reduced sentence
Tennessee jails have been shortening sentences for inmates who get vasectomies or birth control implants
Inmates in Tennessee can get up to 30 days cut from their jail time — on the condition that they agree to get a vasectomy or a birth control implant.
By Veronika Bondarenko

In other news, eugenics are alive and well in the U S of A.

interesting series that have deep and complex characters and dialogue

watching fandoms reduce them to one sentence memes and forcibly inserting pairings that ignore character development and relations

Fake AH Crew Finally Captured

‘The Fake AH Crew has been captured and is in police custody,’ says Sergeant Burns. They were caught when an attempted robbery failed due the train they hijacked being deliberately diverted manually by off-duty officer Miles Luna, who has since been promoted. This brings an end to the 5-year reign of the infamous….

“Alright Ramsey, that’s enough. Hand back the newspaper.” The guard steps into Geoff's cell to take away the newspaper he had asked for.

“I’ve barely started reading it,”

“You’ve seen enough.” The guard hands the newspaper to one of his fellow officers after shutting and locking the cell door. It clangs loudly, the noise irritating Geoff. The guard smirks at the grimace on Geoff’s face.

“Better get used to that sound Ramsey, you’re going to be hearing it a lot more in your future.”

“That’s what you think,” Geoff whispers to himself, as he turns away from the door, huddling closer to the wall. In his hands, he holds a pencil, knicked from the man’s shirt pocket. 

“Let me out!” Michael is unsurprisingly yelling at the two guards still standing at his cell door. The third one had to leave after the first 20 minutes when the sound grew too much and caused a migraine. The two left had long since forgotten the rules and put in earbuds, blasting any kind of music they had to drown out the Jones boy’s voice.

“Hey Bitches!! Pay attention to me. Fucking look at me. Come on, I’m BORED!” And finally one of the officers snaps.

“Shut the Fuck UP!”

“Make me.” 

The guard opened the cell door and marches in, gun in hand. He aims it at Michael’s head.

“Stop talking.”

“Shoot me.” With that, Michael grabs the guards hands, wrapping them in his own.

“Miss Patillo, if you cooperate with us, it could really reduce your prison sentence. Is it really worth throwing so much of your life away for these men?” The psychologist looks Jack in the eyes with her own tired ones. She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They look sad. Jack’s face mimics hers.

‘They saved my life.” Jack utters it quietly, looking down at her lap before turning her face to the side, losing interest in the conversation. “Besides, I don’t know anything. I’m just the driver.” Jack leans back in her seat and refuses to make eye contact.

The psychologist leans marginally closer to Jack, and whispers. “Do they really care about you?”

Jacks eyes widen, and she glares at the psychologist. They stare at each other for an eternity, then Jack leans, reaching out and grabbing the psychologists shirt. “You don’t know.” She rips the top button off and the psychologist gasps. Jack leans back again in her chair as officers rush into the room. The button slips into her bra as she crosses her arms.

“I’m bored Lil J,” 

“Yeah, me too Gav.”

“Wanna play Patty Cake?”

“What are you, eight?”

“Got a better idea?”


The pair shuffles from their position of leaning against each others backs to sitting cross-legged in front of each other on the bed.

“This is dumb.”

“Just play along. Ready? Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Bakers Man.”

“Bake me a cake as fast as you can.” A guard turns and stares at the two known criminals playing with each other like children.

“What are you doing.” The guard steps closer to the cell because surely this is some devious plan, and they must be hiding something because no way would two grown men be playing pattycake of all things while locked in a cell.

“Playing. It’s boring in here.” Gavin smiles sweetly to the officer.

“Stop it.”

“Are we annoying you? Sorry, that really wasn’t the intention.’ The guard falters at the innocent smile on Gavin’s face, and the almost shy way the other hides behind him. 

“It’s okay, I guess.” The guard turns away, missing how Gavin’s smile changes, into something more devious.

“Why don’t we play a different game?” The pair stands. “Bet I can run into that wall before you can!”

“It’s on.” The pair grin at the guard as he turns to stop them.

“We’ve got you all Vagabond. Even if you escape, there’s no one left for you.”

The officers turned it into a game, to see who could rile up the vagabond more. It’s not as if there’d be any repercussions. The man’s been tied down for hours in the interrogation room. The door has been left open so everyone passing can see the infamous vagabond tied down like a dog, incapable of fighting back. 

“You’re no threat. You’re nothing. You can’t do a single thing. The vagabond who’s killed more people than slept with caught by the police, along with his entire pathetic crew.” The officer taking his turn on the Vagabond is a thin and mildly pathetic thing. The highlight of his year is this moment. Ryan thinks he’ll kill him slow.

He becomes distracted however when he sees Jack being dragged past the open door. Her head is down, her red hair covering her face. Someone hurt her. Ryan thinks he’s let the guards have enough fun; he needs to get back to his crew.

Ryan feels around behind him with his hands. The cuffs are simple. The Vagabond knows everything there is to keeping someone captive, usually for torture and over the years he’s learnt you can escape cuffs. The cuffs slip off and he catches them before they clatter to the ground. Then he stands. The wooden chair legs break when he kicks his legs apart. Cuffs hung from his ankles and one wrist.

The entire room’s mood changes in an instant. Every single officer has a weapon in their hands within seconds, pointed directly at Ryan. 

“A single step and we will shoot.”

Ryan grins and takes a step.

“Oi, Geoff, wake up.” There’s a pat on his cheek, and he opens his eyes. The rest of the crew stands around him. Jack is patting down Jeremy, ensuring he’s healed properly, while Ryan talks with Michael. Gavin is looking down at him.

“Is everyone all good?’ Geoff asks after climbing off the metal table. 

“Yeah. It’s about 8 o’clock. Caleb brought us some clothes.” At the mention of his name, Caleb came forwards carrying Geoff’s suit. Looking around, Geoff noticed he was the last awake.

“How’d everyone get out?” He asked while pulling on his pants.

“Well, Jeremy and I ran head first, full speed into the cell wall. Broke our necks. Apparently, the officer who was watching us quit an hour later. Weak stomach. Probably good he’s not a cop anymore.” Gavin was smiling at Lil J, who giggled a bit. It was a surprising sound in the quiet of the room, but it made Geoff smile none the less.

“I got the cop to shoot me in the head. Made him angry enough he came into the cell and put his gun on me, so a grabbed his hands and made him pull the trigger. Dude’s probably fired.” Michael was grinning from his perch on another of the cold metal work benches. “Not as impressive as Ryan though.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow at Ryan who grinned sheepishly. “The had me in an interrogation room, me and about 12 cops. They all shot me when I escaped the handcuffs.” Ryan sounded embarrassed but Geoff beamed at him. 

“Good job buddy. What did you do Jack?”

“Nothing amazing. I stole the psychologist’s shirt button and choked on it. Wasn’t the best way to go. They tried to give me the Heimlich.” Jack was blushing a bit. “What did you do Geoffrey?”

“Slammed my head down on the pencil I stole. Took a few tries though.”

“That sounds gross.” Gavin had wrinkled up his nose in distaste. Jack looked a little alarmed. 

“Yeah, It’s not an experience I want to repeat. Come on, let’s go let the city know we’re back. I’m sure they missed us.”


Jerome x Reader

Warnings: Reader on medication, Manipulative Jerome, Reader with split personality.

“You really think this is a good idea?” Harvey asked Jim as they watched you through the glass.

“They feed off each other, hopefully taking her away from Jerome will slow him down enough to get a lead on where he is.” Jim muttered as Harvey shook his head, grabbing at his coffee mug.

“Or he’s coming for us to get her back and when they do come back they won’t stop.” Harvey sighed, heading out to his desk.

“That’s why I ordered the trucks.” Jim’s words had Harvey stopping in his tracks, he knew he’d end up getting involved at some point so it might as well be from the start.

“You ordered trucks?” Harvey muttered as he turned to face his partner.

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Stop trying to individualize blame for acts of imperialism and military aggression on the part of the US military. Lots of folks get suckered in to joining the military culture from a young age; many people live in towns that have no viable career prospects and the military actively preys on these folks. Military recruiters actively start trying to recruit kids as young as 14 years old and I’ve even heard of the military being allowed to recruit in middle schools. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t exactly have a strong anti-imperialist critique of the US military at 14 years old, or even 18 years old. Some states also allow you to join the military instead of going to prison (or getting a reduced sentence) for a crime you committed. Military recruitment and culture is not a clear-cut, black and white thing. Not everyone goes into the military with the enthusiasm of your racist cousin who wears American Sniper t-shirts and has a crew cut.

As soldiers, they’re tossed into a meat grinder and when they get out they’re forgotten and denied the benefits promised to them. Have you ever seen a homeless person? Chances are they’re a war veteran, I’ve read somewhere that somewhere around 10-15% of homeless people are veterans, and a majority of those homeless veterans are black. There’s definitely a class aspect to how the military functions and in my own family it’s clear. All of my relatives who were deployed and faced combat up close are all vehemently anti-war and anti-government [not to mention drug and alcohol addicts, undoubtedly a side effect of being forced to kill people and not having adequate post-war mental health facilities] to some degree, meanwhile my one relative that was fortunate enough to be in the military bureaucracy/command is still extremely pro-war. 

I’m not saying you have to respect soldiers and deify them for their sacrifice but let’s also not lay all the fault and blame of imperialism on people who might be potential comrades and accomplices. We can use class analysis to show them how fucked up capitalism is, they’ve seen it first-hand, from being taken advantage of by military recruiters and the military itself, to coming home and being treated like dirt by the US government after they’ve taken basically everything from these soldiers. We could talk to them about how patriarchy has treated them as expendable objects to die in warzones for private profit, told them they can’t talk about their feelings and experiences and have to “suck it up” because they’re men. The reason veterans often turn to substance abuse is BECAUSE of gender norms.

There’s a lot that can be done to bring veterans to our side, but it’s wrong-headed to treat every soldier as if they’re the literal embodiment of Henry Kissinger is probably not the best idea. Idk about you, but I’d like to see you pull off a revolution without veterans, without the aid of people in the military now, etc.

Muggle AU:

Where ex-con (just from being in the wrong place at the wrong time) Draco Malfoy is desperately looking for a job fresh out of prison and answers an ad looking for full-time help for a wheelchair bound patient and Draco jumps at the chance thinking it’ll be some sweet old octogenarian he’d have to care for and atleast he’d have a roof over his head and regular meals but then he goes to the given address, this enormous old house and in there there’s this ruggedly handsome, green eyed man around his own age, an ex-deputy commissioner who retired due to a spinal injury that left him unable to walk and Draco just!!!

But he takes the job because he  recalls him to be the same cop who’d argued in Draco’s favour when he’d been arrested and had ensured he’d gotten into minimum security with a reduced sentence. 

And Harry’s just the most ill-tempered, grumpy, crotchety idiot Draco’s ever seen but somehow Harry can’t bring himself to fire Draco like he’d fired so many others because not only does Draco take really good care of him but for some reason the blond seems to be the only one not scared to stand up to him, and pretty soon they’re like an old married couple bickering every hour of the day, and Draco wheels him to the park every evening and they sit there reading or sometimes just being there together. And Harry’s friends learn to expect Draco to be present wherever Harry is and Draco finally knows what it feels like to be part of an actual family. And when Harry angrily fires his physiotherapist after an unsuccessful session Draco takes it upon himself to help Harry walk again and after months of patience on both their parts there’s actually enough improvement for hope.

So one day they have a particularly nasty fight and Draco actually packs his bags and makes to leave and Harry wheels out of his room in a panic looking for him and Draco’s at the front door almost about to leave when he hears Harry calling out to him and there’s an enormous crash of some sort and Draco turns and watches in horror as the wheelchair bounces down the stairs but when he looks again Harry’s still at the top clutching onto the railing, standing on buckling legs yelling at Draco to get his head out of his arse and come back. And then Draco simply flies up the stairs to him and he can barely see through his tears and then they’re both crying and laughing and kissing and Harry asks Draco to promise never to leave and Draco is only too happy to oblige and then they get married and adopt four kids and twelve dogs omg


In 1986, sixteen-year-old Paula Cooper became one of the youngest people in American history to be sentenced to death. Alongside three other teenaged girls in May 1985, fifteen-year-old Paula beat and stabbed Bible teacher Ruth Pelke (78) to death in her home of Gary, Indiana.

Paula already had a long history of delinquent behavior when she convinced her friends to help her rob her elderly next door neighbour; Cooper believed Pelke kept a jar of $2 bills in the kitchen, and that she might have some valuable jewellery. The four girls approached Pelke under the guise of wanting Bible lessons, and when the old lady let them into her house they launched a vicious assault. Paula Cooper stabbed Pelke over 33 times in the chest and stomach with a knife she’d brought along, while her friends mercilessly beat her over the head with a glass snow globe. Paula would later claim that Ruth Pelke recited the Lord’s prayer before she succumbed to her injuries.

Instead of the riches they anticipated, the murderous girls found just $10 in Pelke’s home, plus the keys to her car. Leaving the crime scene in total chaos, the four girls stole Pelke’s car and drove around Gary, waving at friends and showing off.

A day after the murder, Ruth Pelke’s battered body was discovered by her stepson. Paula immediately became the number one suspect in the case after several witnesses came forward about seeing her drive Pelke’s car. Her three friends all separately confessed just days later, painting Paula as the aggressor of the brutal crime. She was arrested and charged with capital murder, despite being just fifteen at the time.

From the beginning, Paula’s accomplices in Pelke’s murder insisted she was the ringleader and the one who wielded the knife. Paula’s defense lawyers claimed her abusive childhood made her unempathetic towards the old lady and stipulated that Paula’s primary motive had been robbery, not murder. While the other girls involved in the crime recieved sentences totalling less than 60 years, the judge imposed the death penalty on Paula Cooper, making her one of the youngest people ever to be sent to death row.

A massive public outcry and multiple appeals ensured that Paula’s death sentenced was reduced to life imprisionment. In 2013 she was released after serving twenty six years. Paula claimed to have turned her life around in prison, and even earned her GED while in solitary confinement. She had a fiance, and found gainful employment. Unfortunately , Paula was unable to cope with the pressures of living on the outside, and she committed suicide in 2015.


Murder of Jill Meagher

In the early morning of 22nd September 2012, 29-year-old Jill Meagher, a journalist from Ireland who lived in Australia, was raped and murdered as she walked home from a pub in Brunswick, Melbourne. 

At around 1.30am, Meagher’s friends had offered to walk with her, but she refused, as the route home was one she had walked many times. Footage of Meagher was captured by CCTV, which depicted her speaking to a man in a blue hoodie at around 1.45am, this was the last time Meagher was seen alive. After she failed to return home that morning, her husband Tom Meagher notified police and the search begun. On Monday morning, police found Meagher’s handbag located near where she was last seen. The bag contained her cards and ID, however her phone remained missing. Police suspect the bag was ‘planted’ as the area had previously been searched.

Six days after Jill Meagher was last seen, police arrested 41-year-old Adrian Ernest Bayley after discovering Meagher’s phone sim card in his house. Later, he lead them to her body, buried in a shallow grave roughly 50km from she was last seen. At the time of the incident, Bayley was out on parole after serving an eight year sentence for 16 counts of rape against five women. He had already served time for rapes committed from the age of 18. 

Adrian Bayley was arrested for the rape and murder of Jill Meagher on 28th September, 2012. On June 19th, 2013, Bayley pleaded guilty and was sentenced to life imprisonment with a non-parole period of 35 years. In March 2015, He was found guilty of three more rapes, committed before he killed Meagher, in three separate trials held in 2014 and 2015. He was later sentenced to an additional 18 years. In July 2016, the sentence was reduced to 40 years. Bayley will be eligible for parole in 2055.

This one is two parts again. I’m noticing a trend in my writing atm that what should be a one-part request ends up being a two-part because I create some elaborate plot for it. Gotta stop doing that… XD Anyway, enjoy everyone!

Prompt[s]: Please write a Loki imagine where the reader is from our world but falls into a coma and wakes up in the MCU and they’re a villain with magic & “amnesia” (they only have memories from their life in our world). The Avengers keep this fact from the reader, but find that they can’t continue to do so when the reader starts to lose control of their powers (anger causes electrical blowouts, etc.). The reader meets Loki and reveals the truth, causing the reader to flee from the Avengers and join Loki. 

‘Shock Factor’ (Part 1)

The Avengers weren’t known for keeping prisoners. Technically, they dealt with the worst of the worst. Criminal masterminds; evil gods; people who either had prisons of their own to sit in, or were too crazed to survive their own schemes.

However, you were the rare exception.

You were the reason this wing of the facility had been built. You’d schemed to take down the city’s power grid but had been thwarted beforehand, offering to trade information about the city’s criminal undercurrent in return for a reduced prison sentence.

Since then, they’d realised the benefit offered by keeping prisoners close. Your anti-static cage had gained neighbours, all of which were currently vacant.

The only one which wasn’t was only ever temporarily rented. When Thor visited Earth to help, he brought his pain of a brother with him so that he could still be monitored. Today was one such day. He spoke little and barely even moved unless prompted by a visitor, though he was pacing his cell slowly at the moment. Both of your heads turned upwards at the sound of screeching metal.

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I didn’t think they could do it, but “The Bold Type” pulled off their finale

The exploration of the protest performance piece – literally carrying the scales of justice in protest over the way her rapist was allowed to walk without even being brought to trial – was powerful.  Evocative of real-life attempts to draw attention to the issue, specifically Mattress Performance (Carry That Weight) by Emma Sulkowicz at Columbia University.  Just seeing her standing there, literally carrying the weight of what was done to her, nearly had me in tears.  The dialogue-less points where she passes off the weights to somebody else were jaw-dropping.

The ongoing reveal that Jacqueline herself was a rape victim was slightly obvious from about midway through the episode, but was still handled with delicacy and with power.  Emphasizing that it happened so long ago and is still with her, that even though she is successful and happily married and powerful none of it has erased what was done to her, is a necessary point to make.  Too many people think that being raped is something you can easily move on from after “enough time” has passed.  That as long as you’re happy now it’s all okay, as though it is solely a physical event that can be forgotten once the scars are gone.  As I’ve heard many people point out each time a rapist in real-life gets a reduced sentence so as to not to “impact the rest of their life”, they have already taken a huge part of their victim’s future away from them.

In the other story, Sutton and Alex never had a fight, they never discovered that they secretly hated each other or learned that the other was doing something untoward, and that blends so well with the treatment of both of them as real people. Their pseudo-relationship came down from the simple weight that Sutton was still hung up on Richard.  I’m sure Alex would have preferred for her to realize that before they started something themselves, but he doesn’t blame her for this.  The additional fact that Alex wasn’t exploding in anger or demanding more than Sutton could give him is all by itself better writing than almost any other show.  They respected him by having him show basic respect, instead of entitled arrogance that most shows give to “the other man” by default.

I am disappointed that they closed the show with Sutton and Richard getting back together – all the problems that floundered their relationship before are still there, and it’s still highly problematic given their professional relationship.  I wouldn’t dislike Richard under other circumstances, but he knows exactly why this is a problem, especially since just in this episode they showed an HR meeting where they explicitly discussed the problems.  Given the developments I would have preferred that Sutton end the episode single until she could sort out her feelings and approach her next relationship with an untangled heart.

Kat’s story didn’t really have much of a story, since from the very first scene we all knew she was going to go after Adena.   She spent most of her time in either Jane or Sutton’s story,  but I suppose that’s fair given how much Kadena has dominated the season so far.  Regardless, the entire episode established her longing, her desire to go with Adena.  Unlike in the last episode this wasn’t an impulse decision, and it wasn’t a Grand Romantic Gesture that she didn’t think through and couldn’t commit to once it was upon them, this is a longtime coming decision that she mulled over and eventually decided that yes, she can go to Adena.  She can travel, she can see the world, and she can actually do it.

I would have preferred to actually see Adena in this episode, even if it was just on the phone like when they spoke when she was in Paris, but we still managed to get what we’ve wanted from the first episode: Kat making a final, committed decision to embrace both Adena and the life they could have together.

Closing with a title card for the sexual assault hotline….dang.

We need a second season.  Not “want”, not “deserve”, need.  For everybody.

Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)


Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”


He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.


Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️