#and they left out the Catherine

[monster-noises]

so I finished my last book/series and had my day off and now I'm reading a non-fiction book about Fantasy Art and oh my goooooood this book is written like the final thesis of a college freshman who has Way too much unfounded confidence in their abilities to write a grounded, engaging, and informational essay about the history of pulp fantasy art. I"m gunna read the whole thing, because it appears to be a series of essays and ancedotes by various authors and the artists themselves, but hooo my Goodness Gracious it's so... it's sO.... it's SOOOOOO.... every like Four lines you can hear the author go 'ohohoho, isn't This a clever little sentence' but it's not, it's not a clever little sentence and then it's like a chunk of text that's all names and dates and then it's back to weird non-informational prose-ing like they just "covered" the part of modern sci-fi/fantasy history centered around the Comics Code and they didn't... explain anything about what it was. They just said it was There.. and then listed a bunch of names and dates that things either shut down or got published. There's no Narrative, there's no Pull, there's no details, it's not a compelling History of Fantasy Art; it's 90% fluffy pontificating and like 2% actual information and the other 8% is the author making weird horny references to the way women are usually depicted in this genre of art.... (I'm not generally one to rag on someone being Horny, even in a professionally published non-fiction book, and Hell the way women are and have been depicted in Fantasy is Something to Talk about, but if I have to read the sentence 'Supple Flesh' in a cheeky reference to a woman's ass One More Time I'm going to start Biting)

They said 'Heironymous bosch -often considered the first Fantasy Artist" and then made it clear they Disagreed like two pages later because Mr. Bosch didn't draw any fucking Dragons like hhhhwhaT? Again interesting debate to be had: where does the turn from mythological/religious iconography to Fantasy happen? how do you apply modern labels to things from the past? should you? what level of content or Style will/does/did define something as Fantasy, as opposed to other possible labels? but this author pushes all that aside and is just like 'it's about the DRAGONS' and it continues to be a running theme like every second paragraph they have something to say about Dragons as the leading Icon of Fantasy Art (I would argue if you were going to give that label to anything it would be Wizards but perhaps I am Biased.)

It's not the kind of Bad writing that makes one Genuinely angry, but is more just...comically Flabbergahsting. Makes you sit there and go; What are you Talking About???? Not to mention the illustrations on each page don't... fucking match the text at all, the author is talking about the works of fantasy artists around world war 2 and the accompanying image is a japanese wood block print from 1 8 3 5 this essay has said 0 words about japanese wood block prints. I am astounded, and frankly, astonished.

[expelliarmus]

[crimsonfeatheredraven]

Even if Jason didn't die...if he didn't go to Ethiopia.... would he have come back willingly?

I don't think so.

[chippdhearts]

@frostysfrenzy requested - CSI + Favourite story arc ↳ Catherine's leaving arc

[throughpatchesofviolet]

After 48 hours of agony, I have secured the newest official Heathcliff acrylic stand for myself ...

Look at him ... my boyfriend ...

[decepti-geek]

i keep seeing tendrils of wider fandom discourse crossing my dash about who's a better fit for Lizzie or Darcy in Pride and Prejudice but HONESTLY

i'm currently very wrapped up in and entertained by the idea of a Northanger Abbey au - ie, Aziraphale as Catherine Morland and convinced he's living through a gothic novel surrounded by rakes and villains at every turn, meanwhile Tilney!Crowley is just hanging about like 'i would not be a real gothic hero if you PAID me but sure i can pretend if you're into that in the interests of taking the piss'

[aq2003]

AND WHAT IF I DIE!!!!!! WHAT IF I EXPLODE THE EARTH OVER THIS LINE

[arisu-alisa-alice]

𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓪.𝓴.𝓪 𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓱𝔂, 𝓒𝓪𝓲𝓽, 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓽

[fideidefenswhore]

🔥 whatever you like

Thanks!

So, there's been a few articles in the past decade or so that express distaste at the comparison of Princess Diana & AB (and a fair amount of umbrage in misc comments on social media at any parallels being drawn whatsoever, generally, I'm not gonna lie, from C/oA stans...Catherine was the Princess of Wales, Catherine was the one that was popular and beloved by the people, I think these are the broader strokes they believe should be associated with her more...that Catherine was the older of the pair does not seem to matter, that Catherine was, like Camilla, the one that knew 'the prince' the longest doesn't matter, because Camilla was Other Woman and AB was Other Woman, and as such they were both hated by the public, they will never see past any other elements of the story/stereotypes than those, esp. because ultimately they believe all the animus directed at both of those women was/is entirely deserved and justified);

But what's interesting is it's not even so much on the grounds that there are always pitfalls in sanctifying people in general, it's generally pearl-clutching about how Diana deserves sanctification, deserves every possible iteration to be made of her life, and AB does not...the answer to the 'moral quandary' presented in the The Times' BSR review, "Anne Boleyn is being rebooted — but was the tragic Tudor queen a whore and a witch or the Princess Diana of the Tudor age?" by Alison W/eir was basically that she wasn't a whore or a witch, but again, her oh-the-humanity answer of "she wasn't a very nice person" and deserved her "unpopularity in her own time", and was so far from Princess Di, woe to those that popularize AB, somehow she omits herself from that list, how stupid they are to ever believe otherwise, etc

The implication of the above is more what's funny to me... she shouldn't be treated as Princess Diana, because Anne 'had a mean streak' (using "words as one would not address to a dog", from a source no less than above reproach than that of an ex-flame)... but, Diana didn't? The woman who pushed her stepmother down a flight of stairs? The woman who confronted her children's nanny with an entirely personal, private (and leaked, to her belief, although it was later revealed it was another doctoring by Bashir) medical document? Diana was sanctified because she died tragically; if she were still alive today, she would almost certainly be "cancelled"; famous (women, particularly...they are generally judged more harshly) people have been cancelled for much less.

And then we have author Vanora Bennett, who did compare them, but not favorably, and rather misogynistically (to other women, as well):

[Anne] didn’t have the knack for self-reinvention that has brought modern celebrities such as Victoria Beckham long-term success, or the tight-lipped compliance that saw Kate Middleton claim her prize after eight years of waiting for Prince William to propose.

If anything, Anne reminds me more of Princess Diana – both of them charming and glamorous, yet unable to maintain smooth relations with the royals around them; manipulative and sometimes vindictive, yet posthumously elevated to icons of victimhood; dying too soon and leaving young children to cope with their tragic legacy.

Unfortunately this assessment has also been given academic gloss, but luckily this has mainly been limited to GW Bernard's asinine, quasi-profound remark that since Diana had sex outside of her marriage, AB probably did, too.

Idk, I've honestly just been thinking about this because I've been thinking about fan reactions as I watch The Crown, puzzled by how Peter Morgan is so good at writing those royals, but so bad at writing these royals...

Because, really, I think there are elements of both Camilla and Diana's stories in AB's? On the surface level, you have ebullient, charismatic, cheated on by her husband, husband dated her sister 1st, (honestly, never not going to be a weird thing, it must have been borne out of...I suppose, both the utterly limited society of 'acceptable' people to interact with for those of extreme wealth and the entitlement and belief you're above such provincial concerns as ‘That's Weird’), which is probably what led to that being motif in the Kristen Stewart as Diana movie.

And then, Anne was unpopular, but it was said basically, that...those who knew her, loved her, and those that didn't were, at the least, captivated by her despite themselves.

How much of her contemporary slander was from people that had only ever glimpsed her? I think we forget that when we forget how late the sixth-finger and other misc. deformities were alleged. 'Goggle-eyed whore' is the mark of someone who saw her from enough of an distance that the only feature of note was those infamous, large eyes.

Often people confuse charisma with popularity, very often they go together but they are not interchangeable, not synonymous. Charisma can only take effect within intimate contexts. As such, it's true that Anne had one but not so much the other.

Who knows how she might have fared, popularity-wise, if she'd had the powers of radio, TV, etc at her disposal...they're creative reimaginings out of her control/remit, but she has those now and seems to have done better on that front in immortality than she did in mortality/life.

What we have basically is two elements -- "royal mistress" and "threatening the image of the monarchy", and maybe even a little “marrying for love [when royal]”. These are all broad narrative stripes that are seen as “scandalous”, all seen as disruptive, against status quo, so they are always going to inspire creators. At the end of the day, the hand-wringing over that inspiration rings ... insipid? Naiive? Take your pick. 

[dmaorg-info]

dinnertime, a very short thing about two of my ocs

Catherine hadn’t moved from the couch in hours. She had spent most of her day watching whatever mindless segment Good Day Dema had on, but now she was lying there in silence. The sun had set hours ago, leaving her in complete darkness. 

The light above the apartment’s small kitchen was turned on by her roommate and best friend Sam. Catherine had almost forgotten she was still there, as Sam had mostly stayed isolated in her bedroom all day to give Catherine some space. To her knowledge, this was the first time all day Sam had left her room.

“Catherine? You still alive?” Sam said, taking a kettle out of their cabinet and filling it with water.

“Mm..” Catherine hummed, slowly sitting up. Her head was pounding after lying down for so long. “Would take a lot more than a slow day to kill me.”

“I’ll make dinner tonight. Don’t want you to push yourself at all today.” Sam set the kettle on the stove and turned it on, the sound of the stove clicking cutting through the air like bullets.

A few minutes later, Sam sat down on the couch next to Catherine. She handed her a ramen cup with a plastic fork sticking out the top. Her hand was carefully positioned so she could avoid Catherine’s fingertips. “Be careful, it’s still very hot.” Sam said, smiling.

“Thanks.” Catherine took the fork out of the cup and started halfheartedly stirring the ramen around.

Sam glanced at the turned-off television. “Anything good on TV today?”

Catherine shook her head. “Just the same type of things Good Day Dema runs every day. Weather. News. Show for children. Public service announcement. Repeat.”

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, I guess. Would like a change of pace every once and a while though.” Sam said, laughing while taking a bite of her ramen. “Maybe one day you could change that.”

Catherine sighed, looking down to her lap. “Yeah, sure.” she said quietly.

“Did something happen yesterday?”

Catherine lied back against the couch and returned to mindlessly stirring her ramen. “A lot of things happen. Don’t worry about it.”

“I worry about it because you worry about it.”

Catherine turned her head towards Sam. “I’m not worried about it.”

“The look on your face says otherwise. Sacarver isn’t being hard on you, is he?”

“No. Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

Catherine abruptly stood up from the couch and briskly walked away. She set the now cold ramen cup on the kitchen counter and went into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and leaving Sam alone in the dark. Heavy silence fell back upon the apartment, now with a tangible tension hanging in the air.

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

WELL

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[fanonical]

one thing that continues to impress me about catherine tate's performances in doctor who is that she isn't, strictly, an actor?

or at least, she wasn't really a dramatic actor until she did doctor who. i remember there were so many people before series 4 saying that the show was going to be all comedy now and saying that it was going to be awful, but then fires of pompeii and planet of the ood and turn left happened and blew everyone away

and she's still continuing to knock it out of the park with the dramatic acting - and nailing the comedy too, of course! - and i can't help but be stunned by her understanding the assignment perfectly

[sommerbueckers]

hii oml i love your writingggg, do you think you could do like paige x reader at a sleepover??? like a birthday kind of thing

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲...

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟒𝐤

✰ 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐥. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !!

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"THIS IS HER HOUSE?" Amy questioned when the estate finally came into view. "Ask her parents if they're hiring."

Paige broke a smile for the first time that night, and she shook her head at her mother. However, this did nothing to rid her of the incessant anxious feeling she had experienced all day. For the first time, in all the years that she and Catherine Drago had been going to school together, she had been invited to her birthday sleepover.

It was a big deal, the biggest deal. Catherine didn't invite just anyone to her sleepover, typically it was just those in which she conversed with regularly. This year, that happened to include Paige. It had started with the accidental add of Paige's Snapchat account to one of Catherine's private stories, the blonde slid up on a picture of her with a sweet compliment, and it was all up from there.

Now, she sat outside of the girl's residence as she worked up to courage to simply exit the car. Her mother placed a comforting hand on her leg, rubbing up and down the way most mothers often did.

"You nervous?" she asked softly.

Paige, leaning her head back on the seat, nodded quietly. "It's just that I don't have any of my best friends here, like, they probably all know each other and i'm just gonna be feelin' awkward..."

Amy wore a sympathetic expression as she listened to her daughter's concerns. "Well you're friends with Catherine aren't you? You're here for her, not everybody else."

"Yeah but I didn't think we were even close enough for her to invite me," Paige said. A lie. Paige didn't think she'd get invited because of the way she and Catherine talked to each other. They texted nonstop, about anything and everything. But as of recently, their conversations had had more of an intimate feel. They talked about their sex life, about their personal kinks and turn-ons, and Catherine had even shared a picture or two.

Not to mention the 'birthday gift' that Paige had told her she would get, Paige was drunk that night.

She wanted it to be just her and Catherine, not her, Catherine, and Catherine's friends.

"How about this, you go in there and try your best to have fun. And then in one hour, if you're still not having fun and want me to come get you, I will," Amy posed.

"Really?" Paige asked incredulously.

"Really."

Paige nodded her head in agreement, deciding that the offer was suitable enough for her. Giving her mom a quick kiss and hug goodbye, she stepped out of the car and made her way up to the large glass door.

She could see into the house entirely. The floors were a cream colored wood that seemed to be freshly polished, there was a living room off to the right where an incredibly large couch sat. It looked like something you'd see displayed in a furniture shop, clean and untouched. The house as a whole looked like nobody lived there, like it was simply there to take up space on the property.

To the left was a floating staircase leading up to a second floor that Paige couldn't see much of from her place outside. The most she could see was a glass railing that went across the edge of the floor. She swallowed her anxiety and rung the doorbell, the sound echoing throughout the house as well as outside.

Her mom's car remained parked in the circular driveway, waiting for her to be retrieved from the front of the house before she pulled off. She hadn't been standing out there for long, perhaps all of thirty seconds had passed before a brown skinned woman appeared in view. She was coming from around a corner deep within the house, her steps hasty as she made her way over to the door.

"You must be Paige!" the woman greeted with a smile, to which Paige nodded her head. "Come inside. Is that your mom?"

"Yeah."

The woman gave a polite wave to the car before Amy drove off, leaving the woman to close the door and turn her attention to Paige.

"It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Mrs Drago but you can call me Phoebe or Catie's mom or whatever you'd like," the woman laughed.

Paige nodded her head, shifting uncomfortably under the woman's gaze. She tried to focus on what Phoebe no Catie's mom no whatever the woman wanted to be called was saying, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how good she looked for a mom. She was fit with a slender face and model cheekbones, at least now Paige knew where Catherine got her looks from.

"The girls are upstairs in Catie's room, it's the double doors at the end of the hallway," she pointed up at the glass railing Paige had seen earlier, encouraging her to go up.

She ascended the staircase holding onto nothing but the blanket and pillow she had brought seeing as though nobody had bothered to extend the glass railing to the steps as well. The hallway was more of a loft area that lacked furniture; the flooring up here was marble with recess lighting illuminating the way to every room. Paige zeroed in on the double doors at the end, Catherine's room.

One of the two doors had a keypad lock on it, what the fuck...The blonde knocked softly and listened to the faint chatter and shuffling that occurred on the other side of the door before it opened. She was met with Catherine's unexpressive face, a feature that changed rather quickly upon realizing it was Paige that stood before her. She smiled brightly, flashing her pearly whites at the taller girl, and pulled her in for a hug. It lasted longer than it should've.

She smells good, like coconut and vanilla.

"So glad you could make it..." she murmured, dragging her hand across Paige's stomach as she pulled away. Opening the door, she allowed Paige access into the room. To say it was huge would've been the understatement of the century. There was a small couch in the front where another blonde sat mutely, a bottle of red nail polish in her hand as she went over her nails again. There was a vase of flowers on the coffee table in front of her, it was surrounded by loads of other miscellaneous things like card games and jewelry.

The fireplace, which Paige later learned was gas which Catherine hated, was turned on despite the eighty degree temperature outside. The tv played an episode of Grey's Anatomy, the girls had turned it on just before Paige's knock at the door. Behind the mini living room were two steps that led up to the king sized bed, the covers were all over the place and there were a few pillows lying around on the floor. Paige's scrutiny of the room was interrupted when Catherine's voice grabbed her attention.

"Do you live far from here?" she had made herself comfortable on the couch now, her head resting in the unnamed blonde's lap.

Paige set her things down beside the couch, shrugging her shoulders, "Kinda, like...twenty minutes maybe."

Catherine hummed in response.

The three girls remained quiet for a few moments, Meredith Grey's voice being the only thing between them and a silence thicker than a heavy fog. Paige was overcome with the thought that she was the only one feeling awkward. Catherine and this other blonde were casually laid out on the couch, something Paige figured they did often. She would too with a room like Catherine's.

Her eyes traveled up and down the girl's soft, smooth legs. At least that was the feeling they gave off when Catherine rubbed them against each other on the couch, almost teasingly. Paige bit her lip gently, frantically moving her gaze between Catherine's legs and the blonde's eyes to make sure she wasn't caught.

Catherine, thankfully noticing Paige's hesitation to do anything other than stand at the edge of the couch rather than her wandering eyes, invited her to sit down. She slightly readjusted herself so that she was still laid out but wasn't invading Paige's personal space. Paige would've liked her to, invade her space that is. But the dark haired girl was feeling unusually nervous now that she was actually in front of Paige instead of talking with her through the phone.

It wasn't long before a beeping could be heard from the door and four new faces appeared behind it. Three boys and one girl. Paige had to admit she would've liked it to just be the three of them, it was hard enough trying to settle her nerves with Catherine and one other friend. Now she would be forced to do it with four more. It was then that she remembered the words of her mother, and how she really only needed to stay for an hour.

Would it be rude to leave?

The room erupted in cheers as the boys jumped on top of Catherine, burying her beneath their bodies. Her protests were muffled as she fought to push them off.

"Will you guys chill? I'm trying to do my nails," the blonde grumbled, scooting over with the nastiest face Paige had ever seen.

One of the boys rolled off the couch, "Try a little harder, they look like shit."

She flipped him off with a freshly painted nail, her nose scrunching up at the mere sight of him smiling above her. The rest of the boys followed suit as they got up off of the couch, brushing themselves off. Another guy, pushing his soft brown hair out of the way turned to Paige and smiled goofily. "You look unfamiliar," he commented.

Catherine snorted, "Guys this is Paige, she goes to my school. Paige this is Zane, Theo, Malachi, and Sasha."

She gave them a small wave, not knowing what else to do since there were too many to greet one by one.

"I thought you hated everyone at your school," Malachi frowned, squeezing himself between Paige and Catherine.

Catherine frowned, she wanted to sit next to Paige.

"I hate everyone except Paige," she clarified, giving the girl a cheeky wink.

Everyone made themselves comfortable somewhere in the living area, whether it was on the couch or in front of the fire. Paige was even warming up, now finding herself in a conversation with Malachi and Zane about basketball.

"What position do you play again?" Zane frowned, his blonde eyebrows scrunching together.

"Point guard."

"I remember my point guard days, I was a beast!" he reminisced humorously.

"Yeah in the fourth grade," Malachi chimed in.

"You're committed to UConn right?" Zane asked, ignoring the other boy.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Paige smiled.

"Cat talks about you all the time," he shrugged.

At this, Catherine shot up from her position on the couch and slapped the back of his buzzed blonde head. "No I don't!" she argued.

He stood abruptly, and rubbing the now burning patch on his head he said, "Yes you do! I literally remember you saying-"

"Okay!" The blonde girl interjected, "Can we please play a game or something? I'm bored."

"Just go back to painting your nails Noella, the grown ups are speaking," Zane gestured to himself, Catherine, Malachi, and Paige.

"Well in that case you should sit your ass down," she snapped.

"What game?" Malachi asked.

Just like that, the topic of Catherine's incessant talk of Paige had been dropped. Dropped by everyone except the two girls who now stared at each other with pleasant smiles. The group gathered around in a circle and Uno cards were disputed amongst them, everyone audibly reacting to their own deck.

Paige seated herself beside Catherine, nudging her shoulder. "You talk about me huh?" she laughed.

"Zane blows everything out of proportion, i've mentioned you like once or twice," Catherine dismissed simply. It was a lie. Catherine talked about Paige like a proud girlfriend, boasting about how great of a basketball player her new friend was and how good she looked while playing.

Paige nodded simply, not wanting to tease Catherine too much but also taking pride in the fact that the girl talked about her.

They played games for a hefty chunk of the night, stuffing their faces with pizza and cookies and whatever else Catherine's kitchen had to offer. Paige was surprised to discover that the boys were sleeping over as well, though they were in a separate room, she couldn't ever imagine either of her parents allowing something like that.

When the time came for everyone to settle down and get ready for bed, Noella and Sasha disappeared into the bathroom while Paige and Catherine waited in the bed.

"Do you wanna shower tonight?" Catherine asked her suddenly, switching off her phone.

"Yeah, sure. Are you gonna shower?"

"Mhm," Catherine nodded. "It shouldn't take them that long in there cus they're in there together so..." her voice trailed off as she shrugged.

Paige frowned, switching her own phone off as she turned to Catherine. "What do you mean?"

"They're showering together," she laughed, "we do it all the time 'cus we grew up together 'n' stuff."

Paige's lips parted as she went to respond, but at the last second she decided not to. They shower together...What kinda shit is that? Never in life had Paige ever considered showering with someone she saw as just a friend. Showering was your private time to clean yourself and all the parts of you that no one else was supposed to see, to share that time with someone else was intimate, wasn't it?

"Sometimes we just go ahead and finger each other too," Catherine revealed, and Paige's eyebrows shot to meet her hairline. "Kidding! Holy shit i'm kidding, we don't do that."

The pair burst into laughter, using it as an excuse to touch and grab at each other. Catherine ended up with her hand on Paige's knee, toying around with the thread of the sweatpants she was wearing. She smiled slightly, "You believed me for a second though."

"I definitely did," Paige nodded, "was finna grab my bags and go," she joked.

Catherine smirked, "You don't like that?"

"Like what?"

"Fingering."

The energy in the room shifted quickly with just that one word, both girls now staring at each other in silence. Paige couldn't help but feel like Catherine was asking for reasons other than being genuinely interested, and she wanted to give her what she wanted.

"Not my friends...no," the blonde shook her head.

"You don't like it or you've just never done it?" Catherine questioned further, rolling off of the bed and heading over to her dresser. She rummaged around through the drawers for some pajamas as she waited for Paige to respond to her forward question.

If Paige didn't have a crush on the girl, she would've been uncomfortable by the topic, but since that wasn't the case, she provided her with an answer. "I've never done it."

Catherine laughed sweetly, her back still turned. Paige stared at her legs again and the way her jeans shorts cupped her ass perfectly, two gold stars on the back pockets. Paige wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers up and down those legs, how Catherine's ass would fit into her hand as she squeezed it during a passionate kiss. She wanted to see her tits, her back, she wanted to explore every part of the girl standing before her.

She pulled out a pair of lacy panties and a white tank top, tossing them onto the bed and sitting back down. Paige didn't know how she was going to keep it together all night if Catherine was planning to walk around in the pieces of string she had just gotten out. However, after taking a closer look at them, she noticed how familiar they looked. They were the same pair that she had been wearing in the very first picture that Paige had received from her.

Catherine looked at her, waiting for her to say something. She knew, Paige knew, they both knew, and yet their smiles were the only telling factors.

When the sound of the shower cut off, Catherine glanced in the direction of the bathroom. She slowly got up off of the bed and grabbed her clothes (if you could even call them that).

"I'm gonna shower..." she told her.

Something in Paige's eyes darkened as she watched her back up toward the bathroom door. She got up as well, her own pajamas in her hand as she backed up to the other bathroom door.

"I think i'm gonna shower too...After you though 'cus...I don't shower with my friends," Paige smirked knowingly.

"Right, totally understood."

✰ ✰ ✰

Paige couldn't keep her eyes off of Catherine's wet, soapy body. Though she had to admit, she wasn't trying that hard either. The shower was big enough for an entire family of people and yet the girls still found themselves mere inches away from each other. Catherine was standing under one of the shower heads, her eyes closed and head tilted in the air.

Keep it together.

Paige had repeated those three words in her head over and over again, the task proving to be more difficult with every second that passed. She wanted to pin Catherine against the wall and take her right there, but she wouldn't. Not until she got the green light.

She wondered whether that was the direction this shower was going in, did Catherine want to hook up or was she just this close with all her friends? But Paige wasn't just a friend, was she?

Those messages say otherwise...

Brown eyes fluttered open, and Catherine smiled coyly at Paige. She stepped out from under the water and closer to the blonde, her head tilted slightly upward to meet her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

Paige nodded, "Are you?"

She hesitated before slowly shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" the blonde frowned.

"You haven't given me my birthday gift yet..."

How had Catherine known that Paige had even gotten her anything? For all she knew, it was just a card with some money slipped inside. But Paige wasn't that inconsiderate, she had gotten her a jelly cheek tint from Sephora, but Catherine couldn't have known that. And she didn't, because that wasn't the gift Catherine was talking about.

Paige hid her surprise at the mention of the drunken promise, that entire conversation between the girls had been a blur for her. It was a couple weeks ago, Paige had been at a party while she was texting Catherine, their conversation quickly turning sexual the more Paige had to drink. She didn't think Catherine had taken it seriously, but she probably should've expected it.

"It's not your birthday yet," Paige smirked.

"Don't fuck with me," Catherine mumbled, crashing her lips onto Paige's.

The smacking of their lips was drowned out by the water coming down hard around them. They moved in sync with each other, grabbing thirstily at one another. Paige couldn't decide what to do with her hands, she wanted to grab her neck, to hug her waist, to smack her ass.

The scent of her shampoo was overwhelming to Paige, she felt herself drowning in it as she kissed her, pulling her in deeper. There was a sense of urgency between them, at any second they could be interrupted by one of the girls outside. They couldn't risk that happening, they had waited all night for this.

Catherine backed up into the wall, dragging the blonde with her without ever disconnecting their lips. Paige tasted amazing, Catherine could say that without a doubt for she was exploring every inch of the girl's mouth. Her tongue moved with ease as she maneuvered it around Paige's own, the kiss becoming sloppy.

A string of spit stretched between their mouths when Paige briefly pulled away only to attach her lips to Catherine's jaw instead. She sucked harshly in any spot that Catherine reacted to. Paige licked a straight line from her neck up to her ear, placing a kiss right underneath it.

"Been waitin' all night for this huh?" she teased, her hands trailing slowly down Catherine's body. She was holding the taller girl impossibly close, releasing breathless moans the more attention that Paige paid to her neck. "Been wantin' me?"

Catherine had her arms draped over Paige's shoulders, one hand tangled in her hair while the other dug deep into her skin. She mumbled incoherently in response to Paige, the cold glass on her back and the warmth of Paige on her front sending her into a clouded state. Paige's hands snaked down to her ass, spanking it hard before following up with a soothing rub.

She did it again, and again, and again until Catherine was a whining, begging mess.

"Please Paige," she panted heavily, "need you so bad..."

"What do you need?"

"Need you to fuck me."

Paige laughed tauntingly, "Spread your legs," she demanded.

Catherine obliged pitifully quickly, one of her legs hooking around Paige's body.

Paige ran her fingers through Catherine's sopping slit, relishing in the way the shorter girl shuddered in her grasp. Her thumb toyed around with her swollen clit whilst she began to tease her entrance with her fingertips. Paige stared darkly into her eyes, unconsciously biting her lip at the pleading look that Catherine was giving her.

"What's the magic word?" the blonde smirked mockingly.

"Mmm, please," Catherine whined.

"Louder."

"Please Paige just fuck me!"

Paige watched in accomplishment at the way Catherine's face contorted in pleasure when she inserted her fingers. The blonde nodded her head understandingly, "Yeah that feels good doesn't it?" she cooed.

"Yes," the curly head sighed out.

Just as quickly as she had pulled them out, she thrusted them back in. Catherine unwillingly whimpered.

"This what you wanted?" Paige asked darkly. "For me to fuck you on your birthday, hm?"

Catherine matched the rhythm of Paige's fingers as she moved her hips against them. Paige stared deep into her eyes as she fucked her, their foreheads pressed together to stay grounded. A burning sensation erupted on Paige's back, the shower water was coming in contact with the scratches that Catherine was leaving. She used it as motivation to go faster, plunging into her so hard and so fast that Catherine's legs began to tremble.

She clung onto Paige for dear life, one of her hands slamming against the glass door behind her as Paige fucked her into it. The other was hooked under Paige's arm and gripping her shoulder.

"Yesyesyes," Catherine mumbled in hastened breaths, "so fucking good, so fucking good."

"You gonna cum mama?"

"Yes, keep going."

Paige noticed the way Catherine's walls were clenching around her, and she nodded her head encouragingly.

"C'mon," she urged, "c'mon."

The other girl elicited moans that Paige had never heard in her entire life. They were uncontrollable as Catherine's body writhed and squirmed. The most guttural noises left her mouth and filled the bathroom and Paige muffled them with the palm of her hand. She slowed the pace of her fingers and let Catherine ride out her orgasm before completely removing them.

The younger girl was out of breath, her chest heaving up and down at a rate quicker than usual.

Paige held onto her, rubbing her back softly as she calmed down. She kissed the top of her head, "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," she nodded into her chest.

They stood in silence, holding each other and placing small kisses on each other's foreheads and shoulders.

"We should probably wash again," Catherine laughed shyly.

Paige smiled, "Yeah we should." She ruffled the wet curls of the pretty girl in front of her, "Happy early Birthday Catherine."

___________________________________________________________

[mokulule]

Flickering Stars

Dead on MAYn day 5 Prompt: Soulmates

Jason had very carefully not asked if Phantom would join the Titan mission, when Tim had asked for his assistance, but judging by Tim’s knowing look Jason had given in too easily. He pretended at grumpy as he waved Tim off, even Tim being obnoxiously knowing couldn’t quell the excitement building in his chest at getting to see Phantom again. Probably. He would probably see Phantom again. He hadn’t confirmed with Tim, that Phantom would be there, he wasn’t a permanent fixture on the Teen Titans. But with the look Tim had sent him it was pretty likely the case.

Checking to make sure Tim had left - he had - Jason finally gave into the urge and groaned loudly. He rubbed his face. 

Fuck, he was so gone it was stupid.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Phantom had never been part of the plan. Jason had never imagined- He sighed. It wasn’t like he was unused to his plans for his life going awry, but this particular dream was one he’d clung to longer than most. He covered the mark on the inside of his left arm just below his elbow with his hand, feeling the slightly raised skin: his soul mark.

For as long as he could remember he’d had that little grouping of stars slightly raised and pink. His mom, his real mom, Catherine, who’d raised him and not just supplied DNA had told him what it meant with a bittersweet smile. That he was one of the lucky ones. That out there was a soulmate for him, his match in every way. Someone who would love him more than anyone. 

As he’d grown, he learned it wasn’t as simple as that. Not all soul matches were even romantic in nature. Not all soulmates ever met each other. The world was vast and sometimes even if they did meet, they just had a scant few years together before one died. But those that did meet they mattered, always. 

The idea of his soulmate out there had kept him going even as his mom slipped deeper into the drugs (she loved him, but not enough to stay with him). Even as he was on the streets fending for himself, that little grouping of stars gave him hope that some day, he would find love and belonging.

For a short while, he’d thought he had that even without meeting his soulmate. He had Bruce and Alfred, sometimes Dick. He had Robin. For a while he’d thought he might get to be the one to offer his soulmate something other than himself, but that life, that dream had been violently cut short (and maybe Bruce loved him, but not enough to avenge him). When Jason had become lucid again after his return, he’d found his mark faded to gray; his soulmate died. He’d cried for the soulmate he never met, and death of the dream he’d had of finding them. He’d been too late, just another tally in the statistics for those who never found each other.

After that he didn’t look at the mark for weeks. It wasn’t hard, he was busy training. He had a plan to enact, a goal. He wore long sleeved shirts. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of it after a shower as bright and healthy pink as ever he near had a heart attack.

He checked the mark regularly after that. Sometimes it was grey, sometimes pink. Was his soulmate sick? Teetering at the edge of proper dying every day? Or had Jason’s death messed with their connection? Had Jason’s soul not come back whole with him and now he could only get a spotty signal through like broken radio.

Privately Jason thought it was the last one. He had come back wrong, Bruce’s personal nightmare. Death had changed him irrevocably. It made sense his soulmate didn’t match him as well anymore.

Still, part of him had hoped to one day meet them regardless. But he didn’t look for them, there was a fear clutching his heart when he thought of it - what if they rejected him? The very thought ached. Being rejected by his soulmate… He couldn’t think of anything more damning. Jason had enough raw wounds over rejection. He didn’t need to add more. 

These days he and Bruce were only just barely civil. Any time some criminal was found dead, Jason could feel the old bat’s eyes linger on him the next time they saw each other. It was enough to make Jason wonder why he even bothered trying to make nice, he was much better at blowing things up. 

Still, anytime he considered just saying screw it all, he was reminded by someone else that they cared. Be it Alfred or the multitude of siblings and not-quite siblings. Sometimes the old Bat himself even had a moment.

It was enough to keep him in the fold and sometimes at his most cynical he wondered if that was the point, to keep him just close enough to keep him on the narrow, but never truly part of the family.

Tim asking for assistance on a Titan’s matter some months ago however, that had been a clear sign of how far the two of them had come. Even Jason’s paranoia couldn’t argue with it. Tim would have never let Jason come anywhere near his friends if he didn’t trust Jason.

Jason had done the necessary brotherly grumping and bartering, but both he and Tim had known he couldn’t say no.

And then he’d met Phantom.

Tim’s friend Phantom, a ghost, who had more death jokes than even Jason. Who, unlike Tim’s other friends wan’t the least bit wary of him. Phantom whose hair shimmered like starlight and whose sharp smile set Jason’s heart pounding in excited anticipation - for what he hadn’t known, but he hadn’t been disappointed when things finally went down on the second mission.

Phantom was a heavy hitter, and something about the power he exuded set every nerve of Jason’s alight with energy and he’d never he’d never felt so alive. He’d been breathless and weak with the bewildering desire for Phantom to manhandle him.

Jason couldn’t even really recall what the mission had been about precisely. He knew he’d done his part, but the memory paled next to Phantom.

It would have been fine if this was all a matter of sexual attraction, but Jason had fallen hard and fast for Phantom. He didn’t even know or care if Phantom, as a ghost, corporeal though he seemed, had any interest in anything sexual. He just wanted to spend time with him and get to know him better, figure out if Phantom was as interested in getting to know Jason as he was Phantom. 

Some things pointed towards that. Like after that second mission and Phantom had found him in the hallway before he’d left. Jason could still feel his cool gloved fingers tracing the scar down his cheek, and that cute little frown. He vividly remembered the way his green eyes had flicked down to Jason’s lips and lingered there for more than a casual glance. Jason had felt so certain Phantom would kiss him - until Tim had interrupted.

That had been two months ago.

Jason hadn’t had a reason, an excuse, to see Phantom since. They didn’t run in the same circles, Phantom was Tim’s friend, not Jason’s. And when it came down to it Jason didn’t even know what he wanted from Phantom.

His nails dug painfully into his skin. He gasped and released his hand from where it covered the mark - it was grey currently. He hadn’t noticed when he’d started gripping his arm instead of just holding it. 

He had a soulmate, he could be sick and here Jason was falling in love with someone else. Who knew when the mark would turn to grey permanently and Jason would have missed his chance.

Not that Jason had anything to offer his soulmate but a load of baggage. 

It still felt like betrayal.

Oo o oO

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Phantom said with a huff as he pushed Jason to sit down on the cot. “I’m a ghost, I could have just gone intangible.”

Jason bit back a groan when Phantom grabbed too close to the wound below his shredded jacket. Phantom quickly moved his hand further down on his left arm as he peered at the bloody mess of his shoulder area.

“Looks worse than it is,” Jason assured leaning his head back against the wall of the infirmary. He watched Phantom, eyes half lidded behind his domino. He felt a bit woozy from the blood loss and it was nice sitting down, but he was not about to concede the argument. “I’ve seen you take a hit before when you were distracted.” Phantom scowled at him. “Okay yes, but I’m durable. More so than you.” The scowl turned worried as his gaze slid back to the mess.

He picked gingerly at the soaked fabric for a moment before huffing through his nose.

“This might feel weird.” Then he pulled Jason’s jacket off by pulling it through him. A shiver went up Jason’s spine at the cold liquid feeling. Jason blinked owlishly at his jacket suddenly hanging from Phantom’s hand. His cheeks warmed as his thoughts suddenly turned in a very different direction due to Phantom’s apparent ease at divesting him of his clothing. 

He looked away and coughed to get his voice under control. 

“Didn’t know you could do that.” Phantom grinned at him. 

“I don’t advertise my abilities, sometimes they surprise even myself.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He watched Phantom as he poked cool hands at the wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped. The jacket and his suit had truly taken the brunt of it, but it had had time to seep through everything.

“Gonna have to take the suit off too, at least by your arm. How much is it connected to? I can’t make it just part intangible, so it it’s a one piece suit, that’s not a good option.” “If you can just help me peel it off my upper body that’s fine.” He found the zipper and pulled it down to his belt. He wore a tank top underneath. Things would be perfectly decent. No reason to get excited. Not that blood loss for conducive to that sort of excitement anyways.

Phantom took care when he gently pulled the enforced fabrice over his shoulder, but it still started bleeding fresh when places where the fabric had dried to his wounds were removed. The other arm was easier.

Phantom grimaced at the sight. Jason had to agree. There were several gashes. Phantom flew away and returned with a bottle of saline and a cloth. The cloth he held against Jason’s arm as he started to rinse the wounds to absorb the worst of the liquid - still, it dribbled onto the cot. The gashes didn’t look too deep, thankfully. 

When Phantom was satisfied the wounds were clean and without fabric threads or dirt, he fetched gauze swabs to dab it dry. He was so intent on his work, Jason could just relax and watch. His shoulder ached fiercely, but every cool touch was like a balm. After Phantom had set the third well-made stitch, Jason had to know:

“Why would a ghost learn to do stitches?” Phantom looked up at him through his lashes and sent him an impish smile.

“Because he forgets to dodge.”

Jason shook his head, couldn’t help but smile at the reference to their earlier conversation, even as the idea of Phantom knowing because he’d had to stitch himself up settled uneasy in his stomach.

Phantom continued his work, until finally he covered the area with a large bandage. He smoothed it over the area and Jason sighed in relief as the cold from his hands seeped through numbing the pain.

Phantom smiled at him. “Good?” “Yeah.” He watched through half-lidded eyes as Phantom considered him, then came to a decision. He left his right hand on the bandage, then moved the other to cup Jason’s face. Jason’s breath hitched. 

“Good?” Phantom asked again. “Yeah,” Jason whispered hoarsely. His skin tingled where Phantom touched his cheek. He rubbed his thumb gently over the bruise on Jason’s cheekbone, and he could feel the cold seep in just there reducing the swelling. 

He slid his hand down to a not yet healed nick on his throat, it was a few days old, rested it there for a moment before moving on, smoothing the hand over his right shoulder. There was a bruise from last week, it wasn’t swollen anymore just a bit achy if touched. His hand lingered on scars as if he could soothe old hurts. He reached his hand, took it and lifted it up to inspect. He brushed his thumb over Jason’s rough knuckles and then the calluses on his palm, soft and careful.

All the while Jason felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t get soft. He didn’t get careful or gentle. Yet here Phantom was being exactly that.

Phantom moved to the other hand, the left one, then his wrist. Too late Jason realized where his gaze would go next and he was too late in covering his soulmark.

Phantom looked at him eyes wide and sad, “You had a soulmate?” Had. Jason hadn’t looked, but that had to mean it was grey right now. Jason felt his eyes prickle at the reminder. One look, one touch from Phantom and he forgot all about having a soulmate at all. To think he was that fickle. 

“Have.” Jason corrected. Even if maybe their connection was frayed because Jason was wrong now. “Have?” Phantom asked bewildered. 

“Yeah,” Jason said mouth dry, Phantom deserved to know if they started something. “It changes, from pink to grey and back, has done so for years. They might be sick.” 

There was no way Jason would admit his personal fear out loud.

Phantom stared at him eyes wide and mouth slightly open as if he was the one seeing a ghost. Then frantically he pulled Jason’s hand away from the mark. Jason was so startled he let him. Phantom then looked from him to the little stars of raised skin and back again.

“I-“ He said. “I never-“

He shook his head in… disbelief? Awe? Clearly he couldn’t find words. Then there was a bright flash, but more than that sudden warmth bloomed up his arm from his mark to his chest.

Desperately Jason blinked the stars out of his eyes only to see blue eyes instead of green, black hair instead of white. Skin pale and not glowing, human. Alive. 

Bare hands touched his skin, calloused fingers brushed his soul mark and sent another wave of warmth up his arm.

“What?” Jason tried desperately to catch up to what had just happened, as he looked from Phantom’s bare hands to his face to the fact he was not clad in a nasa t-shirt and jeans instead of the black and white suit.

“Hood,” Phantom said intently, then gestured with his eyes at Jason’s soul mark which was now pink, framed by Phantom’s living hands.

“Hood,” Phantom repeated a helpless half smile on his lips when Jason met his eyes, “my superpower is dying on command.”

Dying on command.

Jason’s mouth fell open.

Dying on-

Rapidly events caught up to him. Phantom was dead, Jason’s soulmark grey. Phantom was alive, Jason’s soulmark pink. Phantom could die on command. 

Laughter, ridiculous laughter bubbled out of his chest. All his worry, thinking he came back wrong (he did, but not that much, not enough that he didn’t fit his soulmate), and it was just because of Phantom’s powers. He’d been torn about falling for Phantom when he was his soulmate all along.

He laughed and laughed and laughed.

He laughed until he cried.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He couldn’t even wipe his eyes because of the stupid domino.

“Hey,” Phantom said, holding his hands out, clearly unsure about touching him.

“Did you ever consider how it would look to your soulmate?” Phantom withdrew his hands and hunched his shoulders. He didn’t look at Jason as he said quietly, “I did die, to gain my powers. I was the only one who could deal with the ghosts who attacked my hometown. And besides,” Phantom looked up and met Jason’s eyes with grief, “my mark was grey after my death. I didn’t know if my soulmate had died or it was because I had died. For about six months my mark was grey, before it somehow came back alive, by then I was in too deep. Figured any soulmate must have given up on me.” “I was dead,” Jason said quietly. “I know, I can sense it.” Phantom managed a smile at that, “Tim was tired of hearing me wax poetic about you.” “What?” That teased out a laugh.

“Yeah, how you’d died like me. How you avenged those in need, freeing their spirits. Your thighs.” Jason spluttered.  

Phantom tilted his head, hand going to his chin and stroking it in mock consideration. “Now that I think about it, it was probably the thigh talk that convinced Tim to introduce us, he always looked so disturbed.”

Jason laughed shortly. Phantom grinned pleased for a moment but then his smile fell.

“Hood?” Phantom said quietly, and Jason met his gaze. “I really, really like you. This-“ he held out his left arm where his own mark depicted an open book- “it doesn’t actually change anything. And it doesn’t mean you have an obligation to like me back.” Jason stared incredulously.

How in the world could he think Jason didn’t like him back?

Then, he grabbed Phantom and pulled him into his arms, careful to mainly use his right arm and not ruin Phantom's work. Phantom yelped in surprise, but quieted immediately once Jason got him settled in his lap. His face was quickly turning red.

“You. Are an idiot.” Jason said sternly and leaned his forehead against Phantom’s temple. He proceeded to ignore the insulted protest and said, “I like you.” 

That shut him up. 

They could save love for later.

Oo o oO

Okay I might be getting cavities here, I hope ya'll feel they deserved the happy ending. I need to work on something proper angsty next to compensate XD

[beguines]

Massacre is a dead metaphor that is eating my friends, eating them without salt. They were poets and have become Reporters With Borders; they were already tired and now they're even more tired. 'They cross the bridge at daybreak fleet of foot' and die with no phone coverage. I see them through night vision goggles and follow the heat of their bodies in the darkness; there they are, fleeing from it even as they run towards it, surrendering to this huge massage. Massacre is their true mother, while genocide is no more than a classical poem written by intellectual pensioned-off generals. Genocide isn't appropriate for my friends, as it's an organised collective action and organised collective actions remind them of the Left that let them down.

Massacre wakes up early, bathes my friends in cold water and blood, washes their underclothes and makes them bread and tea, then teaches them a little about the hunt. Massacre is more compassionate to my friends than the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Massacre opened the door to them when other doors were closed, and called them by their names when news reports were looking for numbers. Massacre is the only one to grant them asylum regardless of their backgrounds; their economic circumstances don't bother Massacre, nor does Massacre care whether they are intellectuals or poets, Massacre looks at things from a neutral angle; Massacre has the same dead features as them, the same names as their widowed wives, passes like them through the countryside and the suburbs and appears suddenly like them in breaking news. Massacre resembles my friends, but always arrives before them in faraway villages and children's schools.

Massacre is a dead metaphor that comes out of the television and eats my friends without a single pinch of salt.

Ghayath Almadhoun, "Massacre", Adrenalin, trans. Catherine Cobham