( fire of xer loins oh that ? oh that ? oh it is not right, the jeans, it is not right the wrists so slim xer body is not flush with sex heat so much as burning, hot, in waxen molt shame what’s a face what’s a body body body )

“I have to go,” said dysphoria, sharply.

Maya got up and left, jacket slung over xer small shoulder.

[coneshotline]

from the celebrated coneshotline industries, makers of the ed miliband adventure game and ed miliband adventure game 2, comes:

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RAVE with middle-aged politicians at the club!

FIGHT blairites in alleyways!

MARVEL at jeremy corbyn’s beige clothing!

also featuring bad endings, good endings, and music i stole gleefully from everywhere

rated pg-13: violence/blood/emetophobia/food/alcohol mentions

HAVE FUN, I MADE THIS MAINLY WHILE I WAS DRUNK

[georgiadahl]

“Sure, sure I can take your appointment instead of Mr. Sykes,” she told xer. Though she wasn’t sure if she should also feel flustered at the way that the person on the line seemed to push the word date out over and over again.

“I get off of work at seven, we could go wherever you feel comfortable, okay? Just got to know what it’s all pertaining to.”

[maya-lang-blog]

“Oh! Wonderful, wonderful.” Burbled out in a notion of surprise. “There was this. Uhm, couple blocks down on the orange line. Right outside the subway, this milk tea place in Chinatown with the pastries. My treat. Next Tuesday, 12:30 PM? If not, lemme know if another spot works better for you.” 

Blows off a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, really. I am soo nervous around discussing plans with men who are like, CEOs. You’d think I was empowered enough to kick pass the glass ceiling but-- Well--- Anyway! See you then!”

Xe hung up the phone with an abrupt click. 

Started to rub xer eyes tiredly. Useful thing, sounding and looking like a woman. This is how trust connections are made, correct? Nonetheless, xe really could go for a beverage. Throat got scathed when hiking up to an unusually burbling pitch. 

No matter. Ms. Dahl would be pleasant enough to gauge for details on Sykes. 

[ante-up-felix-blog]

Lips split as if burst against knuckles, parted in a slight, innocent frown– a sliver of two straight white teeth, chipped in youth but seamlessly evened out by crowns and files and hundreds in dental bills. A hangdog look came over the broker, whose mouth knit together again in a soft-jawed, pursed-lip expression of offense. His head shook slowly, a Judas pained by the sting of accusation. 

“My thugs? Maya, I am shocked, and frankly, hurt…” The words hung a moment in the air, dripped honey-like and sticky with soft indignance and misunderstanding. He allowed a moment for them to patter, tar-like, past xer eyes, waited for the twitch of xer mouth and furrowing of xer brow. “Give credit where credit is due.” 

A wide grin ripped across his face then. Sharp, vulpine.

“They’re London’s thugs.” 

If he had been as daring as cruel, he would have whispered another spear-head jab between purple-green bruised lungs: ‘Your thugs. Your friends’. 

He hadn’t had to look far for people willing to kick the living shit out of Maya Lang. Xe was neither beloved nor hated, but enough people had brushed elbows with the officer in seedy bar and shady club to recognize xer. Enough bar fights broken. Enough enemies made– and friends, the kind of friends the Bible warns you about.

Some were drinking partners– ‘Do you know this person?’ and a bright flash of interest, recognition, a furious nodding. ‘Would you like to make some money?’

Felix had not paid a single person who hadn’t split a beer with Maya Lang at least once. Every slit stocking, every ski mask, every bandana, hid a him or her or them who had bantered with, bantered about, Known the officer (in a variety of senses). As a small business owner, he liked to make things personal.

 A moment to admire his black and blue work, hidden though it was beneath wrist-and-ankle-length clothes. He matched xer pose, fingers steepled to form a precise ninety-degree angle, thumbs padded together to complete a perfect equilateral triangle. Success was best drank through eyes narrowed by force of smirk, and he regretted wasting the moment on a pokerface.  

“I’m extending another formal request for protection.” It was short, simple, just like the offer he’d made initially. Pressing his palms together as if in prayer, he kept his eyes trained on xers and his face deadpan, lips resting together in a look that was neither interested nor disinterested. Blank. Nothing to read into.

“And to discuss the terms of my services.”

With a gesture reeking of laziness and casual apathy, he reached for a fork and skewered a dewy blueberry. “I’ll raise the stakes for you, if you agree to back me.” His eyes, which had been trained boredly on the fruit, swung back to xer– half mast, sleepy, relaxed– then blinked a single, slow time. Punctuation.  “I believe I can offer you more than the typical London fair. I believe I can snare the Big Fish.” Plural.

“But to do it, I need… insurance” A cruel look crossed him. “It’s a terrible thing to be without.”

[maya-lang-blog]

Xe snorted like a boar, slapping the edge of the table so hard that a water glass went tumbling. It clattered to the ground and hit once-twice-bounced to roll across sponge-patterned floor marbling where a pitcher-roving waiter short a furtive glance at them both. Damages incurred by the guest would naturally be a black mark for the host’s repute-- but the fortuitous cat naturally held no such danger. Barely a scuff before it was scooped up and taken back to the kitchens.

“London’s thugs? No. Doesn’t matter if I like them and they liked me. Anyone’ll turn on a dollar when they’re aching bad enough for cash.”   

Maya smiled slowly. It did not reach xer eyes so much as hang chitin-tight. Looked painful. Caught up in the juncture between nose bridge and temples. 

“I am looking at an enabler.” Bloodhound. 

“We’re bound now, so we’ve got all the time in the world for you to do your funky Lecter impression. Change it up, Fifi. Real details. ”

[viviennewestwouldnt]

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