#because the only people who call him that are vapid billionaires!!!!

[lylethewaterguy]

I need to know if I’m the only one

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Prev

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly. 

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight. 

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed. 

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp. 

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table. 

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian. 

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.” 

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts. 

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here? 

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world. 

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run. 

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian. 

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. 

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins. 

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest. 

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously. 

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation. 

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs. 

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain. 

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring. 

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs. 

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says. 

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in. 

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason. 

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies. 

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks. 

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics? 

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine. 

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse. 

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful. 

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud? 

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd. 

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest. 

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears. 

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’. 

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him. 

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods. 

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise. 

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere. 

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps. 

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne. 

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two. 

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien. 

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again. 

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car. 

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts. 

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs. 

“Yeah right.” 

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right? 

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason. 

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-” 

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks. 

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.” 

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns. 

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief. 

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again. 

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness. 

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement. 

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

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Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

[terrence-silver]

“Terrence” silver taking an homeless s/o from the streets and letting them live in his mansion, obviously he’s with Cheyenne, but perhaps he becomes attracted to s/o because they appeal more to the old terry? Perhaps he would battle his attraction in his mind until he sees his s/o doing something Inherently sexual and somehow snaps!! Im sorry I’m not the best at writing I just thought this was an interesting concept I love your work btw!!

I think that everything Terry did in this phase of his life was inherently for show and a well-crafted persona, including his relationship, arrangement, situationship, call it what you may, so if he took a homeless person in from the streets, that too, could've been inherently for the show in front of his social circle. Not only is he is a Billionaire, he's a socially conscious good Billionaire with a plight for the poor and this person from the streets becomes a morality pet on a pedestal to make him look noble, you know. I think his token friends would've admired and patted him on the back for it and that's all 'Terrence' would've wanted anyhow. A sparkling, immaculate, new him and serves to hide what bubbles beneath the surface. Just because he had therapy and got clean off of drugs, I literally refuse to believe he still isn't cunning, manipulative and himself. If he has to collect a full, live person and give them a roof over their head to achieve his game of subterfuge (possibly employ them as staff, or a maid, to grant them a sense of purpose, and himself the extra cred of offering someone so broken and hopeless a job), then so be it. It's, initially, less about this homeless person and more about him and maintaining his carefully curated reputation in a highly controlled, cooled environment like an ice cream that could melt any second if removed from the freezer, just to add in a metaphor. He's not like in the 80's anymore, no, no. He promises. Don't you trust him?

Then comes the prospect of actually liking and caring for this destitute person.

I think he'd struggle with who he's growing to grow sweet on, despite his own adventure relationship literally feeling like a dwindling thing on the decline and I think 'Terrence' channels his attraction for the homeless person he brought in by excessive meddling and playing into being a loving benefactor with your best intentions at heart. But, he still is a Billionaire and you were homeless not so long ago. There's a certain expectation who he should be with and what type of person. An app developer seems about right. A homeless person, not so much. And as I said, I think he copes with that by meddling. Meddles in your habits, because you need to be re-socialized and he's like a worried mother hen --- and he doesn't immediately, outright know how to show you his budding emotions. Did you eat? Did you sleep? Did you clean yourself? You know you can use everything in the lodgings you've been given, right? Don't be shy to ask if you need something else. Stock up on your vitamins, poor thing, you were out on the streets so long. Do you want to vent? Terrence knows venting is good. His therapist has told him so. What are your dreams? Your aspirations? In due time, it becomes far less about him collecting social brownie points to impress his vapid friends and more about having a genuine connection to the most unexpected of people and before you accidentally even do anything sultry that could set him off, I legitimately think you'll grow on him. Why?

Because for all his posturing I'm convinced Terry likes people who are raw.

I also think 'Terrence' would've held back from doing anything sexual to you even if he was internally 'set off' and started wanting you. I think he'd reflect on the power dynamic of him being who he is and you being someone he collected off of the streets and he'd deliberately employ control to hold back, precisely because he does care for you and precisely because it would've been...well...disrespectful. It's not until John returns into his life, Terry breaks off his prior companionship and returns to his old ways that he does a thing. He's free now. He has a fully fledged you as a protege. He's polished you like a diamond in the rough and you clean up beautifully. Your presence suits him immensely. I don't think you ever actually leave the now emptied mansion, as in, move out of it. Why? Because you're Terry's.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Six months after he was proclaimed king, Edward VIII felt that he deserved a holiday, as he was exhausted by the responsibilities and duties.

His initial intention was to head to a villa near Cannes, but its proximity to the Spanish Civil War made it a poor idea, so a cruise was decided upon.

A luxury yacht, the Nahlin, was described by royal equerry John Aird as ‘furnished rather like a Calais whore-shop’.

Its library was thrown out and replaced with a Bacchanalian quantity of drink, and a portable pool was installed on the boat deck.

The King and his then-mistress Wallis Simpson, at the time still married to her second husband Ernest Simpson, occupied the best suite at one end of the boat, in separate rooms, while the other guests – friends, socialites and acquaintances including the Earl of Sefton and his paramour – were in this quasi-Gallic brothel at the other end.

Tommy Lascelles, Edward’s assistant private secretary who accompanied the trip, described it acidly as:

‘outwardly as respectable as a boatload of archdeacons, but the fact remains that the two chief passengers were cohabiting with other men’s wives’.

There was soon a tension between the stated purpose of the voyage – a holiday for the King and his friends – and the expectation that a monarch travelling round Europe would perform some diplomatic functions.

Even as Edward attempted to preserve his anonymity by calling himself the Duke of Lancaster – a façade that did not last long – the entire holiday took on a strangely theatrical feel, as an intimate romantic escape was diversified by the presence of a bevy of friends, staff and hangers-on, two destroyers, and tens of thousands of inhabitants of the nations they visited.

Wallis was pleased that they were being received with such fervour at the first public recognition of them as a couple, saying, with a touch of condescension:

‘It delighted both of us that strangers of uncomplicated hearts should wish us well.’

But when Edward’s friend, socialite Lady Diana Cooper, joined the Nahlin at Split with her husband Duff, she witnessed the whole caboodle somewhat differently.

In a letter to a friend, she observed that Edward’s major activity was pleasing Wallis, who knew her power over him.

‘The King was fussing over her proudly, going down on hands and knees to pull her dress from under the chair feet.’

Things swiftly went awry, as Diana and the others were treated to a display of the power dynamic within their relationship.

‘She stared at him as one would a freak and then started picking on him for having been silent and rude to Mrs Jones [a dinner guest].’

It was quite a performance. On and on she went… He got a little irritated and sad.’

Lady Cooper’s instinct was that, rather than witnessing two people in the throes of passion, Edward had made himself look ridiculous and small – very much ‘the little man’ – by his infatuation.

As she wrote, after a further outbreak of temper caused by Wallis refusing to go bathing:

‘The truth is she’s bored stiff by him, and her picking on him and her coldness towards him are irritation and boredom.’

Meanwhile, Duff Cooper observed:

‘She is a nice woman and a sensible woman – but she is hard as nails and doesn’t love him.’

After he returned to England, Duff confided in politician Chips Channon that he was ‘revolted by the King’s selfish stupidity’, and, along with his wife, thoroughly sceptical about the likelihood of a marriage between two such obviously mismatched people.

And yet in December 1936, four months after the cruise, Edward gave up his throne, and the following year, in a Loire Valley chateau lent to them by a French billionaire, he married Wallis.

The abdication crisis represents a social and political upheaval like England has seldom known.

The only suitable analogy is the Civil War, a time in which the country was similarly torn apart and in which royal arrogance and heedlessness found an equally cold reception.

In this instance, ultimate responsibility lies with one person.

She was a slight, immaculately dressed American divorcee, childless and in early middle age.

There have been countless rumours and misattributions regarding her involvement in the abdication crisis. Yet the most remarkable fact about her is the simplest.

Wallis Simpson was the woman who brought Britain to a state of crisis that threatened its very stability as a nation.

It was ultimately resolved, but at great cost that could have been even greater.

As the Duke of Wellington said of the Battle of Waterloo, it was ‘the nearest-run thing you ever saw’.

Simpson became one of the most photographed and discussed people of the age, right up until her death in 1986, largely condemned as an ambitious gold-digger.

And yet few have explored what really went on behind closed doors between her and Edward’s closest relatives and friends in the run-up to the abdication:

How Wallis’s very presence soured Edward’s relationship with his inner circle, the frostiness between Wallis and Edward’s sister-in-law, the Duchess of York (later the Queen Mother) as a result of her outrageous demands and deliberate ignorance of royal protocol.

And above all, how it all chipped away at Edward’s relationship with his beloved brother Bertie (later King George VI), who until then had been his closest friend and ally.

It has been a privilege to do that, using a mixture of rare archival sources, many of which have only been made public recently and some that are published – in a new book, The Crown in Crisis – for the first time, including new interviews with those who knew Edward and Wallis, as well as a comprehensive selection of the diaries, letters and records written by those with first-hand experience of the abdication crisis.

If previous rulers had wished to take a wife and found the status quo against them, they acted with brutal force.

Social change on this level was not an option for Edward, who initially lacked a brilliant advisor and instead was pitted against the most powerful figures in British society, who tried to frustrate his wishes to marry Wallis, some out of principle, others from personal animosity.

However, Edward at least had one constant counsellor in Bertie, his younger brother and heir presumptive.

While Edward’s younger brothers Prince George and Prince Henry were, respectively, a hedonistic libertine and an amiable but drunken non-entity, Bertie was a decent and principled man whom Edward envied.

He initially placed inordinate faith in Bertie’s judgment.

He insisted, perhaps in an attempt to share the burden of the crown, that his brother was kept abreast of all relevant court papers and matters of state.

Yet this trust did not extend to his dealings with Wallis.

The two brothers, who had hitherto been close, began to drift apart.

Bertie, then the Duke of York, had a happy domestic life with his wife and daughters, Elizabeth and Margaret.

The King did not.

Sometimes, their different approaches caused tension. And in the months after Edward met Wallis, the relationship between the two brothers grew distant.

Helen Hardinge, wife of Edward’s private secretary Alec, wrote in her memoir:

‘[Bertie] felt that he had lost a friend and was rapidly losing a brother.’

On 26 September 1936, when the Yorks visited Balmoral for dinner, there was some residual ill-will already.

Yet Wallis made the situation markedly worse through a mixture of her own carelessness and arrogance.

Precedent and etiquette dictated that visiting royalty should only be welcomed by the official host, namely Edward, but Wallis took it upon herself to greet the Duchess of York when she entered the Balmoral drawing room, in what one onlooker called ‘a deliberate and calculated display of power’.

However, as the Duchess of York stood in front of her that evening, it was soon made clear to Wallis that not everyone was as subservient as the King of England.

The Duchess pointedly ignored the interloper, saying ‘as if to no one in particular’, ‘I came to dine with the King,’ and her intervention had the desired effect.

Edward, looking ‘rather startled’, extricated himself from his nearby conversation and the evening proceeded in a smoother fashion, even if Bertie was ‘embarrassed and very nervous’ at the clash.

Though Edward later wrote of this 11-day sojourn at Balmoral as a glorious time (‘Life within the castle was extremely pleasant’), others had a more uncomfortable experience.

The Duchess of York wrote to Queen Mary [Edward and Bertie’s mother] to say that:

‘There has been a great sadness and sense of loss for us and all the people. It will never quite be the same for us...

I feel that the whole difficulty is a certain person.

I do not feel that I can make advances to her and ask her to our house, as I imagine would be liked...

The whole situation is complicated and horrible.’

Almost without knowing or caring, Edward had managed to estrange himself from his entire family.

By late 1936, many others shared the Duchess of York’s feelings.

‘I have grown to hate that woman,’ Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin lamented to the civil servant Thomas Jones in early November.

If Jones’s account is accurate, the Prime Minister lambasted her, saying:

‘She has done more in nine months to damage the monarchy than Victoria and George V did to repair it in half a century.’

Gloomily speculating that Edward had been profligate with the royal purse, Baldwin offered a terse summation of matters as they stood constitutionally.

‘If he marries her, she is automatically Queen of England. I would then hand in my resignation and I think my colleagues would [also] agree to do so.’

Later that month, on 16 November, the King had a tense and unproductive interview with his mother.

Queen Mary remembered her late husband’s implacable objections to Wallis and his refusal to acknowledge her as his son’s consort.

She had asked Baldwin at least twice if there was anything that could be done, to which the Prime Minister had shrugged.

To her son, she said nothing, which he may have interpreted as tacit acceptance of the status quo.

In fact, it was the most profound expression of royal authority imaginable.

Edward was probably unaware that his mother had spent the previous weeks poring with growing horror over American newspaper accounts of his relationship with Mrs. Simpson.

As her friend Maria Belloc Lowndes wrote in November 1936:

‘Queen Mary is in anguish. She can neither sleep nor eat.’

The Duchess of York sympathetically told her that:

‘I feel quite overcome with horror and emotion... One feels so helpless against such obstinacy.’

Faced with the unthinkable, the Royal family withdrew into the comforting certainty of protocol, even as it threatened to come crashing down around them.

Finally, on 10 December, by which time the decision to abdicate had been irrevocably taken, the dutiful Bertie arranged for Edward to see his long-suffering mother at his home in Windsor Great Park, Royal Lodge.

They met at three o’clock and were together ‘for some time’, as Bertie noted.

The King attempted to justify himself, but she made it clear that she continued to disapprove of his actions, and that she was bewildered by the circumstances that had led to their execution.

Edward claimed later that, ‘Her heart went out to her hard-pressed son, prompting her to say with tenderness:

“And to me, the worst thing is that you won’t be able to see her [Wallis] for so long [under the terms of her divorce], but this seems a romantic fabrication, not least because Edward, frustrated and angry, had ‘stormed and raged and shouted like a man demented’.

A clearer account of the meeting, and others like it, can be found in a letter Mary sent him.

In it, she stated that:

‘You will remember how miserable I was when you informed me of your intended marriage and abdication, and how I implored you not to do so for our sake and for the sake of the country.

You did not seem able to take in anything… or to listen to any advice.

I do not think you have ever realised the shock which the attitude you took up caused your family and the whole nation.’

Any maternal blessing that Edward had hoped for was firmly withheld.

After the abdication, Edward, then known as the Duke of Windsor, had been granted an annual allowance of £25,000 by George VI, thanks to his misrepresenting his financial status.

He falsely claimed he was a virtual pauper despite having over a million pounds in cash and investments.

He felt emancipated, enjoying skiing and hiking.

His assistant private secretary Godfrey Thomas reported that:

"Edward had no regrets about the past and no qualms about the future. In his mind, he was booked for a life of perpetual married bliss."

And yet one thing that deeply hurt Edward was the King’s refusal to allow Wallis to be described as ‘Her Royal Highness’.

He unsuccessfully telephoned George daily to ask for Wallis’s formal recognition.

This eventually led to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor becoming estranged from the Royal family.

They never lived in Britain again, and only visited by the formal invitation of the monarch.

As private citizens, they struggled to make a life for themselves.

To keep them out of trouble, Edward was made Governor of The Bahamas during the Second World War, an experience he hated.

He referred to it as a ‘third-class British colony’ and wanted a more important job, while Wallis was more interested in shopping trips in Florida, newspaper coverage of which attracted bad feeling from a Britain stuck in rationing.

When the war ended, they returned to France, where they lived for the remainder of their lives, interspersed with visits to the USA.

Although both Edward and Wallis would have liked positions of influence, successive British governments regarded them as a liability and they were never given any public roles.

Their income instead came from spilling the secrets of the abdication.

The Duke earned $25,000 for writing four long articles for Life magazine.

He also wrote a lucrative memoir, A King’s Story, in 1951 that gave his side of the abdication crisis.

Wallis’s autobiography, The Heart Has Its Reasons, was published five years later.

As Edward was excused the responsibility of paying income tax by the French government, and was able to sell his book’s film rights to an American producer, they were able to lead moneyed, if purposeless, existences.

And yet, Edward was never reconciled with his brother before his death in February 1952.

Although he did attend his funeral, he was not invited to Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953, watching it on television with Wallis instead – and he remained detached from the Royal family until he died of throat cancer in 1972.

After the Nahlin cruise, Sir Sidney Waterlow, the British ambassador in Greece, wrote a prophetic letter summarising his impressions of Edward and Wallis.

He complained of the ‘almost unbelievable vapidity’ of the holiday, but wondered whether this union, however queer and generally unsuitable & embarrassing for the State, may not, in the long run, turn out to be more in harmony with the spirit of the new age than anything that Britain could have contrived.’

The Duke and Duchess ended up wealthy and feted but also alone, beloved by the chattering classes, but deserted by friends and family.

Yet both of them also defiantly embraced a spirit of individualism that saw a king cast aside centuries of protocol to follow his heart’s desire.

It was a recklessly romantic course, and one that still resonates today.

[parkersjiggle]

I love jealous Tony ! It was a great read :) do you think you could do jealous Peter where they are in an established relationship ? Like at a restaurant an an old bf or gf of Tony comes up ☺️

Thank tou in advance 💜

Hi! Thank you! Here it FINALLY is, I hope you enjoy. ❤️

TW: jealous bimbo ex, non-consensual touching (?)

——————

Even though it’s been a year of being Tony Stark’s boyfriend, Peter still feels dizzy with admiration of how handsome his lover is, sharply dressed in an immaculate full-black suit and the midnight blue tie Peter helped pick out this morning.

He didn’t look too shabby himself with the crispness of his suit and the perfect tailoring Tony insisted on. Normally he would’ve complained, Peter already had a perfectly fine suit and he didn’t need Tony to spend even more money on him, but tonight was special. He wanted to look good for their anniversary, perfect for Tony.

Tony placed his arms around Peter, leaning closer to him. The softness and the gentle touch against his neck, made Peter’s back tingle. Whenever they were close like this his thoughts would usually stop as if his heart took over from his head. However, one thought seemed to remain tonight.

“You haven’t kissed me in like five whole minutes. It’s really upsetting.”

“Is that so, baby?” Tony smirked in a smug kind of way. “Let me make it up to you.” He gently leaned in, brushing his lips against Peter’s. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. Then he fully kissed him and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. Tony’s hand rested below Peter’s ear, his thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled.

“M-much better.” He could feel the heat growing in his cheeks. By now they must be beyond an attractive rosiness. Peter had that kind of smile on his face that couldn’t hide the love that warmed him from within. It was a little silly how badly a simple kiss from Tony still affected him, how responsive he was to him.

It just felt so great to be loved. They were so relaxed in each other’s company, so caring. Their love for one another radiated from them. “That’s what I thought.” Tony winked at him, pulling his lover closer. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around the younger’s frail body. This was nice, perfect even, and he never wanted the moment to end. But then it did.

“Oh my gosh, Tony! Is that you? I can’t believe it!”

Peter really didn’t think he was the jealous type. That is until he sees the woman walking up to his boyfriend, acting as if Peter is nothing but mere air around them.

She was like all those models in the magazines, after they had been airbrushed of all the imperfections. Her butter colored hair fell perfectly around her shoulders, and she had the deepest blue eyes that could intimate even the strongest of men. Peter couldn’t help hating her, and that was before the introductions.

“Ah, Stacey. It’s been a while. Uh... Peter this is my old friend Stacey, Stacey this is Peter.” Tony pointed between the two of them, introducing them to one another.

“Oh please, Tony, we were more than friends, weren’t we?” She winked at him, completely ignoring Peter’s existence. And if Peter starts to see red when the long-haired blonde not so surreptitiously touches her hand on Tony’s arm, well, he has every reason to. This woman is blatantly flirting with his Tony, and that’s not okay. God, and that dress, the neckline of her shimmering gold gown dipped dangerously low, showing off her considerable assets. Peter nearly growled watching her.

He knew he should be used to it by now. Of course people would show an interest in Tony, who could blame them? An attractive, intelligent, billionaire who also happened to be a first class superhero. Peter got that, truly.

But he just really, really didn’t like it.

He didn’t want to cause a scene though, doesn’t want to wrap his fingers around her throat and use his super strength to make her eyes bulge out, definitely not, even though it would be very satisfying. Instead he tries to act mature, put on his big boy pants and show this blatantly transparent woman who Tony really belongs to.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tony’s boyfriend, Peter.” He then rested his arm on the back of Tony’s chair, brushing his fingers on Tony’s arm, just to let her know he wasn’t on the menu tonight. Tony was taken.

She scoffs, af if addressing her was the most offensive thing Peter could’ve done, and doesn’t waste any time in turning back to Tony. She flicks that butter blonde hair to one side in what he knows is a conscious act, Tony must see it too, right? Dangling from her perfect lobes are diamonds set in white gold. They are exquisite, accentuating the length of her neck. They probably cost more than most people make in a month. He realizes that he has held his gaze too long when her face turns into one of triumph.

She’d gaze through her overly made-up eyes with her cloying vapidity and laugh at anything Tony said, even if it wasn’t funny. She had a constant case of bedroom eyes and it was pissing Peter off.

“Hey, back off, Barbie,” Peter thought and caught himself. Whoa, where had that come from? He didn’t have time to question himself, for Tony looked over Blondie’s shoulder and smiled at him.

He knew Tony was only being polite. He never flirted back and it even seemed like he felt awkward, with the amount of times he coughed and cleared his throat, Peter was starting to think he had the flu.

Yet, that knowledge didn’t keep the green eyed monster at bay when her hands returned on his boyfriend, this time landing on his chest.

He narrowed his eyes into slits. Realizing he was holding his flute of champagne so tightly that it was in danger of shattering, he instead brought it to his lips and downed it all with one swallow before beckoning the waiter for another drink.

At her wandering hands, Tony’s usually fond expression completely disappeared into a much harder one. His brown eyes looking over Stacey with irritation. Yet, he still doesn’t say anything.

Peter - and perhaps the glasses of champagne had something to do with it - does though. “Okay enough is enough. The time for being polite is over cause clearly you don’t recognize a no when it’s waving in front of your face. He’s not interested in you. I know you miss him with the kind of sadness that sinks your bones into the earth, and I know you’d do anything to get him back, I get that. I would too if I lost a man like him. But, sweetheart, you were nothing but entertainment, something pretty on his arm, a little bit of eye candy maybe. If you really want to pleasure him, make him happy,” he stands up, getting in her face, “then leave.” Even Peter himself recoils a little from the venom in his voice. And clearly she does too because with a heated glare, she walks away, to the sound of Tony snickering.

“You do realize that I’ve already patented the right to be the emotionally unstable, immature and insecure one in this relationship, right? Do I need to call my lawyers and start a law suit? cause I won’t have you coming for my title.” He grinned, clearly seeing the amusement in this situation.

“Ha, very funny, Tony. You know, you could’ve said something right? Then maybe I wouldn’t have had to lose my cool and look like the crazy obsessed boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes at Tony.

“Let them think what they want,” he turns with that serious look that still has his trademark warm eyes. There was something in those brown eyes that was so beautiful, so safe and warm. In just one look he was home, “so long as you’re by my side, love, the rest of the world can go fuck themselves.” And that’s just what Peter needed to hear, that he’s Tony’s for now and into the future... that there will be a future. Cause all thoughts have the potential to grow toxic, but insecurities are born hungry.

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to get so intense.” Peter spoke softly. Tony shook his head. “Don't be, you're adorable when you're jealous," he teases, his voice drops to a huskier tone as he adds, "and I'll make it all up to you later tonight, baby."

Peter gulps loudly, pupils dilating already. “Promise?” He whispers. Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, gently rubbing. Despite the heaviness in his stomach, Peter fluttered at the feeling of his body pressed against Tony’s. It almost felt like holding him wasn’t quite enough. Peter had to feel every once that he is press into every ounce that is Tony. “I promise.” He whispers back just as quietly, kissing the top of Peter’s head.

———————

You’re always welcome to send in more prompts!

[backdeck-potato-novelist]

I Get The Feeling That I’m Right Where I Belong

Chapter 3: My Life’s Become As Vapid

AO3

Beginning, Previous, Next

Adrien and Luka kissed each other goodbye on the cheek. Luka put his helmet on and slowly started up his motorcycle. Juleka grabbed his waist and leaned into him as they took off down the street. Adrien waved after them, before turning back to school. He had fencing today. While it meant he wouldn’t get home until almost five, it also meant that he had the next forty five minutes with nothing to do. Kagami had talked Chloe in to staying until practice started, so he was considering crashing their date.

He reentered the front of the building and groaned. Lila Rossi was standing in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by her adoring drones. Adrien didn’t know most of them, but he recognized a few from their class. They all knew who he was, though, and so the moment he made eye contact with Lila, they had practically swarmed him.

“Oh my gosh, Adrien. How are you?”

“I’m good, Lila. And you?” He was very proud of how level he had kept his voice.

“Oh, I’m just fantastic! My boyfriend just texted to let me know that I can stay with him for the summer!” There was so much cruel hope in her eyes. Adrien didn’t want to ask the expected question of her, but he also knew that if he didn’t follow expectations, his father would hear. He only had three more weeks until he was eighteen. He could suffer through three more weeks of this.

“That’s great,” He said, deadpan as possible. The emotions he wanted to show would end poorly. “Do I know your boyfriend? I take it he doesn’t go here.”

There was a half-second glare from Lila. They both knew Lila was lying through her teeth, though Lila didn’t know how much Adrien understood that. She didn’t expect him to catch her look or the underlying anger involved. Of course she wouldn’t have a fake boyfriend that went to their school! She didn’t expect Adrien to understand that, though. He never understood her.

“You might, actually. His dad owns a fashion company, among other things. Damian? Damian Wayne?”

It took every ounce of self-taught emotional repression Adrien possessed to not react. Lila was claiming to be Damian Wayne’s girlfriend? Of all the people she could have picked, she chose Damian Wayne? He couldn’t believe it! Because as far as almost everyone knew, as far as even his father and Nathalie knew, he didn’t know Damian Wayne. He had no reason to know an American billionaire’s reclusive child, except for the fact that one of his best friends and superhero teammates was actually dating Damian Wayne and that whenever he was in Paris, as uncommon as that was, Robin would join Team Miraculous on patrols and in akuma battles. Marinette would think this was hilarious. He couldn’t wait to tell her at movie night.

Adrien spent a moment to give credit to Lila for setting her story up like this. The way she had asked if he knew Damian, it left room for her to wiggle out if he did. And a reclusive American? She could disappear off to the US for the whole summer and never actually meet Damian with her “friends” none the wiser, so it was a surprisingly low risk play. And yet-

“I don’t think so. I may have met him once, but yeah.” Lila’s smile relaxed. She had tricked him. “Good for you. How long have the two of you been together?”

“Oh, a few months now. We met at a gala over the winter, and we’ve been texting a lot since then.” There was a gala, but Damian had taken Chloe (with Kagami’s permission) as his date because Marinette was in China visiting family at the time and Chloe hadn’t exactly been out to her parents. Lila had really done her research on this one. “He was in Paris last month, though, so we finally had our first official date.” Also true, but he had been on a few secret superhero dates with his secret superhero girlfriend, not with Lila. The great part about having a superhero as a significant other, and Adrien knew this very well from experience, was that you could go almost anywhere in the city at any time. He and Luka had picnics on the top of the Eiffel Tower not infrequently.

Lila was holding his arm very tightly. He began to walk towards where he knew Chloe and Kagami were waiting. “He’s so romantic. He took me to a restaurant overlooking the Seine and we watched the sunset…” Adrien tuned Lila out. He could see Chloe and Kagami. He could see his saving graces, but they were deep in conversation and at the far end of the hall. Why couldn’t they look up? He needed their help. Lila was hurting his arm now. He decided he should start listening again.

“...And then his dad said yes, so I’m going to Gotham for the summer.” Lila finished expectantly.

“That does sound romantic. Which restaurant did he take you to? If you and Damian Wayne approve, I’d love to try it myself.” He was almost genuinely curious. For living on a travelling river boat that had been all over Europe, his boyfriend very rarely took advantage of shore leave. Luka had been in Paris now for almost four years, which was more than double as long as they’d stayed anywhere else. He and Juleka both liked it, and had settled in.

“It’s this place at the western end of town, Astrance. The food was absolutely exquisite.” Chloe and Kagami still hadn’t looked up. “I’m a vegetarian, but Damian got the steak and said it was the best steak he had ever had.” Lie. And a sloppy one too. Weirdly sloppy. “If you are interested in the vegetarian option, the house salad was pretty good.” Maybe she was testing him? Maybe she didn’t know better? It wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but anyone who knew the Waynes knew Damian was a vegetarian. Adrien was planning on at least going pescetarian when he moved out because of Damian.

“Sounds good.” He doubted Lila had ever been anywhere near Astrance. “I have been needing a good place to go for my date.” Chloe finally, finally looked up. She made eye contact with Adrien, and elbowed Kagami to get her attention.

“You have a date? Oh, I’m so happy for you!” There was too much hatred in her eyes. She wanted Adrian as her own trophy and would kill to get him. Even if he didn’t know, Adrien would have noticed. On a purely sadistic note, he would have liked to see her try to fight his super-powered time-jumping boyfriend. It would be very entertaining. “With whom?” 

“With Luka,” he said. Just like every date for the past year and a half had been with Luka. Just like he’d told Lila at least three times already. Kwami, she was dense. He was actually grateful for that, because if his father suspected he wasn’t straight, Adrian Agreste would be stuck in his room until he turned eighteen.

“Oh, I’m so glad you found someone. This Luka sounds like a lovely woman-”

“Adrien, I need your help,” Kagami interrupted, practically shoving her way through the other students. Lila started to pout, but stopped with a glare from Chloe. Kagami didn’t even bother to acknowledge the Italian. “I seem to have lost my gloves. You must help me find them.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Lila.

“Of course, Kagami. Sorry to leave Lila!” Adrien called over his shoulder as he was herded around a corner and down the hall by Chloe and Kagami. “Oh my god, thank you,” he cried out in relief the moment he was out of view of Lila.

“No problem,” Chloe said. Adrien pulled her and Kagami into a hug. Chloe began to protest, but quickly melted into him. After a few seconds, he pulled away and turned to Kagami.

“Alright, let’s find those gloves.” Chloe smirked. Kagami laughed.

“You mean these gloves?” Kagami held up the fencing gloves. “Oh, well, I happened to find them in my bag, right where I left them. I’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“Kwami, you two are the best! You know that, right?”

[chibinightowl]

10. “Poppycock! No fool could ever be that daft to actually go through with it!”, Bruce/Clark but its Bruce who says poppycock.

I swear, I have started and failed this prompt about half a dozen times. I even built an entire Holmesian AU in my head around it. And yet, what do I end up with? This. I hope you enjoy! (also, love your icon! Asmo is amazing!)

(also, for the anon who asked for #10 with Alfred and Bruce, this is also your response too!)

~*~*~

There was nothing quite like the glitz and glamor of a charity auction hosted by the Wayne Foundation, Clark decided. These sort of puff pieces were beneath a reporter of his caliber, but he appreciated covering events hosted by Bruce because he knew that not only were the funds being raised going to the right places, but that the majority of the costs associated with hosting this were covered by Bruce himself.

Whether they were tax deductible, he’d yet to discover.

Lingering near the canapé table, Clark dutifully took notes for the article that was already mostly written in his head. All he needed were a few quotes from the people who really mattered rather than the attention seekers attracted by his visible press pass. His hearing told him that Tim wasn’t too far and that Bruce was perhaps a few meters beyond his son.

Tim was always good for an honest statement at an event like this, touching on the meaningful points of what his adopted father’s foundation was currently doing. With the right questions, Clark was sure he could learn more about Tim’s own Neon Knights program and how that was progressing.

But, meaningful as that was, it didn’t sell papers or keep people renewing their online subscriptions.

No, what sold papers were the antics of Brucie Wayne, billionaire playboy and philanthropist.

And just like Bruce’s children, Clark really disliked dealing with the Brucie persona that was always in full effect when the public was watching. Nearly two decades hadn’t lessened it in the slightest.

Deciding it was best to get it over with, he made his way through the crowd with his own act of mild mannered reporter who was a tad bit clumsy on display.

As he moved into the periphery of Bruce’s circle of sycophants, Clark noticed that Brucie seemed to be in rare form tonight. To the outside world, there was absolutely nothing going on behind those pale blue eyes. Wide and vapid, they matched his laugh, his smile, his everything.

Brucie was in the middle of a story and gesturing with great enthusiasm. “…And then Alfred said Poppycock! No fool could ever be that daft to actually go through with it! Well, I’m no fool and Dickie had already done it, so I figured I could too.”

Clark zoned out as he tried to maneuver closer, already familiar with the real story about how Dick took it upon himself to try walking a tightrope strung up between two large Las Vegas hotels. Bruce’s public version though explains how he ended up with that broken leg a couple months ago.

The crowd was too tight around Bruce, so he decided hitting up Tim would be the better option. If he was lucky, Brucie would pull some ridiculous stunt before he left that could be added into his article.

No sooner had he turned his sights on Tim, a large hand thumped solidly on the back of his shoulder. “Well, well, well, would you look who’s here?”

It was Bruce.

“Hello there, Nebraska.”

Clark tossed a prayer into the ether for patience. “It’s Kansas.”

“Right, right. I’ll remember next time, Iowa.” Brucie grinned vapidly but Clark didn’t miss the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Someone wanted to play. Damn, and here he’d been hoping that if he did speak with Bruce, he’d take pity on him and make it easy. No such luck tonight.

“Mr. Wayne, congratulations on the turnout tonight. How much are you and the Wayne Foundation anticipating this auction will raise for the Boys and Girls Clubs of the Greater Gotham City area?”

“Ugh, numbers.” Bruce pulled a disgusted face as he looped an arm over Clark’s shoulders and started leading him away. “I hate numbers. They’re so…numbery. Who even invented them anyway?”

“The current number system we use originally evolved from the Hindus by way of the Arabs —“ Clark was cut off with a broad wave of Bruce’s hand that almost hit him in the face.

“If I wanted a history lesson, Smallville, I’d have asked for one.”

Well, at least he was using the right town now. It was better than farm boy, which was probably coming up as Bruce cycled through all his nicknames. The list was long and Clark swore that Lois and Bruce must have a master list that they shared because some of them were just too crazy for them to have come up with on their own.

Clark sighed and pushed his glasses firmly onto his nose. “Mr. Wayne, if you could just give me a brief statement about the auction, I can get out of your hair.”

“Hmm, and go bother Timothy instead?” A brief flash of Bruce’s usual wry humor appeared in his eyes. “No, I think that —”

This time, Bruce was cut off as a well-dressed socialite appeared out of nowhere and tossed champagne right in his face.

“How could you, Brucie?” the brunette wailed, eyes welling with tears so big her makeup was already starting to run. “I thought you said I was special.”

Only with his super hearing could Clark hear the low Fuck that escaped from his friend.

“Anita!” Bruce said smoothly, completely ignoring the liquid streaming down his face. Already, there was a circle forming around them as people stopped to stare.

The woman wailed even more loudly. “That’s not my name!”

“Annie? Annabelle? Something that starts with an A?“

Clark stepped to the side to watch the drama unfold. And what a show it was, right out of a daytime soap opera. A jilted lover seeking public vindication that she’d been wronged in some hope of winning back the love of the one who wronged them. The backdrop of the hotel ballroom was the perfect touch too if by some chance this woman did manage to convince Bruce to speak with her in private. Perhaps in a hotel room upstairs. Like that was going to happen though. At this point in time, the playboy reputation was just that, a reputation, and had been for some time. Whoever this person was, they were trying to take advantage of that for their own gain.

Bruce and the woman were going around in circles, the woman getting more and more hysterical by the minute. The whole thing ended when she threw her empty glass and then herself at Bruce. A security guard caught hold of her before she could though. It took two of them to drag her away, still wailing and screaming.

“Well, that was entertaining.” Bruce smiled disarmingly at Clark. “I think you got your story now, Iowa.”

“I got something, that’s for sure. Have a good night, Mr. Wayne.”

It was past time to seek out Tim, get his quote, and get out of here.

~*~

Less than an hour later, Clark sat in his hotel room and typed up the story. A shower had gone a long way toward improving his mood, as had the comfortable pillows supporting his back as he wrote. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, which, considering the price tag for the room, it had better be. This kind of place was out of his budget, but wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for the man who was taking a shower of his own in the bathroom.

Bruce.

This was one of those rare nights where their schedules happened to coincide, that there wasn’t some disaster calling him away. The kids were all on patrol tonight, so unless there was an Arkham emergency, here they would stay until morning and life tore them apart once again.

Clark shook off his maudlin thoughts and kept writing. Work first. This was how his bills got paid. Fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop and he’d proofread the article twice by the time Bruce exited the bathroom, dressed in a bathrobe and his hair still damp.

“Almost done?” he asked as he took a seat on the other side of the large bed, swinging his legs up so that he could lay down.

“Just about.” Clark clicked on send and the article was off to Perry. “Tim was a huge help.”

“He always is.”

Setting the laptop aside, he took off his glasses and turned his attention on Bruce. The man looked exhausted, even more so than usual. “Rough week?”

Bruce rolled onto his side to face Clark. “Rough month. Don’t tell Alfred, but I probably shouldn’t have taken the cast off when I did.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He laid down and pointedly did not switch over to his x-ray vision to scan Bruce’s leg. It wouldn’t do any good for either of them. “Ready for bed?” he asked instead.

“We haven’t seen each other in person for three months. Do you really think I want to sleep?”

Clark sighed and traced one dark smudge under Bruce’s eye, then the other. They’d been hidden by concealer earlier. “These say otherwise.”

Bruce grabbed his hand and drew it to his mouth, lips ghosting over the large knuckles. “Those are never going away, Clark. Deal with it.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right. Now get over here and keep me awake.”

“And what if I want you to fall asleep on me?” Clark shifted around until he was pressed flush against the other man. 

It constantly amazed him that he and the oh so proud Batman were at a point in their lives where this was even possible. Twenty years ago, he’d have asked if the person suggesting it was feeling all right and done a quick scan of their brain to check for damage. Ten years ago, he would have wordlessly shrugged it off. Five years… well, time made for all the difference in the world. This was about as close to domestic as the two of them got. It hurt that it couldn’t be more, but with the lives they led, these quiet moments were more precious than gold.

“Shut up and kiss me, Clark.”

Laughing, he did just that.

[soocouldbemyonlystar]

Chaebols: Laid Back Pt 2

 Genre: Fluff

Length: 3.6k

Previous

photo does not belong to me

There was something about being successful on your own, making your own money, being independent. When you pay your own bills, own your own car, buy your own things, there was a feeling of pride that was like a drug to Yan. Not that depending on someone else was a terrible thing, it just wasn’t the life Yan saw for herself. She couldn’t let someone else pick up the check at a restaurant, or pay for her things at a shop. Those were things she needed to do on her own and she felt good doing it.

That was until her parents reminded her that her success was built on their name, and she had to take responsibility for it. Yan had been okay with being sent away from her family, it hadn’t taken her long to make Seoul her home. She had been seething about the imposed vacation, refusing the two full weeks and coming home several days early. She only thought that was the angriest she could be. How wrong she had been.

Lin Yan was expected to get married.

This one wouldn’t be taken lying down. She had fought, threatened, pleaded, but nothing she did would curtail her parents. Their minds were set. Now she sat in a little quaint restaurant waiting for her date with the fourth billionaire playboy in as many weeks. Halfway through the list and each one was worse than the last. Vapid, pretty boys who never worked a day in their lives, each one flashing that platinum card to show off their wealth, their prestige.  

This one at least had good taste in venue. The little place was delicately decorated with hanging plants and flowers. The dining area surrounded by windows that let in just the right amount of ambient light for the patrons the eat without the sun in their faces. One side even boasted a beautifully landscaped garden.

The best thing… it wasn’t too far from her office. It was hidden several blocks away, which is why she hadn’t found it before. It would be on her list of restaurants now.

The last one had thought it was a good idea to take her to a club. Music blasted in a private room he didn’t look like he was welcome in. He was loud, obnoxious and made fun of the host, who had just lost a friend. When she had made it thoroughly clear she wasn’t going home with him, he hit on the pretty little server who stepped on his crotch after he grabbed her butt. It was the greatest thing Yan had seen in a long time.

Yan checked her watch again. He wasn’t late, she was just early. It was a practice of hers to be early. For everything. Her parents had always said, “If you’re early, you’re on time, if you’re on time, you’re late.” It was something she took to heart.

This way she had time to sip some tea and destress from work before having to deal with the spoiled rich boy who would insist on paying for her meal to assert his dominance and surely raise her blood pressure. So, Yan took a drink of her warm tea, sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

There was only one thing she daydreamed about these days. Kind eyes, a sweet smile and a dimple. It had been almost five months, but Lay’s face was clear in her mind, as was the day she had spent with him. There had been so many times since then when she had to take a deep breath and picture his smiling face, talking together until the early morning hours. Part of her regretted leaving without saying goodbye, or leaving her real name. Yan hated the thought of him waking up to her empty suit.

Several times his memory had stopped her from choking Shen, who had botched a sale she had worked on securing for months. There was no amount of finessing that could fix that disaster. He had insulted the seller to the extent that she refused to work with Lin Industries ever again. She still hadn’t found a decent enough property to build her new resort on.

Yan shook that thought back out of her head and focused on the sound of the waves on the beach, and of his laughter as if he really thought her jokes were funny. If she concentrated hard enough, she could remember the way he smelled like the spray of the ocean, the sand, and the sun. The taste of his lips and the feel of his hand threaded through hers, or brushing the hair away from her face, were things that calmed her. The situation must be terrible for her because she could even hear him calling her name.  

“Chyou.”

Wait, that wasn’t her name.

“Li Chyou.”

Only a hand full of people knew that name.

Her eyes flew open, the sight of him had her bolting to her feet, her knee hit the table jolting her mug, hot tea sloshing over the side.

“Lay!” Yan choked, as she grabbed for napkins to mop up the tea.

He smiled, reaching for the napkins himself to help her, “I thought that was you.”

Yan stared at him as the server rushed over to help with the mess. She had to still be daydreaming. Pressing her eyes shut she shook her head, muttering under her breath, “Get it together, Yan, there is no way he could be here. You’re just stressing out.”

She smacked her forehead with her fingers, cursing herself for dreaming about beach boys and the guy she left asleep in her hotel room. She had a date, it was important, he could possibly save her position within her family’s company. This was no time to think about a one night with a man she would never see again.

When Yan opened her eyes, she saw him again. The same concern in his eyes, the same kindness in his smile, his hair styled back and to the side, and was dressed for business in a beige suit and vest. How was he even more attractive than he was on the beach?

She spun around, throwing her hands over her face and suppressing a groan. You’ve finally gone crazy. Good job, Yan.

“Can you get her another one of those, please?” He spoke to the server, his silky voice cutting through her frustration.

Yan turned back as Lay pulled the chair out across from her and sat down. He linked his fingers, setting his hands in front of him on the table, eyes on her.

“It’s nice to see you again, Chyou. All though that’s not your name is it?” That smile hadn’t changed, nor did the flip it induced in her chest.

Finally, Yan slipped back into her chair, disbelief painted on her face. “What are you doing here, Lay?”

“My family has a home here. I told you I live here most of the time.” Lay explained.

“No, I mean what are you doing here, right now?”

He laughed, the sound floating across the table, sending her back to the beach, her room. “This is one of my favorite restaurants. My friends and I come here frequently. I’m waiting for a date. Why did you give me a fake name?”

“I was alone on vacation. I wasn’t going to give you my real name. You didn’t give me your real name.” she said, pretending she wasn’t a little sad that he had a date.

“I didn’t lie to you my friends call me Lay? Will you give me your name now?” He asked.

“No, as of now you are a stalker.”

Lay laughed, that damned dimple showing plain as day and Yan almost choked.

“I’m a regular here, everyone knows me, I hardly think you will get anyone to corroborate that I’m stalking you. In fact, I’ve never seen you here before, one could say you are stalking me.” He leaned back in his seat and rested his chin on his thumb and forefinger looking quite serious.

“Me? Stalking you? I left you asleep in my hotel room expecting never to see you again. I doubt you could prove me a stalker.” Yan countered, instantly regretting bringing up the memory.

His eyes grew dark. “Yeah, how about that. Pillar of integrity right there. I fall asleep talking to this beautiful, interesting woman, and wake up alone with no proof that she even existed. I’ll admit, I looked for you. That staff deserves a raise, I couldn’t get any information about you.”

Yan didn’t know what to say. It had been hard to leave, she didn’t just walk out on him. She had thought to leave a note and a number, her name. He even made her contemplate staying out her vacation, spending it with him. But, in the end, she thought it best to go home and prepare for the damage her brother would inevitably leave behind, keep Lay a beautiful memory.

“I’m sorry, but you knew I had to go.” She told him honestly.

“Well I’ve found you now, I’m not leaving until I have your name,” he told her.

This man was persistent. But it didn’t matter, what could come of it? Nothing, not anymore.

“It’s better you don’t know. It’s not like we run in the same circles, we wouldn’t be friends. And dating is completely out of the question.” Yan explained. She wanted to make it easier for him. No name, no woman to remember.

“And why not, we get along, we are attracted to each other obviously, why is dating out of the question?” He asked.

“Because I come from a family that expects things, and one of those is to get married from a predetermined list of heirs. A list you wouldn’t be on. I have to get married, Lay.”

He sighed and smiled sweetly, “Yeah, that would put a damper on our dating. I don’t think your husband would like that too much. So, what’s the harm in me knowing the name of the one that got away?”

“Don’t say that.” When he spoke like that it was too hard to resist him.

“I won’t say it if you tell me your real name.” he insisted again.

His smile was wearing on her. Yan was giving in, she was going to tell him. The dimple was just too much.

She opened her mouth to tell him when Secretary Park’s ringtone chimed from her bag.

“Now is not a good time.” She told her secretary after fishing out her phone.

“Yes, ma’am, but Shen is here. He’s saying your parents have handed the branch to him.” The timid secretary reported.

“What,” Yan sat up and clutched her bag to her chest, “I thought we were done with that, I’m going on the damn dates.”

“I don’t know ma’am, but he’s shoved his way back into your office and he’s going through documents.” The tiny voice told her.

“No, no, no, I can’t deal with him again,” she looked to Lay, standing and shoving her chair back in, “I’m sorry, I just can’t, I have to go. Secretary Chae, don’t let him touch anything I’ll be right there.”

He nodded his head, didn’t try to stop her or say anything else. Yan walked past Lay, leaving him with nothing for the second time in less than half a year. At the front desk, she paid quickly, jotting out a little note for her date and leaving her card.

“I was waiting for a date, if he comes looking for me give him this note, please.” She asked politely.

The server glanced down at the note then back up to her with confusion, “But ma’am…”

“I’m sorry, I’m in a big rush.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

Her parents had gone too far this time. She was going on the damn dates, she would pick from one of the airheaded, rich boys they wanted. Why keep threatening her with Shen. They knew he couldn’t manage this branch as well as she could.

He’s just as airheaded as all my dates.

She rushed the few blocks to the Lin Industries building with little on her mind but getting rid of her nuisance of a little brother, she would have to have a talk with security about keeping him out. It’s her building damn it. He couldn’t just walk in and do what he wanted, go through her things and take over her office.

Hadn’t she done enough to prove she could run the entire company not just a small branch?

It will never be enough for them. Who are you kidding?

Her whole life had been working three times harder than her brothers to prove herself, prove to her parent that she was capable, that she could do what they could. Not that she minded, she loved to work, she loved this work. She didn’t mind putting in the extra effort, over time, taking it home. When she was sent here, the place was a mess and losing them money, now it was profitable, growing. Yan had done that alone.

Shen was skipping classes and partying while she was making her business a success. She wouldn’t risk him ruining what she built.

Yan stepped off the elevator at the top floor and stomped to her office, throwing her purse on the chair and finding her brother behind her desk with his arms behind his head and his feet propped up scuffing her mahogany, chewing a piece of gum loudly.

“What the hell is it now, Shen? What is the problem.” She was close to losing it.

Shen laughed, his crooked smile making Yan feel like putting her fist in it. He had always used that smile when he got what he wanted, and she got screwed.

“Mom and Dad don’t think you are taking this marriage thing seriously, they are giving me the Seoul Branch.” He scoffed.

“I’ll be damned, Shen. I’m going on their freaking dates, I’ll pick one of their losers, now get your knockoffs, off my desk.” She demanded.

“See, mom and dad aren’t thrilled with your attitude about your impending marriage. And if you can’t bring us a wealthy family, well, what good are you?” Shen was having way too much fun with this.

“I think you are confusing the two of us. I’m the successful businesswoman, you will be a trophy husband.” Yan shot back.

“Ha looks like I’m about to be the director of Lin Industries Seoul office.” He laughed.

“Over my dead body,” Yan yelled.

Shen stopped chewing his gum and gave her a serious look, “That can be arranged.” Then he laughed again and resumed the smacking of his gum.

Yan fumed, “Lin Shen, get your shoes off my desk.”

There was a knock at her office door that had her averting her attention to another man she hadn’t wanted to see.

 Yixing

He let her walk away for a second time.

How could he force her to be involved with him when she clearly didn’t want to? There was just something about her. She was intriguing, intelligent and funny. Damn, he didn’t want to let her go.

He didn’t offer to pay for her tea since he remembered her saying she hated when a guy acted flashily. Though he hardly thought paying for tea would be flashy. Yixing tapped his finger on the table contemplating what to do next when the server came beside him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Zhang. The lady you were with left this for you.” The server handed him a business card and note.

“The lady that was just sitting here?” he asked to confirm.

“Yes, sir, although, she didn’t seem to know who you were.” She told him.

“Thank you,” he tipped the server and she walked quickly back to the front.

Yixing read the note:

           Mr. Zhang,

I’m sorry I missed our date. There was an emergency. Please feel free to visit my office.

                                                                  My Apologies,

                                                                  Lin Yan  

 A smile formed on Yixing’s lips.

What a coincidence. It turned out he was on her little list after all, and she was on his. Lin Yan, the sixth marriage date his mother had arranged. Since he was wandering around aimlessly, and she was worried he would waste away his life.

Lin Yan. Somehow he liked it more than Chyou. It seemed to fit her better, her personality, her temperament. Or at least what he knew of her. Well, she did tell him to feel free to come to her office. It was time they really got to know each other.

Yixing flipped the card around in his fingers, he knew the address, it was close to Kyungsoo’s building. Just a quick walk from here. He made the decision quickly, shoving the note and card into his pocket and thanking the server again as he passed by.

The center of the city wasn’t his favorite place to be, but he came frequently to visit Kyungsoo, Jongin, Sehun, or Jun. They would meet up for lunch or go out for dinner at the nearby restaurants. That was when he bothered to be in the city. Though his family was in China, Seoul had been home for him since he was in secondary school and he became friends with the guys.

As the youngest in his family, he wasn’t expected to take much of a role in his family’s company, so he helped here and there, consulted with Kyungsoo on real estate, since he was familiar with vacation resorts, and traveled at his leisure. His life was good. But his mom worried and he hated that. So, he let her make a list of suitable women for him to date and possibly marry.

Before he knew it, Yixing stood in front of the Lin Industries building. He hesitated for a moment, twirling the card in his fingers again, but he was going to get his date damnit.

Yixing walked into the building, approaching the front desk with confidence, showing is own business card. The secretary, wide-eyed, bow and showed him to the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor for him.

“It may take a moment; Director Lin is in with her brother.” The little secretary warned him.

“No, problem,” he smiled, “I have time to spare today.”

When the doors open he could hear the yelling from down the hall. The secretary turned to him, her face lowered, but Yixing could see the pink in her cheeks.

“Family, huh?” he tried to break the tension.

“Oh,” she bowed again, “Yes, maybe another time would be better.”

“No, this is okay, Miss Lin should be expecting me. I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting, but you should have to get in the middle of siblings squabbling, I can introduce myself.”

He stepped out of the elevator, sending the secretary back down to the first floor.

Yixing shoved his hands in his pockets and walked forward. This must be the brother she had told him about. The younger one with no respect who constantly threatened to take her position. Her parent used him to make Yan do as they pleased.

Family shouldn’t be used.

Then he heard her yell, “Lin Shen, get your shoes off of my desk.”

This was a sound of her voice he didn’t really like. Worse was the one who made her sound that way. So, he knocked.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Yixing said nonchalantly as they turned to him, “but I have an appointment with Lin Yan.”

Yan looked almost sick.

“I don’t have time for this. You need to go.” Yan demanded. She was probably wondering how he had found her, thinking she didn’t pay enough attention, that he had followed her.

“Hmm,” Yixing murmured as he looked around her office, it screamed of Yan, organized, straight lines, neutral colors.

“Lay,” Yan insisted.

“Just act like I’m not here. I’ll wait, Miss Lin.”

She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. Yixing really didn’t like the stress on her face.

“Shen,” She said calmly, “please go back to the Chairman and tell him I am obeying his command.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“Tell him I will finish the dates and choose a husband from among the list.” She pushed, but Yixing could tell she was about to lose her cool. She yelled, “Shen, get your shoes off my damn desk.”

“Excuse me,” Yixing said calmly as if he hadn’t seen the whole scene. “I don’t think that dates will be necessary.”

He wasn’t letting her go that easily this time.

“Lay, you should go, I have to deal with an issue, and now that you know my name and where I work, I’m sure you will continue to stalk me, so can we do this later?” Yan begged, her hands pressed in front of her praying that he would listen.

“Nope, not stalking, I was invited.” He pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to her as he passed. “I believe the lady asked you to get your shoes off her desk.”

Yixing said this just before he kicked Shen’s legs out from under him, causing the chair to throw him forward. Yan had been right, her brother was arrogant, without the balls to back it up.

Yan unfolded the paper. Her eyes doubled as she saw it was the note left for her date.

Shen jumped up, stepping face-to-face with Yixing. “And just who are you?”

“Me?” Yixing said as he turned away from Shen, man he hated when people messed with those he cared about. “I’m Zhang Yixing of The Zhang Group.”

He lumbered over to Yan, throwing an arm around her shoulder, “I’m her fiancé.”  

[mermaidsirennikita]

Favorite Reads 2017

2017 was, all in all, not the greatest year for books (for me personally).  A few follow-ups to series-starters I loved disappointed me; there was a lack of new historical fiction that was truly compelling; YA was very hit or miss.  But there are always exceptions to the years unspoken “rules”, and I found myself reading more thrillers than I had before.  Maybe the bright side of my usual categories (I don’t know that they’re all genres) failing me is that I had to get a bit more adventurous.

In no particular order, my top ten favorite books of the year were as follows...

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan.  Rachel is an ABC--American Born Chinese.  Smart, practical, and successful, she’s dating Nicholas Young, quite possibly the man of her dreams--but there’s a bit of mystery about him.  So when Nick brings her to his family home in Singapore to attend his friend’s wedding, she’s shocked to discover that he’s the heir to a fabulous fortune, hailing from one of the most high-profile and wealthy families in Asia, or perhaps even the world.  Everyone is out to break up Rachel and Nick, it seems; but especially his mother, the conniving and clever matriarch Eleanor.  This is one of the most addictive books I’ve ever read, and the rest of the trilogy thankfully measures up.  God, I was hooked; and it’s nothing like what I expected.  There are vapid characters, sure, but this isn’t Gossip Girl--the book is wickedly smart, and Kwan seems to make great insights about “crazy rich Asian culture” without ever seeming sanctimonious.  The characters are great--you root for Nick and Rachel’s romance while falling in love with his Machiavellian mother, and for that matter his tragic It Girl cousin Astrid.  Unfortunately, this book has been categorized by some as trashy... and sure, at times it is.  But it’s also one of the best books I’ve read in a long time.

Wintersong by S. Jae-Jones.  In nineteenth century Europe, Liesl is a gifted composer.  But she’s overshadowed by her brother Josef, a musician, and their beautiful sister Kathe.  As a child, Liesl knew the Goblin King; and she meets him again as a young woman, stealing her sister away from the mortal world.  Liesl makes a bargain with the Goblin King: if he returns Kathe, Liesl will become his bride.  The Goblin King--enchanted with her music--whisks her away to his realm, creating a world of delights that’s hard for Liesl to resist.  This book is basically everything a grown woman could want Labyrinth to be.  Liesl and the Goblin King do have a captivating romance, but it’s not so much insta-love as I would say it’s a sexual awakening.  I don’t think she’s starry-eyed; she’s more attracted to him physically, and experiencing the thrill of having someone return that attraction for the first time.  So much of the book is about passion--the Goblin King’s passion for Liesl, their shared passion for her music, the Fair Folk’s passion in general for things that they can’t have.  It’s a melancholy, haunting book with just the right side of indulgence to make it impossible for me to resist.

Final Girls by Riley Sager.  After surviving a massacre that took all of her friends during a college cabin trip, Quincy is a part of what the press calls “the Final Girls”.  Lisa survived a sorority girl slaying, while Sam was nearly murdered at the motel she worked at.  But the three don’t really interact, as Quincy is determined to live a normal life.  She doesn’t even remember what happened to her on the night of the Pine Cottage murders.  That all changes when Lisa is found dead of a supposed suicide, and Sam shows up on Quincy’s doorstep.  Quincy needs to remember what happened all those years ago--before it’s too late.  This book is far from your run of the mill thriller, with unexpected twists and a feminist slant.  It’s almost a satire of slasher tropes--except the plot is a bit too coherent for a satire, and everything is a little too real.  I blazed through it, and wasn’t exactly sure of what happened until the very end.

Warcross by Marie Lu.  Teenager Emika Chen makes her living as a bounty hunter--specifically, tracking down people who illegally bet on Warcross, the virtual reality game that’s taken the world by storm.  Of course, Emika’s hacks in the game aren’t exactly legal either, so when she’s summoned to Tokyo by the game’s creator, billionaire Hideo Tanaka, she assumes the worst.  But Hideo has a proposition for her: if she can find out who’s at the heart of a dangerous security glitch in the game, the payout will be huge.  But as Emika competes undercover, she realizes that the stakes--personal and professional--are much higher than she thought.  This is one of those books that really surprised me. You don’t have to be a gamer to follow “Warcross”--which also, surprise, has a great romance to go along with it--but the parts of the story that pertain to the game are just as compelling as the bounty hunting plot.  What pleased me most, however, was the ending; nothing is as it seems in this book, and the characters are much grayer than you might imagine.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust.  This retelling of Snow White focuses on the relationship between Lynet, our princess, and Mina, her wicked stepmother.  Lynet is the living embodiment of her dead mother, and recently made the queen of the southern territories by her father--which displaces Mina, of the southern territories and devoted to her homeland.  What Lynet doesn’t know, as we’re told the story of Mina’s past, is that she was made from snow by Mina’s alchemist father--who, using the same magic, saved Mina’s life by making her a heart of glass. Mina believes herself incapable of love, and despite her closeness to Lynet, she grows increasingly threatened by the girl.  This fairy tale is decidedly dark--but it’s clear that this isn’t darkness of the sake of darkness.  Rather, we see the good and bad in both Mina and Lynet, two women driven apart by the machinations of men--but perhaps not permanently.  

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson.  The painter Isobel caters to a specific clientele: the fair folk.  Incapable of “craft”, they treasure Isobel’s paintings, but are feared for their predatory and capricious ways.  Isobel’s always been careful around the fair folk, but slips up when she paints the autumn prince, Rook, accidentally depicting sorrow in his eyes.  This creates a great weakness for Rook, who takes her on a journey to the autumnlands, so that she can stand trial and dispel the notions of any mortality in Rook.  Of course, there is the issue of their attraction to each other--because if a mortal and a fairy fall in love, their lives will be forfeit.  This is a lovely fairy tale, with a romance that is much more hard-won and realistic than what I expected from the summary.  While Rook is just as fanciful as you’d expect a fairy to be, Isobel has her feet planted in reality, and I love a story in which the main character really, really doesn’t want to fall in love.  This book depicts the fair folk with just the right balance of fear and whimsy, and I dare you to read it without falling for the world.

Flame in the Mist by Renee Ahdieh.  The daughter of a samurai, cunning Mariko is on her way to meet her betrothed, a prince.  Along the way, her party is attacked by a group of bandits paid to assassinate Mariko--killing her servants along the way.  Disguising herself as a boy, she infiltrates the bandits’ group--known as the Black Clan--determined to find who was sent to kill her, and get revenge.  This retelling of “Mulan” takes on gender roles in a fantasy realm influenced by Japanese history, with Mariko standing as a strong female character, but also a girl.  Renee Ahdieh is great at building these history-based fantasy worlds--and she’s not too shabby when it comes to the romance department, either.

Caraval by Stephanie Garber.  Scarlett and Tella live a sheltered existence, dominated by their abusive father.  Scarlett--the responsible one--has always dreamed of going to Caraval, the magical circus-like show that sucks the audience into the game.  In an effort to make her sister relax, Tella takes Scarlett to Caraval, only to get swept up in its magic.  The object of this year’s game?  To find Tella.  So Scarlett joins a host of people looking for her sister--but the line between reality and fantasy on the island is blurred, and Caraval may turn out to be just as dangerous as it looks.  This is the sort of dreamy fantasy that is just delicious to read, especially during cold weather.  

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid.  Unknown journalist Monique is stunned when she’s selected to interview the notoriously private movie star Evelyn Hugo, famous for her beauty, talent, and seven husbands.  As Monique is drawn into Evelyn’s story, she becomes more and more curious about why Evelyn chose her, and who the real love of Evelyn’s life was.  Evelyn is clearly based on Elizabeth Taylor in some ways, but the story is really all her own.  While Evelyn’s tale is obviously more compelling than Monique’s, they satisfyingly come together in a way I didn’t quite expect.  Really, at its heart this is a love story; but it’s also quite the piece of Old Hollywood glamour, with all the gossip and controversy that you’d expect.

The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo.  This anthology of fairy tales is set in Leigh Bardugo’s grishaverse, but all take a little bit from those that you might be familiar with.  They’re dark and sensual, some of them a little gory.  But what really got me is that these are stories I can really see the characters from Bardugo’s other books telling.  The world feels fully realized, the morals complex but solid and a little dated, but with reason.  Read this if you want to be transported and a little spellbound.

[itstimetowatch]

Normal is the Watchword

So Veronica is working a normal, almost certainly less potentially lethal job. Makes sense. If my last job had me almost burned alive or killed via smoke inhalation, I probably wouldn’t want to do that job anymore either. However, it was made pretty clear during Season One that Veronica was a fairly vital part of Mars Investigations, that she would often handle a lot of work for her dad while he was out running down bail jumpers. How is Keith managing to either do all of this himself or pay all the bills with a reduced workload? Veronica’s minimum wage plus tip sharing almost certainly isn’t offsetting the work she was doing at Mars Investigations, especially given that Keith ended last season in the hospital.

It feels strange to see Veronica turn down a case. I mean, I can only assume it’s just a tease, but it’s still weird.

So in addition to losing his Nancy Drew, Keith has also spent time away from his detective work writing a book? Like that’s some easy thing to do in one’s spare time? The spare time that a hard working PI obviously has a lot of? Sure, the advance would have potentially been huge (A-list celebrity murderer, sex scandal, institutional incompetence… y’know, all the things that made it a compelling season of television). It would have been huge, that is, if Keith was in any way an established writer, which he wasn’t. Once again, Hollywood writers don’t understand how money works.

Also, there’s no way something like that gets written, edited, and published over the course of a summer.

Does Julie Chen as Herself on a fictionalized episode of her show count as me recognizing a guest star from something else? Feels like a cheat to me.

So it wasn’t Wallace at the door. Why on Earth is Logan not at the hospital?

Did we finally get a name for the bike gang? Did he say PCHers? As in like Pacific Coast Highway? Or does it stand for something else?

Okay, fleeing the scene of a murder? Well, that would certainly be a reason not to go to the hospital but going directly to your girlfriend’s house isn’t the best place to hide. So this is the new season-long mystery, I assume?

Wallace is back to his Afro. I think it’s a better look for him, anyway. And a conspiracy of failed drug tests is the mystery for the episode.

Dick and Beaver are in the main credits? Ugh! You guys could have warned me.

As is Tessa Thompson (from Dear White People and Creed and Westworld and soon to be Thor: Ragnarok), apparently.

So how is Jake allowed to leave town while under indictment? Oh, wait, of course, he’s a billionaire. Nevermind.

So I think Veronica’s being a little self-centered there, thinking she’s the sole reason for Duncan and Logan’s strife. I feel like Logan’s father murdering Duncan’s sister probably plays a slightly larger part in their beef.

So Veronica has given up her life of crime-solving but she still carries around her enormous PI camera, what, just in case?

WHAT? Veronica and Meg are feuding? Over Duncan? *Sigh*

Glad Keith and Alicia are still going strong, though.

Um, nosey-ass Veronica doesn’t know that Clemmons has a son who’s a classmate of hers? That seems unlikely. I mean, I guess he’s an underclassman, a sophomore to Veronica’s senior, but still, he would have been at Neptune last year. Last season, she seemed to know (or at least know of) almost everyone at the school.

“I avoid knowing freshmen” seems fairly arbitrary, but I guess she didn’t know anything about Justin in “Meet John Smith” last year either, so arbitrary or not, it is at least consistent. 

I wouldn’t necessarily expect Veronica to know this but a dose of a drug so small that you never feel the effects of the drug would almost certainly not show up on a drug test.

So is Shelley Pomroy named after a family member of one of the writers or the crew? I only ask because they seem to love mentioning her name without ever actually making her an actual character on the show. I think she’s had one scene during the flashbacks in “A Trip to the Dentist” and she was a non-speaking extra.

This is really early in the episode to have figured out the mystery. Okay, the connection is circumstantial right now, but this isn’t a procedural show, it’s a mystery show. Once the mystery is solved, then you have a limited amount of time that you can continue the story before it becomes tedious. Are we going to spend fifteen minutes of episode working on the season-long mystery? And if Logan’s already cleared, isn’t it a job for Sheriff Shithead?

So, Class Warfare has now turned into Actual Warfare over the summer? Well, that’s… terrifying.

That is Charisma Carpenter as (one assumes) Dick and Beaver’s step-mom? Or their dad’s girlfriend or something?

Okay, so they played the pronoun game with Veronica’s love life to avoid revealing that Veronica is back with Duncan rather than Logan, okay fine, but now that previous scene with Veronica and Wallace seems a lot harsher in hindsight. Duncan missed the first day of school to go visit his father (who’s presumably in some white collar jail because his lawyers negotiated him a sweetheart deal). Veronica and Wallace said they didn’t understand why he would want to do that, because they were trying to imply that they were talking about Logan and his dad, who slept with and then murdered his girlfriend, as opposed to Duncan and his father, who attempted to cover up said murder because he thought he was protecting his son from prison or an institution. See the difference?

And it’s Krysten Ritter! From Breaking Bad and Jessica Jones.

Why is Logan getting defensive about the fact that someone has already been killed in this clash of classes? It wasn’t an 09er who died.

What has this bus trip got to do with anything? Did they forget they were an hour long show and suddenly write a half hour worth of material? They’ve worked out the mystery. The bad guys have been caught. What’s going on?

Steve Guttenberg? Where on Earth did they find him?

Where was this field trip to? Last season Neptune was right outside of San Diego which (at the time) had the Padres, an MLB team which was name-checked often last season. Now they’re visiting a team called The Sharks at what appears to be a really nice stadium. This is no minor league team… especially not in the immediate suburbs of the major league club’s hometown.

So is this meant to be, like, LA? But then Guttenberg is running for mayor of Neptune? This all makes no sense.

And what does any of this have to do with anything?

Also, Krysten Ritter as the vapid, girly girl? HA!

A fortune cookie? That’s what wins Veronica over?

And they have to stop for gas? In a school bus? That is designed to drive all over town, making frequent stops? Where the hell is this baseball stadium and how does the team owner get to run for mayor of Neptune if he doesn’t live or work in Neptune? I mean, I guess technically he doesn’t have to live near the stadium to own the team, but in most cases, the owner is expected to be a frequent fixture at team’s home games.

Um, Lilly’s ghost? Okay, first of all, they wrapped her story up at the end of the last episode. Is she going to keep showing up?

Ah, Weevil’s not too pissed at her. You’re still a good man, Eli.

Um, holy shit!

Okay, so that’s was the point of the bus trip. It still had nothing to do with anything else in the episode. 

I don’t know about Veronica’s comment that nothing happens by accident in Neptune. I mean, just off the top of my head it’s a lucky accident for Aaron that the Kanes thought Duncan killed Lilly and covered up Aaron’s murder for him. I take the comment to mean that this is also going to be an ongoing investigation this season.

This episode is very poorly constructed. Like they should have established the field trip much sooner, and honestly, it really should have been the entire plot this episode (or at least the frame on which to hang all of the flashbacks) and then save the Wallace’s Failed Drug Test plot next episode that way you get at least episode out of the “I’m not a detective anymore” storyline, instead of having her give in immediately. 

As is there are two distinct parts to this episode and they are completely at odds tonally and content-wise. It’s really jarring and after having finished it, the first two-thirds of the episode now feels almost completely irrelevant… which, generally speaking, is a bad thing, especially for season premieres.

Also, the thing where Lilly’s ghost saved Veronica’s life? Veronica had several interactions with Lilly’s ghost last season but it was always either a dream or it was a fairly obvious manifestation of her subconscious. It’s never provided her information she didn’t already know, so this is weird and inconsistent. I mean, she could have just looked out the window, seen Weevil for herself, and then decided to go talk to him.

Then there’s the whole Veronica/Meg thing. I loathe with the power of a thousand blazing suns the tired cliche of female friends fighting over a boy. First of all, I don’t buy it from Meg. She started dating Duncan when he was Veronica’s ex without so much as an “Are you okay with this?” and now I’m supposed to think that she’s going to pull this on Veronica? Secondly, I don’t really buy Veronica trying this hard to make things okay between them again. That’s not really her thing. This all feels like out of character behavior to create forced drama just as an excuse to keep Meg on the bus... because apparently, Veronica can’t have female friends. (I mean, seriously, Dick and Beaver are fulltime but not Mac?)

Is Tessa Thompson going to be the next version of Miss Dent? The black woman whose name is in the credits but almost never actually appears in the show?

[avanneman]

The “Struggle” for the “Soul” of the Republican Party: When Vapid Met Vaporous

Unless you actually have a life, you may be aware of a “struggle” going on now for the “soul”, loosely speaking, of the Republican Party. In one corner you have Brink “Mr. Nice Guy” Lindsey, arguing in National Affairs for “Republicanism for Republicans” and in the other Tucker “Bow Tie/Blue Collar” Carlson, who moans that “We Are Ruled By Mercenaries Who Feel No Long-Term Obligation To The People They Rule”.

I think I’ve read some articles by Mr. Lindsey that I’ve liked, but his latest is not his greatest, as long as it is insipid and as insipid as it is long, basically a plea to return to the days of moderate Republicanism, of well-born Republicanism, the sort that used to prevail along the East Coast, the yachting clubs in particular, back in the days when there actually were Republicans in that part of the country—“Bar Harbor Republicans”, I believe they were called.

My question for Mr. Lindsey is this. Have you looked at the Republican Party recently? Have you noticed that not one Republican senator, not one, has dared to join the Democrats on a single issue, the government shutdown in particular, since the demise of Paul Ryan’s wretched assault on the Affordable Care Act in the first days of the Trump Administration?1 Once-legendary sportscaster Howard Cosell, of whom Mr. Lindsey has quite possibly never heard, once said of boxing, “You can’t clean up boxing. You can’t clean up mud.” The same is true of the Republican Party.

Mr. Carlson’s case is a bit different, because he likes mud. Mr. Carlson has discovered that rich people are bad people. My question for him is, where were you when Donald Trump was running up trillion-dollar deficits so he could give tax cuts to billionaires? Didn’t Donald Trump run for president promising to stick it to those bastards at Goldman-Sachs? And then didn’t he turn over the keys to the U. S. Treasury to, you know, Goldman-Sachs? Trump is simply the apotheosis of the Tea Party, which railed against the “big shots” until they took office, at which time they became completely obsequious to Wall Street’s rule. Mr. Carlson’s vaporing, which has some definite “blood and soil” undertones, as well as his explicit lack of respect for rich people, entirely verbal though it was, has led to some hand-wringing on the part of right-thinking, hand-wringing right-wingers like David French and Ben Shapiro, both at the National Review, though, again, I think the errand boys of the rich, like Mr. French and Mr. Shapiro, are more distressed than the rich themselves, who are still savoring their tax cuts.

There are some semi-Republicans whom I semi-respect, some of the time, like Mr. French, yet even the best of them tend to instinctively cling to the “take him seriously, not literally” meme when attempting to come to grips with Herr Donald’s latest effusion, an approach they never seem to advocate for comprehending Maxine Waters. For coming to grips honestly with the debacle of Donald Trump means coming to grips with the ongoing debacle the Republican Party has been ever since the end of the Cold War, when the party lost both its purpose and its “soul”. Ever since Robert Dole surrendered control of the party to Newt Gingrich after the 1994 election, the party has been, really, out of control, priding itself on its unscrupulousness as an end in itself, something I have written about any number of times. To reject Donald Trump, Republicans must reject their former selves.

Afterwords The Weekly Standard, whose demise I did not much mourn, has more or less been reborn as an explicitly anti-Trump site, the “Bulwark”, whose motto is “Conservatism Conserved”. The site’s ragging on Trump himself is excellent, but when it comes to self analysis, the efforts—one of them, at least—fall short. Mona Charon, in her article, “The Tired Argument That NeverTrumpers Are to Blame for Trump“, inadvertently explains why NeverTrumpers are responsible for Trump (in part). For example, she congratulates NeverTrumper Sen. Jeff Flake on his “admirable honesty” for admitting, a mere decade after the fact, that he voted against TARP to maintain his libertarian, anti-big government credentials while secretly hoping it would pass. Yes, that was brave, wasn’t it? Telling his constituents that big government was “bad” even though he knew it was necessary, lying to them so that they wouldn’t vote against him, riding the “Tea Party” wave even though he knew its policies would have been disastrous if they had actually been put into practice at the time of the stock market’s collapse in 2007.

Similarly, she praises Charlie Sykes, editor in chief of the Bulwark, for admitting in his book How the Right Lost Its Mind, which I reviewed unfavorably here, that good Republicans like himself “ignored the birthers, the racists, the truthers, and other conspiracy theorists” in the party. What Sykes meant was that he and his friends ignored the fact that “the birthers, the racists, the truthers, and other conspiracy theorists” were the party and had been for years, and that, furthermore, all the fancy Republicans, like William F. Buckley, and William Kristol, and George F. Will, had been feeding and fueling their resentments, fantasies, and fears for decades, all to maintain their hold on power, culminating, of course, in multiple wars abroad, all of them utterly disastrous and utterly unnecessary, wars that have made the U.S., the Middle East, and Europe all less safe than they had been before. And about this they all continue to lie.

Three Republican senators, Lisa Murkowski, Susan Collins, and Cory Gardner, want Congress to fund the government while continuing to negotiate over funding for a border "wall". The rest are silent. ↩︎

[mollsmcb-blog]

Fuck You Kardashian’s

So.... basically after watching "The People Vs. OJ" - aside from loathing OJ Simpson further... it literally opened my eyes to how TRULY AWWFULLLLL the KARDASHIANS are. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! "The People Vs. OJ" gives audiences a glimpse at how media, Hollywood and the DEATH of Nicole Brown Simpson made them money sucking fake SHIT HEADS. This scandal was the fire that lit these children's vapid ideologies to a current life of "All I care about is money and I'm really pretty and have a huge ass and big lips and like omg i'm so much smarter than like... my sister, like can you believe she like blah blah blah like blah".

EW. EW. EW. They were BORN from this scandal - WATCH THE SHOW. READ ABOUT IT / THE SCANDAL / THEM -- (Wallstreet Journal, Business Insider, Harvard Journal, Forbes, CNN, ABC, Old archived video footage on YouTube and Vimeo are also great sources if you want to draw your own theories) But, are you serious Kardashians? I don't know why this was the topic that hit me the hardest from this AMAZING SHOW (Go Netflix for another HIT) But it did.

There's so much FAKE bullshit going on within social media toady -- trying to portray ones life in a "imperfect" way using filters, perfectly placed captions, constantly trying to ONE UP each other -- that I feel the Kardashians really played a part in developing and even influencing such fake/ mindless drama, and quit possibly even negative feelings of "HATE" or BULLYING amongst our peers... that maybe this is why I feel so strongly about the rise of their fake-fames? Not sure... But I wanna talk about it.

How they look at themselves in the mirror... how the world continues to play / pay into those PHONIES is beyond my comprehension (Side Note - And they're not the only ones out there like this, I'm just using them as an example because, like I said, just finished the show on Netflix)... I've never understood the appeal. Or their fame. Mainly because I can't justify nor understand why I should condone these girls (and their vial husband(s) ) who are more interested in clothing, make-up, cars, material products (only the 1% truly have opportunities to enjoy... let's be real) as well as never understood how ALL THAT in combination of 10000000x selfies should make me respect you? Not only that, but consider you a public figure? Why?? Then they go and make a reality television show about more NOTHING'S and their privileged lives, it's hard to cope with! When their are so many struggling screenwriters or aspiring writers (like myself) who actually have original, expressive, educational, fun, exciting (etc) content that SHOULD be created, talked about, and watched!

Life's unfair, sure. But this is more than unfair, it's ignorant. And FOUL. And people are curious why other people in America voted for Trump? ... (That's a bit of a stretch metaphor on my behalf) But if you're literally telling me you enjoy / respect groups of people who are saboteurs to each other, care about nothing but JIMMY CHOO'S or what MILLIONTH selfie they should post.... Then hey, excuse me for having doubts American audiences could have been persuaded to for vote for a MF-er who's just as big of a "famously born from media" billionaire, like Trump? Did we not all used to laugh at his insanity through "People Magazine" or "US Weekly" or YouTube interviews about his latest purchases, blah blah blah's? It's all fun and games watching him in the news and reading about his bullshit scandals until he becomes the fucking President of the United STATES! PEOPLE WAKE UP! THE DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA... STOP! EW. No, I've never understood the appeal. Sorry Kardashian's no selfie or awful fashion statement can hide your true identities. RAW!

I'm disgusted. I'll be over this by lunch time. Which is now. HA! Thanks Facebook for allowing me to digitally rant. And for those of you who are now judging this RIDICULOUS rant, privately name-calling, or thinking "man she's so angry " - Yeah, sometimes (shrugs)? Like you haven't thought about something like this in your lifetime? Laughable. "SURRREEEE SUSIE Q. Tell yourself whatever you need to." -- Don't get me wrong, I have a pretty wonderful life. It's dope. Not guna gloat about#Blessed right now. Because I'm an ant in the realm of this thunderous social media atmosphere. Gloating about myself really doesn't do me, or anyone else justice. It may secretly cause hidden resentments. #TruthAnyways. Point is, I don't choose to be something I'm not. And I'm certainly not intrigued by Voyeuristically watching mindless "FAKE-NEWS" - like the douches mentioned above. And yes, I can be a dick. Whatever. Go pretend to be perfect somewhere else. BYEEEEE #Keepitreal