quarters only

the-blue-butterfly-effect  asked:

OK so here's my crack pot theory; Keith isn't half galra He's a quarter. They've Only ever specified that he's half human, and because of his concept art of him with silver hair I believe he might be a quarter altean. The only other characters with silver hair are at least part altean, ex lotor, allura. Anything i'm missing here?

I’m willing to believe Keith is possibly galtean or from Pollux or something. But there are other galra with white hair though?? Kolivan and Ulaz, for starters. Seems to me that’s more of an effect of the rift and quintessence exposure affecting the galra over the course of 10,000 years now (like how their eyes also look gold now)

i’m gonna see phantom thread tomorrow so i’m trying to pick up the pace on reading rebeccca today because it’s been about a week and i’m only a quarter of the way through because i keep watching tv and reading bits of other books at the same time (i have bookmarks in didion’s the white album and slouching towards bethlehem, cline’s ready player one, pynchon’s v, lisa carver’s drugs are nice, brix’s the rise the fall and the rise, borges’s labyrinths, atwood’s the blind assassin, and ballard’s empire of the sun, and i also started and finished the secret history of twin peaks during the week while pausing progress on season 3, although yesterday i made it to episode 13)

We are supposed to be the most progressive and transformative community in pop-culture.

We who…

  • Hyper-focus on white, male characters
  • Contort these male characters into heteronormativity 
  • Marginalize and erase characters of color
  • Write out women and replace them with men, especially in shipping
  • Attack women for “getting in the way” of our preferred ships
  • Hold female characters to higher standards than male characters
  • Hold characters of color to higher standards than white characters
  • Latch onto any single excuse to marginalize female characters
  • Utilize any single excuse to demonize characters of color
  • Put women on pedestals and act as if we’re doing them a favor
  • Justify white and male abuses or dismiss them as “mistakes”
  • Use actual mistakes to denigrate female and non-white characters
  • Romanticize white, male pain and mental illness
  • Expect female characters to perform all the emotional labor
  • Expect characters of color to be perfectly mentally healthy forever
  • Expect everyone to subsume their own mental health for the white males’
  • Dismiss the traumas and experiences of characters of color
  • Minimize the achievements of female characters

And then we wonder why mainstream media is so regressive, especially compared to us. We all talk as if mainstream media creators are behind the times.

They’re not.

Fandom likes to imagine itself as being progressive because of all the slash - a mechanism of progress which conveniently boils down to extra attention on overwhelmingly male (and overwhelmingly white) characters. This form of progress is one which takes a minor deviation from the social norm (homosexuality), only to end up ultimately supporting or even amplifying the status quo, by virtue of over-focusing on male characters (and over-representing white ones in the process).

Strip back that gay window dressing, though, and you’ll see that at best, fandom is just as socially stagnant as mainstream media and mainstream culture - or even worse, by virtue of engaging in media that overwhelmingly sidelines several other marginalized groups in order to prop up one.

Professional women have long known the old adage, “Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought of half as good.” What no one seems to realize is that fandom is still doing exactly the same thing.

We expect female characters to be twice as good for half the acclaim, we expect characters of color to be three times as good for a third of the acclaim, and we let white, male characters be only a quarter as good for four times the acclaim.

Mainstream media is keeping up with the times and with social progress just fine, it’s us who’ve deluded ourselves into believing that we, as a community, are more progressive than we actually are.


Filthy Frank TV Lore Masterpost

I just wanted to take some time out (actually i’m bored) to fully explain the whole ~Filthy Frank~ lore, or at least, the “main” characters and how they weave in and out of the show.

Because, let’s be real, George didn’t even know what the hell was going on for the first two years and the Wikia is a mess.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

prompt: you meet an angel in a laundromat

the angel sits on top
of one of the washers, kicking
their not-feet in time
to the laundromat muzak,
humming along with
their guttural half-here
half-off in a distant
otherworld voice.

you’ve been watching
the angel for some time,
as they put their bloodied
robes & ragged sandals
on a spin cycle for delicates,
as they poured in soap
& counted out quarters,
but it’s only as you fold
your now dry duvet
that you realize their wings
are covered in a thousand
red eyes. you look at what
should be their face
& find the swirling
of the stars instead.

‘good morning,’ you say
as you pass them on your way
out. the angel grabs your arm.
their touch burns like ice
& makes you ache. ‘your son,’
the angel whispers, ‘tells me
that he is so so proud
of how you got sober. i placed
one hundred forty four
red roses in a vase
by your door. i will be back
next sunday should you need
to talk to someone.’

It always annoys me when white people kind of talk down to Japanese-Americans and diaspora bc they “know more” about Japan than whomever they’re talking to. Like congratulations on knowing more than me brad bc my grandma had to assimilate while u watched anime and decided to read 80 wiki articles and appropriate Japanese dress and traditions. Well done

Things that need to stop: 

  • Grad students making fun of undergrads and acting like they’re a burden
  • Older grad students telling first years that their excitement about research won’t last and they’ll eventually become miserable
  • Grad students trying to one up each other on how much work they have or how many classes they’re taking and making others feel bad if they’re not doing the same

If there’s a book character whose race isn’t specified and you don’t see them as a person of color that’s ok but don’t shit on people who do see that character as a person of color because it’s the reader’s interpretation and they just want to be represented even if only a quarter of the fandom agrees with them don’t be racist just because someone doesn’t interpret something the same as you


How many of you use the makeup sponges/applicator on the left?
I did.

Every. Day.

I’d use at least one every day I put makeup on. I started to think about how many of these things I’ve thrown away over the years. How many were thrown away by people all over the world. It seemed so wasteful.

I started looking and found these silicone applicators on the right. You get three on Amazon for $9.99.

Not only can you wash these and use them over and over it also take a FRACTION of the amount of makeup because nothing soaks in. I would guess I use only a quarter of what I use to use.

I’m really happy with this product and I feel better that I’m wasting so much less in sponges and in makeup. If you use makeup I encourage you to check these out.
3/$9.99 …. You can’t go wrong.


Until Next Time—03 [m]

Synopsis: You are finally meeting Jimin in person after months—but it doesn’t go entirely as planned

Originally posted by nochuie

Pairing: Jimin x Reader // gaming au, long distance lovers au

Genre: Smut, a lil’ fluff

Word Count: 7.5k

Parts: 01 || 02 || 03

Includes: roadhead, oral, spanking, dom jimin, multiple orgasms, nipple play

A/N: happy!! holidays!! here’s the final installment, haha

Keep reading

There was someone in the backyard.

Tony scrambled to get Peter into his arms, shushing him when Peter whined in confusion. “There’s a bad man here, Peter,” he whispered, and Peter woke up the rest of the way with a jolt. He whimpered but fell quiet immediately after, little hands covering his mouth, and Tony wanted to die because normal kids didn’t react like that.

Tony crouched by the front door and frantically tried to figure out where to go. He didn’t have much time. He could hear Rhodey’s back door being jimmied. And who was to say that there wasn’t more than one person out there? What if they were waiting for them to leave the house? What if they—what if they hurt Peter?

“Dada,” Peter whispered, patting at his cheeks. “Dada, Buchhh.”

Bucky. Tony looked at the key hanging from his wrist. Natasha had told him to put all his important keys on a chain and keep them on him at all times. Who knew that it would come in handy this soon? And Bucky had said that they could come over anytime they felt unsafe. Well, he felt incredibly unsafe right now. It was just across the street. He could make that. Or he could buy Peter enough time that he could make that and start screaming at their door.

There was no one out front. Tony hustled across the lawn and nervously skirted the car sitting in front of the house. There was no one in it, but he was still terrified of the fact that whoever was breaking into Rhodey’s house was bold enough to literally park right out front. They’d obviously planned a quick getaway. He forced himself not to think about why that was.

His hand shook as he tried to put the key in the door. Tony bit his lip to bite back the frightened curses he wanted to spew. He was wasting time. It wouldn’t take long for the intruder to realize that he and Peter weren’t there, that the front door was open. Shit, closing the door could have bought them more time. Stupid, stupid. He was so stupid.

Tony couldn’t help the noise that left his mouth when the door jerked open and was ashamed of how high-pitched and terrified it was because Peter hid his face in his neck and whimpered in response. Bucky looked him up and down with bloodshot eyes before he looked across the street.

He let out a growl and stepped outside, one hand pressing against Tony’s back as he shoved past him. “Get inside. Lock the door.”

Tony didn’t have to be told twice, skittering into the house and smacking immediately into Steve’s chest. “Ow! What are you, made of rocks?!”

“Tony?” Steve mumbled, rubbing one eye sleepily, before he suddenly looked infinitely more awake. He slammed the door shut and locked it, then turned and hurried Tony further into the house. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said helplessly as he was urged into the bathroom. “Bucky said anytime—”

“He meant it,” Steve assured him, grabbing a towel and putting it on the floor of the tub. “Get in.”

Tony looked stricken but did as he was told. He appreciated the towel. The porcelain was cold. “I—”

“Shh,” Steve whispered sharply as he flipped the lock, and then shut the bathroom door behind him.

Tony clutched Peter to his chest, biting his bottom lip, then whispered, “I’m sorry, baby. This is all Daddy’s fault.”

Peter’s chubby little hands patted at his cheeks and he murmured something but Tony couldn’t make it out with his son’s face smushed into his chest. Tony sank further into the tub and clutched him as tight as he dared—he hated gripping Peter too tightly after that first time. Peter made a little whining sound and curled his fingers into Tony’s shirt.

It felt like hours but was probably only minutes before a knock came at the bathroom door. Both Tony and Peter flinched.

“Tony,” Steve said. “Tony, it’s us. You can open the door.”

Tony curled around Peter tighter. It took effort to unwrap his arms from around him, and he carefully tucked Peter into the corner. “Stay here, Petey-Pie.”

Peter whined and made grabby hands at him as he got up but obediently stayed where Tony had put him. “Daddy-!”

Tony hesitated before grabbing the lid off the back of the toilet and approaching the door. He unlocked the door and the knob twisted immediately.

“WHOA,” Steve shouted as he ducked out of the way of the back of the toilet’s lid. It hit the wall with a dull thud and left a fist-sized hole in the drywall. “TONY!”

Tony lunged out swinging, but Bucky grabbed his wrists and spun him around into a secure hold. “It’s just us, Tony!”

Tony struggled for a moment but then Steve was cupping his cheeks, tilting his head back to force eye contact. “Tony, Tony, it’s just us! No one is going to take Peter away from you. You’re okay. You’re both okay.”

Tony squirmed a minute longer, then sagged in Bucky’s hold with a sob. Bucky gently released him, holding him up when he stumbled on loose legs. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “You’re safe.”

“I’m never going to be safe,” Tony sobbed, covering his face. “Not while Tiberius is around. Even if I get my divorce he’s going to do everything he can to make me miserable. I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder. He’s ruined my life and it’s never going to get better.”

Steve and Bucky shared a look before Steve ducked into the bathroom and gently shut the door.

Bucky pulled Tony up against his chest and let him sob there, stroking his hand up and down his back. “Hey, hey. I don’t know how long you’ve known Natasha, but I guess not long enough. Your ex may be dragging this out but she’s going to make sure he never. Bothers you. Again. It’s what she does,” he added when Tony made a noise of disbelief. “She became a lawyer so she could make people miserable legally. You don’t even wanna know what she did before she became a lawyer.”

Tony sniffled into his chest. “Was she a mafia don?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then shut it again. “…Uh.”

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

Tony turned to stare at it blankly before letting out a frustrated sound and wiping his face. He couldn’t let Peter see him like this. Bucky awkwardly patted him on the back before saying, “You can come out, Steve.”

Steve opened the door and peeked out, then pulled it open the rest of the way. Peter whined and reached for Tony immediately. Tony took him and pressed the boy’s teary face to his neck, making soothing noises.

“First time I ever had to knock to come out of the bathroom,” Steve mused, smiling a little.

The laugh it pulled from Tony was reluctant, but it came.

“I’ll make some cocoa,” Bucky said gruffly and hurried away.

Steve snorted as Tony watched him leave with concern. “People in distress make Bucky uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony began helplessly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve insisted. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

“I know dat word!” Peter exclaimed, lunging backward, and Tony yelped as he tried to keep him from falling. He pointed at Steve accusingly. “Tennew foh the sweah jah!”

“I don’t even have a dollar for the swear jar,” Steve said helplessly. “Will you accept a quarter?”

“Ten,” Peter said sternly, opening his hand.

Steve looked at Tony for help.

“Larger amounts of money make you consciously avoid swearing in front of my son,” Tony said, struggling not to smile. “I put in a hundred each time when I started. One time I stubbed my toe and had to put in two grand.”

“But I don’t have ten dollars,” Steve sputtered.

Peter’s face was accusing. He did not stop reaching for the nonexistent money.

“It was one of your basic thugs, scared ‘im off no problem,” Bucky muttered, shrugging one shoulder after Peter had finally, fitfully, fallen back to sleep on their couch. “Maybe put the fear of God into ‘im. None of his friends are gonna be accepting money t’ come kidnap your kid, in any case.”

“Thanks,” Tony whispered down into his mug of cocoa. His hands were shaking. He gripped the mug tightly to try to stop it.

“’m gonna call Colonel Rhodes,” Bucky continued. “Ask if I can put some cameras up, maybe a better security system.”

“I can’t—I can’t pay for that,” Tony said haltingly.

Bucky gave him a very, very unimpressed stare. “You’re not gonna. Natasha is.”


“Natasha is,” Bucky repeated sternly, and then scowled, leaning over to glare out of the kitchen. “Steve, what the hell are you doin’?”

“I’ve only got eight dollars and ninety-three cents,” Steve whispered, trying to dig around in the couch around Peter. “I owe Peter ten.”

Bucky sighed tiredly. “Why do you owe Peter ten dollars?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Steve hissed. He made a victorious sound. Another quarter. He only needed eighty-two more cents.

Bucky swore in front of Peter in the morning. Peter wordlessly held his hand out. Bucky made very intense eye contact with him until Peter hesitantly drew his hand back in.

“What the fuck I had to give him ten dollars!” Steve howled, incensed, and then squawked when Peter held his hand out to him instead. “What?! You didn’t make Bucky pay!”

“Bucky’s scawy,” Peter explained reasonably.

Steve muttered to himself as he went to go dig in the couch again. He very carefully made sure that his mutters contained no swear words though. (Bucky eventually took pity on him and took a ten out of his wallet. Steve howled about Bucky making him dig in the couch while Peter was sleeping. Tony skittered back to Rhodey’s house after reassurance that it had been cleared and Bucky had cleaned up whatever mess he’d made.)

They were on edge for several hours—Peter couldn’t even go down for a nap—when Natasha arrived, grim-faced and angry. “I’m putting up security cameras. Here’s your better security system.”

Tony looked down at the golden retriever. “…It’s missing an eye.”

“He’s very loyal. Also Clint will be staying with you.”

“Who is Clint.”

“Clint will try to feed Lucky pizza but please make sure he gets at least one scoop of kibble.”

“I can’t be responsible for a dog. I’m barely responsible for Peter.”

“Also here’s the ten for Bucky swearing in front of Peter.”

Tony stared at the ten she’d put in his hand before looking back up at her. “What.”

“Go take Peter out,” Natasha said softly. “Get out. Do something. Bucky will shadow you so that you’re safe. You guys deserve to do something fun.”

“I—I don’t have the money,” Tony said helplessly.

“I’m pretty sure you have thirty dollars,” Natasha said reasonably. “Bucky probably knows what you can do for fun that’s only thirty dollars.”

“I can’t give someone seven dollars in change!” Tony exclaimed, horrified.

Natasha stared at him for a moment before snorting so hard that it sounded like it hurt. “Oh my God. Here. Here’s a twenty. Go do something fun on me. Who gave you seven dollars in change?”

Tony shrugged awkwardly. “Steve.”

“I bet he dropped an F bomb. He doesn’t swear by halves,” Natasha mused, smiling a little. “Go. Do something fun. Don’t forget to take Lucky out for a walk.”

“I didn’t agree to this dog,” Tony tried to argue.

“Peter did,” Natasha said, turning her back on him to boss around the people installing cameras around Rhodey’s house.

Tony turned and squawked when he found Peter sprawled over Lucky, asleep. “Peter! You can’t just lie on strange anim—oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, crossing his arms. He’d scold Peter when he woke up.

He needed the sleep after last night, anyway.

For Better

AN: So here is part two to For Worse…Part three should be up….here….and that is the mini series done ^_^ If you have any requests for anything (I’m not fandom specific even though it seem like it lol) and I have heard of it I will write it. @wtfisachoncexx @daniissuchadani @everyartistwas-firstanamateur (I think this is everyone who asked to be tagged if not sorry!

It’s the clicking of the heels that startles them. The assistants and interns find themselves fleeing a little scared when you strut through the halls of Wayne Enterprises, especially when you had a meeting. You had never been one to mess around when it came to business, but these past four months had done wonders for your work ethic. That meant that everyone else was forced to try to keep up with your breakneck pace.

“They’re ready for you, Mrs. Wayne,” your assistant, Lilian, states as she falls into step with you. Even though it’s been months since the two of you had legally separated, it still stung when you heard the name.

“Thank you,” you say taking the folder she hands to you. “In about an hour call the car around, I’ll have to shoot across town for a meeting.”

“In an hour?” She questions flicking through her iPad examining your schedule. “You’ll barley make it back here for the meeting of investors.”

“Crazier things have been done,” you say with a shrug.

“I know it’s just- you’re spreading yourself awfully thin, Mrs. Wayne.”

You stop in front of the conference room, and for a moment you turn and glare at her. It causes her to flinch back a little. “Just get it done, Lilian.”

“Of course, ma’am.”


You take a deep breath before you pull open the door to the conference room. When you enter, the board sits up to greet you. It doesn’t miss you that there is still a body that is slumped over in a chair, snoring quite loudly. You give a polite smile in return.

“Ladies, Gentlemen thank you for waiting,” you say as you walk to the opposite end of the table and taking your customary position at the head of the table. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Not at all Mrs. Wayne, we know you’re a very busy woman,” It’s one of the women on the board who says this as she cuts her eyes angrily to the sleeping form of the man not two chairs over. “Working women, have it hard these days.”

The jab doesn’t go over your head, and the decent thing to do would be to curb her anger and assure her that Bruce takes the job seriously, but you don’t feel like being decent.

“We all have to pick up the slack somewhere,” you say with a charming smile.

It gets a few chuckles and brings you a bit of satisfaction at his expense.

“Now that we’ve had a bit of fun, let’s get down to business talking about this quarters budget for R&D.”


The meeting was over about an hour later, the exact time you’d predicted. Unfortunately for Bruce, he’d woken up about forty-five minutes into the meeting, and found himself completely out of the loop. Lucius Fox had taken the opportunity to take the time to discreetly tell him that you’d convinced the board to expand on the funding for the quarter, not only for R&D, but for the Wayne foundation and a few other requests of his.

You knew this would come back to bite you in the ass, that he’d try to thank you for this. So, you weren’t even slightly startled when he was waiting for you near the elevator.

Luckily for you when the doors of the elevator close, he doesn’t move to stand next to you, he keeps his distance.

“Lucius told me what you did. Thank you,” His voice is quiet and slightly hoarser than what you are used.

“Well you were asleep, and I figured you had some sort of case and needed the tech,” you don’t look at him when your reply. In fact, you know you’d feel a combination of hostility and heartache if you did turn to look at him. Instead you settle on crossing your arms and biting the inside of your cheek.

It’s a long way down from the top of Wayne tower and it gives him a chance to re-gather his thoughts.

“We should go to dinner and talk,” he tries.

“If it’s not about one of the children there is nothing for us to talk about,” you say curtly. “Speaking of which, I won’t be coming by to get Damian for the weekend. I have plans.”


“A prior engagement. Damian already knows the details so there is no need to worry about having to tell him.”

“Is it date?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re still my wife.”


Its silent in the elevator as the dagger in his heart turns slightly. Had you really been planning on divorce? He been holding out hope that one day you’d come home. That the two of you would be able to talk over and fix things and the family could be whole again.

Since you left, he had been empty. Going through the motions of being Bruce Wayne. A little more attentive when he was Batman, but that was only because he was required to be.

The elevator dings to a stop when it reaches the ground floor, and even from your position you can see the black town car waiting for you.

“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Wayne.”

He doesn’t look up to even watch the sway of your hips as you walk out of the elevator. He can’t bring himself to look up. He’s afraid someone will see the swollen red rim of his eyes, irritated with the tears that he’s holding back.


“This isn’t big enough,” you say running a frustrated hand through your hair. “I thought that you said the building was huge.”

The realtor, taps nervously on her tablet. The frown and glare that are focused in her direction have her nervous. She’s likely to lose her job if she can’t please you, and she knows this.

“W-well, ma’am, the owner has decided to only rent half of the space immediately. He’s been burned before by businesses who wanted the space, but couldn’t pay for the entire rent. I’m sure it’s a trial basis, a few months in business and I’m sure that you’ll be able to rent the whole thing.”

You let out a heavy sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, in irritation. One of the only buildings that wasn’t owned by Wayne Enterprises, some subsidiary, or receiving funding from some sort of Wayne charity, and the owner was being a complete ass.

“Do they know, who I am?” You mutter childishly. “I could by this whole building if I wanted to.”

The mousy girl looks at you with a slightly gaping mouth and she squeamishly rubs her hands together. She fixes her lips to respond, but something catches her eye.

“Oh- “

“I’m afraid, miss, I don’t know who you are and that it’s probably going to be one of my greatest misfortunes.”

At the sound of the voice you turn and examine the man. He’s tall and well dressed in a nearly-black suit. As he nears closer, you can see how handsome he is. His dark hair and pale skin makes the pink of his full lips pop slightly and his brown eyes are warm but hold a fair bit of mischief in them.

“Justin Kang,” he says holding out his and to shake yours. You take his hand and offer your name.

“Beautiful,” he said with a smile and you feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“Mr. Kang,” the realtor interrupts. “She wants all of the space, you should know that she’s more than able to cover the rent.”

“I’m sure she is,” he says as he examines your outfit. “I know Armani when I see it.”

“You have good taste in clothes then,” you say.

“Not just in clothes.”

The flirting cause a bit of a smile to cross your face, “If you knew any better, you’d know a good lessee when you saw one.”

“True,” he says with a shrug, “But Gotham is dangerous, I’m sure you’ve been told that I was scammed before.”

“We all have been, in one way or another, just something about this town.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Mrs. Wayne?”

His smile increases when he sees your eyes widen in surprise. You’d used your mother’s maiden name on your application and you hadn’t even told the realtor your last name, out of fear that she’d show you buildings with his name on them.

“Can you give us a second?” You ask the wide-eye realtor who was gaping at you. She nods and scurries out the building. “Have we met?”

He shrugs and slips his hands into his suit pockets coolly as he starts to pace slightly, “At a party once or twice. Of course, you probably don’t remember, your eyes were glued to your husband that night, like they usually are, or were.”

“Were?” you question with an eyebrow.

“This isn’t the first time I flirted with you, it’s just the first time you noticed, and the first time your responded.”

“Oh,” you say slightly embarrassed. You try to remember the handsome man, but whenever you think about any of the parties that you’ve attended over the years the only face that you can picture is Bruce.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, you were in love with him,” he says nonchalantly. “But it seems like that ship has sailed.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m only going to hurt your feelings,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Spit it out,” you say with pursed lips and an arched brow.

“Men like Bruce Wayne can only stay faithful for so long. Even when they have the most beautiful woman in the world right in front of them. They have the want to possess more than they have even if they have whatever they could possibly need right in front of them. They’ll say to themselves ‘It’ll be just this once,’ but once they get a little taste, they’re hooked. The lying, the scheming, the forbidden pleasure, it’s all an adrenaline rush and they’ll keep chasing it. For some men, it’s that thrill with one woman, I think it’s far easier to deal with when it’s multiple.”

“And why is that?”

“With multiple women or men, I don’t judge, it’s just sex. There is no feeling there, no time for an emotional bond to develop. When it’s just one woman he keeps going back to over and over again, there is a bond in that infidelity and that’s where the pain lies.”

You don’t respond, but you swallow thickly at his description.

“You wouldn’t have entertained my flirting if you were still utterly devoted to him. Any educated guesser would say he’s cheated. I wonder what kind of man Bruce is,” he muses looking deep into your eyes like he is reading. “A serial fucker or an emotional cheater.”

“You’re an asshole,” you spit out.

“True, I never said I was a nice guy.”

“Which type of cheater are you, then?” you asked nostrils flared.



“I don’t believe in monogamy. It’s not for me. I like sex and I like beautiful people. I offer sex they accept or decline.”

“Is that you are hoping to get out of this situation?”

“I’d be lying if I said no, but that would make you uncomfortable.”

Your heart catches in your chest at the sly smirk that works its way onto his face.

“How about I make you a proposition.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m willing to part with this build, for half of what I bought it for. At this point it’s only costing me money, and I’m not in Gotham enough to start a business myself here. You however, seem like an ambitious woman.”

“I am, but what’s the catch, flattery will get you nowhere with me if we are talking business.”

“A friend of mind is hosting a benefit Saturday, red carpet, cameras, and a lot of wine. Be my date.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you say arms crossed.

“That’s your choice, but I think that you might change your mind when you see how charming I can be.”

A cocky smile works its way across his face and you would have loved smack it off, but you find him interesting. He doesn’t make your palms sweat or your heart jump the way Bruce does, but he’s entertaining enough that you know that if you went with him that you wouldn’t be bored.

On the other hand, you really did have something to do on Saturday and it had to do with why you were trying to rent the building in the first place. This was a perfect place to situate a fashion studio. You’d put your designing on the back burner when you got married, but you were quite famous in your own right for your bold choice in fabrics and colors. It was a dream that you’ve had since you were a little girl, and what you went to school for. You’d planned to spend Saturday sketching new designs, picking out fabrics and starting work on one of your more recently designed products. It was a chance for you to be alone and work on what made you happy.

But going out and having a fun time with a handsome stranger didn’t sound too bad either.

“Alright Mr. Kang, let’s see if you can show me a good time.”


He’s stunned, more than stunned when he sees her. He can feel anger pool in his belly and despair cause his heart to drop. The world seemed to stop when he saw the smile spread across her face. The flash of the cameras seemed to cause the glitter embedded into her midnight blue dress to shine like small stars.

She looked gorgeous and it made him angry. Not because she was here, she was a socialite after all and he should have expected her to find her way to one of these events without him sometime. But he expected her to be alone, the same way he was.

There is a flash of a camera in his face and he’s distracted momentarily from your form. He turns and smiles at the cameras, a mask of contentment settled on his face, but his mouth feels dry because of his misery.

“How does it feel to see, your wife here with someone else, Mr. Wayne?”

He doesn’t answer, he never answered paparazzi questions unless there was a reason for it. And he certainly had never answered any questions about his separation before and he wasn’t about to start now.

That didn’t mean that the question didn’t hurt. That it didn’t get under his skin, because everyone in earshot could tell it did by the clenching of his fist, even though he forced his smile wider across his face.

He glances back at the woman and he can only look at her for so long, because he realizes at that moment, she’s not his. The smile on her face tells him that. The hand curled securely in the dip of her waist tells him that. And the laugh the tumbles forth from her lips when her date leans down to whisper a joke in her ear tells him that.

When was the last time he made her laugh like that or made her smile like that? He couldn’t remember and that was a problem.

He walks the rest of the carpet without stopping for anymore photos and heads inside the building with his mind made up to head straight for the bar, this was going to be a long night.


He hasn’t let go of her all night and she hasn’t stopped looking at him with stars in her eyes. Bruce wonders if she even is aware that he was watching. He puts the thought out of his mind when the man twirls her and dips her back and she throws her head back in laughter when he brings her back up. There are nearly tears in her eyes from how much fun she’s having. The sounds that she’s making are only possible if she was experiencing pure joy. She wouldn’t fake that just to get back at him.

He lifts his glass up to his lips as he purposefully moves his eyes around the dwindling crowd of people, trying to lose the happy couple. He knows it won’t work, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off them when the room was filled to capacity, and so he definitely wouldn’t be able to lose them now.

The alcohol felt like sand when it hit the back his throat, and he knew he was done for the night. He would leave his customary donation with the organizers of the event and he would head home miserably.

Maybe being separated really was what was best for them, for her. She hadn’t been this happy in such a long time and he deserved to suffer for taking that joy from her.

He casts a fleeting glance over at the couple again and this time he manages to catch her eye. She seems surprised to see him and her eyes quickly search the surrounding areas, looking for a date. When doesn’t find one she turns her gaze back to the man with a skeptical eyebrow, but her attention is quickly shifted away from him and back to her date as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

Bruce feels sick at the sight and he must exit the building in the hurry. He couldn’t stay and watch the love of his life be swept off his feet by another man. Especially when he could see how much better off without him she was.


You had tried your best not to drink, save for a polite glass of champagne that’d been poured for you when you entered the building, but right now, Justin’s lips were more intoxicating than anything you had in a long time.

Pressed against the wall of your penthouse next to the door, you can feel your body warm from the contact of flesh. A large hand reaches for one of your thighs and pulls it around his waist. His lips move down from your mouth down to your neck and you lean back to give the man access.

Your hands slip down his back digging into his skin as he grinds his hips into yours. His hand reaches behind your back to unzip the back of your dress and time seems to slow for a moment. As his hand slowly pulls the zipper down and he nips at the side of your neck, you feel strange.

A combination of guilt and rolls over you in waves. You feel good, he feels good, but is he the person that you want to be making you feel good? Are you ready for this right now? Suddenly you feel your heart and mind rejecting him as images of you and Bruce in a similar position assault your senses. And though rationally you know there is no reason to feel this way because the circumstances that brought you to this situation, you realize that you aren’t ready to be touched this way by someone who isn’t Bruce, let alone someone who is practically stranger.

“S-stop,” you whisper as you pull your arms away. “I can’t do this.”

The man halts his ministrations and pulls his face back from your neck and meets your gaze with furrowed brows, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you say with a shake your head as you rest your hands on his chest.

His grip on your thigh loosens and your free to let the leg fall back down to the ground.

“I’m not ready for this yet,” you say looking up at him. “I thought I could but I can’t, but it’s not your fault.”

He looks at you for a moment eyebrows still furrowed. He takes your chin gently in between his fingers and he stares directly into your eyes. When he’s satisfied with whatever he finds a smirk crawls its way back over his face. “You’re looking right through me once again.”

“What?” you question as he backs away from your form and begins to straighten out his suit.

“I should have known that one look from him would have you head-over-heels again.”

You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you straighten your gown but you don’t deny the allegation. You had been surprised to see Bruce at the party, and admittedly felt a shock of excitement shoot through your veins when you saw that he was alone. Just him showing up had shifted your entire mood and even on the car ride home, where you and Justin had been engaged in a heated exchange of kisses, you weren’t able to get his blue orbs outs of your mind. In some ways that made you angry, if you couldn’t forget about him after you’ve separated, why was he able to sleep with someone else while you were together?

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says wiping his lips with the handkerchief to get rid of the last of your lipstick. “Some people need more time to heal than others.”

“I shouldn’t have lead you on.”

“You didn’t,” he says with the shake of his head as he heads for the door. You follow close behind him to lead him out. “I knew what to expect.”

You give him a smile, “Thanks for taking me out tonight, it was the first time I felt like myself in a long time.”

“You should treat yourself more often, so you can learn what makes you happy. It’s the only way that you’ll get better.”

“I think I found it,” you say and you motion over your shoulder to the dummy in the middle of the living room that has pieces of fabric attached to it.

“Oh, that reminds me,” he says slipping his hand into one of his pockets. He pulls out a ring of keys and lays it gently into one of your hands. “My gift to you.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just a building. If there was one person I could have settled down with it would have been you. You gave me the gift of being able to see what it would have been like to be with you tonight, so if I can give you something that I know will make you happy in return, I have no problem doing it.”

You blink at him with wide eyes and you feel a blush roll over your cheeks at his confession, “That’s very sweet of you.”

“No, it’s selfish, I’m holding out hope you divorce the asshole so I can have an actual chance.”

You chuckle, “Maybe your right. Someone like you may be better for me after all.”

“It possible.”

You walk him out to the elevator and when the doors open and he walks in he gives you a wave, “Come find me when your single, Mrs. Wayne.”

anonymous asked:

“I’m not drunk” w Poe!!! Btw love your writing

this got long, but here’s a little poe’s-drunk-and-you-help-him-out fic

His weight is entirely on you, feet staggering slightly as he focuses – or tries, really – to not face plant across the hangar floor. His arm is warm around your shoulders, and the occasional brush of his cheek against yours is enough to make this whole thing worth it.

Behind you, BB-8 is tutting words of reprimand directed at Poe.

You huff, squeezing his hip tightly as you round the corner. His quarters are only a few feet down the hall. But, Poe doesn’t make moving very easy. He’s a bit distracted, lips meeting the curve of your ear and fingers looping themselves into the wisps of hair along your shoulder.

It’s distracting.

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