#while everyone involved has been smart and gracious about the business and been careful about not burning bridges

[sleepynegress]

About The Marvels, and putting together some context clues to get a fuller picture BTS... After watching and listening to a lot of the post-strike promo

Nia DaCosta gave some interviews that gently revealed that she had another film lined up while shooting The Marvels, which is common for directors. It wasn't worded like she was complaining. However, the schedule to start shooting in the first place kept moving up, and up, and up... So, when she finally did get to shooting, she basically had to multi-task, shooting and reshooting with ADs while working on her other movie. Again, this is not uncommon....but I do think it made how the movie ended up, different from what may have been intended (and it still wasn't bad...just middle of the road for me).

Add to that... the fact that shooting had wrapped and the MCU had her reshoot, unexpectedly months after wrapping. ...So many months later, that Zawe Ashton had gotten preggers and given birth and had to do a quick one-eighty to be set-ready for reshoots, with her family present, supporting that. And then I remember a post-strike interview with Imani Vellani and Teyonah Parris (who recently gave birth herself...-recommend looking for that birth on insta, it's really touching-) on the View and how the ladies got to talking about new motherhood, w/ Teyonah passionately talking about how it's basically recovering from an open wound...It really felt like she could have been subtlely also referring to that experience/going to bat a bit about it...

I feel the MCU hobbled this, like so many other recent productions by trying to do too much in a tight amount of time and not supporting the people's needs as well as they should have, in the name of deadlines and money, hence another on the giant pile of reasons for the strike. Anyway, Zawe has not been doing most of the things typically expected of women and even new moms in that Hollywood gaze, post-that.

Good.

P.S. I think it's fucked when studios in Hollywood tend to only start hiring on helmers more inclusively once the franchises have gotten a little stale (see: also TWD and Angela Kang)

[miekasa]

OMG PLEASE DO DAD!JEAN I WOULD CRY IF U DID

Y'all want them to be dilfs so badly...... fortunately, I would be a housewife for Jean, so I will indulge the both of us 😌😌

Jean wants kids so badly, he’s so excited and ready when you guys finally have them. There’s not really any nervousness about it for him; sure, there will be difficulties along the way, but he’s mentally prepared himself for all that already; he’s ready. 

He’s so gentle with his kids and, yeah, sometimes he does borderline on being overprotective of them, but it comes from a place of love. You’re there to make sure he doesn’t smother them too much, and reassure him that they’ll always need him, even when they do grow up a bit. 

I wanna say he wants at least two, and so that’s where you start. Your oldest daughter is about three when you have your second kid, and it turns out to be another girl. You were both perfectly content to stop there, but the minute your second daughter was sent off to pre-k full time, Jean comes into your bed room with puppy dog eyes and a huge pout and a declaration you should have seen coming from a mile away: “I think we should have one more kid.” 

(You swear to stop after the third, a son, who Jean cherishes just as much as his baby girls. You do not, and you have one more son, but hey, they say four kids is supposedly the recipe for a happy family).

They somehow all get Jean’s eyebrows and it’s a little crazy… a bit envying, too. The girls get Jean’s eyes, and your sons get his hair color, face shape, nose, and just about every other distinct feature you can imagine. They are certainly his children, that’s for sure. 

PTA dad that puts all other PTA parents to shame. Every event, every meeting, every fundraiser, Jean is there with a pen and paper in hand. He’s ready to volunteer and make demands and throw out ideas, and he’d not backing down to some passive aggressive gluten-free mom wearing capris. No way. 

Most of his involvement in his kids’ school(s) come from a place of distrust with the administration. You two spent a lot of time discussing where to send your kids to school, but Jean never trusted anything 100%, so he gets himself involved as a sort of reassuring measure. 

You can often catch him essentially hosting a breakfast buffet on Sunday mornings. Everyone gets their own little omelet tailored to their exact liking. When your firstborn gets old enough, she stands on a little stool and helps him cook; Jean holds your first son in his hand while he does it, and the other two sit at the counter, kicking their little legs in anticipation for their favorite breakfast. 

He’s always holding at least one of them whenever you’re out. This usually helps to keep them together, but also just because Jean likes it. He’s happy that they like to crawl on him and essentially use them as a human tower because he loves any and all affection from them. 

Your first kid was the easiest in a sense, or at least, she was according to Jean, because she’s a huge daddy’s girl. All Jean had to do was walk into the room for her to stop crying, I wouldn’t blame you if you were bitter after carrying her for nine months, only for her to look at Jean like he hung the moon in the sky himself. 

You gotta admit, it’s pretty sweet watching him be a first time dad. He’s always wanted this, so he was ready mentally, but he also did his research: parenting books, early-development research, even pregnancy books. And your firstborn was kind of the textbook baby, so she was a breeze.

Then came your second daughter and she knocked the wind out of him. Nothing he did with your first kid seemed to work with her: she didn’t stop crying just because Jean rocked her to sleep, she didn’t like being held or being put down for sleep, and she fucking hated her stroller pls Jean was just a constant state of buffering for, like, four months.

It’s with your second kid that you learn that Jean has a pretty good singing voice, because it turns out that lullabies in combination with him swaying her in his arms was the recipe to get her to settle down after a crying fit. You have a handful of videos on your phone of Jean dancing with the newborn, while your first kid hums an accompanying tune in the background. 

When your first son comes along, the girls are about seven and four respectively, so they’re at the age where they like to essentially be mini-parents to the baby. Jean could cry at the sight of watching his two girls help bottle feed their baby brother, and they’re actually quite helpful when you and Jean are busy at home. 

By this time, you both have mastered the work-home schedule perfectly, and it’s pretty smooth sailing. The only real bump in the road is that the kid hates baby food—the girls didn’t mind it, and ate it until they were old enough to handle solids, but your son spit up anything from a jar. So, Jean also becomes a part-time home chef, and his meal preps consist of blending up fruits and veggies every Sunday night for your baby. 

You guys will be out shopping as a family, and more often than not, your second daughter will be on Jean’s shoulders, you’ll push the baby’s stroller, and your firstborn is at Jean’s side, holding his hand. 

The middle two are the ones who argue the most. They got the… fiery sides of Jean, so they’re the most likely to butt heads with each other. Thankfully, your oldest is usually able to get them to calm down, and you and Jean think it’s quite cute watching them hold little kid-lead family meetings to work through their problems. 

He kinda gets peer pressured by his kids sometimes, and by that I mean he knows he’s not supposed to buy the sugary cereal, or let them stay up too late, but sometimes he can’t help it. They’re very cute and very convincing, so can you really blame him for the Oreo O’s that make it into the shopping cart?—or for letting them snuggle up to him for an extra 15 minutes before bed time? 

When your last kid comes around, Jean is a fucking pro—but he kind of always has been. He can have a baby in his left arm and build a princess tower with his right; he’s got this. 

You gotta admit, it’s quite… attractive to see Jean not only handle your newborn with such ease, but to do it while doing work, and keeping up with your other three kids. He really makes it look like he was born to do this. Almost makes you wanna have one more… almost. 

He gets complimented a lot when he’s out in public with all of them without you, and he tries to be gracious and respectful, but the middle two aren’t having it. (“Daddy is handsome, but he likes mommy.” “Yeah, he likes mommy!”)

He’s got to be careful about what he says around the kids, because they sure do love to gossip. They’ll even rat him out to you accidentally. 

Look, he knows that Connie has been his friend since they were teenagers. That does not mean Jean is willing to trust him with any of your kids. You gotta convince him that, yeah, Connie is a little… wild sometimes, but he wouldn’t let any of your kids get hurt. 

Connie essentially becomes the resident cool uncle, and a little part of Jean is happy and relieved that he turns out to be a reliable babysitter, but he can also admit to being a little jealous whenever the kids come back from Connie’s house and wont shut-up about how “fun and cool” Uncle Connie is. (It’s not coincidence that soon after, Jean usually plans some fun family activity, as if he feels the need to prove himself). 

Nothing drives him crazier than knowing that your first son wants to be “just like Uncle Armin” when he grows up. Armin’s smart and cool and everything, but he’s not that great. (“You don’t wanna grow up to be a nerd, kid—ouch!” “Jean, stop calling Armin a nerd, you’re a grown man.”)

Connie is the cool uncle, and Armin has some favoritism in the house, but Aunt Sasha puts them all to shame. All four of your kids idolize her, even your newborn, you swear you see his eyes sparkle when Sasha holds him. Sasha can do no wrong in their eyes, and they love love love being around her. 

Endless amounts of pictures and videos of you with the kids on his phone. He scrolls through them on his lunch breaks, and even drives to see you when he has a little extra time in the day. He loves having photos of your little family with him always. 

His favorite thing is coming home from work and hearing all the footsteps running to the door to greet him. He swears having you and his kids welcome him home is the best feeling in the world. 

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chisaki’s fem!S/O being kidnapped

Someone please stop me from writing for the villains. I think I have an obsession or something-

Okay so, first of all, he most likely had an arranged marriage with his S/O as a way to make a contract with her father who was an amazing underground Quirk researcher, so of course, Chisaki wanted to make sure the man only helps HIM and nobody else, so what better way?

The girl, he later found out, was much of a genius in many ways, like hacking, seducing, information gathering, science and so on, which she self-taught, having been locked up in her house for so long by her father who only ever wanted to use her as a deal-breaker.

It all started when she saw Mimic, the first person she got along with really well from the very beginning, struggling while trying to hack into an important database, so she offered her help and easily hacked into the program and explained everything in detail so her could understand the more abstract ways of coding, and since then, Chisaki let those two go out of the hideout  together so the girl could see and enjoy the freedom that she deserves but never got the chance to have.

It took a long time for the both of them to become truly attached to one another, but it was the cute, subtle ways in which they showed their love that was truly attractive. It was the caring looks they gave each other, the protective hand-holding and the warm hugs they shared that made a strong bond between their once cold as ice, frozen hearts that knew nothing of the warm feeling of love.

On one lovely day of Spring she went out to the Starbucks in the town center with her childhood friend, a girl with whom she hasn’t been in contact with for a long time, but they got along really well back in the days and decided to catch up and gossip all day long.

As she was drinking her beverage, she spilled a bit of cake on herself, so laughing, she excused herself from the table and went to the bathroom to clean herself up. There, she looked at her phone to check for any missed calls or messages, which she saw were flooding, from both Chisaki and Mimic. Curious, she called Mimic back since he seemed the most frantic to get a hold of her, for some reason.

Y/N: Yes, Raffa? Mimic: GOODNESS GRACIOUS, WOMAN, WHY DO YOU HAVE A PHONE IF YOU DON’T USE IT?! Y/N: Uhh Sorry, it was on silent mode. I forgot to change that this morning. Mimic: Arrghhh nevermind!! Are you okay?! Y/N: Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be? Mimic: There’s a killer on the loose, dammit!! Y/N: Like...You and Chisaki? Mimic: I’M NOT JOKING, Y/N-

But he was cut off by Chisaki calling and the girl accepted the call, making that a group-call.

Chisaki: Where are you? Y/N: The local Starbucks. Wait, I’ll share my location with you- Chisaki: Keep the GPS on at all costs and make sure to hide your phone and have it at you at all times. Y/N: Yes, okay, but guys, can you tell me what’s going on?! Mimic: There’s this serial killer chick that is targeting some super boss yakuza leaders and one of them is- Chisaki: Me. Y/N: And what does it have to do with me? Mimic: We...We think that she knows of your connection to us and especially Chisaki. Y/N: How could she? We’ve never been out in the public or anything of the sort. Besides, I’ve always been extra careful when posting stuff on my social media. Mimic: I know, I was there to check them with you, but we don’t know why or how, but she might be targeting you. Y/N: Do you have a picture with her or something so I can be on the lookout? Or please make it fast, my friend might suspect something. Chisaki: Friend...? You are not alone? Y/N: Goodness, no, it’d have been boring to go out alone. An old friend contacted me again and asked to meet up. Mimic: Uh...Does this picture look famili- Y/N: *gasps* Th-That’s...That’s...M-My... Chisaki: That is your friend, isn’t she? Y/N: Y-Yeah...B-But...Do you know if she’s affiliated with anyone? Mimic: She might be affiliated with some underground people. Y/N: Only my father knew of our arrangements...My father...My father wants me dead. Just great! Freaking fantastic! Chisaki: Keep calm, Y/N. If she finds out that you know about her plan, she’s going to proceed with her plan much faster. Y/N: Yeah...Just great. Now I’m scared to think that she might have poisoned my drink. Chisaki: She wouldn’t. She needs you alive if she wants to blackmail me and use you as a bait. Y/N: That’s far more reassuring. Chisaki: Can you jump out of the window? Y/N: No...It’s much too tiny.  Chisaki: Then go back to her and act as if nothing happened. We are on our way there. Y/N: Yeah, sure, no problem. Totally not freaking out. Mimic: Y/N you taught me how to be a better gangster and refine my skills, okay? You are far better than me at this, so use your skills of deceiving people and act as natural as possible so she won’t pick up on anything. Y/N: *sighs* Okay, fine. The GPS is on. I’ll hide my phone and keep this group convo on going so you can hear what we’re saying, but I’ll be putting it on mute so no sounds from your end will be heard around here and make it suspicious, okay? I’ll tell her I let my phone at home to charge. Chisaki: That’s my smart girl. Stay strong, we’re going to be there soon. Y/N: *nods* Roger that.

Sighing and running a hand through her hair, she closed her phone’s screen and hid it in her bra, thanking whatever possessed her to wear a nice and large sweater so the phone won’t be visible no matter what.

She put on her vixen face and acted as natural as she could and went to ramble about how annoying it is to get the stains off such a nice cardigan, but what surprised her was when her friend asked her if she could use her phone to call someone. She blinked in confusion and smiled at her apologetically, saying how she forgot to charge it the previous night and that she left without it, letting it plugged for the day. 

What was a bit shocking, however, was how her friend’s face twisted in rage for a split second before she gripped the girl’s wrist weirdly tight and forcefully dragged her out of Starbucks, saying how they need to leave for the day. The girl only gulped and tried to struggle, saying how she doesn’t understand her friend’s unexpected behaviour, but the friend only got angrier and slapped her friend before putting a chloroform napkin on her face, making her faint since she couldn’t hold her breath for too long.

Of course, by the time she woke up she was in a dark cell, only a lamp above her lighting up the sombre place. She got up quickly and rushed to the bar door, trying to see if it was locked or if she could somehow unlock it with a hair pin... No chance.

Chisaki, Mimic and Chrono found themselves in front of the enemy hideout and strode inside nonchalantly, pissed off beyond belief, as Chisaki looked as stoic as ever, only unleashing his rage by using his Quirk on everyone who dared stay in his path.

As he got in front of the cage, he easily destroyed the bars, only to see his semi-conscious S/O, several cuts on her face, who knows how many other bruises on her body, being held by her hair, on her knees, by the person she once called a friend, a knife at her throat.

“Now, now, look who decided to show up! How did you find us, young Yakuza leader~?” asked the enemy with a sly grin on her face. “Her phone GPS, of course.” Chrono replied in a low, threatening voice as if it was as clear as the day light. “Phone...? What phone?! She has no phone at her! I checked her bag and pockets!” she yelled, enraged. “My bra, you idiot...Why do you think I kept...Crossing my arms to my chest...? If you somehow hit the phone with you...Stupid boots then it was bye-bye for me...” the victim tried so say in a weak voice, occasionally stopping to cough some blood. “You...! YOU LITTLE BITCH! YOU LIED TO ME!!” the kidnapper shouted at her, putting a hand on her throat and squeezing it, making the poor girl gasp for air. “S-So did...You...” she managed to choke out. “It’s over now. Give up and return her to me.” Chisaki said, his eyes holding a burning fire, barely able to keep himself composed. “You think I got through all this trouble to just peacefully return her? How stupid can you be?! I think I’d like to have a little more fun with dear Y/N here-” she said, but was quickly interrupted when she tried to move but realised her movements were extremely lethargic and it confused her to no end.

At the same time, her knife suddenly jumped out of her grasp and went next to Chisaki, making it obvious that Chrono’s and Mimic’s jobs were done there. “Wh-What did you do to me?! Freaks!” the enemy asked, her hand still around the girl’s throat, but no longer posing as a danger. “As I said, it’s over. You were so busy letting anger take over you that you lost focus of your surroundings. Chrono touched you with his hair and Mimic’s mind went inside the knife. Now...It’s my turn.” with that, he went to the two girls and grabbed a fistful of the enemy’s hair, dragging her away from her beloved and kicked her in the face with his combat book as hard as he could, slamming her in the wall in the process.

“Chrono, Mimic, bring this unclean filth to the base. If I use my Quirk on her it’d be meaningless. Also...Arrange a meeting with Y/N’s father. I think a discussion between a husband and his father-in-law would be very important now.” “It shall be done” said Chrono, as he dragged the unconscious one away.

Chisaki grabbed a napkin from his pocket and kneeled in front of his wife, one hand on her face and the other trying to wipe away the dirt and blood from it, tenderly.

“Thanks for saving me, Chisaki. I’d be dead without you.” she whispered, a small smile on her face. “You got involved because of me. It shouldn’t have happened.” he said, closing his eyes. “Sorry for the trouble. I’ll try to be more careful.” she said, leaning in his touch. “I’ll make sure that never happens again. Let’s go home for now.” with that, he picked her up bridal style, making her smile softly and snuggling to him all the way back to their own hideout, where he made sure to make her as comfortable as possible as she healed herself, thanks to her amazing Healing-Water Quirk.

When night came and the girl was in her nightgown, messing around on social media on her phone, Chisaki went in their room, putting his mask carefully on the table and changing in his sleeping wear before getting in bed next to her, thing that never happened before since he was always too busy and preferred to stay alone with his work.

He said nothing as he watched her looking at him, surprised to see him there and putting her phone on the nightstand.

“Chisaki? Are you okay?” she asked, worry dripping from her sweet, angelic voice. “You seem to have completely healed. Your Quirk is something useful in this world.” he muttered, examining every inch of her body to see if he could spot any little bruise. “It is,I suppose. But if I were in your place, I wouldn’t have been able to save you.” she said with a half-grin. “Come here.” he mumbled, his eyes boring deep into her soul.

She complied, scuttering over to him, but to her surprise, he got her into a very tight embrace, stroking her hair, his heartbeat visibly calming down. She then realised that he was worried sick and this was his way of being 100% certain that what was happening was real and that she was really safe and sound, in his arms, a pulse still beating. She could only grin and cuddle to him, putting the blanket over them and kissing him lightly on the lips, saying soothing, reassuring words to him.

For the first time since they got married they slept in the same room, together, two heartbeats forming into one as he continued stroking her hair, not being able to sleep that night in fear that something might happen and she will be snatched away from his grasp once again.

He won’t ever let that happen again. His angel will never ever be stolen away from him. He made a mistake that almost endangered her, but no more. He knew what was to be done and made sure either Chrono or Mimic were with her at all times when she was to go out of the hideout, no matter what.

He will protect his beloved wife, Y/N, at all costs. Y/N is his.

Forever.

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 2.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 6971

Ch 1 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 ||  AO3

Emily was buried in the morning.

They chose the church yard for  her final resting place. The grave was too shallow, and there was no casket. Just a bedsheet, white and clean, and some flowers laid across her body. No one spoke any memorable words. Helena said a sermon from the Bible, ironic for the fact that Emily had been Buddhist, and that was it. They buried her, people cried, and then they went home.

Over  the next few days, cards and handwritten letters showed up around Emily's grave. Campbell brought a few flowers from the front yard, and Harry brought one of his sister's teddy bears. It felt right to show some sort of solidarity. Soon, there were candles and other things left  behind, too. Campbell wondered if anyone would leave tokens at his grave, if he died. Not that he'd care, but it was a morbid little thought, nonetheless.

People hid in their houses, for the most part. Emily's death seemed to solidify what was happening. They weren't  home, they weren't going to be magically saved; that was something else  to be grieved. Harry coped by throwing parties. He never invited Campbell. Not anymore. Campbell knew it was because drugs were involved,  but whatever. Elle would come over in the morning for coffee, anyways.  She wouldn't talk much or stay long, but she'd give him a hug before  leaving. For just a little while, it'd soothe the strange pit in  Campbell's chest.

In the ten days that followed, Cassandra stopped by twice. Once to get some of Sam's things, once to take the food rations he'd stolen for Sam. They didn't speak. Cassandra was pissed. Whatever. He was used to people being fed up with him. At least  on day ten, Campbell got a text from Harry, inviting him to the gazebo.  Apparently, Lexie and some friends of hers were trying to channel God or  something.

They're talking to a stack of rocks, Harry said. You gotta see it.

Campbell  couldn't resist. He found Harry, and the two watched the bizarre spectacle unfolding on the green. Sure enough, Lexie and several others  had gathered up rocks, stacked them, and were sitting in a circle around  them while chanting. He almost felt bad for staring, but Cassandra,  Allie, Helena, and Gordie were in the gazebo and staring just as much.

After  twenty minutes or so, Harry gently prodded Campbell in the chest with  his phone. "Hey, there's a game of Fugitive tonight. It's gonna be the  biggest one yet. You in?"

"Yeah, sure," Campbell replied. He'd rather piss on an electric fence. "Whatever."

"Look,  I know I've been kind of a dick these last few days. But I miss my friend, you know. We've always been partners in crime, haven't we?"

Campbell  looked over at Harry. The poor fuck had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. He hadn't been taking care of himself at all. It was enough that Campbell wanted to tell Harry to get a shower, and then they'd talk, but... Partners in crime. Campbell had long ago given  up on the idea of Harry ever desiring him, and now Campbell had Elle to  focus on, but when Harry batted those goddamn eyelashes of his and used  that tone? Impossible to resist.

"Yeah, yeah," Campbell murmured. "Forgiven."

Harry  leaned against him, just a little. It was almost enough to distract Campbell from the absurdity that was Lexie attempting to throat sing, but then several people began to shout and point upwards towards the sun. Campbell glanced up, just a bit. Enough to notice that something was happening. He turned the screen of his phone towards the sun. In the  reflection, he could see a dark circle oozing across the face of the  star.

"We asked for a sign!" Lexie yelled.

Her rock-stacking buddy, genius that he was, stared up directly at it. "What does it mean?"

Gordie  saved the day, luckily. "It doesn't mean anything. It's a fucking solar  eclipse. It's not a sign, it's a predictable astronomical event." His  tone turned pointed as he looked at the guy. "Just don't stare at it,  and we'll be fine."

Of course, some people kept staring at it.  Campbell waited until it went completely dark, and the air turned cold;  Harry let out a soft gasp, and Campbell looked up. Totality. It was  beautiful and eerie. The sky was dark, the moon was dark, and around it  was a halo of bright light. It stayed that way for a long, long minute  and a half, before the "diamond" appeared along the side of the moon. It  was ending. Campbell looked away, and soon daylight returned to the  world.

"Shit," Harry whispered.

Campbell nudged Harry.  "C'mon. Like Gordie said, man, it's nothing. Let's go get breakfast and  leave Lexie and the God Squad to freak out."

Harry nodded,  following as Campbell led them to the small coffee shop downtown. It was  easy enough to pick the lock and disable the alarm; Harry had worked  there the last few months, and could make one mean coffee. They found  some of the frozen sandwiches and heated them up, sitting down at the  little table near the window.

"Been a while since we just hung out," Harry said as he sipped his drink. "How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been keeping myself busy."

"I heard you kicked Sam out."

Campbell groaned. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?"

"Cold move, dude."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we don't have to explain shit to each other if we don't feel like it, huh?"

"Whatever you say. I just think it's gotta suck being in that big house by yourself."

"Yeah?"  Campbell picked the sausage off his sandwich and tossed it onto Harry's  plate. He smiled, taking a bite and leaning forward. "Hey, how are  things going with Kelly these days?"

Harry lifted his hands in a  gesture of peace. "Point taken, okay? Damn." He let out a long, slow  sigh. "But if you actually care, I don't know. We haven't talked much. I  keep thinking maybe she's just pissed and will come around when she's  done being pissed."

"Good luck. Chick knows how to hold a grudge."

"Don't be rude. She's sweet."

Campbell  shrugged. He felt the familiar, possessive spark burn to life; he didn't want to talk about Kelly. She was smart, she was gracious. She was polite and elegant and the perfect sort of woman for a politician. Senator Bingham and his lovely wife. They really would have made a pretty picture. But did she know him? Did she see him as he was, and love him anyways? Of course not, but still, he chased after her.

The  bell above the door jingled. Speak of the devil, Campbell thought as Kelly walked in. Her eyes were cold when she noticed him, but she still  strode over. "Could I get a coffee?" she asked, turning her gaze to Harry. "If you're not busy."

Harry's spine immediately evaporated. "Oh, sure. Yeah."

"I  had to get going anyways," Campbell added. He stood and pushed between  them, heading to the door. Campbell paused at the door and flashed Harry  his brightest smile. "Lemme know when you find those balls you were  missing."

There was no point waiting for an answer. Campbell  headed out, wandering the streets and trying to figure out what to do.  He could break into the arcade, steal the quarters, and start a lucrative career in 8-bit gaming. Grizz and his crew were out on the football field. He probably could weasel his way in with them, especially since Grizz seemed almost friendly. Or maybe he could go convert the golf course outside of town into a community garden; Cassandra hadn't taken him up on that whole screw-grass-plant-food idea  yet. He just felt itchy, and he knew that meant trouble if he couldn't  find a productive outlet.

"Campbell?"

He stopped, pulled from his thoughts. Elle was behind him. She was in a nice black and white dress, hair gleaming and just a touch of make-up on. Campbell tilted his head. "Hey, Elle. Going somewhere?"

Elle pursed her lips. "I was thinking about it. Helena's speaking at the church."

"You're Christian?"

"I don't know what I am anymore."

"Would you like me to walk you? I was heading that way."

"Yeah?" That managed to get a small smile from her, anyways. "I'd like that."

Campbell held out his arm, and Elle took it. "Cute necklace. Ballet slippers?"

"Mhm. My mom got it for me when I had my first solo."

"A solo is kind of a big deal in ballet, isn't it?"

"It is."

"How old were you?"

Elle  blushed a little. "Oh, about seven or so. But then I got the part of the Sugarplum Fairy in my old school's production of The Nutcracker."

"That's impressive."

"Well, I'm no Lauren Cuthbertson, but I try."

"Who?"

By  the time they got to the church, Campbell had been well-schooled on London's Royal Ballet. Elle gave him a curious look when he stopped at the church steps. "You're not coming in?"

"Nah, I kinda get hives around the Bible. I'll wait for you here, okay?"

Elle  shook her head as she went inside. Campbell mulled around for a moment,  before noticing Kyle Jasko sitting on the sidewalk nearby. He was in a  wheelchair thanks to a bad accident when he was young, but he never  seemed too down about it before; now, he looked like he hadn't been  getting any sleep, either.

"Hey, Kyle," Campbell called out in greeting. Kyle's head snapped up. He didn't say anything back. "How's it going?"

Kyle eyed him for a moment. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. The guys in the Guard help me into the church, but I guess they're late."

Campbell  looked from Kyle to the church steps. That wasn't something he'd thought about before. They were basically in a half-hearted apocalypse situation. What was that like for people like Kyle? He knew for a fact that most of the stores had small doors, narrow aisles. A lot of places  only had stairs. Navigating the world was a pain in the ass as it was.  With wheels, it had to be even harder.

The church doors opened, and one teen wandered out. A few seconds later, Cassandra followed. For a  second, Campbell was surprised to see her; it had been a good five years since Cassandra had gone to anything resembling a sermon. Then again, people were doing all sorts of desperate things these days.

Cassandra  startled a bit when she saw him, but then kept walking, eyes far away.  Distracted. She didn't really look at him, but she slowed her walk so that he could keep up. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I walked Elle over." He peered over at her, trying to read her face. She had her  mask up, though, and even he couldn't figure that out. "Message not for  you?"

"Yeah, oddly enough I'm still not into church services. Not  a lot of people are buying what Helena's selling. They're starting to  lose hope."

"I think people are doing pretty well under the circumstances, don't you?"

"For  now, but we both know that won't last. Once reality settles in, I'm worried what they're going to start doing." Cassandra frowned. "People who are scared and alone can do terrible things."

"Well, at least we're not alone. You and I are some of the lucky ones. You've got Allie and I've got Sam."

"You had Sam."

Campbell  stopped, lightly grabbing Cassanda's arm. She looked at him, finally, and it was cutting. So, that was it. She was pissed off. "He told you what happened."

"Of course he did." She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Campbell, how could you?"

"You  know I'm not going to be able to play by the rules you want everyone else to play by. If I get Sam out of there now, if people think I turned  on him, no one will question why I'm in a home by myself. Besides. I  care about Sam, but I can't take care of him. I can't give him what you  can."

"Fine, but I hope you realize you can't get through this all on your own."

"I've  got Harry. Elle, maybe." Campbell hesitated. Hard to tell where they stood, at this point, but he was willing to hedge his bets. "And I've got you."

Cassandra crossed her arms. She let out a little, irritated breath of air, but the look in her eyes had softened. "You do  have me."

"You're right, anyways. We can't go on like this. We have to figure some things out. Make some rules."

"You almost had me fooled, that night in the church."

"C'mon, as if I'd really hurt you. I did what I had to do. You know who's with you and against you, now."

"True  enough." Another kid left the church. Cassandra led them to the bench nearby; they sat back to back, like then did when they were younger, leaning against each other. "So, you're on board, then?"

"Idle hands are going to be a big problem eventually. The thing is, who's gonna decide the rules, you know? Who has all the power? That'll be interesting."

"You?"

"No," Campbell chuckled. "Fuck that. No, I'm just the idea guy."

"And what ideas do you have?"

"Lawns."

Cassandra's tone turned incredulous. "Lawns."

"We're  gonna need food sources. Lawns are useless wastes of space and water."  It was a rich people luxury that they couldn't afford. Not anymore. "Rip  them up. Get seed packets from the stores and start planting. Also,  Kyle really needs some ramps for his wheelchair. Just saying."

Bringing  out her phone, Cassandra tapped something out. "I'll talk to Grizz and  the others about it. It might be too late to plant anything, but Clark  and Jason were in wood shop. They must be able to use a hammer."

"Cool."  Campbell closed his eyes, soaking up the feeling of the sun on his skin  and breathing in the smell of flowers. Waiting. But she didn't say  anything else. She was waiting, too, and she was never the first to cave. "How is Sam?"

"Mm. He's hurting. He misses you, I think, but he'd never admit to it." Her tone turned dry. "It's something you two have in common, as it turns out."

"So, we both got the stubborn gene. What the hell am I supposed to do about any of this, long-term?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you think it's a bad idea. You have that vibe."

"I do not."

"Do so."

Cassandra  shifted, sitting up and pulling away so she could turn to face him. "Fine. I think there are other ways we could keep you both safe. But if  you really are going to do it like this, just... Don't come around for a  while. I think you both need time to think things through."

Campbell  opened his mouth to argue, but then people started coming out of the church. "Looks like Helena's lecture is over. I better go get Elle."

"Of course. Thanks for the suggestions."

Nodding,  Campbell turned and headed towards the small crowd of people gathering  on the front steps of the church. His eyes found Elle. She was at the edge of the crowd, eyes down and face drawn. She looked lost. Sad. Still, as he approached, she looked up; her hair shone gold in the sunlight, and her blue-green eyes sparkled faintly. Absolutely gorgeous.  Campbell smiled at her and offered his hand. She took it, and they  began to make their way back towards Elle's home.

"Bleak service," Elle muttered. "Maybe the other kids are right. We're gonna die here."

"Maybe,  maybe not. Doesn't do much good to worry about it, though, right? Like  Cassandra said. We need to just focus on preparing for the long haul."

"How do you keep yourself from freaking out?"

"Lots  and lots of distractions. Speaking of which, Harry said there's a game  of Fugitive tonight. Wanna come? Might take your mind off things."

Elle cocked her head. "What's Fugitive?"

"Like  tag, with cars." Campbell grinned as she shot him a worried look. "No,  you don't run people over. Fugitives run on foot towards a safe zone, and cops hunt for them in cars. One cop drives and the other cop is the  runner. The runners chase down and tag fugitives. It's whatever, but it's something to do."

"Maybe. Sounds a little too intense for me."

"I'll text you the location, if you change your mind. We're starting at ten."

"Alright."

Campbell  sent her the information, but his phone buzzed with a new text a split  second after. Sam. He bit his lip at the preview. Can we talk? Maybe Cassandra had said something, but that seemed unlike her where Sam was concerned. Sure, Campbell finally texted back. Where are you?  A few moments later, and Sam sent a picture of himself posing with a pair of deer antlers. So, their dad's office. "Jesus christ."

"What's wrong?"

"Sam wants to see me. I should go."

"I thought you two were fighting?" Elle shrugged as Campbell glanced up at her. "Gossip travels fast."

"Figures. I bet the town is having a field day with it."

"That you're a homophobic dickbag that kicked out your deaf brother? Yep."

"I deserve that, I guess. It's just not the full story."

Elle  curled her arms around herself. She studied his face a moment, then gave a small nod. "Maybe you can tell me about the full story after Fugitive."

It was a chance to explain. Campbell reached out and touched her shoulder; she didn't pull away. "Thanks. You gonna be okay By yourself?"

"Oh, I've managed before. Good luck with Sam."

Hopefully  he wouldn't need much luck. It was a long walk to the office, which meant a lot of time to think about all the possible scenarios and ways things could play out. When he arrived, though, Sam was surrounded by boxes and up to his eyeballs in paper. Campbell flopped down in one of the office chairs. Sam jumped at the sudden movement, nearly dropping a  folder, and for a split second Campbell almost felt bad. Maybe it'd teach the kid to be more aware of his surroundings, anyways.

"You  rang, Sammy?" Campbell asked. Sam stared at him, shoulders hunched a little. He didn't answer. "Seriously. I'm not gonna bite. What are you doing here?"

Sam still didn't answer right away, but then he swallowed hard and let out a long sigh. "I'm trying to figure out why we're here. In this place."

"Any luck?"

"First one is a letter from some guy named Pfeiffer demanding $1.5 million for the smell  removal." Sam picked up two papers and handed them to Campbell. "The  other is a response, refusing to pay, signed by dad and Uncle Rogers.  It's dated the day before we were taken."

Campbell took the  papers and skimmed. It was actually worse than that; they had payed, but  then they'd cancelled the check. They had purposefully screwed the guy  over. "What do you think it means?"

"The smell, us being taken on the buses. It has to mean something. They have to be related some way. Maybe, I don't know."

Interesting,  and definitely suspicious; it reminded Campbell of something, though he  wasn't sure what. It didn't matter. Campbell focused on the inevitable  outcome if those letters were ever discovered. "You have to destroy  those papers."

"What? No."

"Fucking destroy them. Don't you get it? We're going to be blamed for this."

"What does that mean? We just want to know the truth."

"You're  a fucking dipshit if you think it's that simple." Campbell ignored the  way Sam straightened and clenched his fists. He just get the hell over  it. "You and I may hate each other, but we still share our father's last  name."

"So what?"

"You think things aren't gonna get bad around here? You think it's all just gonna be one big happy camping trip?"

"Is that why--"

"Look,"  Campbell interrupted. He knew what Sam was going to say, and there was  no way they were gonna have that conversation yet. "If we're stuck in this place, things are gonna get so bad so fucking fast. And you want to  tell people that our family had something to do with this?"

Sam  looked down at the papers, then handed them over. Campbell took them, ripping them into tiny pieces and tossing them into the metal trashcan by the office window. One little flick of a match, and the scraps were up in flames. There was a chance Sam had copies on his phone, but Campbell chose not to push it. Sam's phone needed his fingerprint to get  in, anyways. Whatever was there was probably safe from prying eyes.

"No one else knows," Sam signed. "Not even Cassandra."

"Good. Keep it that way, for now."

"What are we going to do?"

"Keep our heads down and play along until we can find a way home."

As  much as Campbell loved being away from their parents, away from the pointless day to day social rules, it wasn't sustainable unless they found some sort of civilization besides their own. Campbell met Sam's eyes, and pondered saying something. Even just an apology. But Sam was the protagonist of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie-- if Campbell apologized, Sam would want an explanation, and then he'd want to talk.

But then Sam seemed to give up, shuffling his foot on the hardwood floor. "Is that it?"

He'd take the out. "I need a car. Can I have dad's key?"

Sam  hated their dad's car. He took the key off the ring and handed it over,  a tiny hint of relief on his face. "What do you want the car for?"

"Game of Fugitive in an hour." Campbell fiddled with the key for a moment, thinking. "You wanna go? I could use a rider."

It was no surprise that Sam shook his head. "I need to keep looking."

Well,  whatever. Campbell headed towards the door. He stopped just outside of  it, looking over his shoulder; Sam was still watching him, a mournful expression on his face. It sucked, but it wasn't enough to make Campbell  budge. Campbell signed one last thing. Be careful. It was the best he could, or would, do.

The  faces at the Fugitive start point were a lot less somber. People were bouncing, laughing, chattering among small groups. There was one group hanging out near Harry, comprised of some of the people he'd known back  in their real home. He hung around the edges there while he waited for  Harry to show up; they were always Fugitive partners, and now that Kelly  was out of the picture, that sure wasn't going to change this time  around.

One face Campbell didn't see was the one he wanted to see most. Elle wasn't there, not yet. Maybe she wouldn't show, after all.

But  then Harry was hopping up onto the hood of a car, yelling at the growing crowd. "Okay, okay, we're gonna... Hello!" People settled, listening. Harry grinned. "I got some texts saying more folks are coming. We're gonna wait a few minutes before we divide up sides, see who else shows up, so just hang out."

"You look chipper," Campbell said as Harry jumped off the car and sauntered over. "Extra strong coffee?"

"What? I'm my normal self."

"Your normal self isn't chipper."

Harry  opened his mouth to reply, but Campbell slid his arms around Harry's waist before her could. "Woah, what the hell? Campbell, you can't just--"

Campbell's fingers closed around a small baggy in Harry's back pocket. He pulled it out and sighed. "Really? This stuff again?"

"Don't  be a hypocrite. You slipped me pills plenty of times. And besides, it's  not like there's an endless supply. Just one last little party before  it's gone."

"You know how I feel about you getting into the  harder shit." It was bullshit. The occasional painkiller or little bag  of weed wasn't the same as a cocaine addiction. "This is the last of it,  right?"

"Well... No. I have one more at home."

"Harry."

"Campbell."

Whatever  fight was about to start, it was cut short by the arrival of Allie. She  smiled at Harry, and Harry smiled back. Campbell stared. No. No, no  fucking way. "What's she doing here?"

"I invited the town. Besides, I asked her to come with me tonight."

Campbell  kept his mouth shut. Harry's eyes were locked on him, almost daring him  to say something. What was there to say? Harry hated being alone. Of  course he moved on to another hot body before his own got cold. "Don't  do anything stupid and get her hurt. I don't need to hear about it from  Cassandra."

"Yeah, okay," Harry answered. Campbell was viciously  pleased that the bounce had gone out of Harry's step, just a little. A  hollow victory. "Whatever."

Clark came zooming up in an actual  cop car, crowing about how the keys were still in the ignition. For some  reason, no one found that weird as fuck; Campbell refused to get near  the damn thing. They were stuck in some parallel world. A cursed car  didn't seem quite that far-fetched anymore. But Clark, of course,  claimed it for himself and picked someone else as his rider anyways.  Good thing about everyone thinking he was evil-- less people roped him  into their terrible ideas.

Harry had stomped off, dividing up the  crowd and explaining the rules. Campbell tuned him out and scanned the  players one last time. He didn't expect to see Elle, but he caught sight  of a small figure along the outskirts of the group, talking to Grizz.  She'd shown up after all. Campbell felt some spark of happiness, even if  it was dimmed by Harry's bullshit.

The starting horn let out a  shriek, and the fugitives took off. Elle froze, looking over at  Campbell; he grinned as one of the guys yelled at her to get moving, and  she bolted down the street with the others. The evening suddenly looked  a lot more fun.

"Nice car," Grizz said as he wandered over. "Need a partner?"

"Would have thought you'd be someone's rider, Mister Football."

"Pulled something playing with the guys. I can still drive just fine, though."

Campbell  considered the offer, then tossed Grizz the key. It'd be a chance to prod at Grizz about Elle. They climbed into the car to wait for the three minute head start to be over; he watched Grizz familiarize himself  with the car, wondering how to approach the situation. The three  minutes ended and they were out on the road when Campbell decided to  just go for the throat. Just a matter of finding the right opening...

"Hey Campbell, how many miles per gallon does this thing--"

"So, interested in anyone?"

Nailed it.

The  car jerked forward a bit as Grizz's foot slipped and hit the gas. Grizz  glanced over at Campbell for a split second, before focusing intently  on the road. "How do you mean that?"

"You know. Romantically. Sexually. Philosophically."

"Uh, that's kind of... Why do you ask?"

"I saw you chatting to Elle in the parking lot, so I just wondered."

Grizz visibly relaxed. "Oh, oh thank god."

"What?"

"What?"

Squinting, Campbell eyed Grizz but decided to let it go. "So, you're not interested in Elle?"

"Nope.  I don't really know much about her, besides the fact that her family's  from Ireland. Hey, I think I spotted someone down that way. Wanna go?"

The  shift in topic was obvious, but Campbell got the information he wanted.  Time to focus on the game. They peeled down the street, and Campbell  jumped out and raced after a fugitive who was trying to go through a  locked fence. Easy. They gave the fugitive a quick ride to the gazebo--  the 'jail' for the night-- and then headed back out. Five more captured  fugitives later, and they took a quick break.

Grizz sipped a water. "You're good at this."

"Eh,  I was super into maps and history when I was younger. I know pretty much every street here like the back of my hand. Useful for this, anyways."

"Yeah? Where'd the best hiding place be?"

"Hm. There's an alley back behind the old video rental store. There's some bushes and a few other buildings that kind of hide it from view. We could check it out."

"Affirmative."

When they pulled up, it looked like an alleyway from a horror movie. It was dark, and utterly  silent. Campbell opened the door and headed in, despite the fact that  Grizz looked like they were in the Upside Down and he was expecting the  Demigorgon to pop out. Sneaking down towards the back of the store,  Campbell paused when he heard a twig snap; he stopped, watching and  waiting.

A shape moved from the shadows and into a single beam  of light from the streets. It was just enough that Campbell could see a  bit of blonde hair, and the glint off a necklace chain. Campbell  couldn't believe his luck. Elle was right there, mere feet away, and she  hadn't seen or heard him yet. He held his breathe, waiting until her  back was to him. Finally, he moved, grabbing her shoulders.

Elle  yelped, jumping and spinning around. When she saw Campbell, she began to  laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

He couldn't help but laugh a little, himself. "I'm sorry. Are you gonna make it?"

"I suppose." Elle smiled and held out her wrists. "Okay, you can take me to jail."

"I can take you someplace better than jail."

Elle's smile faded. She leaned a little closer. "Well, we did plan to talk after the game. Your place or mine?"

"That's entirely up to you."

"Your place, then."

Campbell  brushed a lock of hair from Elle's face, taking her hand and leading her back to the car. They both hopped into the back seat. "Hey, Grizz. Mind playing chauffeur?"

Grizz peered into the rearview mirror. "Not at all. Clark called to say the game's over in ten, anyways. You two going to Harry's party?"

"Nah, just take us to my house."

"Gotcha."

He  began driving, without asking for directions. Any other night, Campbell  would ask Grizz how he knew the way, but it didn't matter. Elle was  still holding his hand. She was looking at him like she wasn't sure yet  if she actually forgave him or not, but she was coming home with him and  her fingers were laced with his. It meant he had a chance to make  things better.

Grizz parked in the driveway, hopping out and  handing the key back over. He smiled, and gave Elle a little wave.  "Thanks for the game. Have a good evening."

"You, too," Campbell replied. "Night."

Feeling  nervous usually wasn't something Campbell had to worry about, but he did feel a small flicker of uncertainty as he let Elle inside and watched her look around the house. She inspected the books, the art, the  furniture and fixtures. Whatever she saw must have passed the muster,  because she was smiling again when she came back.

"I don't suppose a lady could ask for a beer?"

Campbell snorted. "I've got enough stashed away to last a year. A lady most certainly can have a beer."

She  followed him into the kitchen and perched on one of the stools, resting  her elbows on the countertop. "Well, I'll know where to come in a  drought, then." Elle accepted the beer Campbell fished out of the fridge. "You really do have a beautiful home. Awfully big for one person  though, isn't it?"

Popping open their drinks, Campbell let out a rough exhale. "Yeah, I guess I should try and explain that."

"Probably."

"It's  complicated. I know I shouldn't have said what I said, but..." Campbell  ran a hand through his hair. "You don't know Sam. Our parents doted on  him. He always was the center of attention, especially when he got sick.  Our parents just acted like I was a nuisance. I was always a problem to  get rid of."

"What do you mean?"

"Like... Sam got all the  attention. The newest toys, treats, birthday parties. Mom and dad were  too busy for me, because they had work or because of the baby or because  Sam needed them. And they never really got me anything, because they  said I'd just break it. I couldn't have parties because I was rude to  the other kids."

Elle tilted her head. "Yeah? Did you actually do those things?"

"Well.  Yeah. But they never asked why, you know? I broke things because I got  frustrated, and they just didn't care. I got into fights because it was  the only time I felt like I could let the anger out."

"So, what does that have to do with Sam?"

"It  made me hate him. And I know it's their fault, not his, but it fucked things up between us. I felt like I was always fighting over every scrap  of anything with him. And when we got here, I just... I don't know. I  wanted my own space, my own time. And then they start talking about  sharing homes, and I just... I would hurt people. And I didn't want one  of those people being Sam."

Elle rested her chin on her hand. "You could have just explained that to him, you know."

"No,  because then he'd think that we could just work it out somehow. Even if  he left, everyone else would wonder-- why me, and not them? Why do I  get my own place?" Campbell shook his head. "Then anyone could just claim to be crazy and get their way. No, I had to actually do something.  And most people love Sam and hate me, so it was the best way to prove I  was the monster they thought I was already."

"Well, I don't think you're a monster. A little crazy, maybe," she added with a half smile, "but not a monster."

"Yeah, but it's not the cute kind."

"Then what kind is it?"

Campbell  downed the rest of his beer. He wanted to tell her, warn her off or whatever, but he could remember Cassandra telling him not to let anyone  know. Still. When he looked at Elle, something in him made him think he  could trust her. And if she did react badly, who would she tell? They  were both the town social pariahs. No one cared what they had to say.

But...  He couldn't say it. He opened his mouth to try, but it didn't want to  come out. Instead, he just shrugged and tried to smile. "The kind I  don't talk about until the third date."

"Two more dates to go, then."

"Yeah?"  Campbell blinked. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he could swear Elle was  looking at him a bit warmer than before. Who was he to question it? He  stood up and offered his hand. "Wanna go up to my room? It's comfier  than the kitchen. We could watch a movie or something."

Elle finished off her beer and accepted his hand. "Only if you bring that bottle of wine I saw in the fridge."

It  was just some cheap Barefoot Moscato, but he dutifully grabbed it from  the fridge before heading upstairs. Elle followed him into the room; besides his family and Harry, no one else had ever been inside, and he was suddenly thankful that he kept his space clean and tidy. She explored with the same intensity that she had downstairs, not touching anything but studying everything.

"Did you take these?" she asked, pointing to the black and white photographs above his desk.

"Yeah. 7th grade photography class."

"They're very good. Have you considered getting into photography?"

"It was a thought. It'd give me a chance to see other countries."

Elle  looked to his desk and lightly grazed her fingers over a small globe, the stamps he had out to sort through, a small collection of old books on world maps. "I guess I expected you to be more into video games and posters of women in bikinis than nature shots and world travel."

"I mean, I could whip out Super Smash Bros if you're disappointed."

But  then Elle was right there, curling her arms around him and kissing him.  Campbell froze, just for a split second, before kissing her back. Her  lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberry; when he brushed his  fingers along her cheek, her skin was warm. Campbell had never allowed  himself to get that close to anyone. It had always seemed just out of  reach, but Elle was right there in his arms. His other hand rested on  her hip, and that was when she yanked back. Moment gone.

"I'm going home. This was a mistake."

Campbell lifted his hands. "Woah, woah. Hey. I didn't mean to upset you again. I thought we were having fun."

"I don't want to have fun."

"Elle,  I don't understand what's going on here. I promised I wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with, but you kinda seemed into this."

"Yeah, well I'm not just some skank, okay?"

"Okay,  okay. I know I made a mistake at the church, but I didn't mean anything  by it this time. It's just where my hand rested. I don't think you're  easy or anything."

Elle brushed past him and headed towards the  door, but then she stopped and turned back. "Why did you pick me? Why do  you keep picking me? You barely know me."

"Because I like you." Campbell sat on the bed, gesturing at the air between them. "Alright, so I don't know you super well, but we're not strangers. I think that we've got a bit in common."

"I like you, too, but I... Look, I don't like being touched like that."

Campbell  bit back the urge to ask. It wasn't his business. He nodded, raising his right hand. "I swear, I won't touch you without asking. Okay? But I  need you to tell me I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm kind of new to this."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Elle looked up at the ceiling, her eyes blinking rapidly. "Can we watch a movie still?"

"Hey, of course. C'mon. You can pick whatever you want. Our DVD collection has thrilling titles like Lord of the Rings, Top Gun, and Frozen."

"Frozen, seriously?"

"Don't hate on Frozen. It's a beautiful movie about familial love and self-acceptance."

Elle  sniffled and laughed at the same time, coming over and sinking on the bed next to Campbell. They were cuddled up and halfway through Let It Go  when the thunderstorm rolled in; the lights flickered, and Elle pressed  a tiny bit closer, and closer still when the power went out completely.

"Don't worry," Campbell tried to assure. "They'll be back on by the time the movie's over."

"How do you figure? Who's gonna fix it?"

"We've  been here two weeks without anyone at the power plant. Wherever we are,  whatever this is, I have to believe that it'll right itself."

"I wish I was that confident."

Campbell  looked over at Elle, the glow of the DVD player illuminating her taut,  worried expression. "You're safe here with me. I want you to know that. I  won't let anything hurt you."

Her eyes shone as she turned her face to him. "Do you think I need someone to protect me?"

"I don't know. I need someone. I think maybe you do, too."

"Maybe." Elle rested her head on his shoulder. "Can I have some wine?"

They  passed the bottle back and forth for a little while, until Elle shook her head when he offered it back. He set it aside; it wouldn't do any good to get drunker than her. Not again. "Pleasantly warm" was a good place to stop. What wasn't pleasant was that, by the time the movie was  over, the rain was still pouring and the power wasn't back on. He tried  not to think of what that meant in terms of frozen and refrigerated  food, and focused on the fact that Elle had fallen asleep against him.

"Hey." He gently nudged her with his elbow. "It's late. Do you want me to drive you home?"

Elle stirred, but didn't move. "Can I stay here? I don't wanna be alone."

"Yeah, no problem. You can stay here and get comfy. I'll use one of the other beds."

"No. Don't go."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

Campbell  felt torn. Elle was half asleep, and probably a little tipsy. Was she making a choice she'd normally make? But if she really didn't want to be  alone, then he didn't want to make her upset. Waking up to find someone  gone didn't sound like anything he wanted to put someone through. After  a few moments of deliberation, Campbell carefully lowered Elle to the  bed and tucked her in with a quilt. It was warm and a bit muggy from the  storm, so hopefully a light blanket would be good enough.

Stretching  out on his side of the bed, Campbell kept his distance as much as  possible. He was just about asleep himself when a loud crack of  lightning rang out over the house, rattling the windows. Elle mumbled  something, shifting around until she was curled up at Campbell's back,  one arm slung over his waist.

Never pictured being the little  spoon, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes. But for someone like  Elle, he could see himself getting used to it.

[yvvjin-blog]

hey wassup hello ! laughs bitterly because i ended up going out of town for the day, so i wasn’t able to write any of this up until now ahh, but here i am~ i’m vera, 18, from the cst timezone, and i’d like to love y’all down with introduce my precious bub oh yoojin. their stats can be found here and their plots can be found here (when i actually get to writing them, woops). this rp seems super fun, and i’m so excited to share some good times. ♡ let’s plot !

is that YOO JEONGHYUN ? oh no it’s just OH YOOJIN. the 20 year old NON-BINARY is already known as the RENEGADE around jinhae. THEY/THEM + SHE/HER + HE/HIM has been said to be CLEVER but careful they can also be RECKLESS. they are a FREELANCE WEB PROGRAMMER and if you want to find them they’re currently living in 125.

tw: death, car accident, intolerance (towards gender identity). 

note on pronouns: they don’t have an exact preference, but will correct another if they desire a certain gender expression to be acknowledged. although, tends to go along with “she/her” slightly more in public because they often express themselves with aspects of femininity. overall, internally thinks to self as “they” but some days, “he” feels better or “she” might feel better. they don’t stress much on it, so your muse shouldn’t either ! ♡ their main problem with their mother was the fact that she wouldn’t acknowledge yoojin’s gender fluidity as legitimate.

》》 * ✰. — BIO

born in the united states to a mother who was a nurse and a father who was a high school teacher (they met in the hospital after the father brought in two teenagers who had fought to the point of needing immediate care, how romantic !!!)

they married and had yoojin, and because of their demanding jobs (mother became a doctor + the father pursued higher education in order to teach at a university), yoojin wasn’t able to spend much time with them

grew up very independent even though they had a good home, it was just that everyone was so damn busy doing their own thing

so they spent a lot of their time doing things on their own too, obsessed with learning and chasing after their own curiosities

all throughout this time, they were beginning to discover more about who their authentic selves were, feeling carefree and supported by the people and environment around her

however, it was during some adventures with school friends that yoojin received a frantic call from their mother

yoojin’s father was in critical condition after being involved in a car crash, hurriedly driving on his way back to the school he taught at after meeting with one of his professors about an assignment

yoojin’s father died after about a week of uncertainty in the same hospital yoojin’s mother was working at, and the family was absolutely devastated

unfortunately, things were no longer quite the same after that. . .

finances were beginning to pile up, and tensions started to rise between yoojin and their mother

their mother wasn’t all that supportive of the way yoojin was expressing their gender identity

as much as yoojin excelled in school, they were also too excitable and disinterested in it and it had begun to affect their grades

and overall, they both didn’t exactly allow themselves to have a healthy mourning period after the death of yoojin’s father, ignoring much of their feelings in an attempt to move on together for the sake of keeping some semblance of positivity and normalcy in their lives 

the decision was also made by yoojin’s mother, very much against their will, to pull yoojin out of school altogether, opting to homeschool them instead

“ you know what you need to do. you’re smart, yoojin. it’ll help mommy out a lot if you could just. . . cooperate. ”

and so they did // to say the least, it affected them negatively, since they were still a bit young during all of this, and yoojin was slowly edging away from the bright person they naturally were, feeling stuck and suffocated by the changes

although, as much as they tried to put up with the new life, they eventually snapped during a confrontation with their mom when she started to put further pressure on yoojin about their future, strongly implying she would be taking yoojin under her wing in order to pursue a career in the medical field

it was an intense moment where shoved-away problems between the two resurfaced, overwhelming both in fits of screaming and crying that ultimately ended in quiet anger and another important decision this time made by YOOJIN:

“ i’m going to korea. ”

“ . . . ”

“ . . . ”

“ well. say hello to your grandparents for me. ”

and that was that.

yoojin took care of the preparations: contacting their grandparents in order to stay with them until they could find a way to manage on their own, compiling the necessary documents for a stable move, finding possible jobs, etc.

besides, they had already started the process secretly a while back as they became increasingly determined to live a life where they could be happy again

they made the move and hasn’t turned back since !!!

》》 * ✰. — ABOUT

contrary to what their background might imply, yoojin is extremely happy-go-lucky, especially now that they feel comfortable in their own skin

they quite frankly don’t give weight to others’ opinions of them anymore

very intelligent and curious, having the freedom to focus on the things they were interested in, so they kept learning lots for the heck of it and is good at it

after working a couple of odd jobs here and there as a temp, they ultimately decided to fuck it all and form up a nice client list and build a website to offer freelance web-programming services for people

is lowkey making real good money like this, but bub still lives that low-maintenance life and just wants to enjoy experiences with good friends and people

ilys tech so much, like will legit go heart eyes and talk forever about it if you let them

a goofball, likes to look on the bright-side, super puppy-like personality and memelord

is a lil shit when it comes to embarrassing the people they’re close with, like oh, you like that person ? lemme get you a date real quick, heY STUD~*~*~

even though they were raised in the u.s., they’re fluent in korean and english because their parents were determined that they would be bilingual

surprisingly, unlike with their mother, they’ve had more luck and empathy coming from their grandparents and would do anything to make them happy

goodness gracious this is all so long so i’m going to end it here bc hot damn thank you for reading wow !!!

[selenaxnewf]

“You can talk to my assistant about scheduling interviews.” When she’d initially brushed a reporter off after the season opener, Selena wholeheartedly believed that she managed to circumnavigate a potential disaster. She wasn’t opposed to giving interviews -- - truth be told, she should have been more liberal with her time during the 2017 season - -- but she had a full schedule and had yet to figure out a way to find time to lick her wounds. A more careful approach to press-related functions was out the window, however, when her assistant proudly chirped that she had ‘scheduled that interview you wanted!’

Unfortunately, no amount of animosity toward the girl could prevent the interview from taking place. The schedule was set and Selena hosted the interviewer from Witch Weekly with a gracious smile and the insistence that it was no trouble -- - no trouble at all, dear! - -- to answer a few questions from the comfort of her office.

Are you happy with the way the quidditch season is going so far?

“I-- -” Shock gives way to humor as Selena leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You did see the last game, didn’t you? I can’t say I’m happy with a loss.” Who would be? A smile is attempted but abandoned as she leans forward, elbows planted on mahogany so can lace her fingers and rest her chin atop the cradle of her digits. “I will say that I’m over the moon with how the team’s responded to the loss, though. Our next match is going to go very differently, I think. Then again, I might be biased.” Smile. Wink. Breathe.

What words would you use to describe yourself?

So it’s one of those interviews, then? She doesn’t falter, but she makes a show of considering the options presented. “What’s the word everyone likes to use? Ah, right -- - intense.” She’s playing to her audience now, showing her distaste with a well-placed shake of her head and a wrinkled nose to boot. “I prefer passionate. Intense is the kind of thing men say about women who refuse to be silenced. But, at any rate, I think I’m passionate. Shrewd, when I need to be. I like to think I’m funny, but doesn’t everybody? Overall, I’d say I’m smart and ambitious.” Nothing wrong with that.

If you could change one aspect of your personality, what would it be?

Rude. She hides her disgust by leaning back in her chair, passing her thumb under her lower lip while she contemplates a question she knows the answer to. “I’d like to be a more relaxed person, I think.” As if her morning was spent doing anything other than sipping mimosas with Cordelia, laughing about the idea of giving an interview. “I throw myself into projects and take it personally when things don’t turn out quite the way I want them to. That’s difficult with quidditch, since I can’t control what happens on the pitch. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t often think about last year’s cup and the moves I could’ve made.”

Briefly talk about a defining moment in your life. What made it so important?

Her throat tightens, though she hides it with all the practiced ease of a woman who’s done hundreds of interviews and expects to do a hundred more. “Did you know I once tried to break into the Shrieking Shack?” Is that shock on the interviewer’s face, or is it fear? Either way, Selena smiles. “I did. When I was a sixth year at Hogwarts, a friend of mine and I tried to sneak our way into the Shrieking Shack. And you know what we found?” She leans forward, all smiles as the poor journalist meets her intensity. “Nothing.” A beat, “Absolutely nothing. No ghosts. No curses. Bit disappointing, really. But it taught me that most things are only as scary as we make them.” She shrugs, confident that embellishments won’t be properly researched by Witch Weekly. “At the end of the day, the Shrieking Shack was just an old building. The detention and losing the house cup was worth it to learn that there was no reason to pay any attention to the eyesore.”

If you weren’t involved in the quidditch scene, what kind of job do you would have?

“Am I supposed to tell you I’d go back to being a housewife?” Selena purses her lips a the interviewer across from her blushes a deep scarlet. And why shouldn’t she? It’s an insulting question, at best; a sad attempt to get a sound byte, at worst. Selena crosses her legs, leans back and scrutinizes the interviewer while weighing the pros and cons of firing her assistant as soon as the interview comes to a close. “I toyed with being an auror.” It’s the shock that Selena hates -- - the raised brows and slacked jaws that say ‘you could be an auror?!’ But she indulges the girl, she breathes and shrugs, “I had the NEWTs for it. I was young and thought it would be some sort of adventure.” Her lazy hands motion to the window behind her, to the sky and the clouds that hang motionless in the atmosphere, “It turns out, I’m best suited to this.”

What are some similarities/differences between yourself and your teammates/coworkers?

“Well, the difference is about thirty years.” They both laugh, though Selena finds no humor in her joke. “But I believe all of us at Puddlemere are capable and driven. Really, the only thing that’s different is that I hold the cheque book and the quill. We’re all equally committed to Puddlemere’s success.”

What kind of things do you think about when you’re alone?

She laughs. It’s reactionary, loud and genuine, but it’s a laugh nevertheless. The poor witch sits embarrassed with her notebook and quill, but Selena waves her hand as if to say there’s been no harm done. “No, I’m sorry, but… Why?” She knows the answer, or some variation of it. The witch insists it’s so the readers will get to know her better. Selena sighs and drags her hands through her hair. Hadn’t Cordelia mentioned knowing someone who was interested in working as an assistant? Perhaps Selena would give them a call. “I’m afraid I’m rarely alone. I have a husband, a house, friends -- - if you can believe it - -- and I’m always busy. When I am alone, though, I usually find myself thinking about whatever it is that I have to do next.”

What are three good habits and three bad habits that you have?

“The good is that I keep an immaculate ledger.” This, of course, because of her wealth, but that doesn’t need to be said. The last thing she wants is to read a headline about how she forced a poor reporter to look at her bottom line. “I try to keep a neat and organized schedule, too. But you know that, since you spoke to my assistant. And… was that two?” Yes, ma’am. “Well, I suppose the third would be that I always try to be where I’m supposed to on time.” She smiles, fully aware that the poor witch across from her was ten minutes late. The girl squirms. Selena continues. “Bad habits?” It’s suddenly as if all of her mother’s lessons come back to haunt her, and Selena suddenly understand why Mrs. Sinclair was careful to teach her daughter to only divulge things she wouldn’t mind being used against her. “I have a habit of biting my nails when I’m stressed. I know that sounds cliche, but I walk away from every match with my nails chewed down to the quick.” She didn’t. “And I often overextend myself where the team is concerned.” She doesn’t. “But, I suppose my worst habit is talking to anyone who cares to listen. I like having a broad social circle, and I tend to prattle on if I’m not stopped.” She smiles, feigns embarrassment -- - Look at me, I’m just like you.

What is your personal philosophy?

“Nobody actually has a personal philosophy.” She sighs, but reels herself back just in time. “Everybody breaks their own rules.” Is she smiling enough? Selena tries, she leans forward and strums her fingers on the desk. “But I like to think that I wake up every day and try to improve my life a little bit. That’s as close as I can get to a personal philosophy.”

Would you rather be liked or respected? Feared or loved?

“Respected.” Merlin, how many times has she answered this one? Selena bobs her foot and shrugs her shoulders; she plays the part of someone who’s just a little embarrassed about how quickly they’ve answered an import question. “If I was focused on being liked, I couldn’t get this job done. It’s hard to make trades and to get rid of certain players, but sometimes that’s the best thing for Puddlemere’s future. As far as being feared or loved goes, has anyone actually ever answered that they’d like to be feared?” No? Of course they haven’t.

What are your thoughts on Puddlemere United?

“I…” It’s a serious question. Selena stops herself from rattling off some sort of joke. “I love this team.” She sinks easily into honesty, which is more than she can say for the first half of the interview. “There’s history here, and I’m ecstatic to be a part of a team that’s won a significant number of World Cups. I feel honored to be the first woman to own a team in the league, and I’m glad that team was Puddlemere.” For a moment, she wishes she was a better actress. Perhaps a tear or two would be appropriate.

What about The Chudley Cannons?

Of course. Of fucking course. Selena wonders, albeit briefly, if the last question was designed to gear her for this one. “Well, I can’t say I’m about to start wearing Chudley orange any time soon.” She thinks -- - or feigns the motions of thinking - -- while fighting the tension in her jaw. “No, that’s not really my color.” There’s your quote, Witch Weekly. Selena Newf thinks orange isn’t her color. “They’ve proven to be a formidable team, though I’m not sure that all the credit should go to Mr. Beaumont. He purchased them and upgraded their equipment, but the roster was decent enough before he came along. I think the management should be proud of what they’ve done with a losing team, don’t you think?”

If given a more lucrative position with another team, would you take it?

Do you know my husband? She bites back the words and the self loathing that comes with the thought. “I wouldn’t.” It takes a minute, but Selena finally rises from her seat as if to indicate that she’s grown tired of the interview. “But I’m not in this for the money. Would you like a drink?”

Would you consider yourself an optimist or a pessimist?

She pours herself a humble portion of scotch from a decanter on the other side of her office. The witch declines and plows ahead, but Selena swirls the contents of her glass. “Neither.” It’s taken no time at all for her to tire of the antics of Witch Weekly. Selena smiles as she sips. “I try to be realistic about most situations. Some deserve more optimism than others. Are you sure you don’t want a drink, dear?”

What’s one thing you would change about your team, if given the opportunity?

No drink. No, really. It’s the last question, ma’am; no need to stay longer than necessary. Selena waits out the excuses and examines the final question while she’s shepherding the girl to the door. “I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.” Her smile is genuine, if not a bit ashamed. “I wish I could, but we’re already in the works to make some big changes.” Lies, lies, and more lies. Selena leaves a drink in her glass -- - best to avoid Witch Weekly reporting that she’s guzzling alcohol during an interview - -- but she shows the reporter the door anyway. “Be on the lookout. If I want something changed, I’ll make it happen.”

[gossipnetwork-blog]

Stormy Daniels Talks Alleged Donald Trump Fling: 8 Takeaways

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/stormy-daniels-talks-alleged-donald-trump-fling-8-takeaways/

Stormy Daniels Talks Alleged Donald Trump Fling: 8 Takeaways

Stormy Daniels went into great detail about her alleged sexual encounter and subsequent meetings with Donald Trump years before he was elected President in a lengthy 5,000-word piece published in full by In Touch Friday.

The interview was originally conducted in 2011, years before the former adult film star reportedly signed a NDA preventing her from speaking out about her experience. The unedited interview may also mark the first time Daniels explained what allegedly took place at a golf tournament in Lake Tahoe, Nev., in July 2006, four months after Trump and wife Melania welcomed their son Barron, and later, non-sexual meetings and phone calls.

Daniels previously denied claims of an extramarital affair after the Wall Street Journal reported that Trump had paid her $130,000 through his lawyer to prevent her story from getting out.

According to The Journal, Trump’s longtime lawyer Michael Cohen arranged for Daniels, nee Stephanie Clifford, to receive the payment just one month before the 2016 election. The paper reported that both Cohen and the White House denied the allegations of any such agreement; Cohen also released a statement from Daniels denying any “sexual and/or romantic affair” with Trump or the receipt of any “hush money” from the real estate mogul-turned politician.

“These rumors have circulated time and again since 2011,” Cohen said in his statement, in part. “President Trump once again vehemently denies any such occurrence as has Ms. Daniels.”

“My involvement with Donald Trump was limited to a few public appearances and nothing more,” Daniels told CNN in a January 10 statement provided by Cohen. “When I met Donald Trump, he was gracious, professional and a complete gentleman to me and EVERYONE in my presence. Rumors that I have received hush money from Donald Trump are completely false.”

In excerpts of the 2011 interview released ahead of Friday’s publication, Daniels said she couldn’t recall why she agreed to have intercourse with Trump in the first place.

“I actually don’t even remember why I did it but I do remember while we were having sex, I was like, ‘Please don’t try to pay me,'” Daniels said at the time. “And then I remember thinking, ‘But I bet if he did, it would be a lot.'”

Here are eight things we learned about the alleged affair, based on Daniels’ exhaustive account to In Touch:

1. Both Daniels and Trump were sober at the time of their alleged sexual encounter. Daniels told In Touch that she was invited to Trump’s hotel room for dinner the same day she met him on the golf course and then again at the gift room, where she was helping promote Wicked Pictures. Though she doesn’t recall what they had for dinner that night, she does remember that neither of them drank.

“I know that neither one of us had any alcohol … I don’t drink when I’m working. I barely drink anyway, like ever,” she said. “Anytime I’ve been photographed with a glass of champagne in my hand, it’s really Red Bull. He didn’t have any alcohol, either. I’ve never seen him drink. Maybe he doesn’t. I’m not sure. Which is funny because he has a vodka [brand]. I actually remember saying, ‘Aren’t you going to drink your vodka?’ at a different party. So yeah, I don’t think he drinks.”

During a press conference last October, Trump cited his late older brother Fred as the reason why he has chosen not to drink. (Fred died in 1981 at the age of 43 after struggling with alcoholism).

2. Daniels called their intercourse “textbook generic” and said that they didn’t use protection, in part because she’s allergic to latex. “It was kind of in the moment,” she said of the decision not to use a condom. “And I was really kind of upset about it because I am so, like, careful.” The former adult film star explained that her company at the time was “condom-only,” but given that she is allergic to latex, she usually used non-latex condoms; she didn’t have any on her that night. “I usually always have one in my backpack but I thought I was going to dinner, so I only had a tiny little cocktail purse,” she said.

3. Daniels claims that Trump never mentioned wife Melania aside from telling Daniels, “Oh, don’t worry about her,” and she never met the future first lady in person. When asked what she thought about having an affair with a married man, Daniels said, “I don’t know. Karma will always bite you in the ass. … At the time, I didn’t think that much about it. But now that I have a baby that’s the same age that his was at the time [Barron was four months when they allegedly began the affair], I’m like, ‘Wow, what a dick.'”

“He didn’t seem worried about it,” she said of whether or not Trump instructed her to keep their interaction hush-hush. “He was kind of arrogant. It did occur to me, ‘That’s a really stupid move on your part.'” Earlier this month, The Wall Street Journal reported that Daniels was paid $130,000 to keep quiet about their affair. Daniels’ boyfriend at the time knew about their ongoing affair, but not that they slept together. “He didn’t know that detail but he knew everything else,” she said. Daniels claimed she would put Trump on speakerphone whenever he called while she was with her then-boyfriend.

4. Daniels said Trump asked her to sign a copy of her DVD after they had sex, likely a copy he got from the gift room earlier that afternoon. “It was probably in one of his gift bags that he picked up because we were giving them out,” she said. “I remember I signed it to him.”

5. Some of Trump’s dinner topics included the adult film industry, his fear of sharks, and how good he looked on the cover of “some sort of money magazine.” “He asked me a lot of questions about my business,” Daniels said of their first rendezvous. “You know, the business I work in and how it works and how it functions. All like technical questions. He was very curious. Not necessarily about the sex or anything like that, but business questions.”

The second time the pair sat down to dinner, this time at the Beverly Hills Hotel approximately one year later, Trump was fixated on sharks. “The strangest thing about that night – this was the best thing ever,” she said. “You could see the television from the little dining room table and he was watching Shark Week and he was watching a special about the U.S.S. something and it sank and it was like the worst shark attack in history. He is obsessed with sharks. Terrified of sharks. He was like, ‘I donate to all these charities and I would never donate to any charity that helps sharks. I hope all the sharks die.’ He was like riveted. He was like obsessed.”

Sorry folks, I’m just not a fan of sharks – and don’t worry, they will be around long after we are gone.

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) July 4, 2013

6. Trump seemingly hinted that he wanted to get Daniels on Celebrity Apprentice. During their first dinner, Trump allegedly told Daniels that it would be “really, really good for [her]” to be on the show. “‘People would think you’re just this idiot with blond hair and big boobs’,” he said, according to Daniels. “‘You would be perfect for it because you’re such a smart businesswoman. You write and you direct and you produce and obviously you’re hot and you’re beautiful.'”

Despite continually calling Daniels throughout the year and promising her that he would “make it happen,” Trump ultimately wasn’t able to get Daniels on the NBC reality competition show because, he allegedly told her, “‘there’s somebody that had a problem and it got vetoed.'” When another porn star, Jenna Jameson, appeared on season seven of the show, Daniels said Trump called her and said, “‘Did you see Jenna Jameson on my show? I didn’t know she was going to go on. That’s bullshit. She made fool of herself. … She’s a bimbo. You’re so much better.'” Daniels told Trump she “didn’t even know about it.”

7. Trump told Daniels that he believed his wealth and his power are linked to his hair. According to Daniels, when the two were engaging in banter prior to their sexual encounter, she at one point asked him about his infamous, enigmatic hairstyle. “He said he thought that if he cut his hair or changed it, that he would lose his power and his wealth,” Daniels said. “And I laughed hysterically at him.”

8. Daniels said one of the main reasons she spoke out to In Touch was because she heard from a friend that Trump had been publicly bashing adult film stars. “It’s not something I did come forward with,” she said of sharing details about being intimate with Trump. “My friend called me and was like, ‘Hey, so I was having a conversation with somebody and they mentioned … and is it true?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, well over a year, I talked to him all the time.’ And she was like, ‘You know, he thinks really lowly of girls who …’ She said he said some stuff about somebody else, I have no idea who … it was very derogatory, and that makes me more mad than anything.”

Daniels pointed to Trump’s denial about having relations with another woman around that same time, and how he “went on some tirade” about how he “would never be associated with someone” like that. Hearing Trump’s words made Daniels wonder if Trump’s allusions to a Celebrity Apprentice were “just a fucking lie” so he could have sex with her. “Like I said, if I was his wife and I found out that my husband stuck his dick in a hundred girls, I would be less mad about that then the fact that he went to dinner and had like this ongoing relationship.”

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