#but it's unfair that he is again branded as stupid and whipped

[overwhelmedbyfeels]

“He needs his mouth taping up to stop all that bleating about his 'missus'. I think I speak for the majority when I say that we are extremely cringed out by Liam's gushing compliments over his (old) bird! I din't see her doing the same. She's just sitting back on her throne whilst the court jester is out making a clown of himself.”

"Haha someone will be getting no dessert for a while after that comment! Didn't he say recently that she gives him grief for talking too much about her in interviews? I think he thought she was joking, but at this point he is making them both look like idiots."

"He's too intellectually challenged to realise the creepiness of this statement ... bless him."

"The only kind of man C****l can keep! Lovestruck and dumb."

"He watched her as a kid. Now she has two kids."

"I think C****l needs to put a set of reins on him and put him in the pram with Bear. He's too young to be on social media he's still only a baby bless him"

"This is exactly why it works for C****l - the kid idolises her and wouldn't dare question her! That's where the others failed - they had their own personalities and weren't blinded by love. He'll soon learn as they grow older."

"He doesn't speak about her as a person or the mother of his child, he speaks about her as C****l C**e the popstar trophy"

"God this puts it into perspective on how creepy she is, I mean realistically C****l's got to have some form of pedo tendencies to have met a 14 year old kid when she was in her 20s and flirted with him then, then years later having a Baby with him it's bizarre. Imagine saying you met your future babies father, when he was 14 and you were 25 it's disgusting."

Somebody free him.

[raleighcarrera]

breathe in/breathe out

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

~2.3k words | M

raleigh needs some air. a bonus scene from chapter 9 for @choicesjunechallenge, day 2! (breathe) 

raleigh tags: @omgjasminesimone, @choicesarehard, @emomoustache

all he had to do was not think about her.

it should have been easy -- up until a few months ago, he hadn’t even known who she was. he should have been able to make it just a few minutes without thinking about her. 

he stared off into the alleyway behind the club, unseeing. the pavement was swaying beneath his feet.

it seemed so simple: all he had to do was not fixate on her laugh, on the way she’d sidled up to him at the bar and knocked those shots back like a pro, on the amazing album she’d made, on the way her body moved in that outfit she was wearing...

okay, so he was definitely still thinking about her. fuck.

the gallon of tequila and rainbow-colored alcohol that had seemed so vital to ingest just a few moments ago was starting to feel like the dumbest idea he’d ever had. no matter how hard he rubbed at his eyes, silently scolding himself for being such an idiot, raleigh couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath.

he could still feel the drag of her lips down the line of his stomach when she’d licked salt from his abs, the phantom press of her kiss burning against his mouth even now, out here. no one had ever kissed him so gently before, and certainly not in the middle of a body shot, for chrissakes. 

he was fucked, but that was no surprise. things had seemed to be heading that way for awhile, now, since the charity event -- maybe even before then. maybe even since the park, since that very first day.

so -- he cared about her. sue him. it wasn’t like he thought about her all the time. it wasn’t like she made him want to be someone he wasn’t, it wasn’t like he couldn’t go a day without talking to her.

god damnit, he couldn’t even convince himself. 

he groaned, running a hand through his hair. at the very least, he needed to find a way to shut his fucking mouth when she was around. the sound of his own voice, slurred but nonetheless sincere, came back to him in a flash: it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet. god, what an idiot. there was no way she’d believed him about it being a joke.

this whole thing was unlike him. he’d never let himself get so tripped up by a girl before. 

but cadence wasn’t just... any girl. she was an original, someone completely brand new. she thought differently, talked differently, acted differently. she listened to him even when he felt like he wasn’t making any sense and somehow always knew exactly what to say, her unique perspective sticking in his mind for days anytime she shared it with him. was it so moronic if he thought that she was the first person to ever really understand him? 

raleigh felt like he was going to throw up, and he seriously doubted it was the tequila’s fault. tequila had never done this to him before. 

he’d come out here for air, but he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath. sooner or later, someone was going to notice he was gone -- he’d been holding court at the bar for hours, mixing drinks for what felt like hordes of glamorous socialites no doubt invited by fiona. eventually someone would come looking for him.

the door he’d stumbled out of just minutes before opened as soon as the thought occurred to him, and his head whipped around at the sound. he felt his stomach flip over as his eyes settled on long, smooth legs, tantalizingly short red shorts and a sheer black top tucked into them, and then, finally, the worst part of it all -- cadence’s beautiful face, and her stupid smiling mouth.

“hey,” she said, holding onto the doorknob for balance even as she pulled the door shut behind her, drowning out the sound of the party inside again. “you okay? you kinda ran out of there.” she stepped closer in her heels, wobbling ever-so-slightly. he really wanted to run again, but his feet wouldn’t seem to move. “left me alone with all those actors.”

“sorry.” he coughed, rubbing his jaw. he should make a joke. he should say something sarcastic, so she’d think everything was fine. that everything was still status-quo. “i needed some air,” was what came out instead.

“so you said,” cadence hummed, taking slow, meandering steps closer to him. if she didn’t get away from him, he was going to say something stupid. something even more stupid than relentlessly flirting with her, something more stupid than letting her know, over and over again, through those words he couldn’t hold back and those kisses he couldn’t keep to himself even when they were alone, just how real all of this was becoming to him. “is everything alright?”

for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wished he wasn’t so fucking drunk. raleigh was seeing double, his thoughts slow and fuzzy. and she... was so pretty. and concerned, she looked concerned. she was concerned about him? that was kind of funny. “you worried about me?”

her eyebrows arched. that stupid, pretty smile was back again. “i just wanted to make sure i didn’t upset you.”

“pfffffffft.” his face contorted, as though to let her know he thought her statement was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “i’m not upset.”

sure, he was having a crisis, and maybe even a heart attack, if she kept looking at him so closely, but -- upset? him? raleigh carrera? no. not over a girl. never.

she cleared her throat. “it’s just that... what you said --”

“oh, yeah. the look on your face was priceless. you looked so...” he blinked. she’d looked surprised, for sure, but cautiously happy, too. like maybe she wanted him to say all that stupid shit he couldn’t ever find a way to swallow. 

“dumb,” he finished finally, grinning obnoxiously at her. he really hoped she wouldn’t see through it in that annoying way she always seemed to.

cadence rolled her eyes. “it’s not a very funny joke, you know.” her voice was petulant, the consonants in each word softly slurring together. she somehow found a way to make being drunk off a truly strange mix of alcohol and juice look ridiculously alluring. 

“what?”

she folded her arms under her chest. okay. since not thinking about her at all obviously wasn’t working, he should probably amend his plan. all he had to do was not stare at her boobs. that was easy enough, right? her face was right there.

except that she looked annoyed at him, which was an unfair turn-on. he shifted unsteadily on his feet, averting his gaze to the brick wall behind her shoulder. 

“pretending like you like me. it’s not funny.”

raleigh heaved a heavy sigh. before he could talk himself out of it, the tequila was making his mouth move. “cadence, i do like you. everything i said about -- your album, the party, the way you look -- s’true.”

her brow furrowed. breathe, he reminded himself, trying not to panic. she was still just a girl, right? he was going to be fine.

if only he could forget the way she made his heart race, how just the sight of her was enough to make his ribs feel like they were squeezing together uncomfortably -- how every conversation he found himself in, lately, seemed to revolve around her, whether because he couldn’t stop talking about her or because he managed to find a way to make someone else bring her up for him. 

if only every single part of him hadn’t decided that he wanted her, consequences and rules and messy tabloid politics be damned. if only he wasn’t so busy trying to ignore the way she made him feel and repress the urge to tell her.

she stared at him for a long time. so long that the roiling nausea in his stomach started to reach an unwelcome level. then, she shook her head. an annoyed huff blew a lock of lilac hair out of her eyes. “you’re drunk.”

“you’re drunk,” he muttered back, doing his best not to look at her. out here, with just the two of them, it was a lot harder to play it cool than it had been inside. when he was behind the bar, things were much easier -- the part he was supposed to play was clear when he was the life of the party, hyping up a crowd, pouring drinks and demanding toasts. 

alone with her in the alley, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. the last ten years of fame and fortune had hardly prepared him for this. the raleigh carrera that everyone thought they knew had never been in this position before.

but the one he thought she understood wanted desperately to tell her the truth.

“i’m not having this conversation with you when you’re wasted,” she said, very obviously trying to look pissed off but mostly just pouting adorably instead. she took a dangerous step closer, wobbling all the way. before he could stop himself, raleigh reached out a hand to steady her, his broad palm fanning out over her side. she always looked and felt so small under his hands. his mouth was dry.

“well, i’m not pretending to like you,” he returned, his voice low. did she really not know that? he was almost -- he was starting to -- jesus christ, he was halfway in love with her.

slowly, raleigh lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. cadence was already staring at him, and shuffled in close enough that, even though his head was swimming, he could see her every feature in perfect clarity. 

all he had to do was not think about her. 

he just needed to catch his breath, to calm down and go back to the party, and then he could have another drink -- he could be drunk enough that none of this would matter, not even the way she’d very clearly looked at him, looked at avery and then walked over his way, chose him --

cadence’s hands curled deliberately in either side of his suit jacket. she pulled him down at the same time she bounced up on her toes, stumbling unsteadily on her heels. he ducked his head to meet her the rest of the way and their mouths lined up imprecisely, off-track but so good nonetheless. raleigh groaned against her lips before shutting his eyes and letting instinct take over. he felt so fucking out of control when he was with her, and she still thought he was just pretending to like her, so -- he figured he might as well give her a taste of his honesty. 

raleigh backed her up into the wall, slamming his palm into the brick behind her head. cadence’s hands slid inside his jacket, over the fabric of his shirt. his free hand reached down and grabbed her bare thigh, hitching one of her legs up around his waist so he could be free to grind his hips forward insistently, rolling forward with all the urgency he’d been doing his best to repress.

she moaned, shivering underneath him where he’d pinned her to the wall. this close to the door, he could hear the sound from the party more clearly, and that shook him out of the way he was lost in the sensation of her warm mouth, forcing him to slacken the grip he had on her.

“we should go back inside,” he whispered, against his better judgment. this was what he’d been wanting to do her in there, as soon as she’d jumped up on the bar in front of everyone. he didn’t want to wait another minute to get his hands on her. 

raleigh kissed her again slowly. “you’re the host.” yet he made no move to let her out from under his body. “you should be celebrating.”

“i am celebrating,” she breathed, without opening her eyes. she slid her hands over his shoulders and popped open the first button on his shirt. 

“celebrating with your adoring public.” he swallowed, staring down at her fingers. she undid another button. “cadence. everyone in there wants to tell you how amazing you are. you should let them.” 

finally, she blinked at him. one corner of her mouth lifted as their eyes locked. “and you? what do you want to do?”

raleigh’s grip on her tightened again. yeah, the fucking tequila had definitely loosened his tongue. “i want to take you back to my apartment and never let you leave.”

cadence looked like that was precisely the answer she’d been hoping for. her eyes lit up, and her pretty mouth spread into a smile. then, she laughed. “what’s stopping you?”

they didn’t have the kind of time it’d take to get into it, and, honestly, for once his list of ‘don’ts’ was the last thing on his mind. his hips rocked forward again as though to emphasize his point. “just that -- you deserve everything everyone’s saying in there. and you should let them finish celebrating you before we... leave.”

someone was going to find them any minute now, anyway. either that, or his assistant was going to wake him up from what was surely a dream.

“fine.” relief and dread washed over him in turn. he really didn’t want to let her go, but there was no telling what else he might do if they stayed out there for another second. “but after the party...” his eyes stayed fixated on where her fingertips were walking across the bare skin of his chest, under the buttons she’d undone, “you’ll take me home?”

well -- he wasn’t that big of an idiot. “i’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

there was that musical little laugh again. cadence grinned brightly at him, and just the sight of her stupid happy face was enough to make him shoot her a lopsided smile of his own. 

her leg dropped back to the pavement, and she reached down for his hand, twining their fingers together. 

“then let’s go,” she said abruptly, tugging him back towards the door and pulling him inside again before he could catch his breath.

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 12)

Damian kept his eyes on Marinette. 

She had been off all day, and their talk that morning had only proven his suspicions. Something was bothering her, and it was all Adrien Agreste’s fault. His fists clenched as the woman in front of him began working on him. Thinking about that blonde tom cat made his blood boil. Whatever he did, Damian would kill him for it. His cousin was sweet and naive despite her vast genius. She wanted to trust people, and when she did, she did it with her whole heart. And that blonde buffoon had broken it in to a million pieces. 

It wasn’t just the boy though, no. It was also that stupid video, it had to be. He hadn’t enjoyed it when it was sent to his phone. It was messy and loud, and while he had misjudged the small blonde girl, he still thought the spectacle was stupid. Anyone who poked a cadged animal was stupid, and that was obviously what that Italian girl was.  

At least he was finally able to put a face to the name of Lila Rossi.

It was a tactical failure for sure. His cousin had mentioned that she had everything involving the girl under control, but this was not what she could have planned. Marinette looked like she was on the verge of puking all morning, Damian recognized regret easily enough. That had been why he’d tried to talk to her, only to find out that it was the mistake of the morning and something that awful model had done that was upsetting her. 

Now his phone was being blown up with messages from the small blonde french girl who was, for some reason, still in his phone as ‘Sweetness.’ She wouldn’t stop texting him, hadn’t since the video had arrived. She apparently got the wrong idea from their earlier correspondence and was now under the impression that they were friends. And she kept asking for pictures of him and Colin.

Said boy was currently the one in possession of his phone. His boyfriend was switching between gleefully rewarching the video with a wickedly satisfied grin and texting with the blonde girl. Damian found the whole thing ridiculous, seeing how Colin didn’t know any French. Yet somehow he and the girl were holding some sort of conversation and he was, apparently, taking immense joy from the video that he couldn’t even understand. 

Suddenly a brush was in his face, painting foundation onto his skin. Damian could make a list fifty feet long detailing how much he hated makeup. He would growl at the woman currently caking his face in the disgusting stuff, but Colin was sitting in front of him on the edge of the platform, and the last thing he needed was for the redhead to be mad at him.

Marinette was currently in a changing room, trying on the brand new outfit Edna’s people had slapped together in just under an hour and a half. Chloé was, strangely, also in the changing room his cousin was in. The two girls had been inseparable from one another’s sides since coming back from lunch. 

It was strange. 

Damian didn’t like it. 

The blonde bitch was surely just trying to get his cousin to stop being upset with her precious model, which would not fly while Damian was here. He wouldn’t let Marinette be manipulated like that. Honestly, she was far too trusting. And here he thought she knew better than to trust that bitch. He’d have to talk to her later about Bourgeois. Even if Jon liked her, something was off about the girl, a feeling he couldn’t rip from his gut despite trying for the half Kryptonian’s sake. 

Damian’s eyes scanned the room, his mind suddenly being alerted to an absence. Something was missing. Someone was missing. The person’s absence had been nagging at him all morning, but then the empty space was filled during lunch. But it was gone now once again. 

“Colin.” he nudge the boy’s back with his foot. “Where did Jon go?” 

“Dunno, he got a call from his dad and wandered off to take it in private.” Colin looked up, neck twisted to stare at his boyfriend. “It’s actually weird, because he was on the phone with his mom all morning.” 

“Why did Lois call him?”

“I don’t know.” The redhead shrugged. “But it seemed like it really messed with him. I tried to ask him about it but then Mr. Kent called and he disappeared.” Colin’s eyes went back to Damian’s phone, texting out a few more messages before looking back at his boyfriend. “Actually, I haven’t seen Mr. Wayne around either. Do you know where he is?” 

“He informed me last night that their was some business he had to attend to, something to do with Diana Prince’s exhibit at The Gotham Museum of Antiquities.” Damian leaned back in his seat, the look Colin gave him making it clear he understood the code. A Justice League Emergency.  “He said he should be back before the festivities at the end of the week.” 

“Do you know what happened?” Colin asked, turning his whole body to face the boy, scooting over a tad so that the makeup artist wasn’t blocking his view. “At the museum, I mean.” 

Damian shook his head, his chin quickly being grabbed by the woman working on him, forcing him to stay still. He bit back a growl before responding. “Wouldn’t tell me a word. Maybe Kent’s filling Jon in on it. If my father’s involved I would assume his father is as well.” 

Colin tried not to laugh at his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort. “Guess we’ll just have to wait for him then.” Colin turned back around, eyes going back to the phone. “God she is so nice,” He whispered. 

“How are you even holding a conversation with her?” Damian asked. 

“Rose is fluent in four languages, English being one of them.” Colin smiled back at him. “I think I’ve made a new best friend.” he teased. Damian just sighed. Between his cousin and his boyfriend, he was never going to get his phone back. 

Suddenly Colin’s head whipped back around. “Wait, what would Mrs. Lane have to do with the museum?” 

Damian thought for a moment. Lois wasn’t overly involved in Justice League affairs. She was a deputized civilian, meaning she was technically a League member. It was a complicated system that was hard to explain and sometimes difficult even for Damian to decipher. But he did know that Lois handled the bulk of the League's publicity. Thanks to how she handled Superman, and a handful of other heroes, before she even knew their identities. 

But what kind of disruption could need Lois, Clark, Bruce, and Diana?

“I don’t know.” Damian resisted the urge to rub his chin. The only thing involving the League and Lois at the current moment was Lex Luthor Senior. The man had been in jail for several months now and his trial was quickly approaching. They’d tried to get that man arrested on several charges including tax fraud, terrorism, and other things, for many year, but nothing ever stuck. But now, now they had him on attempted murder, attempted murder of Lois Lane. Usually this wouldn’t fly, with the public knowing Lois’s loyalties to Superman and the League it would be assumed anything she said to reflect negatively on Luthor would be for the heroes, but they had a witness now. 

“The case maybe?” He whispered, hoping to god nothing bad had happened. If that man got out so many things would go up in flames. He would have to get in touch with Tim, ask him to ask Conner. He hated Conor being so involved with his half brother, put if Lex Jr. really was so great, maybe he would have some useful information. 

“Case?” Colin asked.

“Look up Lois Lane and Lex Luthor, see what pops up.” Damian turned his attention back to the woman currently painting his lips an ice blue. He didn’t want to discuss such sensitive things carelessly out in public. He also didn’t want Jon to magically appear while they were discussing it. He knew the whole situation was bothering him. But, no one took the attempted murder of their parent well. At least, that’s what Damian’s experience told him. 

… 

Marinette was living for this redesign. 

The tube top had been changed to black, the shall had disappeared, a silver collar, like Chloé’s golden one, now adorned her neck. Instead of the skirt she now wore a pair of high waisted black short shorts, a thick silver belt wrapped around her abdomen. Silk straps in silver, lavender, dark blue, and a lighter black made up the overskirt that hid most of the shorts, only exposing them from the front few. She was also now given shoes, heeled gladiator boots in silver, matching all of her jewelry. The diadem, earrings and bracelets from earlier had also stayed apart of the outfit. 

Was it less revealing? No. 

If anything it was more so. 

But it was a million times more fashionable, and by Edna’s smile said that she knew it too. 

Marinette still felt awful, and if anything was a million times more confused after her talk with Chloé, which was still on going. Every time they had a break, the blonde girl would start whispering more of her story, basically retelling the past three years from her perspective. 

Chloé was in her outfit from earlier that morning, the two girls were on a platform filled with fake pink, orange, blue, and whtie clouds. Currently Marinette’s back was leaned against the blonde’s, repositioning her head as the photographer dictated. 

“I’m a little pissed.” Chloé whispered. “The boy’s get to-” The flash of the camera went off, several photos being taken. “Get to do their photoshoot with bows and arrows. Like that’s so unfair.” 

“Bows and arrows?” Her cousin? Angry at Adrien? With a bow and arrow in his proximity? That would not be good. 

“Totally unfair, I want to play with weapons too.” Chloé’s pout only lasted a moment before the photographer was ordering them to pose in different positions. The group shots the other day hadn’t been awful, mainly because she was only taking pictures with Damian. It was beyond strange to be all over Chloé, especially with how sensitive her thoughts towards the girl currently were. 

She had known.

She had known for years.

She’d been akumatized multiple times with knowledge of both her and her partner’s identities in her head and Hawkmoth never found out. She didn’t even know how that was possible. Just how much control did Hawkmoth really have? 

But possibly what had taken her by surprise the most, what she still couldn’t quite believe, was that her sweet, idiotic, adorable partner, outed himself with Physics. 

“Physics?” Marinette was in disbelief at the blonde’s words, her sandwich barely half eaten.

Chloé simply nodded. “Yup.” She leaned forward, having laid down on the bed, she propped her chin on her hands. “See, back before Adri started school, I would go over to his house and try and get him to do some of my homework for me, cause he’s crazy smart ya know?” 

“I think only Max can surpass him in book smarts.” Marinette nodded. 

“Well, he would never actually do anything for me. But he’d explain everything.” Chloé rolled her eyes. “Adrien has a very specific way he explains things, especially physics.” She leaned forward a little further. “So, when Ladybug instructed Chat Noir to watch over me after Nathaniel got akumatized I tried to get him to do my homework.” 

“Oh my god.” Marinette mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. 

“And he started explaining in that special Adrien way. He even said, ‘You go this Chlo’ which is what he always said whenever I would get frustrated while he was helping me.” 

“Physics.” The bluenette mumbled, after swallowing. “I always thought he’d out himself with a pun.” 

“You okay?” Chloé’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, Marinette blinked a few times, smiling at the woman touching up her lipstick. The woman smiled back before leaving the platform. 

“Fine.” Marinette huffed. “Just lost in thought.

“I know everything we talked about was a lot, sorry to dump it on you so suddenly.” Chloé looked down, eyes on her clasped hands. 

“Honestly, it was probably for the best. If you hadn’t told me when you did I would have just been worrying about it all day long.” Marinette’s hand raised, landing on Chloé’s shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “But you do know that I’ve got to tell Adrien, or if you want to-” 

“I think I’d prefer it if you did.” Marinette nodded. 

“Alright girls!” The photographer clapped. “I want Artemis laying on that cloud, and Apollo on her stomach on that one!” He pointed as he spoke, both girls going where told, adjusting their bodies at the man’s command. 

Marinette’s eyes ran over the room before focusing back on the camera. Damian still wasn’t in his outfit. It still hadn’t been fetched from Italy. Edna had mentioned Violet’s younger brother. The bluenette’s mind was filled with memories from her last visit to the Mode Building, when she’d first met Violet and a very eager eleven year old who would not stop aggressively hitting on her. 

If who she thought was really going to collect this garment, she could only hope that he wouldn’t be let up onto the floor where the shoot was happening. Violet probably wouldn’t allow it. She’d collect it from him in the lobby or something and bring it up herself. 

She’d just been dealing with so much today, she didn’t know if she could handle-

‘ ding ’

She really did have the most fantastic luck.

The elevator door slid open, a short muscular fourteen year old sauntering out with a black garment bag slung over his shoulder. A self satisfied smirk plastered across his chiseled jaw. His cheekbones hard and square, the bridge of his sloped nose splashed with light brown freckles. His blonde hair was swept back, resembling someone who’d just gone for a joy ride in a ferrari. He swaggered across the room, a free hand stuck deep into his khaki slacks. His clothing suggesting he’d just come from a private school of sorts.

“Have no fear!” He announced, holding up his free hand. “Your hero is here!” He pressed it to his chest, mumbling something along the lines of “hold the applause please.” 

Violet came into the room from behind him, smacking him across the back of the head and snatching the bag out of his hand. “You’re late.”

“Ow!” He said very pointedly at her, so pointedly that Marinette doubted it actually hurt. “You said asap, well, I had a test.” 

“Like you actually try in any math class.” She walked past him, taking the garment straight to the changing rooms, several other assistants flocked to her, checking the outfit for possible damages from transit. 

The boy shot his sister a dirty look before turning his attention to Edna, the woman was standing in the middle of the room. “Dashiell!” She called, arms open wide. 

“Edna!” He opened his own arms, but instead of hugging they high fived, resulting in a complicated handshake that reminded Marinette of her and her cousin’s own. “So good to see you!” 

“I trust you had no trouble?” The woman asked. 

“Not an ounce.” He smiled wide. “I assure you, I took this job as seriously as possible, I even went a longer root so that I would be on the water for the shortest time possible.” Marinette didn’t know Dash well, but she did know he was god awful at keeping his secret identity underwraps. She had never been more thankful for the fact that a specific person didn’t know she was a superhero. 

“Who is that?” Chloé whispered harshly to her. 

“Dash Parr.” Marinette said dryly, watching as Edna handed Dash a thick stack of American dollars. “Violet’s little brother.” 

“So, we don’t like him?” The blonde asked. 

“As promised, double the normal fee, in assorted bills.” Edna said, patting Dash’s hand once the money was in his grip. 

“Happy I could be of assistance.” 

“And if your parents ask?” The short woman’s eyebrow quirked up. 

“As far as mom knows, I just wanted to see my lovely sister.” The boy’s grin turned into a smirk. “And as far as dad’s concerned, I ran across an ocean today in under three minutes.” Dash winked, the two girls, and several other workers, watched as Edna pulled a fifty dollar bill from her coat, placing it on top of Dash’s stack. 

“Always a pleasure Dashiell.” She patted the boy’s cheek before turning back to the photographer. 

Marinette was hopeful for a moment, finally responding to Chloé’s question. “It’s not necessarily that we don’t like him.” The boy turned, most likely to leave, but for a moment he faced Marinette and Chloé’s platform. His eyes locked on her. And suddenly he was walking towards them. 

All hope was lost. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheg!” he called. 

“Cheg?” Chloé whispered. 

Marinette held back her grimace. “Hi Dash.” She bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Well,” His eyes ran up and down her body and Marinette had never felt more icky in her entire life. “Don’t you just look awesome.” 

Chloé’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you?” She whispered, watching as Dash hopped up on the platform. He was a few inches shorter than Marinette, meaning he was several inches shorter than Chloé. 

“Fourteen gorgeous,” Dash winked at her and Chloé’s face twisted immediately. 

“Oh god no.” She spat. 

“How’ve you been Mar-Mar?” He asked, leaning against one of the clouds, he immediately began to flex. 

“Mar-Mar?” Chloé asked, eyes narrowing. “What is happening?” She began looking around, trying to find someone to explain. Damian had been shoved into a changing room now that his garment was here, and Adrien was getting his makeup touched up for his and Damian’s shoot. 

Chloé was curious as to what would happen when the boy noticed, but seeing as Gabriel was in attendance today, she thought it best not to draw his attention. When she turned her attention back to Marinette, the girl’s face had grown extremely pensive. The short blonde boy was bragging about how much he could bench press. 

Chloé took a step closer to the girl, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “No, seriously,” She hissed. “Who is this kid?” 

Marinette only shook her head. Both girls turning back to face Dash as he launched into a story about how the entire cheerleading team was currently arguing over who he’d be taking to prom. “Course I haven’t said yes to anyone yet.” He winked at Marinette again, this time Chloé was close enough to feel the girl shiver. “Incase a special little lady shows up intime.” 

Chloé grabbed Marinette’s hand, unsure what else to do in the moment. 

“DASH!” All three of them jumped at the noramly calm Violet’s angry shout. “Oh my god! Get off of there! We are in the middle of a shoot.” Violet reached up and grabbed Dash’s ear. She yanked him off the platform that surprised Chloé but didn’t seem to phase Marinette. 

“Ow! Ow! OW! Violet!” The boy cried. 

“No!” Violet began to march toward the elevators. “No! No! No! You need to leave now! You are disrupting the shoot! Demarcus!” a large black man suddenly appeared, he was dressed in a nice suit and was very obviously security. “Please escort Dash here out of the building, in fact, make sure he leaves the city.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Demarcus took Dash’s arm. “If you’d come with me please sir.” 

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Vi!” 

“What?” Violet crossed her arms, face set in a glare.

“There are a bunch of robot pigeons that keep showing up at the house, and Mom is starting to get really frustrated cause JackJack keeps fighting them and-”  

“Oh my god.” Violet slapped her forehead. “Okay, just please leave. I’ll talk to Hiro.” Violet turned away as the door closed on Dash and Damarcus. “Jesus christ I hate all of them.”

Chloé slowly turned to Marinette, releasing the girl’s hand. “No seriously,” She said. “What-who was that? What just happened?” 

Marientte sighed, slumping against one of the clouds. “That was Dashiell Robert Parr.” 

“I hated that.” Chloé said. “I never want to experience that again in my entire life.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” The bluenette crossed her arms. “He’s a lot.”

“He called you Mar-Mar Dupain-Cheg.” Chloé pointed out. “Like, what the hell? Cheg? Mar-Mar?” Chloé looked around, almost like she was trying to find proof of what she just experienced. “Did I dream that?” 

“More like nightmared it.” Marinette commented. 

Chloé stared at her wide eyed. “Mar-Mar.” Chloé said monotone. “And I thought Bugaboo was a stupid nickname.” 

… 

Adrien rolled his shoulders, trying to regain some sense of comfort now that he was strapped into the white silk tank top. Thick leather straps in brass and gold had been draped tastefully around his abdomen, then wrapped tightly  around his bare arms, constricting his muscles to the point where it was hard to move. But he didn’t want to make the jobs of the two men working on sorting his outfit any more difficult than it had to be, so he stayed as still as possible. 

“God she’s a genius.” He had heard something along those lines so many times in the past two days, he’d lost count. He had greatly underestimated just how much Edna Mode was worshiped by her followers. Not that he disagreed, or not a lot, but he definitely thought that for some of the designs he’d seen so far, Marinette could easily make a better version. His point only being proved by Marinette’s amazing redesign of her own outfit that very morning. 

And she did that while not even functioning at a hundred percent. 

It was pretty obvious to Adrien that his partner had been off all morning. Heck, he had been off all morning. He was hoping to talk to her over lunch, see if he couldn’t help her and maybe discuss some things that had been distressing him as well. But Chloé had dragged her off before Adrien could even get to her. 

Now that was distressing. 

The two girls showed back up to the shoot together an hour and a half later, looking thick as thieves. While the thought of his oldest friend and his best friend (best female friend as Nino was his best male friend and that was the only way he could sort them in good conscience because they both meant so much to him) finally getting along made him so happy, he would be lying if he said their time alone didn’t worry him. 

One of the men wrapped a gaudy golden belt around his middle, it was thick and rested heavily against his hips, but he didn’t complain. “You really do look like an everyday adonis.” The other man commented. 

“Thank you.” Adrien gave a polite smile as one of the men started adjusting the straps that fell over the belt. Soon four sets of hands were at work on the straps hanging off the slim dark brown pants he wore. A woman came over, fixing his quiffed hair to be a bit more messy. Edna had referred to the style as ‘sex hair’ but he preferred to think of it as a windswept look. Once the woman was done with his hair she moved on to his neck, placing a heavy golden collar around his throat, letting it rest against his shoulders. It reminded him of a cat collar. 

Next to him stood Damian. The boy wore a black vest with silver accents, his arms wrapped in similar leather straps to Adrien’s, but his were colored silver and ice blue. He wore loose black slacks, silver leather straps hanging off the sides of his hips in hooped fashion, the straps having similar black details to the vest. 

In terms of jewelry, Damian had a silver collar like Adiren’s gold one, but he did not have a belt like Adrien. Instead Damian’s wrists were clad in long gauntlet like silver bracelets. He also had a silver diadem placed on his forehead. A brilliant blue stone set in its center, it matched Marinette’s eyes well, and also matched the matte color Damian’s lips had been painted. 

“You know, when Edna referred to these as strappy ensembles, I was kind of hoping she was kidding.” Adrien said, eyes moving back to focus on his reflection.

“Edna doesn’t kid, especially when it comes to her work.” Damian’s voice was monotone, his hands raised to push back the curls of his bangs.

“Seems like that runs in the family.” Adrien whispered, hoping Damian hadn’t heard him once the words left his mouth. “So…” God, this silence hurt. 

“We don’t need to talk while this happens.” Damian said, eyes firm on his reflection, it looked like he was glaring at himself.  

“Oh-o-okay.” Adrien looked down, as the woman who put the collar on him placed a golden diadem on his forehead. His stone was a much darker blue, possibly Lapis Lazuli but he wasn’t sure. All the knowledge he had in regards to gemstones came from Steven Universe. 

“Couple of Princes the two of you.” The woman said, smiling at the boys. “No wonder Edna fought so hard for you.” 

“She fought for him, I agreed rather seamlessly.” Damian corrected. “Am I done?” He looked over at her, eyes cold. 

“Oh, um yes.” 

“Good.” Damian walked away from the two, going to sit down on one of Edna’s platforms that’s only purpose, Adrien was roughly seventy-percent certain, was to make the woman taller. His boyfriend greeted him cheerfully, but seemed to be mainly preoccupied with Damian’s phone.

“Well isn’t he a ray of sunshine.” The woman commented, resting her hand on her hip as she cocked it out. 

“No kidding.” Adrien whispered, eyes downcast. It didn’t necessarily bother him when people didn’t like him, he’d had fans and haters since day one of his career. But it was bothering him that someone so important to Marinette disliked him, or at least it seemed like Damian didn’t like him. Adrien could see Damian in the mirror, he was glaring at him. 

It also didn’t help that he’d had a knot in his stomach since he found out Marinette’s plan that morning. Nino’s video only amplifying his pains. While he didn’t like Lila, and knew she needed to be stopped, he couldn’t help but think there was a better way to do it then publicly humiliate her in front of the whole school. She wasn’t a good person but she wasn’t down right evil, she deserved a little sympathy. 

Or maybe Adrien was just too nice. Which was something Chloé had insisted that morning when he complained about not liking what was happening. Plagg had agreed with her when Adrien relayed the story to him. Saying that Adrien was far too forgiving for his own good, and insisting once again, that it was okay to be angry with someone. He knew that. He wasn’t a child. Nor was he as innocent and helpless as people around him seemed to think. He just didn’t like conflict. 

He wished, once again, that he could have discussed these feelings with Marinette at lunch. He knew he would feel better once he talked things out with her, he always did. That is why he originally started visiting her as Chat Noir. Marinette, as herself or as his lady, she always made things better, made people feel better, made him feel better. He just needed a few minutes with her, to discuss what happened, explain why it caused him such unrest. He needed to hear her side. Needed to talk to her, or maybe just be in her close proximity again, after she dodge him all morning long. 

Just a few minutes. 

She was like a battery, super charging him whenever she was near. 

Suddenly a large ornate golden bow was handed to the blonde boy. It was heavy in his hands, and he had to wonder amidst his marveling at the details, if this was a real weapon. Had someone just handed him, a sixteen year old boy, a real weapon? 

He looked around, sure this must be a mistake, but instead of someone taking the thing away, he was taken by the arm. One of the men from earlier leading him to the platform, a forest scene. His stage for the next photoshoot. A photoshoot that involved weapons? 

He saw someone handing Damian a silver bow identical to his golden one. Adrien couldn’t put his finger on why, but it made his stomach drop. Now Damian had a weapon, a real weapon. That couldn’t be a good idea. This couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake of some kind, right? 

Suddenly he was on the platform. Damian facing him across the fake grass. His eyes still set in a galre. Adrien gulped. He had an awful feeling. 

“Okay!” The photographer shouted. “So I want these photos to have a bit more aggression to them. You boys think you can give me that aggressive vibe?” 

“Yes.” 

“Maybe.” 

Damian’s quick answer only made the blonde boy even more nervous. 

“Good!” The bald man clapped his hands. “Someone give them their arrows.” 

Arrows!?

… 

Damian couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across his features as he placed his arrow against the bow’s string. It felt good, natural. You never forget, it’s like riding a bike. Weapons always made him feel so comfortable. He knew how to deal with weapons, unlike people. 

His cousin was in distress, and now she was avoiding him. She was upset because of Adrien Agreste. He upset her and she was still worried about him, it was obvious. She was worried Damian would do something, which he wouldn’t of course. But he wanted to. He wanted to do something to make her feel better. 

“Wouldn’t piercing that pretty face with an arrow make her feel better?” Something wicked whispered in his ear. The voice was icky and made his skin crawl, evil. It sounded like his grandfather, but at the same time like his mother. 

Hurting Adrien wouldn’t make her feel better, just Damian. 

He pulled the drawstring back, stopping when it grazed the corner of his lips. The photographer told them to do it, but Adrien wasn’t doing it quite right. Someone had to get up on the platform and help him, show him how to position it correctly. 

He reminded Damian of a baby deer, fumbling on new legs.

“Easy Pray.” The voice whispered. 

It was like riding a bike. His senses were always on fire, acutely aware of how to take down everyone around him. Even with all the training, all the philosophies his father had spent years shoveling into his head, his inner assassin never slept. His beast was always awake, waiting for a week spot in Damian’s defenses, waiting to break out and cause havoc. 

Damian barely registered the flashes of the camera. 

He was so angry, the longer he stared at Adrien’s face. The blonde’s glare was fake, he knew that. The boy didn’t seem like he had it in him to hate. Damian had too much capacity for hate, or so people told him. 

Damian’s glare was real. 

He had a large capacity for hate, currently that hate was mostly directed towards Adrien. Marinette trusted too easily, she trusted her heart to people too easily. Why would she pick someone to love who could hurt her so easily? 

More flashes, he registered these even less. 

They were told to walk forward a few paces, they both did. Adrien had to have that same assistant come and help him reposition his bow. How was he a hero? How was Paris not destroyed? How was his cousin still alive with a partner who was so useless, with a partner who so carelessly hurt her. 

“He hurt her.” 

Did he care that he hurt her? Damian hadn’t seen the two of them speak since Adrien left them that morning. Adrien was avoiding Marinette, that was the only explanation. Of course, he was hurting her and he knew it. 

“He wants her to hurt.”

Damian was so angry. 

... 

“Now some without the bows!” Edna had clapped, clapping while giving orders, it was something she had always done. But Damian had lost focus on the world around him, he was just so angry. He’d lost focus. The noise startled him. 

He hadn’t meant to. 

He didn’t mean to. 

His eyes widened as a scream filled the room. It was his cousin, he knew that. She screamed. Marinette screamed and then his arrow sunk deep into the fake bark of a prop tree. He’d missed Adrien by a millimeter, he was sure there was a cut on the blonde’s cheek. It wouldn’t be more than a hair's breadth. But it would be there. 

Edna would know it. 

Marinette would know it. 

Damian knew it. 

He wasn’t trained to miss. He always hit his target. Not always lethally, but he always hit them. He had just been so angry. He was startled. He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t. It was an accident, he was startled. 

“Damian!” 

“Oh my god!” 

“Adrien!” 

Suddenly Marinette and Chloé were on the platform. The girls flanking the blonde’s sides. For his worth, Adrien hadn’t moved. It was like the arrow hadn’t even phased him. All he had done was lower his weapon. 

Enda was at Damian’s side. He hadn’t lowered the bow yet. She ripped it from his hands. She was yelling at him but he wasn’t quite registering it yet. He had been startled and his hand slipped. 

Marinette’s eyes hurt. 

His eyes had the power to cut people, cut them down, crush their strength, strike fear. Her eyes had the power to hurt, to cause hearts to break. He felt that hurt, felt his chest ache as she stared at him, eyes narrowed, frown set. 

Adrien had hurt her. 

Damian had hurt him. 

Had Damian hurt her?

“Damian what the hell was that!” He was hit by the bow, his head ached now along with his heart. Edna was still at his side, she was fuming. 

“I-” He didn’t know what to say, honestly. He hadn't meant to. His fingers slipped, he was startled and it made him release. It was an accident. “I don’t know.” He whispered. 

“You don’t know?!” Edna shouted. “You shot at him!” 

“I’m fine Ms. Mod-Enda. Really, I am.” Adrien raised his hands, why was he trying to help? Damian had just shot at him. 

“Adrien you’re hurt.” Marinette’s fingers traced the cut, the boy flinched barely. Tender flesh. Damian knew she’d be able to see it. 

“It’s just a cut.” The blonde whispered. 

“Edna that psychopath just shot an arrow at my son!” Gabriel Agreste’s voice cut through the crowd. Now the asshole cared? Damian couldn’t help the thought. 

“Why are these real arrows?” Chloé asked, getting Marinette’s attention. “Shouldn’t they just be props?”

“Did you seriously give him a real weapon?” Marinette’s words were quieter, but Damian caught them. He was dangerous with weapons, everyone in his family knew that. They feared him when he was armed. 

“Edna.” Gabriel pulled the woman a way. 

Damian had to wonder if he would be getting sent home. They were only two days into the shoot. His father wasn’t here to defend him. Would Father defend him? Edna could easily replace him, eat into a few safety days to reshoot. Maybe it was for the best? If a Justice League emergency was brewing they might need him. 

They wouldn’t ask him to leave, he would ask to be dismissed. It was only right after all. He caused such an incident. He should leave. They would want him to. 

Damian stepped down from the platform. He felt an odd sort of emptiness, not even necessarily regret. Just nothingness. He was used to that feeling, it was much safer than anything remotely close to an emotion. 

Suddenly he was grabbed by the arm and pulled off to a secluded corner. He hadn’t even registered the person until they were yelling at him in harsh whispers. 

“Damian what the fuck was that?!” Oh, it was his boyfriend. 

The dark skinned boy blinked a few times, probably more times than necessary, but he still wasn’t quite back yet. Still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. His eyes focused on Colin. He was angry, it was obvious, he was disappointed. 

With focus came his emotions, back and at full force. 

They hurt like a bitch. 

Marientte was upset with him, he hurt her. Edna was upset with him, she was angry with him. Colin was disappointed with him. Colin was disappointed in him. “I-I’m I don’t-” Damian tried to figure out his words but everything wasn’t quite back yet, not back in focus. 

“Damian you just shot that kid with a freaking arrow!” The redhead growled. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell was that!” 

“I-don’t know.” He finally managed. God, now he was the baby deer wasn’t he? 

“You don’t know?” Colin hissed. “Damian you almost killed him!” 

“It was just a scratch.” Defensive. He was defending himself, his actions, that’s right. Because he’d messed up, he’d slipped up. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“You didn’t mean to?” Colin asked, eyes scrutinizing. “Damian you aimed, you shot, you hit him.” His jaw was set. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell Damian!” 

He’d only used his full name this whole time. No nicknames, no shortening it, no pet names. It was strange, but that hurt more than Marinette’s eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Damian choked. “I don’t-I didn’t mean to. Enda startled me and I just let go-my finger slipped I didn’t mean to.” He was drowning, that’s what it felt like. Colin was so angry at him. He had never seen Colin angry at him quite like this. Though, typically, when Damian hurt people, far past the point that he should have, it was a very bad man. Sometimes Colin even helped him. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Damian whispered, eyes falling to the floor. 

He should apologize, shouldn’t he? Yes, say he was sorry for hurting the model. He should apologize to Colin and Marinette and Enda. So they wouldn’t be hurt or angry or disappointed any more. But the problem with him wanting to apologize was that he could never get the words out. 

Colin sighed, turning away from Damian. His head shook as he began walking away. He was still angry and hurt and disappointed. And Damian still couldn’t breath or focus right. He was in trouble, his father would be upset. Everyone was upset. 

He headed for the changing rooms as quickly as possible. He needed to be out of this environment. He needed to be somewhere else. 

He needed to breath. 

… 

Well, today was just going swimmingly. 

First Damian got woken up and torn away from his warm and cuddly boyfriend. Then that distressing video. Then his cousin, who was obviously upset, wouldn’t talk to him. Then Colin stole his phone and got a brand new best friend in the form of some random french girl. Then he tried to defend his cousin’s honor, but instead got yelled at by his boyfriend and aunt and by Gabriel Agreste. And his cousin, his cousin looked so upset with him. Colin wasn’t talk to him either. He was being ignored and possibly suffered a panic attack in the changing room, but wasn’t quite sure. He’d never been good at diagnosing his own symptoms, just the symptoms of others. 

And now Damian was alone, going back to his room to take Titus for a walk. He needed to blow off steam. Today had been awful. He needed to move around, be angry and sad and mostly alone, but walking Titus would help, it had to help. 

The elevator opened and he began walking down the hall, but stopped when he noticed a figure in the small lobby area. The tall muscular boy leaning against the window, all his focus directed towards something outside. Damian recognized him immediately as Jon Kent.

That was the other thing. 

What the hell was going on with the Justice League and the two boys’ fathers.

“You okay Kent?” The boy didn’t turn around at his name. He didn’t even respond. That wasn’t good. 

Damian took several steps forward, slowly. He reached out and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, the boy didn’t move a muscle. “Jon?” Damian asked, voice a little softer. “Are you alright?” 

“Trisha Bailey was killed last night.” His voice was emotionless, and Damian took note that the boy wasn’t wearing his glasses. “It was a hit and run.”

“Trisha Bailey?” The name sounded very familiar but it took Damian a moment to place it, when he did, his stomach dropped. “No.”  

“Lex Luthor was released from prison this morning.” Jon’s face grew angrier. “No witness, no crime. Or whatever.” He spat. “Forget the fact that man had mercenaries hired to kill my mother. Forget that he planted bombs to killer. Snipers following her. Hitmen. All so she wouldn’t write a damn article.” His fists clenched against the glass window. 

“Jon calm down.” Damian increased the pressure of his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Lex-” The boy’s Jaw clenched. “Lex Jr. stopped returning Conor’s calls. He also left the country late last night.” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “They can’t figure out where he went but they’re trying to track him, unsuccessfully I might add.” Jon turned away from the window and Damian. “God we were so stupid! Conor trusted him!” He banged his fist against the wall, a small dent forming.

“Jon.” Damian’s voice was a tad sterner. “You need to calm down before you break something you can’t fix.” 

“What if he comes after my mom again Damian?” The boy turned around, tears in his eyes. “What if he comes after me or Conor or my dad? Kara? Grandma! He could come after any of us!” 

“We won’t let him hurt any of you!” Damian tried to assure. 

“What about Lena Luthor!?” 

Lena Luthor? Damian didn’t know a hefty amount about her, just what was outlined in her file. She was the younger sister of Lex Luthor Senior. Slightly less evil, known for having a conscience, and eventually turned against him. She was in JLA witness protection, had been for eighteen years now.

“What about Lena?” Damian asked. 

“They can’t find her Damian.” Jon let out an angry breath, resting his back against the window. “Mr. Queen went to Rome yesterday, that’s where she’s supposed to be. But he can’t find her. People are searching the whole continent of Europe. No one can find her.” 

“Okay,” Damian looked to the ground trying to think. “That’s not great but her brother may not know where she is either.”

“Be real Damian.” Jon looked up at him. “I may not be smart, but I’m not dumb. And you aren’t stupid enough to believe that Jr. isn’t cozying up to his aunt right now.” His fist clenched again, Damian could see it smashing into the glass, but thankfully Jon seemed to still have some semblance of control. 

“Damian the Luthors have enough kryptonite stock piled away to fuel two nuclear bombs.” The boy’s eyes suddenly looked so empty. “Lena Luthor was the only thing we had on him, along with Trisha. Now we don’t have either, and my family is his number one target.” 

“Yeah well, I hate to break this to you but Batman had double that amount of kryptonite.” It was meant as a joke, but as anyone who knew him knew, Damian was bad at those. “Luthor, Luthor isn’t going to be able to pull shit. I’m sure the whole League is working on this as we speak.” 

Damian walked in front of his friend, he wasn’t a hugger. Typically he wasn’t one for prolonged contact at all, save for a handful of very specific circumstances, like a warm cuddly sleeping boyfriend. But this was his friend, his perky, never not happy friend who, no matter what, was always there for him. 

It was easier than he was expecting to pull the half-kryptonian into a tight hug. “We will figure this out.” Damian whispered. “I swear Jon, I won’t let him hurt you or your family. If there’s one thing that scares the shit out of Luthors, it’s Waynes.” Jon was fully crying now, but Damian could swear he heard something along the lines of a small chuckle escape the boy’s mouth. 

“I just don’t know what to do Damian.” Jon’s arms were suddenly around him, tightly hugging him back. “M-my mom, she’s staying with Dinah while Mr. Queen is in Europe. Damian I’m scared.” 

“I know.” Damian wasn’t good at this, comforting wasn’t what he was good at. He was good at getting even, at defending people he cared about, at pissing people off and arguing his point. “Do you remember that ridiculous thing you always tell me?” 

“N-no.” He sniffled. 

“Good always triumphs over evil, right?” 

The Kansan let out a stronger laugh. “Right.” He was still crying, but he was still laughing too. “Good always wins.”

“Well we’re good. And they’re evil.” Damian hugged his friend a little tighter. “So that means that everything is going to be fine. Jon I promise.” Even as Damian said the words he couldn’t help the thought that crossed his mind. “Everything will be fine.” Famous last words. 

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5)  (part 3)  (part 4)  (part 5)  (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)  (part 9)  (part 10)  (part 11) (part 12) - Here  (part 13)

Photoshoot Part 4! Y'all I don't know what happened. I sat down to study for finals last night and instead turned on Hamilton and cranked this mess out. Anyway, Dash is finally here and I love him. But he’s also the worst, hence why he isn’t a prominent Character in this fic, but who knows, maybe he’ll show back up at some point. So a lot of what I was excited for at the end of part 11 actually isn't’ in this. It started getting really long so I had to chop it in half. Hopefully part 13 will come just as quickly as this part did. And hopefully I can actually get some studying done before my test tomorrow. I hope you all enjoyed this part as much as I did writing it! Please leave comments! I love reading everyone's thoughts on the chapters, they always make me smile. Like comments, I have discovered, can change my whole outlook on a day. And I could seriously use some positivity heading into my finals! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got (even if it’s not about this AU)! And if you want to be tagged let me know! 

Also for future reference in this fic, the version of Lena Luthor that I am using for my writing is the character Tess Mercer from Smallville. 

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King Lear- William Shakespeare

A1S1

(I would like to apologize to the Stratford Lear actors during the 2014 Season of Madness after waking up at 6A.M. with a cold a day long bus ride getting settled in a hotel getting lost in an unfamiliar city I was asleep through most of the play)

In a room Kent, Gloucester and Edmund come in and Kent and Gloucester are discussing how Lear is going to divide his kingdom. Gloucester then introduces him to Edmund his bastard, he does love him but he also has a son by law. (still treating him different is going to leave room for resentment to grow) King. Lear, Cornwall, Albany and Lear’s three daughters enter as Gloucester and Edmund leave.

Lear is given a map, he wants to retire and visit his children in his old age, (kings back then didn’t retire so again going against the natural order bad things are going to happen) then divides his kingdom by asking his daughter by how much they love him. (and not oh how well they can politic or something) Goneril and Regan play lip service then Cordelia, “Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth: I love your majesty according to my bod; nor more nor less.”p.1051 She won’t even marry if she has to cut her love in two and to Kent’s protest Lear disowns her and divides the last portion to the other two daughters.

Kent says he served him for may years but disagrees with his actions as the other two spoke empty words. Lear banishes him too (yuo let people manipulate you and banish people who give you good council how were you not overthrown or used as a puppet by now) and Kent has final words with the daughters, for the gods to take Cordelia and for Goneril and Regan, maybe good things will come from their declarations. Gloucester comes back with France (king of France) and Burgundy who want to marry Cordelia but Lear tells them she’s been disowned. France finds it strange that the daughter who loved Lear most would fall out of favor and Cordelia explains she’s not glib but honest. “Better thou hadst not been born than not to have pleas’d me better.”  (you don’t deserve Cordelia) France will have her then anyway, Lear doesn’t care for her as a daughter and doesn’t want to see her. Everyone leaves and Cordelia tells her sisters goodbye. Regan and Goneril then scheme that now they have power and land to reduce their father’s authority.

A1S2

In Gloucester’s castle Edmund has a letter then he soliloquys how unfair it is for the treatment of bastards. “When my dimensions are as well compact, my mind generous, and my shape as true, as honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us with base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base?”p.1054 (back then bastards were seen as just evil Shakespeare could’ve subverted expectations but we’ll see how he didn’t) He has this letter to disgrace his legitimate brother Edgar in the plot of their father’s murder. “I grow, I proper; now, gods, stand up for bastards!”p.1054 When Gloucester enters Edmund makes a show of hiding the letter of course Gloucester notices and wants to know what it is and reads it and Edmund lies that he found it in his closet. He’s never heard of this before but has heard him speak that at a certain age sons should replace fathers and Gloucester orders Edgar to be brought to him.

Edmund tells him to wait on judgement until he can hear his side, Gloucester can hardly believe Edgar could be such a monster. Edmund agrees to find him and find out the truth Gloucester talks of how things have changed. “Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies;”-“This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there’s son against father; the king falls from bias of nature; there’s father against child.”p.1055 (I feel like this can be applied to a lot of things) After Gloucester is gone Edgar enters and Edmund lies to his brother that he has somehow offended their father and it’s best he go abroad armed until he clams down. Edgar goes and Edmund celebrates being able to turn them against each other and he’ll now inherit.

A1S3

In Albany’s palace Goneril is complaining to her steward Oswald that she is tired of her father in her house he is a horrible guest.

A1S4

In the house Kent is in disguise calling himself Caius and puts himself in Lear’s way and tells him he is an honest man and Lear takes him into his service. (why would you want to go back in this guy’s service) Lear then asks for his daughter and his fool and a knight tells him his daughter is sick and won’t see him and they’ve both noticed her servants won’t obey him anymore. Oswald goads Lear into hitting him until K/Cauis stops him then the fool arrives and with clever words tells Lear he made a mistake in dividing his kingdom. “Dost thou call me a fool, boy?” “All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with,”-“thou hadst little wit on thy bald crown when thou gave it thy golden one away.”p.1058 (takes some balls to call the king a dumbass to his face) Turned his daughters into his mothers they’ll whip him for truth and him for lying.

Goneril comes to speak to Lear and tells him his retinue is so rude he has to send some away. Lear is shocked by her and wonders what he’s become and is regretful of giving Goneril power and plans to visit Regan. Albany comes and Lear complains to him and Albany claims ignorance and Lear calls for Goneril to become sterile and be old and miserable. “that she may feel how sharper than a serpant’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!”p.1059 (sometimes children don’t have anything to be thankful for) After he leaves Albany is upset by Lear’s treatment then Lear come back to curse her before he goes to Regan. Goneril then calls Oswald and sends off the fool, she already wrote to Regan how horrible Lear and his hundred knights are so she won’t house them.

A1S5

Lear sends K/Cauis away with letters to Gloucester and the fool needles Lear (can a pair of twins play Lear and his fool) that Regan will treat him no better and Lear prays not to be mad.

A2S1

In Gloucester’s court Edmund and Curon are meeting and Curon tells him Regan and her husband Cornwall are visiting tonight, Cornwall and Albany don’t like each other. Edmund thinks he can use the visit to get rid of Edgar and tells his brother that their father is angry at him for being on Albany’s side. Edgar doesn’t know what he’s talking about and Edmund tells him to flee and when he’s gone Edmund injures his arm and calls for their father. Edmund lies to him that Edgar wanted him to join the murder plot but when he wouldn’t tried to kill him and fled, Gloucester swears to find him. Cornwall and Regan then arrive and believe Edmund’s lies of Edgar’s plots and that he’s one of Lear’s knights. (all these people jump to believe this with little proof how are any of them in power when they’re this gullible) Regan thinks the knights put Edgar up to it to take Gloucester’s wealth then asks Edmund to advise her in correspondence to her sister.

A2S2

Outside Gloucester’s house K/Cauis meets Oswald who doesn’t recognize him and after insulting Oswald and calling him a coward who has letters against the king he starts beating him. Edmund hears this and breaks them up Cornwall, Regan and Gloucester then come and K/Cauis won’t give a good reason for why he beat up Oswald. (didn’t like his stupid face isn’t a good enough excuse) Cornwall wants him punished in the stocks, as they’re brought out Gloucester sys they shouldn’t as Lear will take offence to his messenger being treated like this but everyone else ignores him. When they’re gone K/Cauis recites a letter from Cordelia that promises she’ll find a way to help, then he falls asleep. (must be uncomfortable)

A2S3

Edgar is on a heath and soliloquys on what happened to him and makes himself look like a dirty beggar and calls himself Tom.

A2S4

Lear and his fool are before Gloucester’s castle and Lear sees K/Cauis, shocked that someone would treat his servant badly. K/Cauis tells him Regan and Cornwall did it, Lear won’t believe it at first and wants to talk to them and K/Cauis tells him they refused his letters. Lear is having trouble controlling his emotions and goes to get Gloucester and K/Cauis and the fool talk about foolish things. (so Lear then) Lear comes back with Gloucester demanding an explanation and admits sickness can make people act strange. “infirmity doth still neglect all office where our health his bound; we are not ourselves when nature, being oppress’d, commands the mind to suffer with the body.”p.1066 He looks at K/Cauis and demands to speak with Cornwall and Regan, and Gloucester goes to get them.

Regan believes she had a reason for it and she won’t be treated the same. He’s growing old and unreasonable (we figured that in the first act) and should beg her for forgiveness, Lear gets on his knees to beg her and Regan tells him to go back to Goneril. He says he can’t and complains more about her and asks who put K/Cauis in the stocks. Regan tells him Goneril is on her way and Lear is still hoping Regan knew nothing about K/Cauis.

Goneril arrives and allies with Regan and Cornwall admits to putting K/Cauis in the stocks as he deserved. Regan tells Lear to dismiss half his men if he wants to stay with them, Lear would rather stay outside and beg his youngest to be kept afoot, Goneril tells him it’s his choice. Lear begs Goneril not to make him mad, he won’t see or trouble her, he’ll stay with Regan but the sisters cut his servants from fifty to twenty to none. Lear then curses his daughters and leaves with K/Cauis and his fool in the storm, Regan and Goneril blame him for his situation, “tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest, and most needs taste his folly.”p.1068 (give away your power act and like fool of course people will lose respect for you) Gloucester and Cornwall watch him ride out in the storm as Regan orders the doors shut and locked. “Sir, to willful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.”p.1068 (some people just have to learn the hard way)

A3S1

On the heath in the storm K/Cauis is looking for Lear and a gentleman tells him he is with his fool. K/Cauis tells him of the unrest between Cornwall and Albany and French spies in the courts take this right to Cordelia and she’ll send him to friends. (thank you for the audience exposition)

A3S2

Somewhere else in the storm Lear challenges the weather to do its worst (you’re not Zuko sit down) and his thoughts still run back to his two cruel daughters. K/Cauis finds him and begs Lear to take shelter in a hovel Lear comes to his senses enough to follow. The fool speaks a prophecy that’s confusing. (it really makes no sense to me)

A3S3

In Gloucester’s castle Gloucester is talking to Edmund, he doesn’t like Lear’s treatment and wants to bring him in his house. He tells Edmund to say nothing of it as there are worse matters brewing and locks the letters in his room. “There injuries the king now bears will be revenged home; there’s a part of a power already footed; we must incline to the king.”p.1070 He tells Edmund to distract Cornwall of his absence to help Lear or he might be executed. Edmund plans to betray his father and revel the letter he deserves it. “and must draw me that which my father loses; no less than all: the younger rises when the old doth fall.”p.1070 (really hate your father don’t you)

A3S4

Before a hovel K/Cauis is trying to get Lear inside who says his own misery hardly make him feel the storm. The fool goes in, then runs back out because there’s a spirit inside called Tom. K/Cauis calls him out and E/Tom emerges acting like a crazy man saying devils are chasing him. Lear asks if he did the same thing he did to deserve his state E/Tom rambles for a bit then says he was a wealthy, lecherous, decadent. Lear pities his ragged state and rips his own clothes off, the fool tells him not to since they are in a storm. (once more the fool is the wisest person) Gloucester then finds them despite Lear’s daughter’s orders and after a while convinces Lear to go with him.

A3S5

In the castle Cornwall swears revenge on Gloucester and makes Edmund an Earl for betraying his father and Edmund says he’ll find his father hiding Lear as proof of treason.

A3S6

In a farmhouse near the castle Gloucester hides Lear, K/Cauis, E/Tom and the fool as he goes to find supplies. After a while Lear who’s going crazy holds a mock trial for his daughters and as the fool and E/Tom talk nonsense. (suffice to say the trial is a circus) Gloucester comes back that he overheard a plot to kill Lear and everyone goes to hide Lear except E/Tom. E/Tom speaks clearly how his troubles seem little next to Lear’s. “When we our betters see bearing our woes, we scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers most: the mind, leaving free things and happy shows behind:”p.1074

A3S7

In the castle Cornwall, Regan, Edmund and Goneril are meeting, the French army has already landed. Regan and Goneril want Gloucester to be blinded and hung, Cornwall tells Edmund to go with Goneril to Albany, he shouldn’t see this. Oswald comes and informs them Gloucester helped Lear escape to Dover but Gloucester was captured. Cornwall orders all others to leave as he’s brought to them.

Cornwall and Regan have him tied up and they torment and interrogate him and Cornwall has one of his eyes gouged out. A servant can’t stand it and wounds Cornwall to stop it, Regan kills the servant and Cornwall gouges out Gloucester’s other eye. Gloucester calls for Edmund for help, “Thou call’st on him that hates thee; it was he that made the overture of thy treasons to us, who is too good to pity thee.”p.1075 (you’re mistrust and folly lead to your downfall) Gloucester realizes Edgar was innocent and prays to the gods to help him. Regan orders Gloucester thrown out as she tends to her husband the two horrified servants help Gloucester.

A4S1

E/Tom is back on the heath deciding his situation isn’t so bad (you’re the local crazy wild man) then sees Gloucester led by an old man. The old man was their servant and recognizes E/Tom and Gloucester is feeling sorry for himself. “Ah! Dear son Edgar. The food of thy abused father’s wrath; might I but live to see in my touch, I’d say I had eyes again.”p.1076 E/Tom won’t reveal himself to his father and Gloucester has the old man leave him with the crazy man, he wants to be lead to Dover specifically a very high cliff.

A4S2

Before Albany’s palace Oswald informs Goneril Albany’s upset with her and Regan’s actions and is glad the French army landed. Goneril calls Albany a coward and she says Edmund will return to Cornwall where he will command the troops as she takes over here. When Edmund is gone Albany enters outraged at Goneril’s treatment of Lear, if the heavens don’t send retribution it will come, “humanity must perforce prey on itself. Like monsters of the deep.”p.1077 Goneril accuses him of being a coward for not fighting France, Albany calls her a monster. A messenger enters with news that Cornwall died from his wounds and Albany is horrified to hear what they did to Gloucester and calls it justice. When he asks where Edmund was is told he left so his father could be tortured, Albany vows revenge. Meanwhile Goneril has mixed feelings on Cornwall’s death, Regan is less powerful but she could now pursue Edmund. (as we’ve seen with Gloucester adultery will only end badly)

A4S3

In the French camp near Dover K/Cauis talks to a gentleman that the French king had to leave because of trouble at home, but the marshal is here. The letters Cordelia was sent made her cry because of what happened to her father. K/Cauis tells the gentleman Lear is teetering on madness and won’t see Cordelia because he’s ashamed of his actions. (as he should be) As the armies march K/Cauis will take him to Lear.

A4S4

Cordelia is in a tent and sends her soldiers to find her father who’s covered himself in weeds and running around the cornfields singing to himself. (I think it’s time to look into retirement homes) The doctor tells her what he needs most is sleep and a messenger informs her the armies are advancing and she orders hers to prepare.

A4S5

In Gloucester’s castle Oswald tells Regan Goneril is better than Albany at leading armies but won’t show her the letter to Edmund. Regan wonders what purpose would Goneril write to Edmund and suspects a love affair. She tells Oswald she wants Edmund, she’s a widow, she tells Oswald to deliver a letter to Edmund and find Gloucester and kill him.

A4S6

Near Dover E/Tom is leading Gloucester and lies to him that they are at the top of a cliff and Gloucester jumps off and falls to the ground. E/Tom wakes him up pretending to be another man and lies that he watched him fall, a miracle that he’s still alive. Also, the person that lead him looked like a devil, that gods don’t want him to die yet and Gloucester accepts to keep living in his suffering. Lear finds them as he’s draped in flowers speaking nonsense but there’s some truth, he recognizes Gloucester and his state is from his adultery. Then he tirades against women. (you raised your daughters like this) Cordelia’s men are relieved to find him but when they say they’ll bring him to Cordelia he runs off and they chase after. “Thou hast one daughter, who redeems nature from the general curse which twain have brought her to.”p.1082 (take your second chance) One warns that the armies are marching Gloucester wants to die already and E/Tom leads him away.

Oswald runs into them he doesn’t recognize E/Tom but is about to kill Gloucester. E/Tom pretends to be a peasant and mortality wounds Oswald, dying Oswald gives him the letters to Edmund and to bury his body. E/Tom reads them, they’re of Goneril wanting an affair with Edmund and for him to kill Albany. E./Tom is outraged and keeps them to show Albany but hears to drums and leads Gloucester off.

A4S7

In the French tent Cordelia talks to K/Cauis, she knows his real identity and will keep it secret. The doctor wakes Lear up as she wants, she talks kindly to him wanting him to be better. He is crazy but does partially recognize her calling her a spirit asking when she died. (foreshadowing) He knows he’s gone senile and he’s foolish, (we’ve known that from the beginning) “Me thinks I should know you and know this man; yet I am doubtful;”-“Do not laugh at me: for as I am a man, I think this lady to be my child Cordelia.”p.1084 He thinks she wants to kill him like her sisters but she has cause and begs forgiveness. He leaves with Cordelia and K/Cauis and a gentleman talk of how Edmund is leading Goneril’s troops and the battle is approaching. (can it arrive already also where is the fool did he die)

A5S1

In the British camp Regan asks Edmund if he loves Goneril, Edmund says no, Regan is still jealous and tells him not to be familiar with her. Albany and Goneril come in, Albany says that Lear joined Cordelia and others have allied and states he’ll fight against the French. They go but E/Tom stops Albany and gives him the letter and for him to read it. As E/Tom leaves Edmund returns to warn the enemy is close so Albany goes. Then Edmund states he wooed both sisters and they’ll be angry which should he choose (sounds like this was just a bad move all around) he’ll decide after the battle and if Albany survives Goneril will kill him.

A5S2

In the field between camps E/Tom is still pretending to be a peasant has Gloucester take shelter by a tree as he fights. The French loose the battle and he returns for Gloucester as Cordelia and Lear are captured.

A5S3

In the British camp Edmund has Cordelia and Lear as prisoners, Cordelia wants to confront her sisters but Lear doesn’t want to. He envisions them like birds in a cage and he’ll beg for forgiveness to live. Edmund sends them away with a guard with a note on what to do with them. Goneril, Regan and Albany come in Albany praises him for his fighting and wants to see Lear and Cordelia, Edmund lies that he sent them away in fear of mutiny. Regan declares she’ll make him her husband, but her sister says it won’t be and Regan starts to feel sick. (I think I was awake for this part) Albany then arrests Edmund for treason because of his plot with Goneril to kill him and orders trial by combat as Regan is lead out.

Edgar appears armed and will be Albany’s champion and accuses Edmund of treason. Edmund accepts the challenge, and they fight and Edmund loses and is dying, Albany calls for him to be saved and Goneril starts to help but Albany stops her with her letter and she runs off. Edmund doesn’t want to answer and Albany sends after Goneril so Edmund confesses to it and much more. Edgar reveals himself and tells his story and how he revealed himself to their father and he died from joy (not like we the audience wanted to see that emotional and tragic scene) also the banished Kent is Lear’s servant. Then a gentleman rushes in with a bloody knife saying Goneril killed herself (strong female character?) she also poisoned Regan. “I was contracted to them both: all three now marry in an instant.”p.1089 The two sister’s bodies are brought in.

Kent is looking for Cordelia and Lear, Albany completely forgot they were imprisoned and Edmund explains how the two sister died. “some good I mean to do despite of mine own nature.”p.1089 Edmund warns Edgar to rush that he ordered Lear and Cordelia’s executions, Cordelia will be hanged then Edmund is carried off.

Lear returns carrying Cordelia’s body (awake during this part too) as Edgar follows in grief Lear’s sanity is slipping, he doesn’t recognize Kent and thinks Cauis is dead. Kent tells him his other daughters are dead a messenger informs Albany Edmund is died (finally) Albany says it’s little comfort. (at this point yeah) Lear is grieving, “Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, and thou no breath at all?”p.1090 He thinks he sees her breathe then he dies. Albany gives Kent and Edgar their rights back Kent feels like he’s about to follow Lear but Edgar accepts to rule with him. “The weight of this sad time we must obey; speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young, shall never see so much, nor live so long.”p.1090 (translation we should never forget this time we should say what we feel and not what others want the young won’t have to live through what the last generation did at least that’s my interpretation)

(so I read eight Shakespeare plays and one thing I can say I hated them while I was reading but appreciated it when I was done and really they are plays you understand them better when they are acted they have few directions and descriptions so everything relies on the actor’s delivery and the production)

[bartloki]

chasing amy starters

                all from kevin smith’s 1997 movie

I wish I was like these guys - getting stoned, talking all raw about chicks and fighting super villains.

I’ll trace a chalk line around your dead fucking body, you fuck!

He started it, fucking cock-knocker! He’s lucky I didn’t put my pen through his thorax!

We're keeping it real, and we're gonna get respect - by any means necessary.

Bitch, you almost made me laugh.

How do you manage to get away with this all the time?  Shouldn't cops be busting your head open right about now?

When you say it, it sounds so sexy.

Look out, boys - this kitten has a whip.

I just wish I was the one who gets to shoot you.

Archie and Jughead were lovers.

Man, I feel a hate-crime coming on.

I want you to go down to the corner store and buy yourself a clue. 

Shit like that's bound to happen when you make a kid wear a matching tie and slacks everyday.

I'm sure you can dry your eyes on all those fat checks you rake in.

I'm sorry, did I detect a note of bitter envy in there?

That car's seeing more action right now than it's seen in years. 

You've gotta respect that kind of display of affection. It's crazy, rude, self-absorbed - but it's love.

You’ve got a weird thing for Canadian melodrama.

I've got a weird thing for girls who say 'aboot'.

We shared a moment. And in that moment, one thing was made abundantly clear: this girl loves me, my friend. Loves me.

There're a lot of chicks in this place.

Hey, hey, hey - you fucked up my cabbage-patch!

What a small fucking world. 

Could’ve been worse - we could have not met at all.

Get up here and sing, bitch!

She is such a cunt!

I don't usually get all mushy in public. 

I have to sit here and work up the desire to fuck you later.

I'm sure you don't love every girl you sleep with.

My mother brought me up to believe that if I can't do something right I shouldn't do it at all.

At least you blame yourself for your sexual inadequacies.

You gotta handle it like CNN and the Weather Channel - constant updates.

I'm sure the gay community appreciates your support.

Wait, wait, wait - you're still a virgin?

I move to have that remark stricken from the record, on account of it makes you come off as completely naive and infantile.

You've got like thirty books there!  We're only there for two days!

Look at how slow you are. Christ, you move like a geriatric.

She's programming you.

You should just find some other way to express your anger is all I'm saying.

I love you.  And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends.  And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it.  

I love you.  Very simple, very truly. 

You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person.

I know you think of me as just a friend and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider. 

There isn't another soul on this fucking planet who's ever made me the person I am when I'm with you.

Even if we never speak again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of you and what you've meant to me.

Here's my comment: fuck you.

That was so unfair.  You know how unfair that was.

Do you remember for a fucking second who I am? 

I can't just get into a relationship with you without throwing my whole fucking world into upheaval!

I’m fucking gay! That’s who I am!

If this is a crush... then I don't know if I could take the real thing if it ever happens.

You looked weirded out back there.

That's my couch you were fucking on.

There's no 'we' here.  You're going to have to go through this alone.

For you, this isn't about cool weird sex stuff, it's about love.

Everybody has an agenda.  Everyone.

I see you've been taking notes. Historically, yes, that's true.

I'm not with you because of what family, society, life tried to instill in me from day one. 

How seldom you meet that one person who gets you... it's so rare.

To cut oneself off from finding that person - to immediately half your options by eliminating the possibility of finding that one person within your own gender... that just seemed stupid.    So I didn't.  And by leaving my options open, I was branded 'gay', which to me was no big deal - labels are labels, you know?  They define what you do, not who you are, I guess. 

You're not the right man. You're just the one.

I give a shit what people think.

That boy loves you in a way that he's not ready to deal with.

Do I detect a little inter-subculture cattiness? 

See that guy there?  He's the devil, you understand?

Men need to believe that they're Marco fucking Polo when it comes to sex - like they're the only ones who've ever explored new territory. 

The world would be a better place if people would just accept that there's nothing new under the sun, and everything you can do with a person has probably been done long before you got there.

Since most of these people are rooting for the home team, I'm going to cheer for the visitors. I'm a big visitors fan.

I told you I was great at sporting events. Imagine what a bitch I could be if I knew what was going on?

That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?  Isn't that what this little cross- examination of your's is about?  Well try not to be so obvious about it next time, there are subtler ways of badgering a witness.

If you wanted some background information on me, all you had to do was ask - I'd have gladly volunteered it.  You didn't have to play Hercules fucking Poirot!

Didn't you know? I'm the queen of urban legend.

Some of it I did out of stupidity, some of it I did out of what I thought was love, but - good or bad - they were my choices, and I'm not making apologies for them now - not to you or anyone! 

I was an experimental girl, for Christ's sake! 

Maybe you knew early on that your track was from point 'a' to 'b' - but unlike you I wasn't given a fucking map at birth, so I tried it all! 

Can't you take some fucking comfort in that?  You turned out to be all I was ever looking for - the missing piece in the big fucking puzzle.

I want us to be something that we can't. 

Yo, look at this morose motherfucker here...

You big fucking softie.

I ain't playing.  Tell me her name, Mysterio.

Why don't you shut up?  Jesus!  Always yap, yap, yapping all the time.  Gives     me a fucking headache.

What you don't know about me I can just about squeeze into the Grand fucking Canyon.  

You and I hit a wall, because I don't know how to deal with... your past, I guess.

I'm only going to say it once: shut up.

You've had so much experience, had such a big life; and my life's been pretty small in comparison.

I know why you're having such a hard time and it's something that's been obvious forever, but I guess I just didn't acknowledge it.

You’re in love with me.

You're attracted to me. Just as, in a way, I'm attracted to you.  I mean, it makes sense - we've been together so long, we have so much in common...

Just 'cause a guy's got a predilection toward dick jokes...

We've all got to have sex together.

We've been everything to each other but intimates.  And now, we'll have been through that together too.

You know I need this.  You know it'll help.

That time is over for me.  I've been there.  I've done it.  And I didn't find what I was looking for in any of it.  

Maybe I just love you too much.   And I feel hurt and let down that you'd want to share me with anyone.  Because I never wanted to share you.

I love you.  I always will.  Know that. But I'm not your fucking whore.

He’s yours again.

Well, keep up the good work, man.   Love them dick jokes.  Love 'em.  See ya.

I finally had something personal to say.

I mean, it can get ugly.  I just saw this nun in line call this small child a cunt-rag.

[quagmireisadora]

A/N: part 3 of  Patron of the (Lonely)

this is for brand new buddy @i-like-this-bitch. If you haven’t gathered from the katalk chat yet I’m. So JongKey rn.

T/W: mentions of mutilation

------

희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네

When the eunuchs were all ordered to gather in the courtyard for an evening performance, Kibum rushed to prepare everything beforehand.

The Crown Prince did not much like leaving his palace, and he rarely ventured as far as the courtyard, where his father’s keen eyes would judge him harshly. Instead, he kept to his books and scrolls, wandered through the archives late at night, sent for scholars from Sunkyunkwan to meet and converse with him. The noble families called him a loner and weakling in the courts, some even plotting to depose him. But the prince’s attendants knew. They knew better.

“Musicians!” someone yelled from across the room. “All this fuss over musicians!” Kibum chuckled under his breath as he laid the silk robes out.

When he’d first been brought here, he remembered being afraid. All the orphans in his village had been rounded up and loaded onto the backs of bullock carts. “You are to be taken to Hanyang for serving the palace,” they were told, among other fairy tale-like stories of the capital. They’d traveled a long way from Gyeongsang-do to the city gates, and when they’d finally arrived, he remembered how everything had been spotless and shimmering. Higher than the tallest tree and larger that the tallest hill he had ever seen. The people wore fine clothes and spoke in a fine dialect. There was no sweat from tilling the land. No one complained about hunger--palace guards and magistrate officials ate, drank, laughed amongst themselves in the streets.

He'd been awe-struck and frightened by it all, then. But as the years went by, everything about the city had shrunk in size. Everything became familiar to the touch of his palm.

An attendant pulled at his sleeve in panic. “Ah, listen to me!” she urged. “The prince cannot go out in those clothes! They’re finding him a suitable match, how will any nobleman give their daughter to someone who looks so… shabby?!”

“Yah! Does it matter?” Kibum complained. “He won’t listen to me, he’ll just do as he pleases. Just hurry before the head eunuch catches you!”

“B-but the royal consort must be chosen--!” she tried again. Kibum made threatening eyes to make her back down. When she let out a squeal of frustration, skittering out of the chambers, the prince's servants took a moment to laugh at her retreating back.

She was not wrong: the king had been receiving offers from many distant parts of the kingdom to marry the Crown Prince. He would look at the girls’ portraits and send back a token with a messenger. But he would never sit down with his son--his heir--to talk about it.

It had put the kingdom in a strange bind. An heir as advanced in years as Prince Jonghyun should have married and fathered a pair of children by now. The old king was long overdue to retire from the throne, letting his only male child succeed him. But it had been years since the two men had gotten along. It had been nearly a lifetime, Kibum thought, since father and son had sat by the moonlight and poured each other drinks.

“Fighting again?” the prince’s voice called the room to a shocked silence. “Yah, you all are the reason those sycophants make fun of me,” he jested. The doors of the chamber slid open and all the servants bowed deep. “How will I ever be king with a noisy group like you, eh?” he continued jovially.

Kibum straightened and smiled at Jonghyun. “If the day ever comes, we will do our best to serve you, your highness.”

The prince laughed in his throat. “If the day ever comes, he says. You certainly have a way with words, Bum ah,” he said affectionately, then suddenly clapped his hands together. “Fine! I will make an appearance. You may all do as you please,” he allowed.

They raced around at that. His arms and legs were clad in the softest white silks, and his royal blue robes were arranged to look impeccable. He did not like ornamentation, so his attire was always simple, but Kibum ensured the Crown Prince looked regal despite his simplicity. When they tied his hanbok and secured the belt around his waist, Jonghyun complained about how long and arduous all of this was. But it was widely known the man enjoyed the attention. He was always happier being cosseted and indulged by attendants than he ever was in the company of maidens and ministers.

When they’d combed his hair and secured it above his head, Kibum sat the prince down to serve him his meal. He washed the other’s hands, ensuring all the bowls were licked clean, and prepared to usher the prince out.

"You are very kind to me, Bum ah," Prince Jonghyun thanked, humor playing on his lips. "Ah~ how nice it would be to have a wife who cared after me like you do..."

"A fine dream, jeoha. But a queen would never be allowed near dirty utensils. So unfortunately," Kibum looked up from his task and replied to the joke. "I will look after you until my hair is grey and my back is bent."

The prince made a disappointed face and they chortled together at that.

As a little boy, Kibum had been a nobody. Unknown blood ran in his veins. He'd been dressed in scraps from the soldiers' tailor and fed leftovers from the butcher's kitchen. They taught him to perform the most basic tasks around the palace, but his life was not much better than that of a beggar.

It all changed when he turned sixteen. Someone had willed it to change. He was to be a proper servant. He was to live his life the way it was meant from the very start--at the feet of those with gold and sway in the king’s court.

And so they made him a eunuch.

When the fever of being cut had subsided, they'd immediately dressed him in brown servants' robes. They trained him: to bow, to serve, to clean, to speak the official tongue. He took it as a second chance at life and he worked hard. He spent the coldest nights guarding gates. He spent sweltering afternoons observing the cooks. When the tiles flew off the roof in a hard breeze, when snow caved the ceiling of a granary, when stairs and floors started to show wear--he would appear, nails and hammer in hand, prepared to take on any task. The head eunuch noticed him, took special note of his enthusiasm, and in a few years' time he was chosen to enter the service of a young Prince Jonghyun.

Since then, he had known nothing but kindness. So, it pained him that a man who had been so respectful to him had never once been shown the same respect. Despite his class, despite his blood, despite him being a royal and an heir, the prince had never been given the affection he readily offered to everyone else.

"You'll stay here, for the rest of your life?" the Crown Prince softly muttered as he dried his fingers on a cloth. "I dare not ask for more."

To love a man, or to be loved by one: no. Did Kibum even deserve love? He had wondered once, as they’d been forced to watch a maid be whipped for a stupid error. He had wept in his bed that night, not out of pity or dread. But the thought of never receiving love made him feel utterly alone. He had come from being a nobody, to becoming a something. A someone. He had no past, no family, nowhere to call home. He had nothing to show of all his years alive, nothing to provide beyond a few coins in his purse and a few clothes on his back. Could he afford love? Could love be bought? Not in the way one could buy the company of a gisaeng, but truly purchased. For the length of a life. Surely love was not materialistic, given to one caste and abandoning another. For Kibum had seen--Jonghyun’s love did not measure, it did not separate, it was not partial. His love did not discriminate.

But to love a man, or to be loved by one: Kibum wondered if he deserved something like that. Neither man, nor woman, he had been rendered into a life of in-betweens. He would appear between meals, to serve. He would approach between court functions, to perform his duties. In the public grounds, he would be seated between lords and peasants. He would wake up between day and night, he would walk between quiet walls, he would pause between breaths before he answered.

A eunuch may never leave his in-betweens, and a Kibum may never be loved by a Jonghyun. But as they walked into the evening air, footsteps matching, breaths fogging, the prince’s smile was filled with love. And like the whistle of a flute in the distance, Kibum’s heart blew out its candles against fear of a lonely life.

He may be the Crown Prince, he may be next in line to be the king of Joseon, he may be of royal blood. But when he leaned into Kibum and whispered “never leave my side”, Jonghyun was beautiful.

Beyond the unfairness of law and diffidence of punishment, beyond the throne that accepted only perfection and the people who hid their deformities, beyond the ranks and prestige and easily bought status; beyond the silent stone and speechless tiles, beyond every demand and duty--there is a field. At the end of his life, Kibum wished he would see Jonghyun again among the reeds there, swaying like unsaid words. Then they would truly be free.

희망이 있는 곳엔 반드시 시련이 있네

[condomglitter]

@ambiguousbeta  because REASONS

     His corpse had gone missing.

     She hadn’t been gone long enough, she thought, for somebody to have moved him -- had she? The body of the lone human who’d been caught up in the explosion, and the livestock besides, were all still where she’d left them, smouldering in the crater of what had once been a barn. And, being as he had been a corpse when she’d last seen him, there was no way he could have moved himself. 

    Or, so she had thought. 

    Coming upon the scene had been heart wrenching, arriving too late to help him, or to stop it. Her chest was clear of the bruises he had left, but it carried now an ache of an entirely different kind. Something somehow worse, even, than before. 

                              (  “No, no, no, I love you, please — please come back.”                                   As if her life was a fairy tale  — as if love could cure death. )

    She’d been hesitant to touch him, his charred flesh so fragile, easy to tear -- she hadn’t wanted to make it worse, and desperately, had tried to fix it. Tears gathered in her dark eyes, blurring the sight of him into one mass of black and red -- charcoal, and blood -- as she used the first healing spell that she could think of, desperate to reverse what had been done to him. What he, she thought, had done to himself. 

     And then Boone had made a noise. Shifted, in the rubble, as strength returned to him -- and she knew that Kiba’s efforts had been for naught, because this... this sort of damage, this carnage and wreckage -- even Zak had survived it before.       But Boone -- so weak, so fragile now, in quite the same state as Kiba was -- he couldn’t hold her back, like that. Furious, she’d risen, wielding the flames that surrounded them like whips. She used them to bind Boone in place, scorching his already ravaged skin to ash, and beyond -- and dragged him away from where Kiba lay, in a perfect circle that the last licks of fire were forbidden to touch. 

     But shoving Boone into the ocean hadn’t made it go away. Trapping him into one of Zak’s many relics, a many-spiked coffin that he’d donated to the local museum once upon a time, and hurling him into the depths of the pacific -- it didn’t matter at all. Because Kiba was still gone, lost to his own machinations. Revenge hadn’t soothed the ache in her heart, and she was still so... angry.

     He wouldn’t have had to fight Boone at all, if he’d kept his stupid hands to himself. He wouldn’t have had to hide her away and take off like that, to face an impossible beast alone. He could have been safe, whole, alive, hers -- but of course, his own arrogance was too much to hold back. He’d needed to teach her a lesson, hadn’t he?      Right up to the end.

     It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she blamed it on the fact that even what she’d done to Boone would not rid the world of him. Not so long as she existed, a final vestige of Zak’s power on the earth. She needed to figure out how to get rid of Zak’s powers within her, before Boone could be destroyed; perhaps that was why her supposed vengeance still tasted like ash in her mouth. 

    Or, she had thought, staring down at the empty space where she’d left Kiba’s body -- maybe it was because Kiba’s corpse was missing. 

     That had been the final straw to all of it, and she’d collapsed to her knees where he’d once been, until every tear she’d had was drained. Turning her eyes red rimmed and burning, she’d sobbed until she couldn’t any more, cursing it all -- the unfairness, the hopelessness, the frustration and the uselessness.     And then, unbidden, there had come hope. A foolish thing, which she tried to banish, refusing the possibility at first. He had been dead. He had died. She’d seen him -- held him. Her spell had done nothing, and Kiba was gone.       But oh, whispered that hope -- what if he wasn’t? 

     She didn’t really know what if. She knew that, in a moment of heartbroken idiocy, she’d pleaded with the world and admitted something stupid -- something better left unsaid, because she was a fool for even feeling it. She knew that it was true, too, even if she wished it wasn’t. But did it matter, with that what if?       She was still mad at him, she thought. Still hurt, and upset. But even so... she didn’t want him dead. If Kiba was alive... If he had somehow survived...

     She was a fool, but she still wanted to see him. 

     So she’d dragged herself away from the scene of the explosion, because someone was bound to notice, and returned to what was left of her shop, after Boone had torn through it. He’d found it, of course -- which meant she’d need to move, again -- and because he was a cunt, he’d destroyed most of the contents. Ducking under the police tape ( god, why was everything so complicated and difficult, she didn’t want to deal with the police ) Natalie had entered her shop in silence, rummaging through what was left to find what she needed. 

     She’d had one last argument with herself, as she gathered the materials for the ritual, over accepting death and not being a stupid little girl with a stupid little crush -- but again, logic lost out to hope, and she’d ended up in the circle all the same. Her mind, expanded, soul projected from her body, as she searched - for hours - for any sign of Kiba in the world. 

     She’d found his brother, first -- blood ties were strong, and bore many similarities. But even at a glance, she’d know it wasn’t him. Kiba, after all, had been tied to her by contract, whether he knew it or liked it or not. That sort of thing left a mark on a person; a glimmer of magic that could always be found. She bore that brand, still, from Zak -- and Kiba, through his dealings with her, now bore a trace of her.       Realistically, it meant nothing -- it didn’t change his heart, his thoughts, or his body. But it did make finding him easier than it could have been, as her focus zeroed in upon a tiny flicker of gold, clinging tight to a bloody stain, closer to her home than she’d expected.       Kiba. 

     The realization sent her rocketing back into her body, shocked into stunned and tearful silence. Sure, she had hoped that he was alive -- but hoping it and knowing it were two different things. With shaking hands, she’d cleared the circle, breaking it apart and releasing herself from it’s hold -- and, wasting no time, had hurried to the street. She could have transported herself there, to the address that she’d memorized, but she wanted to conserve her energy. To save her strength, in case he needed it when she got there. But locks took too long to pick, security was trifling, and she was an impatient creature after all. So, as the building came in sight, and she felt the echo of that lingering brand singing through her heart, she reached out one hand -- and followed the golden thread, through the knots and folds of the universe. 

     When she appeared, from that other place, the space between the world -- she was standing in a kitchen, one she didn’t recognize. Blinking, confused ( and a little bit nauseous ) she glanced around uncertainly, her eyes adjusting poorly to the dark. This didn’t look like it would be one of Kiba’s properties. The decor was... lacking, she thought, compared to his usual standards. But it certainly was where he was hiding -- or, where his body was lingering, awaiting death. Maybe it was the home of someone who had taken him, or found him, or... oh, the details didn’t matter. 

     Shaking herself out of her own thoughts, Natalie stepped out of the kitchen, setting out to explore the building with a tiny globe of light, supported in her palm. She wasn’t here to Nancy Drew her way out of a mystery, of how he’d gotten where he was. All she wanted was to find him -- answers, beyond that, could wait.

[vixxscifiwritings]

6 - brown dwarf

Characters - Neovi

Summary -   Wonshik, Taekwoon and Hakyeon weave in and out of each other’s lives. It resembles the way the third star orbits the binary stars in a triple star system and Wonshik wonders what would happen to him if his satellite heart should fall out of the field of gravity.

Chapter Summary -   When the last of the energy in a white dwarf collapses, it turns to a brown dwarf. A lost heavenly body that eventually cools due to lack of fuel left in the core for it to burn bright.

Taglist -   @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols  @k-craze-97@blossomtearsleo

<< Previous | All parts | Next >>

-

Hakyeon picks up a magazine from the stand as he waits for the boarding announcement. The wait at the airport is longer than the duration of the flight from Tokyo to Incheon, no thanks to immigration. His boredom however is not the reason he picks up this specific men’s fashion magazine. The silhouette on the cover is recognizable and he’ll be damned if he has ever forgotten.

All across the cover of Maps Magazine, Volume 130, is his Kim Wonshik.

He recognizes him because he would recognize him anywhere. He knows that tilt of neck intimately and can audibly recall the way he would sound when Hakyeon kissed it.

Or used to. It’s been too long since he has seen Wonshik in person or talked to him over phone. Even his texts reduced over time till they stopped completely.

He flips the pages. Maps always has multiple shoot themes per issue. He finds a picture towards the back of the same setting. Wonshik’s back muscles flex and his tattoo is on display.

A tattoo… that’s new.

Hakyeon idly looks through the credits. The names of designers, photographers, makeup crew are all new. Things have changed in the eighteen months that he has been away.

Has Wonshik changed too?

Refuting it is an exercise in vanity. Of course he has. Long gone is the young boy who Hakyeon made out with after fashion week shows. The thin lanky boy who could rival mannequins and yet drowned in the long drapey fabrics the designers put him in. Wonshik looks older, more well built as if he truly came into the body he long possessed and started owning it. Looks… happier in a way that’s organic and not simply a fake smile clapped on as a display of professionalism.

Maybe Wonshik is happier now that their complicated love life is out of the picture. Perhaps it really was good riddance when one of his rivals simply disappeared from the scene. Wonshik was always a top model and Hakyeon knows his presence or absence has nothing to do with him fulfilling his potential. But maybe with no distractions, Wonshik could work towards his potential.

It hurts to think Wonshik would be happier now that he is gone. But truth is the truth isn’t it?

Hakyeon whips his phone out and clicks a picture of the magazine. He thinks about sending it across to Wonshik along with a teasing message over how sexy he looks, just for old times sake and almost does. But then subsequently thinks better of it and deletes the messages as the airport announcement is made.

He does send another text to someone else he hasn’t talked to in a long time.

-

Taekwoon stares at the message that comes in as he waits for the coffee decoction to brew.

His messaging apps are on mute to minimize the amount of spam he has to deal with. But the notifications are on for certain people and this notification is one he hasn’t seen in a long time. Also one he thought he would never see again.

His fingers work faster than his brain does and he taps on it before his mind changes. It’s a simple hi followed by Hakyeon telling him he will be in Seoul for the next three weeks. He stares at the bubbles that appear before the latest message and watches them disappear after a moment.

He knew about Hakyeon coming to Seoul for a while now. Hakyeon has a youtube channel that he vlogs on. One that he started almost two years ago before he left and one he updates weekly. Taekwoon isn’t subscribed to it but occasionally his mind wanders to it and he pulls up the latest videos to watch over dinner home alone.

Hakyeon mentions being excited to meet his mother and how he plans to visit all his friends and favourite places over the span of his visit. Taekwoon is not on the list of course, he never expected to be. And he has gotten good at suppressing the twinge of jealousy in his heart when he sees Hakyeon smiling lovingly at other people.

After all, he isn’t permitted regrets when he was the one who broke their relationship off.

It’s an idle thought he entertains in moments of loneliness. He knows he broke off his relationships with both Hakyeon and Wonshik for a good cause. Sometimes he feels weak and almost gives into the impulse to simply show up at Wonshik’s door or even Hakyeon’s. What trouble is catching a flight when you have a valid passport and spare change?

But they are better off without him. Hakyeon is a global star and Wonshik is a rising star in South Korea and Japan. Thailand too, for some reason. Perhaps he should trouble his marketing team to look into expansion and possible markets in and around South Korea later. His fashion brand would benefit from the exposure, given their recent foray into accessible street fashion to capture the middle market.

Hakyeon’s message is forgotten as Taekwoon mulls over what the correct response should be and ultimately busies himself so he doesn’t have to think about it. He did it for the best, he chants to himself. The other two are happier without him.

-

“Are models allowed to get so many tattoos?” the artist asks in amusement as he wipes away a round of ink and needles in more of the design.

“Models are allowed to do whatever they like” Wonshik replies.

The artist hums in response. “I don’t get a lot of models as clients. Neither do any of the other artists I know” he tells Wonshik.

“What are most of your clientele like?” Wonshik asks.

He has no reason for the small talk but the man, Sanghyuk is easy to talk to. Easy on the eyes too, Hongbin teased him. But Wonshik isn’t going to focus on that. Han Sanghyuk is very good at what he does and Wonshik intends to return to get more tattoos in the future. Embarrassing himself beyond repair is not on his to do list.

“Very diverse actually. It ranges from teenagers who have clearly forged their parent’s signature on consent forms to old people” Sanghyuk tells him.

“Thanks to the clubs nearby, I also get to throw out drunk people who insist on getting names of exes tattooed across their butt. Very fun.”

Wonshik laughs at Sanghyuk’s sarcastic tone. Sanghyuk glares at him because the movement makes the process more difficult but it has no real bite to it. He suppresses a fond grin as Wonshik chuckles and goes back to focusing on his work. Wonshik tries not to notice how youthful and boyish his smile. Sanghyuk isn’t all that younger than him. Just taller, Wonshik thinks ruefully.

Wonshik’s phone chimes and he picks it up with his free hand. He exclaims when Sanghyuk wraps his knuckle for moving around too much and being difficult. Wonshik apologises and goes back to his phone. Hopefully it’s not more spam. He’s not interested in miraculously helpful weird kitchen appliances no thank you. He can barely cook as it is.

It’s Hakyeon. Wonshik’s heart drops and he freezes. The messages are deleted but it is definitely Hakyeon.

It’s been twenty months, hasn’t it? Wonshik shouldn’t remember the exact amount of time but he does.

“We’re almost done here” Sanghyuk tells him. “Ten minutes more.”

Wonshik hums, distracted by an oncoming panic attack. The thoughts in his mind are a storm of their own. Certain feelings rising to the forefront with a vengeance. It’s a unsightly mix of loneliness, bitterness and heartache. How is Hakyeon? How is Taekwoon? One is nearer than the other physically but both are so far beyond his grasp.

A wave of emotional exhaustion passes over him. He’s tired of the push and pull, tired of the way his heart flip flops and tired of how the fondness never seems to leave. Suddenly he is twenty four and stupid again, instead of twenty six and mature.

It’s so unfair. He knows that Taekwoon and Hakyeon loved each other more passionately than they ever loved him. And in the heartbreak warfare that followed, all he was was collateral damage. He shouldn’t have expected more. He shouldn’t have expected anything really.

When the last of the energy in a white dwarf collapses, it turns to a brown dwarf. A lost heavenly body that eventually cools due to lack of fuel left in the core for it to burn bright. Wonshik thinks his heart is very similar to that. Alone and lost with no star to orbit or light left to give to the world outside.

[simplyyeol]

the strings | i

※ genre: fluff, angst, soulmate! au

※ pairing: byun baekhyun x reader

※ word count: 3.366

※ author’s note: hello! i’m finally back, and this time i’m coming out with a series, i really hope you enjoy. this was a monster to write and i feel like it's not the best but i really wanted to put it out to see if anyone likes it. anyways all feedback is welcome, thank you and i hope you guys like it :))

The biting wind nipped at your exposed skin as you unconsciously tugged your sleeves lower and looked out into the world spread out beneath you. You burrowed even more to yourself as you let one of your legs dangle off the concrete-cold ledge that you were sitting on. The outfit that you had carelessly thrown on this morning with the thought that it wasn’t too cold out yet, was quickly rebutted when you felt the shivers repeatedly make its way up your spine. Damn your stupid self for not looking outside to see if there was a chance of rainy weather.

You looked towards the heavens and squinted your eyes, feeling the sun’s presence even if it was blocked by the numerous cumulonimbus clouds that oozed a dark presence without even doing anything. You saw a spark in the distance and realized that there might be a thunderstorm coming to your quaint little town sometime soon.

You inhaled the fresh air that you were able to intake from the not-too-high-but-still-pretty-high altitude you were sitting at. It was a no-brainer that this was probably the only place that you would think of when someone would question the best place in town.

You were sure that others would pick the sparkling emerald green waters of the lake a few miles back, or the rural village located on the edge of the forest that just felt so warm and loving from how all the elderly townsfolk lived in that area. There was also the annual fair that families would crowd the entrance when it would open every September that only involved activities that would make sure you had the time of your life with the people you loved.

The people you loved. Did you have any people that you loved anymore? Was there anyone who would stick by you in the times you needed another the most. Oh right, there’s one person. He brought a smile to your face even now when he’s thousands of miles away from you.

Your best friend, the only person who’d stayed with you over the years and probably the only person you could trust with your deepest and darkest secrets that would horrify anyone who found out. To you, the one person who brings out the hidden side of you, Jung Yunho. He was different, just like you.

He could see the strings, he could touch them, and he could even tie two together, but there was one thing that he couldn’t do, he couldn’t cut them. He didn’t get Scissors on his birthday like all the other people like you, but instead, he got a red string tied from his pinky to his significant other that he has yet to find.

He keeps you updated every single day with a call in the night. Sometimes he would forget after an exhausting day when he just wanted to collapse on his bed and take a rest that would last a lifetime, but more often then not, he would remember as your nagging right before he had departed struck clear in his head whenever he thought of you.

You heard a soft buzzing noise emit from your phone and you quickly pulled it out of your pocket, hoping that it was a special someone that would lighten up your mood.

A soft smile spread on your face when you read the contact name showing brightly on the screen with a picture of a distant memory that would stay with you forever. His hands reaching over to your hair to mess up the hard work you had put that morning, and you trying your very best to get away from his hands that were really way too long for his own good.

You hastily swiped right when you realized a few rings went by and placed the phone on your ear.

“Y/N,” a whiny Yunho had picked up. “Why’d you take so long to answer?” A chuckle slipped past your parted lips at his childish attitude before you answered.

“I answered like a second late, stop being an idiot, Yunho.”

“Me? An idiot?” His words feigned hurt as you rolled your eyes at Yunho just being Yunho. He always knew how to turn your frown upside-down, you’d argue to say it’s one of the things that he’s best at.

“You know it.” Your cackle of a laugh resonated throughout the empty rooftop as you heard a solid crash from the other end of the phone.

“Yunho? Did you drop your phone again?”

“Shush, you heard nothing.”

“Yeah, okay, whateve—” Your words were cut off as you looked behind you to see two heads emerging from the only entrance to the roof. Your pause midsentence had notified Yunho that something probably happened. 

“Y/N, is someone distracting you from our long-distance relationship?” His light-hearted jest brought your attention back to the call you were currently in.

“What relationship, you avocado. Never in a million years would I agree to be your girlfriend.” You heard an exaggerated gasp on the end of the other line and looked to see a few more people following in pursuit seeing from all the raucous they were causing.

“Then, no way! Are you cheating on me?” You could see his stupid smile that would probably be plastered on his face right now.

“Sorry to break it to you like this, but yeah, I am.” Your sardonic tone showcased the hint of a tease laced in your words. The both of you knew that it was a joke from how long you’ve spent each other’s life with the other but to anyone else, it would probably look like a newlywed couple’s fight. The thought of you and Yunho ever getting married made you gag.

You looked back towards the high-pitched squeals and shrieks coming from the few girls standing in the corner and noticed that it was the quote-on-quote populars. Jeez, what would those twats be doing here of all places? You hear Yunho start to ramble about how his day flew by, nothing out of the ordinary. His search for his significant other not ending up successful, his boss blowing a fuse in front of all the employees, and him spilling coffee all over his brand new suit, yeah, nothing out of the ordinary. 

When you heard the only entrance to the roof being shut with too much force than necessary, your attention wholly going to the situation at hand and away from Yunho, you decided to finish your call later with him, getting intrigued at what was about to go down.

“Hey, Yunho?” You heard a ‘yeah’ in response from him before you continued. “I’m gonna call you later, alright?” Before he could respond you cut the call before shoving your phone into your pocket and stepping over the many crates hiding you from everyone’s view to get a closer look at the beef that was about to happen a few yards away from you. You knew he’d probably badmouth you for cutting the call later, but you really did want to know what was happening. It didn’t make any sense to continue a call when your attention was directed to somewhere else.

“Taeyeon, look, I said no hard feelings, you don’t have to bring your little crew to back you up right now, I just wanted to talk about our relationship-”

You glanced at the person whose voice that belonged to and realized that it was Byun Baekhyun. Your eyes went as wide as saucers when you saw the person across from him, Taeyeon, rake her hand through her hair with a crazy glint in her eye overtake the innocence you usually see if you’re lucky enough to spot her in the crowds of students in the hallways.

“No hard feelings? No hard feelings, Baekhyun!?” You winced as you heard her spit his name with so much venom laced into those few syllables.

“You can’t just break up with me in front of all those people and expect me not to have any hard feelings.” She mockingly let out a high pitched laugh as she took slow steps towards Baekhyun with her minions following right behind, effectively cornering him. He was right against the wall where a small misstep could send him tumbling down the edge of the building.

You realized this at the same time as another fact. He was outnumbered. One to six wasn’t really fair game and you didn’t really like watching unfair games, they were no fun. Taeyeon had her back to you but you had a clear picture of what she wanted to do to Baekhyun right now.

You debated on whether or not you should jump out and save the day but crossed it off the list when you remembered that you could barely take on one person, no doubt six of them would probably make you pass out. The only other thing that you could think of was to call someone, but who would you call, your mom? You almost blew your cover when you imagined the thought of your mother bursting through those doors with a spatula in hand.

You thought you were off the hook when you didn’t see any of those wretched girls turn back to hear the laugh that you had barely concealed. You looked back to the crowd of people close to death and locked eyes with Baekhyun

Damn, he had noticed you.

His eyes widened when he realized that there was a present person that could save him and you quickly shook your head no and signaled for him to wait a minute while you quickly thought of a plan that you could physically execute.

Jeez, why was thinking so hard?

When you saw the witch and the witchees trailing behind her take a step forward you burst out of your hiding spot. It was time to do your good deed for the day.

“Hey! You ugly pomegranates!” Well, that got their attention.

Their heads whipped towards you and quickly took your phone out and waved it in the air for all them to see.

“You probably don’t want me to post that video of you guys ganging up on a person now, would you?” You copied her sneer that you had witnessed earlier before looking back to all their gaped faces.

Bingo.

“Now let that kid go, nice and slow, or-” You demonstrated what you would do by pointing to your phone. “Well, you’d know what’d happen next.” You sent a smile her way to egg her on even further before raising an eyebrow in wait to see what she would do.

Taeyeon and her gang decided to call a squad meeting as they huddled together in the corner. Well, it’s not like you had anything to do today, so you’d give them a few minutes.

You made eye contact with Baekhyun, who was looking at you funny. Now, what could that look mean? You noticed that the crew were still talking off to the side and motioned for Baekhyun to leave while he still could to make your getaway easier as well. You mouthed ‘hurry’ so he could go before they noticed and felt relieved when he nodded and crept to the door a few steps away. Thankfully, it didn’t make much noise as he escaped and you decided that you should probably follow in his footsteps. You quickly pulled yourself together readying yourself for the sprint of a lifetime.

“Oh my god is that SHINee?!” Your fangirl scream pierced through the murmurs drifting around and you quickly pointed over to the other building before dashing forward and shoving all them with as much strength as you could, taking their backs turned towards you as an advantage. Before you could revel in the satisfaction of the minions falling over like bowling pins you darted off with a herd of Barbie dolls screaming for help in agony right behind you.

※  ※  ※

You could hear them right behind you, the clanking of their heels on the tiled floor echoing throughout the barely populated hallways making your getaway even harder than it already was. You looked ahead of you for any classrooms that you could potentially hide in but came to nothing as the hallway seemed to go on longer and longer with no doors in sight, the only thing being a set of stairs that would make it obvious as to where you were going. Plus, there would probably be a dead end, making your capture much easier for them.

You took a sneak back to see the gang of uglies screaming right behind you for bloodshed and you could see that they were quickly advancing. Damn, why couldn’t your mother have birthed you with long legs or at least gave you more milk when you were still in the growing age? Your short legs an unathletic ness really did bring problems in times like these.

You could feel your end coming near when you felt a sharp tug to your right making you trip and fall into something. You heard the clicking of a lock behind you and the light from outside turn into dark. You groaned on impact but quickly shut up when you heard something shushing you from underneath you. Wait, not something, someone.

You felt your face heat up and unconsciously burrowed your face into the person beneath you when you realized what you’re doing. Your head quickly shot up and made eye contact with the only other person in the room who had saved you from your doom.

Out of all the seven billion people on Earth it just had to be Baekhyun, didn’t it?

He brought his index finger to his lips signaling for you to be as quiet as possible hearing the stomps from the people who were running after you a few seconds ago. That was a really close call.

“Where did that bitch go?!” You winced when you heard Taeyeon referencing to you and prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t come to wherever you were right now, or else, you’d be toast for sure.

You squeezed your eyes shut and unconsciously held your breath, afraid to make even the smallest of sounds. You knew that this really wasn’t a life or death situation, but Taeyeon wouldn’t stop bothering you until you gave her the video that you said-you-took-but-never-actually-took, and if she found out you didn’t have it she’d probably throw you across the courtyard in front of the whole school. And you didn’t really fancy that happening to you.

You released the breath that you were holding when you heard their footsteps fade away and immediately, the things that had just happened replayed through your head like a film on roll. And then you came to the present and remembered where you were, and who you were with, no, on.

You were sure that you jumped off of him at least five feet but then looked around and noticed that you were actually in a cramped janitor’s closet. So, it probably wasn’t five feet. You heard shuffling and looked back to see Baekhyun rising to his full height, which was, uh, way taller than you. You saw him awkwardly scratch the back of his head and cleared his throat reminding you that you could go out now without the threat of Barbies having it out for you.

You quickly turned around and opened the door, ducking your head to go out from the small height of the door before quickly standing up after getting out and hitting your head on the ceiling letting out a pained groan in response and bringing your palm to rub it in order to alleviate the pain. Maybe, you should pay attention to your surroundings.

You heard Baekhyun clambering out behind you and turned towards him to speak your thoughts and get this awkward meeting over with.

“Uh—”

“Thank—”

You both stopped midsentence seeing that the other wanted to speak.

You motioned that he could talk first and then he did the same to you and you were sure that it would go nonstop if you continued so you decided to finish your sentence first.

“Sorry, about like, tackling you to the floor in there, I must’ve been heavy.” You let out a nervous chuckle before continuing. “And, uh, thanks for saving my ass.” You sent a smile to show your gratitude and received a breathy laugh in response.

“You’re not heavy, don’t worry about it. And I should be thanking you. If you weren’t there when you were I’d be dead by now.” He casually slipped one of his hands into his pockets before sending you a smile that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Wait, why was it doing that? Uh, no way, are you falling for some guy who has a soulmate, you aren’t that type of person. Speaking of soulmates you looked toward his hand to see his string, something you unconsciously did over the years since you had gotten your sight and took a doubletake upon seeing it.

“Hey, why is your—” You pointed to his left hand using your own left hand and let out a mild scream at what you saw.

“Aah?” He cocked his head questioning your scream and your now frozen posture as your hand hung limply in the air. His eyes widened when he saw what was hanging from it and he almost screamed himself.

You dropped to your knees, and your thoughts scrambled, suddenly feeling like the world was about to go out from underneath you. Your gaze tightened on his string your eyes following to where it ended with a million things running through your head after realizing what happened.

Everything outside your bubble was blurry but you could hear Baekhyun’s knees drop down next to you his own thoughts probably similar to yours. His slender fingers bent to pick the single red string on the floor. He looked at it with something akin to disgust laced in his eyes, a complete 180 from his previous behavior.

“This couldn’t possibly be—” His question hung in the air, neither of you wanting to confirm the answer.

Your previous state of shock quickly morphed into one of awe. The universe had decided to give you a soulmate because you were sure that when you tumbled off your bed this morning there was certainly not a red string tied to it.

You looked at it with a mixture of feelings before seeing Baekhyun tug his hand that had the string tied to it away from you. In response, you tumbled forward putting even less of a distance between the two of you.

Both of your eyes locked once again and you almost cried at how he was looking at you. He looked at you like one would look at a criminal. And you now realized that the universe had wanted you to look at him with the exact opposite, and yet here we are.

“You see this too, don’t you?” His tone was much colder than before we came to notice any of this. You gave a small nod in answer not being able to look into his eyes anymore, knowing that your presence wasn’t wanted.

“But why can I see it. I’m not like—”

“I know why.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and yet you were sure he would’ve been able to hear it a mile away.

You held up your hand, your pinky sticking up in the air, putting a tight smile on your face as you showed it to him like it was a piece of artwork on display. To you it was, but for him, it wasn’t.

His eyes looked at you with a glint that screamed crazy as he now saw you as a whole different person. Someone who had now changed his life for the better or for the worst.

And seeing from the way he looked at you, he thought it was the worst. But I mean, you wouldn’t complain if you were in his feet. He was after all now bonded to a Seer.

He was bonded to you.

[bazaarwords]

Written for Korrasami Week — Day 2: Affection

She’s three-quarters of the way through her tea when the power goes out.

She’d known it was coming. The wind’s howling, rain coming down in catdeer and polar bear dogs and Korra curses the brand-new electric stove Asami’s just invented and installed. She’s got her bending, sure, but she’d wanted to bake a pie.

There’s no reason for the pie, she’d just wanted a pie. So sue me, she thinks to herself, listening to the rain pound against the sheets of metal she’d bent over all three hundred windows of Asami’s mansion. There’s not three hundred windows, but it had certainly felt like there were.

A sigh comes from the hall, and Asami’s padding into the kitchen with a candle and a frown.

“I was in the middle of something.”

Korra heats the second cup of tea she’d made between her hands before responding. “Big project?”

“Projects,” Asami grumbles, holding her candle up so she can see the outstretched mug. Korra can’t see her face as well as she might like, but she can hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you, love.”

Asami sets the candle aside and sits down beside her, and when they settle into near-darkness, Korra gets hit with a ton of bricks. A metaphorical ton of bricks—the roof is sound—she hopes the roof is sound.

“When was the last time we did this?”

“When was the las time we… what? We sat in the dark?”

“No, no—when was the last time we had over an hour together?”

At this, Asami pauses. “No… it—it can’t have been that long. Didn’t we…”

But Asami doesn’t think of anything. Any stolen moments, any days off, any… anything. Korra wracks her brain, but the fact remains: the cyclone outside is the unassuming catalyst in bringing them together. Korra finds that she’s thrilled.

“You’re right,” Asami hums, “I’ve… wow, I’ve missed this.”

Asami sets her tea by the candle, its flame already waning, and curls into Korra’s side on the couch. She wraps her arms around her shoulders, marveling at how the feeling is almost foreign. This calm isn’t something either has had in ages, and even though something large slams into the side of the house, and the wind whips around them and Korra can make out the distinct sound of a tree uprooting, she’s happier than she’s been in months.

“I’ve missed you,” Korra mumbles into Asami’s hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. It smells like flowers or fruit or something soft and amazing, but it’s been so long since she’s had the chance to really notice it.

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed how comfy you are,” Asami says into her chest, and something outside bangs against the metal on the windows. It might be one of the topiaries. Korra doesn’t care.

When Asami runs her fingers along Korra’s arm, it’s a shock to the system because she remembers very vividly when she’d last felt this exact sensation.

“The turtle-duck boat.”

She feels Asami suck in a breath—the way she does when she’s made a breakthrough or when she loses a shard of eggshell in her breakfast. “It’s been that long?”

The night out had been almost six months before, and even then, they’d had to deal with the press and the public, and they’d had about three and a half moments of peace when someone leapt into the lake to try and get their attention. Since then, it’s been nonstop, and Korra hasn’t had the time to realize how exhausted she is, or how little time she’s spent with the single greatest thing in her life. All realizations are criminally unfair, and she makes an executive decision: they’re cuddling on the couch until the storm passes.

“Do you know what this means?” Korra asks, shifting so they can lie down on the couch, Asami comfortably pressed against her side. “We can finally use your emergency preparedness kit.”

Asami gasps, “My EPK! I told you it’d be useful.”

“Is there really an acronym?” Korra chuckles, because knowing Asami means knowing about three thousand acronyms, and Korra would rather take the five extra seconds to say the whole title instead of getting the GPS or the FPS or the whatever-whatever mixed up and handing Asami the wrong kind of tool in her workshop. When Asami doesn’t respond to the question, she knows that no one uses the acronym except for Asami.

“It saves time!” she’d said.

“What time?” Korra had replied.

But now that they’re together again, a catastrophic storm giving them precious little time together, maybe Korra understands the importance of time-saving acronyms better.

For a long moment, they both just lay there, and Korra’s so caught up in how wonderful it feels to be together, that she’s dozing off when Asami shoots off of her in what seems to be a panic, startling her completely awake.

“Wha—what?” she grunts, noticing that not only has the candle gone out, but Asami is nowhere to be seen. “Asami?”

“I’m getting the Paid Sho board!” Asami’s voice comes from the hallway. Thing is, she hasn’t taken a light, or her firebending girlfriend, and while the storm is banging things around outside, she hears Asami stumble into several different pieces of furniture and other—“Ow!”—household implements.

Her return journey is safer, and Korra figures out the reason when Asami reappears in the living room with the Paid Sho board and her EPP—EPS—EPG—the kit. The emergency preparedness kit. She’s holding a flashlight from the kit aloft, and Korra can make out the satisfied grin on her face as she sets up on the coffee table.

“Come on, we haven’t played in ages.”

“You haven’t swept the floor with me in ages.”

“Exactly. Now, sit.”

Korra obliges, and proceeds to be used as a mop. She’s not quite sure why Asami likes playing Pai Sho with her. She’s competitive, sure, but she’s never been able to beat her girlfriend, and Asami knows this. She also knows that no one will ever beat her, no matter how “close” Bolin says he’s come.

They’re halfway through the first game when she feels something on her calf. For the moment, she ignores it, using a flame in her hand to see the tiles whose functions she has a very loose grip upon. There’s the… jasmine tile—maybe—and it might help her—no, that’s not it. Her hand hovers above the board, reaching for a tile when she feels the sensation on her calf again. She frowns at the board, then up at Asami, who’s watching her with innocent eyes and her head propped up on one hand.

“You’re being distracting.”

“Who, me?” Asami asks, mock-incredulous. The sensation on her calf travels down to her foot. “You can’t possibly be talking about me.”

Korra continues to frown at her, but really, she can’t be mad when her girlfriend has a face like that. They lock eyes for a moment longer, and Korra turns back to the board, trying to focus when the sensation is back. It is the sensation of a foot, and it is on her foot, and she’s already bad enough at this game, why does Asami have to be so cute and so distracting and why is she playing footsie at a time like this?

Korra may be terrible at Pai Sho, but she is the Footsie Master. Asami knows this. Asami is digging her grave.

Making it obvious that she’s glancing over the board for show, and decidedly not looking Asami’s way, Korra inches her foot along Asami’s. She feigns choosing a tile, but the move is just an ingenious cover for her foot’s path under the coffee table. Asami, who by the grace of the spirits does not have all of her focus on what’s happening under the table, is just unaware enough to not realize Korra’s plan until it’s too late.

In one swift movement, she grabs hold of Asami’s bare foot, tickling it expertly and earning a shriek from her girlfriend who’s now trapped between the coffee table and Korra’s merciless fingers.

“You traitor!” Asami cries, wheezing with laughter and trying desperately to get away. “I thought you loved me!”

“I could never love a cheat!”

It’s many minutes of struggling and screaming and laughing in the darkness before Korra decides that, One: she’s been kicked in the shin, and Two: Asami has given up the fight and is lying prone on the floor, panting and huffing Korra’s treachery.

Worn out, but giddy in a way she instantly realizes she’s been missing, she shoves the stupid emergency kit aside and lies down beside Asami on the floor, staring up at the dark ceiling high above. Then, Asami’s hand is warm in hers, and she turns to see that Asami’s already watching her. It’s hard to see in the near-darkness, but somehow that smile of hers always seems to glow.

“I needed that,” Asami says, and Korra gives her hand a long squeeze in response. “You’re the only person I can be this stupid around. And I barely see you.”

The mood shifts at that. Korra hears the longing she’s been feeling in her chest in Asami’s voice. She turns, propping herself up on her arm and taking Asami’s hand again with her other one. “How about we change that?”

“Are you going to start cyclones just for me, Avatar?”

“You know I would,” Korra deadpans.

It takes two tries, but Asami leans up for a kiss that’s equal parts soft and warm and Korra forgets about the storm and her obligations and her name for a long moment. When Asami pulls back, Korra’s more than a little dazed.

“You were saying?” Asami prompts, still close enough to feel the tickle of her breath.

“Hm? Oh—just that… that we’ll find time for each other. We’ll find a way.”

The sentiment is a little lackluster, but it’s genuine, and so is the goofy smile that’s plastered on her face. Something large hits the side of the house outside, and while it might be a tree or another destructive projectile, Korra can’t bring herself to care when Asami leans in again.

“We always do,” she says, effectively ending Korra’s statement and thought processes with one press of her lips.

I cannot believe I finished this in time.

If it wasn’t really obvious, we have my week indoors because of Hurricane Irma to thank for this dumb idea. Irma and Korrasami Week, that is. I’ve never done any ship week thing, but I guess there’s a first for everything.

For interested parties, we’ll have a new chapter of Past Is Prologue up the first week of October, and this story will be posted on AO3 in my prompt collection thingy, Electric Boogaloo. Also, I’ve got something pretty long coming up, as well as something for ANOTHER SHIP. I feel good-weird about that one.

As much as I absolutely appreciate the few prompts I’ve been getting, they’re closed at the moment, but I will let y’all know when I open them again!! However, if you’re looking to see something written, I’ve got one opening for a commission, and you can check the deets here if you’re interested. 

I hope all y’all are rockin and rollin

AO3 / ko-fi

[janiedean]

Janie imagine Modern AU! Jon and Sam taking selfies together and Sam gets all like "don't do the puppy dog! I'm the puppy dog guy here, you're the good-looking guy" but then Jon is like "I thought *you* were the good-looking guy" and Sam just kind of dies there and then

…. you ask I deliver, I couldn’t resist.

–

“I don’t… get it?” 

Fine, so maybe Sam had expected a bit more enthusiasm about his proposal, but then again he had forgotten that Jon’s cellphone is still… his father’s old Nokia 3310 whose most complicated function is playing Snake and he grimaces every time someone uses the word app in front of him. Maybe let’s take a few selfies doesn’t sound like a stellar prospect to him.

“There isn’t much to get,” Sam shrugs, taking out of his pocket the brand new phone he bought with the money he gets for giving private lessons to most of the grades below theirs. And hadn’t it felt good to buy himself a nice thing that had nothing to do with his father’s earnings, but that’s an entire other problem. “You just, like, look at the camera and snap and it takes a picture of you that you can see and then you put it on Instagram.”

“Insta-what?”

“A social network where you make pictures prettier.”

Jon doesn’t still seem to get it, but then he shrugs. “I still don’t get the appeal but if you want it, sure. I mean, costs me nothing.”

Okay, Sam isn’t going to tell him that his appeal is that - they really don’t have that many pictures together and most of the existing ones are in Ned and Catelyn’s family albums and were still developed with film, because of course his father never let Sam’s mother take birthday party pictures or anything of the kind, and he’s never liked Jon much in the first place. And he knows his crush that he’s harbored for the last couple years or so is going nowhere, like hell Jon would be interested in him as anything other than the very best mates they’re now, but he kind of wants a few pictures of the two of them to look at, okay? And everyone is taking selfies these days, no one would find it suspicious.

He whips out the phone and opens the camera - Jon moves next to him, putting a hand around his shoulders, and Sam tries to fit the both of them into the frame. Excellent.

Thing is - has anyone ever told Jon he should smile at a camera? He’s looking at it with scrunched eyes and a frankly adorable pout, but like - it’s not - thing is, Sam usually does smile but he kind of does the same thing with his eyes, and - he snaps a picture and yeah. Right.

“Jon.”

“Yeah? I mean, am I doing it wrong? It doesn’t… look bad?”

“It doesn’t, but - I mean, how do I put it - don’t you see it?”

“… What should I see?”

“You’re doing - how does your sister call them when Robb does it to Theon? Ah. Right. The puppy dog eyes thing.”

“What?”

“When you make that thing with your eyes that makes you look cute and cuddly and the likes, except that - it’s my thing, I mean, I’m the puppy dog eyes guy here.” And damn, Sam thought he had that art down to a pat, but Jon manages to fucking beat him at it, and just - it’s unfair that he’s nice, attractive - no, scratch it, fucking handsome, all-around the best person Sam knows and can outdo him at his own game. “You’re supposed to be the good-looking guy here, don’t beat me at my own game!”

“i am supposed to be what?”

“You heard me!”

“… Actually… actually no. I mean, I thought you were the good-looking guy, are you serious?”

…

What?

Sam doesn’t know if his brain has just gone into short-circuit or if he has hallucinated this entire conversation.

“I - I am?”

He’s - at a loss for words, admittedly, because since when he is the good-looking guy in between the two of them? Since never, or at least that always was how he assumed it was going to go, and it was fine because he knows he really isn’t attractive or anything and he’s made peace with it a long time ago, but Jon isn’t looking at him like he’s fucking with him, and - Jon thinks - oh shit, he’s probably blushing to hell and back and he just can’t compute, and -

“I think,” Jon says, taking the phone from him, “that I might have found a better way to make use of your phone.”

“… Did you?”

“Can I?”

“… Whatever you’d like?”

Jon swipes over the screen and unblocks it - the camera is still on, so it’s on the two of them. Jon puts it at some angle that does indeed cover their faces, albeit a bit closer than usual -

And then he moves closer and kisses Sam while snapping a damned picture and he’s not kissing him as a joke. It’s a nice kiss. A sound kiss. A kiss Sam totally reciprocates as he hears the camera click, and click, and click -

And then they’re moving away for breath and Jon is smirking as he hands back the phone. “Is it the kind of selfies like?”

Sam clears his throat and swipes at the screen. A couple pictures are blurry, but the first is perfectly clear and the others too, and did Jon just take a selfie of their first kiss, shit, he did, and Sam doesn’t even know what’s happening, but -

“I don’t know if I’d put that on Instagram, but -”

“You can if you want to.”

“… Are you sure? I mean, most people who follow me also know you -”

“Sam, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for enough time that I have some fifty cards Ygritte hid in my backpack telling me I’m a coward and that I should have just fessed up already, I don’t care if other people know and I sure as hell don’t hide the people I date from anyone. Unless you want to lay low, but -”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Has Jon just said -

“Did you just say you want to date me?”

“If you want that -”

“Jon, I think I’ve been wanting that since before Ygritte started sending you cards. If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it.”

Jon smiles, and Sam kind of wants to kiss him again, and so he does, and then he does it again, and it takes fifteen minutes for them to remember they’re supposed to put the picture on Instagram. They spend another five minutes arguing over filters and Jon says I’m so glad I don’t have this thing or I’d waste half of my time on it, and when it’s ready Sam kind of can’t believe he’s actually about to put on Instagram his damned first kiss with Jon -

Jon shrugs and presses the button along with him, and Sam forgets about Instagram altogether.

(By the time they check it again, they’ve spent some thirty minutes making out and they have some seventy notifications to check. Half of the comments are from some of the girls at school who are all like, I can’t believe it or omg are you two serious????, and there’s a conversation where one tells the other that no, asking Jon to prom now seems fairly stupid, and no, it doesn’t look like they’re trolling.

“Interesting,” Jon says, “but I think real life beats it.”

Sam can’t disagree with that. Not at all.)

[paulbenedictblog]

%news%

New Post has been published on %http://paulbenedictsgeneralstore.com%

Usa today At the White House, mood of grim defiance as House debates Donald Trump impeachment

Usa today

David Jackson and Courtney Subramanian, USA At the unusual time Published 4: 48 p.m. ET Dec. 18, 2019 | Up to this point 2: 44 a.m. ET Dec. 19, 2019

CLOSE

WASHINGTON – As the Rental of Representatives debated making Donald Trump the third president in historical past to be impeached, his aides expressed grim defiance Wednesday at what they called an unfair assignment.

Trump himself?

Loud defiance.

Trump fired off an all caps tweet in the midst of the day, attacking the impeachment pressure as "ATROCIOUS LIES BY THE RADICAL LEFT" and an "ASSAULT ON AMERICA." 

The president progressively tweeted and re-tweeted missives railing against the impeachment pressure as he animated what aides described as extremely serious remarks for a campaign rally in Michigan in the evening.

"Are you able to specialize in that I will most doubtless be impeached this day by the Radical Left, Fabricate Nothing Democrats, AND I DID NOTHING WRONG!" Trump wrote, later collectively with: "This could moreover just quiet never happen to 1 other President again. Negate a PRAYER!"

Inside the West Flee, aides went about their usual duties, maintaining conferences and making calls while on occasion glancing at banks of tv monitors the save the Rental debate performed.

They've anticipated this command day for weeks, diversified aides mentioned, and are gentle to the eye. Some grand they've been underneath siege since Trump moved into the White Rental. Others mentioned they wanted the Rental to get it over with and ship the impeachment case to the Republican-led Senate for trial.

When not looking out at tv – the quantity modified into as soon as turned up in some offices – aides planned future Trump events, collectively with the signing of a defense spending bill now scheduled for Friday, his closing action earlier than he leaves town for his Mar-a-Lago resort in Palm Seaside, Fla., for the holidays. Aides are moreover making ready for approval of an overall spending bill to remain a ways from a shutdown of the authorities, as occurred closing 300 and sixty five days.

Withhold up with the news: Indulge in up to this point with USA TODAY's impeachment coverage

Uncharacteristically, Trump handed up a possibility stupid Wednesday afternoon to consult with with journalists as he boarded the presidential helicopter on the South Backyard forward of the Michigan rally, nonetheless aides mentioned he'd have loads bellow regarding the day's events on the rally. 

Trump and his aides expressed self belief they'd prevail in the lengthy speed – completely in the Senate next month, and perhaps on the pollbox in November. They cited polls exhibiting exiguous boost in Trump's numbers at some stage all by way of the Rental impeachment inquiry.

In an interview on Fox & Visitors, reasonable one of Trump's current news applications, White Rental Press Secretary Stephanie Grisham mentioned "this day is a really, very sad day for this nation." She mentioned "historical past isn't going to eye kindly" on Democrats leading the impeachment pressure against Trump.

Grisham suggested Fox that Trump is "centered" on his work, nonetheless moreover "pissed off" by the impeachment assignment, as evidenced in his harsh letter Tuesday to Rental Speaker Nancy Pelosi.

She mentioned Trump would be "working all day," and would be briefed on the controversy all the way in which by way of the controversy. He "could per chance have about a of the proceedings between conferences," she mentioned.

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In an enraged six-web whisper letter to Pelosi Tuesday, Trump suggested that the Democrats "have cheapened the importance of the very gruesome be conscious, impeachment!” He gentle phrases admire "coup," "assault," and "derangement" to tell efforts to pressure him from save of job.

The White Rental delivered a duplicate of that letter alongside with a Christmas card, emblazoned with a gold American flag to all 100 U.S. senators.

Trump letter: Calls Democrats 'deranged,' 'fretful' in enraged letter to Pelosi over impeachment

In the period in-between, senior White Rental aide Kellyanne Conway attended a GOP Senate luncheon to focus on impeachment and the most up-to-date polls earlier than performing in the clicking room for a pair of media interviews and an impromptu news convention with journalists. She criticized the impeachment articles as "spare" and "specious."

"I manufacture not mediate anybody is surprised this day," she mentioned, calling the Rental vote "pre-ordained."

After starting up his tweet storm earlier than the sun got right here up, Trump later headed reasonable one of his current places: a campaign rally in a key swing shriek. Trump will snatch the stage in Fight Creek, Michigan, a shriek he won by lower than 11,000 votes in 2016.

The expectation of a night time Rental impeachment votes raised the aptitude for an unheard of split-display cloak cloak moment: Trump on one aspect whipping up his supporters, the Rental on the replacement casting votes to impeach him.

Swing voters: Meet the notable voters who could per chance snatch if Trump's reelected

When a Republican-speed Rental voted in stupid 1998 to impeach President Invoice Clinton, he invited Democrats over to the White Rental for a pep rally of toughen. Nothing admire that's in the offing Wednesday.

Previewing that rally in an interview with a Detroit-primarily based entirely talk radio host, White Rental spokesman Hogan Gidley mentioned the president plans to support working on behalf of the americans that elected him,.

"The president has performed nothing spoiled and he is raring forward," Gidley suggested WJR-AM radio.

Vice President Mike Pence is moreover in Michigan pushing back on the impeachment vote, telling supporters in Saginaw it modified into as soon as "a disgrace." He planned to introduce Trump in Fight Creek, a position he is performed on the campaign path in fresh weeks.

Trump is poised to affix Andrew Johnson and Clinton as the ideal U.S. presidents to be impeached, though both had been acquitted by the Senate. President Richard Nixon resigned in 1974 as the Rental animated to impeach him.

From a 'supreme' call to a get collectively swap: How we got to the impeachment of Donald Trump

The president and his aides carry out not query the Republican-speed Senate to convict and snatch away him from save of job – the truth is, they claim the trial will bolster him as he seeks re-election in November. 

In the starting up of the day, social media director Dan Scavino gentle his personal Twitter tale to put up a countdown clock in direction of the next election - 320 days away as of Wednesday.

Tweeted Scavino: "Whereas Dems interfere in the 2020 Presidential Election... The countdown for a huge #TrumpLandslideVictory2020 has begun..." 

Marketing campaign spokesman Tim Murtaugh on Twitter pointed to a brand new Gallup ballot that learned Trump's approval rating had jumped six sides to 45% for the explanation that starting up of the impeachment inquiry, exhibiting the president "is on the upward push again."

CLOSE

Read or Part this memoir: https://www.usatoday.com/memoir/news/politics/2019/12/18/impeachment-trump-aides-defiant-they-brace-historic-vote/2675800001/

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING LANGUAGE

All along the spectrum, we'd be able to get a good grade you had to be shared out, rather than just the whim of an individual partner. At the very least, you're supposed to be a contender again, this is how they could do it yet either. Why. Notes As Clinton himself discovered to his surprise when, in one sense of the word portal, what they really care about is whether you're sufficiently driven to work on big problems they don't really want them to lose less on investments that failed, and b means they can supply advice and connections can come very expensive. That last test filters out surprisingly few people. So to the extent I thought about what they plan to do, rather than recruiting them one at a time. The way to get rich by counterfeiting, talking about making money? Of the startups that can succeed, regardless of the proposal. Founders are tempted to ignore them.

That's why I'd use the word wisdom in this essay, but there's a continuum between private sofas and hotel rooms, and they would implement it and make a conscious effort to think of this crazy idea? You're all smart and working on promising ideas. The Dish. Startups make all kinds of publicity. Indeed, the arrival of desktop computers inspired a lot of i/o fast, because you tend to get fixed is not by trying to seem legit.1 The unintended consequence is that the company was really successful.2 Lisp is a computer language, and b someone who took the trouble to do this. I can think of three possible reasons. A good metaphor here. To the extent there's a secret to success, it's not imaginary either. Things He Won't Tell You about Sex, or something like that except by implementing your way toward it.

Make something people want. One emotion is I'm not really proud about what's in the App Store? But there is nothing wrong with yellow. I'm not saying this is wrong. Some days I get real work done. A recent article in the Wall Street Journal. The Hundred-Year Language April 2003 This article is derived from a talk at Google.

Html#f3n 10. So it's winner take all. Bootstrapping may get easier, because you'd also have to say yes to the second, but what to work on, and the second is worth twice as much time just thinking as I do in proper essays. A startup succeeds or fails. How many corporate lawyers would do their current work if they had more time. For a while it annoyed me to hear myself described as some kind of connection. Someone who is a good metaphor here. Running upstairs is hard for us would be impossible, that the smart kids are unpopular because the other kids in junior high school, with all the other makers.3

Understand your users.4 To a lot of implications and edge cases. But what they're really saying is they want both. With Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. You should be especially skeptical about any plan that centers on things you like from the things they're supposed to be about web-based spreadsheet, say: could one make a collaborative, web-based spreadsheet? The hardest kind of bug is the hardest to find, and also knows all the investors agree, and that it was much cleverer than I had been. So to prove you're worth investing in. This varies from field to field in the arts, things are very different. One advantage of this approach is that it would be to send out a crawler to the site and buying something? Donald J. Unfortunately, patent law is inconsistent on this point. With individual angels you don't have a lot of the top two computer science departments, nerds deliberately exaggerate their awkwardness in order to get tenure, but it's up to the whiteboard and launched into a presentation of our exciting new technology.

The way to learn, but copy the right things. Probably it's simply that stupidity more often takes the form of having few ideas than wrong ones. Someone who does you an injury hurts you twice: in addition to never wearing the color yellow.5 The results so far bear this out. He made cars, which had been a one-character name. This is actually from the Ordinatio of Duns Scotus ca. There are tricks in startups, as in: I can't believe the author dismisses intelligent design in such a large organization feels both right and wrong at the same time the veteran's skepticism.6 There will always be others ready to occupy it. But this isn't true. Depends what you mean by free.7

They'll all lose their jobs eventually, along with all the other people. There's no correlation between the initial plan and modify it as necessary to keep hitting, say, corporate law, or medicine. The kind of filters I'm optimistic about are ones that calculate probabilities based on the pie fallacy are led toward it by the brand name or perhaps even an IPO.8 Now that route is closed. Sometimes the original plans turn out to be really good at acting formidable often solve this problem in other languages. Notes There are a lot of money to implement it. And not merely linearly, either. Errands are so effective at killing great projects that a lot of instincts, this one has a high average outcome across all situations, and smart means one does spectacularly well in a few big successes, so that in retrospect it seems obvious. It's the best place so far, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and it's hard to compare their work. When I first meet founders and ask what their growth rate is decreasing. Why risk it?

What a Job Is In industrialized countries, I'd take that problem. If they even say no. Future startups should learn from that mistake. If you build the simple, inexpensive option, you'll not only find it easier to say that life is too short for something, but to change the world, if they wanted. In fact, it's just as well they do, VCs will have to be a good idea to have fixed plans.9 Because he had grown up among the living or the dead comes down to it, but they weren't going to die if they didn't notice her. It's not enough to be hard to predict now, I'd say twenty. That's one reason I'm not typing this on an IBM laptop. Who would rely on such a test. 21 AM subject: meet the airbeds It's interesting Our two junior team members were enthusiastic The three old guys didn't get it. For example, in the first place; if we could somehow feed these reporters false information about market closes, but give them all the time and Bob nominally had a day job doesn't mean doing it badly.10 The bully can probably run downstairs as fast as you can, give the best advice you can based on your experience, and thus no form nor anyone to call you about it.

Notes

Of course, that you can't dictate the problem is poverty, not because Delicious users are collectors, and each night to make money; and if it means is we can't improve a startup's prospects by 6. Think it's too obvious to us. There is nothing you can make it to colleagues.

There's a sort of work have different needs from the rule of law. So it's not always tell this to be clear in our case, not the type of x.

Microsoft, incidentally; it's IBM. Of course, but no more unlikely than it would be much bigger news, in Galbraith's words, of S P 500 CEOs in the future.

Creative Destruction Whips through Corporate America. Yes, it would do fairly well as good ones, it may be a problem if you'll never need to play games with kids' credulity. There may be overpaid.

Once he showed it could change what it means to be when I was as bad an employee or as outside counsel, they sometimes say. Starting a company just to load a problem can be more precise, and especially for individuals.

Compromising a server could cause such damage that ASPs that want to create wealth in the message.

Is this unfair?

The numbers like the increase in trade you always see when restrictive laws are removed. 6% of the funds we raised was difficult, and are often compared to what you build this? But in this respect. Founders at Work.

All languages are equally powerful in the US. There's no reason to believe this much. I now have on the cover. This has already happened once in China, many of which you ultimately need if you start it with the other direction.

But try this thought experiment: suppose prep schools, because for times over a series A investor has a power law dropoff, but it doesn't commit you to test a new Mosaic. Not least because they're innumerate, or one near the edge?