#considering tails did try to play catch with an airplane...

[atwas-gaming]

[percival-c-mcleach]

Haunted Not By Ghosts- a McLeach fic.

The atmosphere was as heavy and thick as smog, stuck in time. The house, the barn and the ramshackle sheds were worn down from years of neglect, the barn having been particularly hard hit by time, half of its body rotted and given way to mushrooms.

The house's exterior had once been blue, now stripped almost completely to its wood and brick, with speckles of paint the only indication of what it might had been. The windows were cracked, rusted with dust. Weeds had forced themselves up between the boards of the porch, nearly obscuring the wood. Hidden among the vegetation was a dog bowl, a bright firetruck red that had now faded to a dull pink in the blistering sun, the faintest of childish block writing had faded too much to be read.

Taking a shaky breath, McLeach surveyed his childhood home. For forty years, it had laid abandoned, but it felt just as forboding now as it did back then, if not worse. Anxiety roiled in the man's stomach as he forced himself up the sunken steps, feeling the wood groan beneath him.

Joanna followed her master's footsteps almost exactly, not trusting the structural integrity of the building. She watched as McLeach hesitated with the doorknob, as if it would suddenly come to life and bite him. He gave a gentle twist of the knob- no luck.

"Aw hell.." McLeach huffed, twisting the knob harder. He jiggled the door, but the ancient wood refused to give. He crouched to examine the old doggie door-one he used as his personal entrance to the house-but he was now too old and too round for such an endeavor. Joanna looked between him and the door, noticing his pointed look. She shook her head hurriedly-no way would she be able to fit through there, and she was not looking to get splinters in her sides. Letting loose a curse, McLeach kicked the door-and it popped open nearly effortlessly. Quickly shaking off his surprise, he shouldered the heavy oak the rest of the way open, coughing as a wave of musty air washed over them both.

Once natural sunlight fell over the place, McLeach felt his breath catch in his throat- sans a thick coating of dust, the hallway looked almost exactly as he remembered it being. It was as if the other three McLeaches hadn't left the house; most of the decor still hung in place, with the addition of cobwebs. The coat rack still held his father's old bag, four pairs of slippers lined up beneath the side table, waiting for owners who would never return.

The house felt haunted. Not in the way most people came to think of haunted houses, brimming with ghosts; haunted in the sense that you could feel everything that had happened in this place. The anxiety only grew stronger, the further the pair ventured in. The carpet had faded from direct sunlight, but the patches in the shade of the furniture still remained its dark green color. Dust rose in clouds as man and lizard ventured carefully down the hall, with Joanna trying her best to hold in her coughing.

The family portrait was still there, hanging above a boarded-up fireplace. McLeach didn't blame anyone for leaving it, it wasn't something you'd want to have in your house. The sepia-colored photograph was dust-covered, but the man could still feel the cold, hard glare of his father through it. He raised his hand to wipe away the dust. The first to emerge was his mother. Thin-faced and tired, with her dark hair pulled up in an untidy bun. In one arm she cradled the newly-born Casey in his thick wool blanket, the other dangled down, gently squeezing the hand of a seven-year-old Percival. He had been small back then, missing two of his front teeth and a head full of hair like his mother's, dark and messy. Rubbing away the rest of the dust, Mr. McLeach soon followed. Towering over his wife and children, not even the shadow from the brim of his hat could have hid the starkness of his unnaturally light eyes. His large hand had a rough grip on Percival's shoulder then, the man grimaced at the memory. He couldn't bring himself to look longer at his father than was necessary. Even in photographs, he seemed to be glaring directly at his eldest.

Feeling claws on his leg, McLeach glanced down to see Joanna attempting to raise herself higher, she wanted a view too. He scooped her up as one would a toddler, though with some difficulty given her hefty weight. "Ay, you know who that is?" McLeach smiled, pointing to his mother. Joanna tilted her head quizzically- the human woman looked very distinctively familiar, even though she knew they had never met. "That's your namesake," McLeach continued, "My mama, Joanna. I promised that I'd name my firstborn daughter after her...and well, you count, I guess." Joanna wasn't able to understand just how important that was, but she felt it was very, very important. She waggled her tail happily, inching her snout closer to the frame. She clearly recognized the young Percival, and let out a rasp that sounded much like a wheezing laugh. "Go ahead, you looked weird when you were a kid too." McLeach rolled his eyes. His arms had started to ache, and he set her back down. He continued down the hall, and froze for a brief moment when he came to the wall opposite the sitting room's entrance. Beneath a framed picture of Casey with his model airplane, a round hole was at shoulder-height, the impact having shredded and burnt the faded yellow wallpaper. "..Damn idiot didn't bother to get it fixed after I left, eh?" He scoffed, "You see this, Joanna? You can tell I didn't get my marksmanship from Pops. He couldn't hit the broad-side of a barn." A slightly alarmed chirrup arose from Joanna's throat as she realized what that hole was, but McLeach didn't seem bothered by it. He breezed past the bullet-hole and past the sitting room, after taking a quick glance inside and finding that the armchair and couch were overrun with a brackish mold.

The kitchen was small, and had once been cozy. The kitchen window had broken, and one of his mother's prized climbing rosebushes had wormed its way in, leaving a layer of generations of rotting petals over the linoleum. Nevertheless, the rosebush itself was thriving, its creamy white petals shining in the golden sunlight. Reaching out to touch, McLeach couldn't help but to pluck one of the roses off, holding it in his palm. He had forgotten how silky-soft the petals felt, and how sweet it smelled; he closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling a sharp pang in his middle. A sharp pang of an emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was happiness and sadness rolled into one, and it left an ache. The smell reminded him of sitting outside with his mother, tending to the rosebushes together; if a blossom had just fallen, his mother would pluck apart the petals and keep them in a jar, preserved in the icebox until she got around to making soap and hand-cream. McLeach opened his eyes. The strange emotion only grew. He dropped the rose onto the floor, to join the rest of the fallen flowers.

Joanna had gotten braver, and went ahead of the poacher. She still felt intimidated by the house; she seen that her owner was as well. It was odd, to see him so on edge in a place that was so familiar to him. Maybe if she showed she was brave, he'd feel better. Crawling up a set of stairs, she gazed down the dim hallway. Four doors, only one of them was left ajar. Curiosity got the better of her, and the goanna went to take a peek.

The bedroom looked as if its occupant had left in a hurry. She could still see old toys and picture books on the shelves, a small, rickety wooden bed with moth-eaten blankets neatly made, with a shapeless lump that at one point had been a teddy bear sitting atop the covers. The walls were wallpapered, though it was difficult to tell what color they had been, for it was now all a dull grey. The posters on the walls were faded yellow, with vague shapes of rubberhose cartoon characters etched onto them.

Hearing McLeach wheeze his way to the top of the stairs, Joanna looked over her shoulder, and sat outside the door until McLeach could join her. He leant in the doorway of his old bedroom, soaking in the scene. After what seemed like minutes, he finally walked into the room, slow and quiet.

The thing of interest for McLeach were the picture albums on one of his shelves. The ones left exposed to the sun were faded-but maybe these were saved. He grabbed on and flipped it open, feeling a large lump rise in his throat when he seen that they were untouched. Smelled a little mildewy, but were still visible. He choked down the lump, flipping through each page slowly, wanting to savor every picture. His baby brother in his bassinet, wearing a goofy-looking baby bonnet. Flip. Their old dog, Blueberry, sleeping on the rug in the sitting room, a chewbone lolling out of his mouth. Flip. A photo of his parents on their wedding day, both looking much younger and happier than he had ever remembered them seeing; Mr. McLeach had looked kinder then, gazing at his bride with all the love and adoration that a husband was supposed to have for his life partner. Flip. His childhood friend, Ruby, sitting with the nine-year-old Percy on the river's rocks, holding baby ducklings. Flip. Flip. Flip.

These were happy memories; why did his heart ache so much looking at them? He shouldn't feel like this, looking back on what were the happier years of his life. Flip. Flip.

Percival's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.

Of course there had to be pictures of Mr. Wells in here; back then, the McLeaches considered him as good as family. A tall, scrawny, unassuming man with shoulder-length brown hair, who had kindly and selflessly looked after Joanna and the boys while Mr. McLeach was away in the army- a second father figure, the reliant one, one who wouldn't yell and scream at the smallest of slights. After spending the summer with Mr. Wells as a boy, Percival wished he had stayed home. At least his father didn't play mind games with him, and when he hurt him, it was out of rage, and not premeditated. Not passed off as accidents that were all Percival's own fault. Not passed off as something he deserved, for something he couldn't even recall doing. The picture seemed so innocent. Just a kindly man with the boy he called his honorary son, on the back of a old mule at the fair. Percival knew better; he knew that under his child self's sweater was a nasty deep bruise, a bruise that hurt for weeks. Mr. Wells had claimed it had been an accident, that he hadn't meant to swing the shovel so hard into him. It was Percival's fault, for sneaking up on him like that.

'You'll be hurting for a while, Percy..' He could still hear that soft voice, too soft to note any real remorse, 'You frightened me something awful...I guess we learned our lesson on sneaking up on people, didn't we?'

We. As if it was a lesson they both learnt. As if it wasn't just one of the many thinly-veiled excuses used to hurt him. As if he didn't do worse, as if he did not permanently scar him physically and mentally. As if he didn't one day stop giving his excuses, once Percival had gotten too old to fall for them. As if it was the both of them having a knife held to the soft skin of their throat. As if it were the both of them who had to endure a full day and night in the skinning shed, surrounded by the dead, staring eyes of hogs. As if it were the both of them who had to endure nightmares, long after the torment had stopped.

It had always been 'We'. Never a 'I'm sorry.' It was always 'You.'

He had been brave only once. Brave enough to go to his father for help. How foolish of Percival to believe that his father would have stood up for his son. He never did such a thing before. The entire ordeal had been Percival's fault-his fault for being too stubborn, too much of a brat. If he had behaved better, Wells wouldn't have resorted to harsher punishments-it had been his fault he was treated so poorly.

For once, Percival stood up for himself.

Mrs. McLeach had tried to deescalate the fight. Mr. McLeach found himself with a broken nose, as Percival helped Joanna off the floor and out of the room. He only heard the safety click off before he had dove down the hall, sprinting from the door and into the night. "DON'T YOU EVER COME HOME!" For forty years he stayed away.

The strangled scream had terrified Joanna spitless. The goanna had been nosing around underneath McLeach's old bed, when her master emitted a sound so animalistic, that for a moment she feared that a big-cat had been hiding somewhere in the room. She immediately balled herself against the corner as the photo album was flung into the desk hard enough to shatter the frail wooden handle. The lump was back in McLeach's throat again, tighter and more painful than before, forcing tears to swell and blur his vision. His breathing came in ragged gasps, trying to keep the deep pain in his middle from winning. He crouched where he had stood, clenching his hands so tight that he felt as though they may break. He shouldn't be getting upset over this. He shouldn't be getting this upset over a goddamn picture.

It had been forty years. Why does it still hurt so bad? Why does it still feel so fresh?

The sudden warm weight crawling onto his lap tore him back into the present. Joanna scrambled as far up on him as she could. Percival hugged her as tight as he could, until his heart rate slowed back to normal, until he could breathe without choking. "Thanks." His voice was barely more than a croak. He took his bandana to dry his eyes with, "I'm sorry..I just.." he couldn't explain what had happened. Joanna understood though. She gently headbutted his shoulder, before slithering off of him and towards the photo album, picking it up in her jaws. McLeach took it from her, holding it in his lap. He'd tear out the pictures he wanted to keep, and leave the rest to rot in this forsaken house. The sun had just started to set as they made their way back to the truck, parked in the barren field next to the rotting barn. McLeach didn't even bother to give the house one last look before they drove off. Maybe now hadn't been the right time to come back. Maybe there never would be a 'right time.' Eventually, something had to be done about the place. Maybe he'd torch that haunted house to the ground. A house haunted, not by ghosts.

[slightlymore]

Snail

Disclaimer: I do not consider Jaehyun a fuckboy in the derogatory sense of the term, he’s just very flirty and cocky in this piece for entertaining purposes okay lol alright let’s go; also, no, the snail title has nothing to do with the sexy situation lol dw, it’s a cursed one but not that cursed Words: 5K Warnings: mention of blood (regarding a little cut on the hand, nothing serious) related to the plot not the sexy bits | manhandling and rough | oral (both) + swallowing + face fucking 

As the floor trembled and your escargot went flying all the way until meeting the handsome face of a stranger, you promised yourself to learn how to say no more often. You had no idea why you accepted to be on a cruise in the middle of the Pacific. Wasn't the Pacific supposed to be, you know, pacific? Or were you just that clumsy? 

Your mouth was open and it continued to grow ever wider at the look of one escargot sliding slowly on the man's eyes. He was standing there, with hands wide open in front of him as if someone splashed a bucket of cold water on his whole body. "I am-" you got closer with the first napkin you could find, "-mortified" you added, trying hard to build up courage and wipe the garlic off his nose. But you didn't manage to as he preferred to wipe his whole face with his palm instead. You watched him with a sorry and disgusted face, while awkwardly holding the fabric with both of your hands. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and gave you the most assassin of looks. His wet eyelashes accentuated the growing redness and his furrowed eyebrows created a deep, scary shadow. You gulped loudly and jolted as he slid the napkin from your fingers with a violent movement. "I apologize, I didn't-" you tried to speak again but as the man finished to wipe his face he turned his back to you and walked away throwing the napkin at your feet. "-mean to…" you whispered without completing the phrase as no one was there to listen to it anymore.

Your sister laughed loudly for a solid minute into the phone. You sighed but you felt the chuckle warm up your chest and you found yourself grinning as well. "I can imagine his face even if I don't know what he looks like-" she spoke again but choking on the words as another laughing fit interrupted her. You shook your head as if pretending to be disappointed by her behavior. "It was terrible. I've been here for 20 minutes and I've already made a fool out of myself," you commented. "Y/N, I know you don't like stuff like this, but that fundraising party is vital for the image of my company," your sister finally was able to catch her breath. You rested your elbows on the iron rails and looked down at the shining water. "Yes, don't worry, I can deal with all of this". "Just smile and shake hands and tell people who is giving the money you're giving," you listened to your sister's voice through the phone. The sun was so bright that it was almost difficult for you to keep your eyes open. You suddenly started to feel hot and tired, already socially exhausted after interacting with only one person. Turning around, you stared at the colorful clothes people were wearing, yellow, red, green, white, pink, bright blue and your head started to hurt. Everyone was chatting loudly, holding drinks, telling each other about their last investments, yachts, airplanes, jewelry, celebrity parties, vacation plans. What in the world would you talk with them about when your dress was $15 and your earrings probably plastic? You sighed again. "-and remember to talk to the fundraiser. He's a pain in the ass but rather charming if you know what buttons to press," you listened to your sister's last words while wondering what she said before that. "Alright, get well soon," you replied, eager to sit somewhere in the shade with a nice refreshing lemonade or something. You walked around the deck, thinking about how nice it would be to put your hot feet inside the cool water of the pool. But no, the fundraiser wanted a chic, semi-formal look for the party. As if anyone cares. You rolled your eyes, having a full-on conversation with yourself inside your mind, hovering over the refreshments. You poured yourself whatever looked fresh and not too sweet and downed it all. It was only when you turned around, hearing the mic being hit as if someone was trying to grab everyone’s attention that you realized you just had a big ass glass of alcohol. “Thank you for being here,” said the man. He was on top of the small stage from where the live band was providing people with background noise. People clapped and you imitated them, trying to walk at the front and see the fundraiser’s face. Finally, he was speaking. Afterwards, it wouldn’t be that weird to just go inside your cabin and chill for the rest of the day until dinner, would it? You “sorry, uhm, excuse me, haha, mind if I just-, thank you” ed you way until being able to see the man’s feet. First thing: boat shoes. Okay, you were on a boat, kind of, but, honestly? Come on. Then you raised your eyes to see his cream shorts and sighed. In the end you eyed his red shirt with black palms on it. What a rollercoaster. But it wasn’t until you saw his face that you felt like falling down.  “Snail man!” you gasped covering your mouth with your hand. Curious eyes looked at you from left and right and the man himself stopped from talking and looked down at you. You didn’t yell that just now, did you? Now you were definitely going to be thrown off the ship. Snail man’s eyes were firing but his lips smiled when he cleared his throat and just continued the monologue as if you were a little fly not worth his attention. You pressed your lips together, hoping that your warm cheeks would be mistaken for sunburns instead of killing mortification. After everything was finished and the band started playing their music again, you debated whether talking to the fundraiser or not. He didn’t look very pleased to see you and you were afraid you were going to embarrass yourself even further, but your conscience didn’t let you just run away. You didn’t apologize properly and your sister would be upset that you didn’t talk to him at all. “Uhm, excuse me,” you spoke to him, rising your hand a little as when you’re too shy to call the waitress to ask for more breadsticks. He turned his head to look at you, one hand in his pocket and the other one holding a glass of champagne. His eyebrows got furrowed very quickly and you sensed that he was doing everything in his power to not roll his eyes. “Ah, snail woman herself,” he commented with a dry voice. You walked towards him hurriedly as if glad he gave you a chance to talk to him. “I wanted to properly apologize for the incident. I didn’t do it on purpose… uh…” you knew his name was Jung Jaehyun but he was too young for you to use honorifics with him. At the same time, he definitely looked like someone wanting to be called Sir. He sighed. “Call me Mr. Jung,” he told you. Yep. “Mr. Jung,” you repeated. He sipped on his drink again. You stared. Uhm?? He should tell you that he’s forgiving you now, right? That’s how human interactions work. I’m sorry. Oh no, it’s alright. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me?” he spoke after the awkward pause. Was there something else you had to tell him? You were kind of panicking. How do rich people talk? “I am Y/N?” you question, hoping it was what he wanted to hear. Nice to meet you Y/N, let’s just pretend that we didn’t have an abrupt first contact and let me help you feel less embarrassed. But no. He laughed at you. Yeah. Just like that. He laughed loudly for everyone to hear while your whole face got even more flushed than before.  The people that were close enough to you to hear your conversation, chuckled secretly, giving you weird stares.  You stared at his face.  If you didn’t feel a slow-boiling rage inside your chest, you might have considered his laugh charming, with those white teeth and deep dimples of his. But you were indeed starting to feel rather irritated. You did splatter him in buttery escargots and called him a snail, but you apologized and he definitely saw how mortified you were. Was this a way to make you pay? You looked around and felt the urge to hug yourself but you didn’t want to look more vulnerable that you actually were. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he talked again and you locked eyes with him again. He was still amused but a softer light adorned his eyes. “I’m messing with you. It’s fine. We’re cool, don’t worry about the snails,” he added, walking towards the refreshments table and looking around, unsure. You tailed him to be able to hear what he was saying. He was probably those types of people that were used to just walk around a company while six people surrounded him taking notes and helping him to take off his jacket. “Escargot,” you whispered. The man shrugged. “Snails that you eat. Besides, you called me snail man, not escargot man”. You took a glass of orange juice while he smelled some pastries. “Unless you wanted to say that I look like a snail,” he considered. “Oh no, you don’t look like one at all,” you assured him. “And how do I look?”. “Very handsome-” you sputtered before being able to stop yourself.  Okay, what the actual fuck? There were legit thousands of different ways to say it. You look fine. You look nice. You look good. Nonchalantly Y/N. More casual. As if you don’t care. No. You look very handsome. God. To the snail man that embarrassed you just 1 minute ago. Mr. Jung looked at you with the corner of his eye and smiled. Who knows how many times he has heard that before. “Honestly, you caught my eyes as you entered the cruise. I was there when you tripped because I was coming to talk to you,” he confessed. His tone was flat though as if he was talking about the weather. Your head jerked into his direction.  How does one reply to that? Thanks? Should you feel flattered? Okay, he was a very handsome man but if he needed only a piece of garlic thrown to his face to change his mind about you (when it was an accident) then you didn't want it. “I see,” you talked awkwardly while your hand tried to put down your empty glass. “Hey, caref-” Mr. Jung warned you but it was too late. Your nerves were so thin that you didn’t realize how fragile crystal glasses actually were. “Oh, shit-” you stared at the shattered pieces in your hand. One of your fingers was quick to bleed little beads of blood. “I am so sorry,” you apologized for what you felt was the 20th time that day. For no reason.  “Let me see,” Mr. Jung ordered, carefully cleaning the skin of any remaining fragments after you opened your hand. “I have a first aid kit in my suite. Let’s go,” he spoke again and taking your other hand he just walked away, as if completely sure you'd follow him. You tugged a little trying to convince him that you were fine. “It’s alright. I have a band-aid in my purse”. Mr. Jung just stared at you without saying a word as if his eyes were powerful enough to command you to do what he wanted. Not negotiable, they were saying. You softened your grip and let yourself be dragged away with a sigh.

His cabin didn’t look like yours at all. It was much more spacious and elegant. His bed was round and luxurious. It looked so sensual with its red and black bedding that you had to look away. Your heels got buried in the soft and thick rug placed in the middle of the floor. Mr. Jung’s perfume impregnated the whole room and you felt a little light-headed. He took you to the desk in front of the big windows that were showing the lazy waves underneath the cruise. Leaving you there to rest your hips on the wooden furniture, he opened a cabinet and retrieved what he needed to disinfect your cut. When he turned around and got closer you could see how his expression was serious and stern, no trace of the flirty light from before. Maybe he didn't want you to sue him for hurting yourself on his cruise? You breathed sharply through your teeth when he placed the cold and wet cotton on your finger and he raised his eyes to look at you. You returned the glare. “It’s alright,” you whispered, inciting him to go on. You had no idea why you kept your voice so low. Maybe because he was standing so close to you, almost touching your knees with his thighs, or maybe because he looked so concentrated, his plump lips slightly open and a little line between his eyebrows. As he was looking down on your hand, you looked at his face for the first time without feeling shy. You didn’t like to see blood or maybe it was the sun hitting your head but you suddenly felt all your limbs very weak.  When he was done and looked up, you swallowed and made sure to be caught gazing at the surroundings instead of the nude collarbones his unbuttoned shirt revealed. But maybe he wasn’t that stupid. “You look very pale,” he commented while raising a hand and brushing his thumb on your lower lip. “You also look a little shocked,” he added more amused when you jolted at his touch. Yeah, because you’re touching me, not because of the cut.  What was he doing? Do rich people think that they own people as well? You tried to express that with your eyes but he looked unfazed as if doing that was as easy and normal as to shake someone’s hand. You knew you had to move away, tell him that you just need to get some rest, maybe lay down for a bit. But your limbs wouldn’t move.  You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you murmured moving your hand as to indicate what you were referring to.  Mr. Jung was just staring, apparently not used to reply to gratitude, eyes slightly narrowed as if analyzing you, then they went down and openly looked at your breasts. 

Okay.  Alright. You didn’t wear any bra because it would have ruined the dress silhouette and you were already anxious out of your mind wondering if your nipples would show or not, so you definetly didn’t expect people to just staring at it. You gulped and let out a little nervous laugh while shifting your body, trying to do something that would distract him from staring at your boobs, not because you hated it, but because you suddenly felt exposed, shy and, God save us, maybe a little turned on. You shouldn’t have drunk that glass of alcohol. “Your suite is very nice. The color scheme is intense but charming-” you started to cary the conversation but felt your breath hitch as he got suddenly even closer as if not listening nor caring about what you were trying to discuss. “Please, don’t stop talking,” he purred. “I love your voice,” he added distracted.  “You’re not even listening to me,” you replied with a tiny sound. “Mm, you’re right, I’m focusing on other things right now,” he smiled finally lifting his gaze on your face. “Your dress has a blood spot right here,” he pointed to one of your nipples, touching it, definitely feeling how it got hard because of it. You quickly dropped your head to your chest to see. Damn it!, that was a big ass spot on your fucking bright yellow dress. “Why did you wait so long to tell me that?” you jerked your head up again.  He shrugged. “I got distracted”. And you knew what he meant with that. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms on your chest and puffing your cheeks. He found that very funny and just laughed at you. Again. “I think I should go now,” you nodded to yourself as if building up the courage to get up. “Yeah”, Mr. Jung agreed. But you didn’t move nor did he. So, he tilted his head on the side and wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue,  getting as close as to whisper on your lips.  “Or maybe you’re waiting for me to help you get undressed?” he asked teasingly. His hands were pressed on the desk around your body, his arms feeling like a cage and his presence so intense that you physically shivered. “You- you should let me go,” you stuttered, even if you both already understood that you had no intention to go away. Mr. Jung let his dimples appear in a shiny smile. "What if I want to do something else?" he asked without breaking eye contact. You kept in a whimper, not used to hear people talking to you like that. "You'd have to at least buy me dinner first," you tried to joke and keep up with his vibe. "I'll fill you up so well that you won't want to eat anything else," he whispered and you've never felt your guts do what they just did ever before. Fuck.  "I-" you blinked unable to look at his eyes. What was happening? Why was the fundraiser flirting with you? Why weren't you already on your feet walking towards your cabin? Why were your fingers moving slowly to touch his wrist? Why did you were feeling the urge to let it brush his skin and follow the vein on his forearm until reaching the bicep then upon his shoulder, caressing it when it reached the soft part of the neck trying to understand if his pulse was beating as fast as yours or not. He let you do that as your eyes followed your hand and when it was close to his face you saw his jaw clench. You stopped.  "Go on," he ordered but you couldn't bring yourself to, feeling your cheeks suddenly burn. So he took your hand and forced it down on his chest, slowly, letting you feel his muscles underneath the thin shirt fabric, going down on his abdomen, making your breath hitch as he flexed his abs on your fingertips, not stopping, letting it slide on his cold belt until your palm was all the way on his turgid length. He pressed his hand on yours even harder, letting you understand what you were dealing with, not looking away from your face, loving your reactions. Oh, you were wet, fuck you were so wet. "Okay," you breathed out, "okay, okay, you won Mr. Jung". "But there is no game," he explained with a sly smile. "If you're trying to make me pay or embarrass me because of the incident, then I'm sorry again Mr. Jung-” you spoke trying to keep your composure that was holding itself on the thinnest thread ever. He chuckled. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to fuck you, miss Y/N,” he whispered against your ear, articulating every word, slowly, as if he was touching you already with his voice alone. You let out a tiny moan that became suddenly bigger as his tongue lightly traced the curve of your neck, making you stretch it to the side. Then he just bit down, hard, with no warning, sucking on the skin, grabbing your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh and lifting you into his arms. You yelped and tightened your arms around his neck not expecting the movement and not expecting his throwing you on the bed either. You exhaled sharply as it knocked all of the air out of your lungs and he didn’t even give you a single second to breathe in again, that he was already on the bed, on his knees, between your legs. Oh, God. It’s about to happen. But he didn’t do what you thought he would do. His smile never flattered and his eyes never let you go while his palms caressed your legs slowly, from your calves, going underneath your knees, tickling your sensitive skin, then upon your thigh where the dress split started. You looked down at his hands and just gasped loudly when he held the fabric and just tore it apart. “It was ruined anyway, baby girl,” he assured you seeing your shocked expression. You jolted again when he touched your stomach and ripped your dress again, this time until the tear reached your chest and you felt the material sliding off your skin to the sides. Naked in one second, you shivered certain that your cheeks were burning. You wanted to say something, but you had no idea what should one say in these types of situations. “Would you help me take this off as well, babe?” Mr. Jung smiled. “I can’t possibly tear that apart,” you sat up shocked. Jaehyun’s deep laugh tickled your ears. “Just unbutton it, love, it’s enough,” he suggested and you obeyed lifting your hands to rest on his chest for a moment then slowly tackling the task. You felt Mr. Jung’s gaze on your body just as present as his fingers drawing little circles on your bare thighs. “You are so beautiful, miss Y/N,” he suddenly said making your hands tremble on the last button. His compliment didn’t linger in your mind too much though as the image in front of you knocked your thoughts out of your mind. You touched him, starting from the bottom, pressing your hands hard then going up scratching his skin with your nails. He breathed out as your fingers spread on his chest and you expected him to finally kiss you but he just raised one hand and cupped your face, feeling your cheek with his thumb then letting it descend on your neck, massaging your throat, applying some pressure, enough for you to open your lips in an attempt to breath better. Your legs squirmed around him, trying hard to get together, indicating him that something between them needed attention. But he just smiled and didn’t budge. His hand continued to go down on your body until reaching your soft breasts, cupping them, feeling the smoothness of your skin and the plumpness of your hard nipples. You whined at the touch and your eyes implored him to go faster. “Be a good girl for me, or I will stop,” he warned you softly. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head quickly, so easy to submit yourself to him. He smiled as if pleased and let your breasts go to unbuckle his belt. His pace was so calm and slow, so different from just a minute ago when he literally ripped your clothes off your body. He was a surprise and your core felt even wetter at the thought of what he might do next. When he let his thick cock out, pumping it slowly, licking his lips teasingly, you thought he wanted you to go down on him, and oh, you were so eager to do it, letting your tongue feel his veins and taste his flavour.  But he clicked his tongue with a dimpled smile as if reading your mind and directed his length on your breasts, hitting your nipples with the tip of his cock, little drops of precum smearing on them, making both of your breaths hitch. You looked down at how it moved and promptly grabbed your chest, tightening it around him, opening your mouth and letting a trail of saliva fall on it. Jaehyun hummed appreciatively and moved his hips between our breasts, loving the way your skin felt on his hot cock, grunting every now and then and biting his lower lip. You, on the other hand, were panting loudly, soon shut up by his fingers shoved inside your mouth to suck on them. Your tongue wet them well while looking up at him with lusty eyes as if asking if you were being a good girl or not. The answer was that you were so good that he had to feel that tongue on his cock as well. So he just grabbed your head by the nape and filled your mouth all in one go, hitting the back of your throat with the hottest groan you’ve heard a man do before. “Oh- oh fuck, fuck-” he managed to say as his adam apple went up and down, swallowing hard. He was so hot, rolling himself on your tongue, chocking you, thrusting fast, holding your face with both of his hands, staring down at how his cock disappeared between your lips. You whined at his size and you would have let him know that it was too much if he didn’t release right at that moment with a shudder of his hips. His expression was pained from pleasure and he tried to pull out but you grabbed his sides to keep him in place and he cursed again, feeling his cum slide down your throat as you swallowed around him, adding to the euphoria. A little trail of it came out your lips and down your chin that you promptly collected with your finger and licked off, slowly, not breaking eye contact.  “You are driving me fucking crazy,” his voice came out deep and dangerous just like the look in his dark eyes and just like his manners.  He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you down on your back but not giving you a second to catch your breath as you were already turned around on your stomach with a dull thud, his hands forcing you to get on all fours in front of him. Your panties were quickly dragged down your legs but your needy core wasn’t left bare too long as his tongue replaced the fabric, hugging your form tightly, vibrating restlessly on your bundle of nerves, smacking it by tugging it with his lip, caressing it with his thumb, stretching you out to fuck you with his fingers. Previously upright on your hands you just had to let yourself fall on the mattress, not having a single ounce of force in your arms anymore, pressing your face on the covers, mumbling nonsense as Jaehyun was sending you into pure bliss. His teeth followed his tongue on your thigh, biting the soft flesh and sucking on it hard, adding to the sensation his fingers provided so deep inside of you. “S-sir,” you whimpered breathlessly, “don’t stop, please,” you begged. And he didn’t. “Does it feel good, princess?” he asked before going back to tease your clit.  “Y-yes, yes, please, I want-” you whispered.  He knew what you wanted.  He kept on pumping your core fast even when you let out a high pitched sound, gripping the sheets underneath you and squirming restlessly. Your legs were still shaking in spasms when he rolled your over on your back again digging his fingers into your skin, not worried about leaving marks. You looked at him and whined seeing his cocky smile, knowing that nothing good would come out of it. Sprawled like that in front of him, letting him look at every inch of your body in broad sunlight, with your head clearer thanks to the explosive orgasm you’ve just had, you let your hands cover your breasts as if helping to cover you a little. A little tingle of shame caressed your spine and you couldn’t bear to look at Jaehyun in the eyes. He smiled placing his hands on your waist and dragging your body towards him, opening your legs around his hips with a rough movement. “Are you getting embarrassed for behaving like a little slut just now, angel?” he teased you, caressing your thighs. “Let me see everything, put your hands away,” he ordered. You looked at his face for a brief moment and gulped, nervous, still very turned on but so shy at the same time.  “I said,” he lowered his voice by a few notes, making your breath quicken, “put your hands away,” he added, intimidating as never before.  His expression was lusty but dangerous and you were about to obey, but he didn’t have much patience. He came closer as lighting and grabbing your wrists, he pinned them above your head, keeping them down in an iron grip. His chest was almost touching your breasts and his cock was laying between your wet folds. Jaehyun started to slowly roll his hips and you felt him harden at every movement, twitching on your raw clit, making you jolt. You breathed on his lips, thin moans forming on your tongue, mind starting to get foggy again, your everything telling you to just let yourself go.  “Please- please I want-” you mumbled choking on your breath while his other hand traveled south, kneading your hip and pressing your leg against himself even harder. “Yes, darling?” he whispered back, pelvis moving at a slow pace, driving you crazy. “Please- I want to feel you inside,” you confessed with a tiny voice before suddenly losing all air in your lungs as he penetrated you in one go, burying himself deep inside, thrusting hard as to make your body shift on the bed sheets back and forth. “Like this, baby?” he asked with a broken voice. “You wanted this? To feel my cock stretch your sweet little pussy like this, huh?”. You tried to hum back but only high moans escaped your mouth as he was pressing so hard into you, isolating his pelvis movements as if hammering, making your toes curl and legs tighten, all of your muscles tensioned and twitching underneath his weight. “My little disobedient princess had the courage to ask for my cock? Now, you’re going to get it” he got up on his knees again, caressing your stomach then sliding down and rubbing your clit with his thumb.  You arched your back, eyes rolling back in your head, hands shifting while trying something to hold onto.  When you lifted your hips so close to coming undone yet again, he descended again, stopping with a deep thrust. Remaining still inside and holding you tight, he wrapped your body with his, squishing your breasts with his hard chest. You whined, clenching around him, so so close, please, you were so close. Against your neck, you heard him breathing heavily and chuckle before leaving wet kissed on your skin. Reaching your lips he thrust in again, pushing you into the mattress, repeating the same movement as before, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you moan as never before. You wanted him to move, you wanted him to continue to hit that sweet spot again and again until you would lose your fucking mind. But you had no force to articulate any words so you just wrapped his neck with your arms and dragged him down in your first kiss, letting your tongue communicate what you couldn’t say, whining and wincing, making him growl as you clenched around his throbbing cock while he let his hips move again until they lost rhythm.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 3 - AO3

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The place Dupain-Cheng took him to was a small bakery not far from the school. Stepping inside, the smell of fresh baked bread assaulted his nose. In the display case, dozens of macaroons in all colors lined parchment paper next to croissants and cream-stuffed pastries. Felix expected Dupain-Cheng to get in line to order; instead, the girl skipped the line, approaching the woman at the register directly. "Hi, Maman," Dupain-Cheng greeted. 

Felix wanted to scoff as he watched mother and daughter hug. Of course, she'd take him to her family bakery! She wouldn't be able to afford any of the places his pallet was used to. But... despite his first instinct, the establishment did have a rather... warm feel to it, further embellished y the downpour outside. And the food did look impeccable. Not his usual fare, certainly, but one day off his diet wouldn't hurt him. 

"Welcome home, Marinette," her mother greeted. Her eyes met his and furrowed with confusion before her expression smoothed out. "Who's your friend? He's never dropped by before." 

So she could tell him and Adrien apart. Good. 

"Ah! Maman, this is -" 

"Felix Graham de Vanily," Felix cut in smoothly, smiling charmingly. "I'm new in class and your daughter has been kind enough to help me gain my barrings at Fransis-Depoint. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mme. Cheng." He bowed at the waist, eyes lowered. He wanted to make a good impression - 

"It's nice to to meet you too, Felix," Mme. Cheng nodded, seemingly amused. "Why don't you two grab something from the back and eat upstairs." She glanced at the line, which had only grown in number since they arrived. "It seems like it's about to get full down here."

"Thanks, Maman." Dupain-Cheng pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek. "Come on, back here."

Felix followed her behind the counter and into the kitchen beyond where an extremely large man, presumably her father, was icing a particularly tall wedding cake. "Hey, Dad! Felix and I are just grabbing some food before going upstairs."

The father smiled, surprisingly calm about his daughter arriving with a strange boy in his shop. "Go right ahead! There's some fresh chicken salad and cold cuts in the fridge if either of  you want them."

They each loaded up their plates, but when Dupain-Cheng started to ascend the stairs, Felix hesitated. He looked back at M. Dupain. "Sir... Forgive me, but how do I pay for this?" Father and daughter exchanged a shocked glance. "I didn't get a chance to properly observe the menu, so otherwise I'd-"

"Don't worry about it!" M. Dupain laughed. "No friend of Marinette has to pay! Consider it the 'friends and family' discount." 

Felix frowned. He didn't really consider them friends yet; acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Though, if the quality of his classmates refused to improve, she might end up being the only person he could stand talking to on a regular basis. "Sir, I must insist-"

"They're not going to let you pay, trust me," Dupain-Cheng said. "You're not the first person to try, nor are you going to be the last. Just come on." She went upstairs and Felix reluctantly followed. He wasn't used to other people doing favors for him. Usually people wanted favors, thinking he'd be naive enough to allow them to ride off the Graham de Vanily family coat tails. Felix never allowed that mentality to stick around him long; no one had ever been stupid enough to try more than once. 

The familial part of the home looked nothing like the elegant, cold entry hall of his family's manor, nor did the connecting living room resemble any parlor or sitting room that he's ever been in. It looked well-used, lacking the meticulous housekeeping that the maids kept, with a blanket crumpled up on the couch and a video game console pushed to the side, like someone had finished playing in a hurry. He could see into the open kitchen from the living room and noticed that although it looked clean, there were dishes stacked in the skin. Was this how commoners lived? Clearly despite their beloved establishment, the Dupain-Chengs weren't nearly as well off as some of the other members of their school, like himself, Adrien, and Chloe. So how did they attend? The tuition was rather costly; did she get in on scholarship? 

Of course, Felix had enough sense not to ask her about her family's financial status.  Things simply weren't done in polite society, and while Felix often didn't feel the need to follow those unspoken rules, there was no need to insult someone in their own home. 

Dupain-Cheng sat on the couch while Felix took the love seat nearby, sitting gingerly upon it as though it could bite him. Despite the home being so banal, Felix found himself... liking it. It was warm, much like how the bakery below was warm, with a lingering sense of comfort radiating from every square centimeter of the home. He found himself sinking into the plush of the chair without meaning to. 

To distract his mind, he tucked into lunch, only to find his meal delicious. He paused after a single mouthful. Somehow, the simple meal was able to rival those made by the professional chefs in his family's employ. Good work deserves to be complimented, so Felix told Dupain-Cheng so and she flushed. "T-Thanks. I'm sure my parents appreciate it," she said with a cough, having swallowed some of her food wrong. "Would you like to go over where we are in the curriculum now?"

"Yes, that would be quite useful."

She showed him her notes for their classes and just as he thought, he was already ahead in most subjects. The only exception was literature, but only because his school had focused more on British authors than French. Still, it wouldn't take for him to catch up. But there was still one thing about the day that bothered him and since Dupain-Cheng volunteered her service, he asked, "I am unsure if this falls under you assisting me around the school, but could you explain what that Lila girl was trying to do today?"

Dupain-Cheng set down her utensils and exhaled heavily. "What has she lied about this time?"

"Apparently I pushed her after a greeting. Which is odd because I had no idea she existed before class." Not that Felix really cared. But saying he pushed her was a step too far; he has far more subtly than direct physical assault. At least be clever when you try to slander him!

"Huh, so she's directly attacking you already? That's weird, I could have sworn she'd make up some lie about forgiving you and promising to help you meet your favorite celebrity if you promised to be nice."

He scoffed, but Dupain-Cheng made no similar noise. Like... she was serious. Oh God, she was serious. "Are you telling me people actually believe that swill?" 

"Most of our class, Mme Bustier, and our principal. Fortunately she hasn't started working on making the people in other classes believe her yet, but there are a handful there too." It seemed as though speaking about it unleashed a dam inside the girl. "And it doesn't make any sense because most of her lies can be disproven with either an internet search or a phone call! She claimed that she saved Jagged Stone's cat from an airplane, but was there any media coverage from it? None at all! She claims to go on all these expensive vacations, but either her photos got damaged on the way back or she just shows the class stock images of generic tourist stuff. And the volunteer work! Sure, I can understand charities not advertising who their workers are, but all you'd have to do is call them and every charity she's mentioned ends up saying that a Lila Rossi never worked with their organization. I just... I don't understand how they can keep falling for this stuff! None of them even bother to consider that she could be lying!" Her chest heaved after her rant, but she looked relieved, like she'd finally been able to get it off her chest. "They... none of them even think that I'm telling the truth," she continued in a small voice. "They all think that poorly of me."

Their... classmates, as much as Felix hated to admit any relation to those morons, had really done a number on her. He found empathy to be distasteful, especially with his plan to become a ruthless business man later in life, but he could help but pity her. Not that he'd ever admit it. Perhaps he could change the subject? Or at least lighten the mood. 

"I'm going to be surrounded by idiots then. Lovely." She shot him a hurt look. "Well, not you. Obviously. Though seeing past such a clear liar isn't really a point towards you as it is a negative three against the others."

"You rate people on a point scale?" Her eyes were starting to lighten, brighten. 

"Only when I need to inform others of how lowly I consider them." He sniffed haughtily. 

"Does that mean you think better of me than them?" she teased, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"No need to get a big head now; it's not that you're better, but rather that you're less awful." He smirked in return, hopefully letting her know that he was returning her tease. At least, he thought that's what he was doing. He never really understood how to communicate with his peers in a fashion that reflected well on him. 

"I'm pretty sure that's the definition of better though." 

"Well, if you're so desperate to claim the title, you could always prove it." Felix folded his hands under his chin. "Prove that you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are worthy of my time."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure if I want it now."

He frowned in disappointment, but inside he was triumphant. "Truly a shame; and here I wanted to get to know the real Dupain-Cheng... But alas I fear that knowledge will forever be out of reach." 

"Who says 'alas' anymore?"

"Well!" he huffed, "Just because you're unused to refined vocabulary doesn't mean you have to insult me, Mademoiselle!"

The verbal sparring went back and forth for a while and as rapier wit battled rapier wit, Felix found it hard to keep a smile off his face.

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx

[nataliawhite92]

Paper Planes

Lena doesn’t regret much in her life. There are moments that she might change if she had the chance but at the end of each day she lives firmly in the camp that everything happens for a reason. If she changed one thing would she be happier or would it be that one change that snowballed into her not moving to National City? Not changing L-Corp to be a force for good. Not meeting Kara. No she doesn’t believe in regrets. Until she shows Kara a song and her whole lifes goes off the rails.

It was a normal Tuesday morning. Lena was in their home gym doing cardio to jump start her day, a routine she took up after Kara had moved in and not just because she was now comparing herself to an actual goddess but also because she loved Kara’s reaction when she happened upon her sweating and cursing any for of exercise that wasn’t yoga. The first time Kara had walked into the gym still rubbing sleep from her eyes and yawning only for her open mouth to widen further Lena knew she would be continuing. Though it was rare that she finished a workout these days, Kara never was a patient person and seemed to take great pleasure in disrupting her only to make her heart race in other ways. Sometimes she will sit down in a patch of sunlight and just watch Lena. And if Lena puts a little extra swish in her hips that’s neither here nor there.

She’s half an hour in when Kara greets her with a soft kiss to the cheek, floating near the treadmill to reach Lena’s face and almost sending her to the ground in surprise.

She pulls out one of her headphones and smirks at her girlfriend who is very obviously staring at her legs which stumbled a little before regaining their stride.

“One of these times you are going to send me straight into a wall,” she huffs, a little out of breath but not nearly as much as she had been a couple months back when she started. She’s made good progress and Kara’s constant appreciation is motivation enough to get through a workout.

“Psh, I would catch you before you even left the treadmill. Super reflexes,” Kara says smiling, now doing a sort of running man impressing in the air.

Lena laughs and turns the machine lower for her cool down. She grabs the towel hanging on the armrests and dabs at her chest and face.

Kara’s eyes trace the bead of sweat that makes its way down between her sports bra clad breasts and she smirks at Kara’s darkening eyes.

“Have I mentioned how much I love starting my day finding you in here?” Kara asks, eyes finally meeting her face in a dazed look that’s too adorable for Lena not to pull towards her and kiss. She tastes the salt on her lips as Kara’s mouth meets hers. Sliding a little in the sweat as Kara deepens the kiss and pulls Lena up into her arms.

“I do believe you have made your opinion known,” Lena kisses into her mouth. She tastes the smile and toothpaste as Kara’s tongue enters her mouth, her breathing starting to shallow as it had when she was running.

She pushes back a little on Kara’s shoulders, giggling when Kara searches for her mouth. She kisses the crinkle that appears between her eyes and watches Kara blink her eyes back open in a lazy smile.

“Darling, you’re going to need to put me down so I can stretch out and take a shower. I’ve got a meeting in an hour.”

“Need any help stretching?” She tries to wiggle her eyebrows but ends up blinking and Lena laughs again. She really has fallen in love with the goofiest, sweetest woman.

“Your help will surely make me late,” she gently chided, feet touching down softly and Kara reluctantly letting her go.

“Fiiiiiine,” Kara whines.

Lena starts working through some of the easier poses, feeling the pull of a good workout and the soreness that will probably set in by the next morning.

Kara floats on her stomach, arms lazily making swimming motions that make Lena smile as she bends at the waist to move into downward dog.

The music that had been playing on her iPod comes on over the speakers as Kara plugs it into the aux cord in the wall. Lena’s workout playlist is a mix of heavy bass songs she found during the stress of college, late 90s and early 2000s artists who kick her ass into gear when she’s sure she can’t move another step forward. VIC’s Beast tails off and she hears the opening chords of Paper Planes begin as she comes back to standing, head rolling in a circle to finish off her stretches to the sound of the bop.

She closes her eyes to center herself just as the chorus comes on. Her eyes widen as she sees her girlfriend, her ridiculous still floating now upside down girlfriend dancing in mid air, blissed out expression on her face.

“All I wanna do is…”

Finger guns blasting.

“And I,”

Whole arm cocking her finger guns and finishing with her hand opening in a wiggling explosion at the cash register ching.

“And take your money.”

She bursts out laughing, bending again at her middle as she struggles to catch her breath. Tears are pouring down her face when she stands up, wiping them away and still laughing.

“Kara! What in the world are you doing??”

“Lena this song is so fun! Why haven’t you showed it to me before??” Kara asks touching down beside Lena and pulling her into an improvised dance session. Lena knows she should be heading to shower. She really can’t be late to this meeting but she can’t even be mad at herself as Kara twirls them around the room.

___________________________________________

She makes it to her meeting just in time, smiling as Jess does last minute prep with her. As she moves toward the conference room she schools her face and converts smoothly into business mode.

Four hours later she is exhausted but victorious, the meeting going exactly as she had desired. She relishes the finer points before opening her office door and being met with a dancing Kara Danvers, headphones in her ears and spinning around to what she suspects is the MIA song from earlier if her moves are any indication.

Kara stops when she sees her, and then shoots her with her finger guns once more before pulling the buds out of ears and sweeping Lena up in a hug.

“How did it go?” She asks after kissing her in greeting.

“As if you couldn’t hear, though you seem so taken with that song maybe you weren’t listening for once.”

“It’s a good song Lena!” Kara protest, pout forming on her face.

“It is. Though you’re a little late to the party. I believe it’s been out for some years now.”

“Lots of time to make up for then!” Kara says around a smile. The same smile that Lena will never tire of seeing. Kara has a lot of smiles, she’s noticed. But this one is reserved for her alone. And puppies. She can share though.

If she’s on the same level as puppies she must be doing something right.

___________________________________________

Lena’s enjoyment of Kara’s antics last a week and about 200 renditions of the song. The morning she wakes up from a dream where nefarious looking bandits are chasing after her on paper airplanes she’s had enough.

All her efforts to find help are thoroughly thwarted.

J’onn refuses to wipe Kara’s mind, though he looks pained about his decision. Lena remembers a passing comment by one of the Danvers sisters about Kryptonians being impervious to psychic abilities and pats J’onn’s shoulder in camaraderie as she leaves.

Alex bursts out laughing at Lena’s dilemma. When she gathers herself enough to look at the CEO standing impatiently in the doorway of Alex’s office she starts back up again at the glare on Lena’s face.

Lena turns on her heel and stalks away. She raises her middle finger over her shoulder not bothering to turn around as Alex calls after her.

“Consider yourself lucky to have missed her Bye Bye Bye phase!” Alex yells at her retreating back.

Lena shudders at the thought.

Winn suggests contacting the artist and offering incentive for them to make a statement about being anti-potstickers in an effort to affront Kara enough to get her to stop listening.

Lena considers it for all of a minute before the image of Kara’s falling face breaks her resolve. She has her limits, Luthor name notwithstanding.

Sam, like Alex, finds the whole thing far too funny to be at all helpful.

“She doesn’t even do the finger guns right Samantha! She curls her pointer finger when she shoots! Her thumb still straight up in the air like a stubborn hitchhiker trying to bum a ride!”

She leaves Sam in her own office, snorting and crying, mumbling about how she hopes Alex has some sort of equally annoying tendency that she soon shows.

Lena tries calming breaths but they start to follow the rhythm of that damn song and she almost screams.

___________________________________________

When she gets home she hears it playing again and officially reaches her capacity of tolerance.

“Kara Zor-El Danvers I cannot listen to that song one more time!” She yells slamming her finger down on the pause button.

Kara is mid fire and she squeezes her finger once more, smiling bashfully at Lena.

Lena falls to the floor, crumbling at how she can’t even be mad when Kara’s in front of her. Probably still smiling.

She hears her girlfriend kneel down in front of her, feeling her eyes watching as Lena’s shoulders shake with repressed laughter, her head in her hands.

“Lena…”

“How did I manage to fall in love with such a dork?” She sighs exasperatedly, shaking her head back and forth.

Silence.

She peeks out confused. Only upon replaying her last statement does she realize what just snuck out of her mouth.

Kara is staring at her gobsmacked, eyes wide and looking suspiciously wet.

“You love me?” She whispers.

Lena sobers immediately. She places her palms on either side of Kara’s face, holding her gently. Her world in the palm of her hands.

“How could I not?” She says back, equally as soft.

Kara blinks, one tear falling down her cheek before her whole face lights up in a smile Lena had never seen before. It was her smile but somehow impossibly fuller.

Before she even consciously decides to she’s in Kara’s lap, her enthusiasm knocking down the most powerful being on Earth. She kisses her, lips brought together not very softly to begin with but quickly escalating to a full fledged battle.

It’s Kara this time who pulls away first. Lena making a noise of displeasure at the now missing contact.

“I love you too,” Kara says, sure and strong. Lena knew, Kara shows her in a million little ways everyday. But to hear it from her mouth. She kisses her once more before cuddling down into her prone body, head tucked in her hero’s neck.

“If you want me to stop listening to that song I will,” Kara says one hand stroking Lena’s hair, the other wrapped around her middle pulling her as close as possible.

“How about we compromise?”

Kara hums to show she’s listening.

“Two times a day and you let me show you how to actually do finger guns.”

Kara’s laughter envelopes her, her whole body shaking underneath Lena. She nuzzles closer and decides she might be lenient on the second point. Sharing that song with Kara might be the cause of her eventual insanity but Lena Luthor doesn’t believe in regrets.

[insomniac-arrest]

Little Lights

genre: original, sci-fi, wlw

words: 7k

summary: a girl on a floating continent communicates with a girl on the ground through floating lanterns

they try to reach each other

 The first one appeared on my 7th birthday, I had seen them before but hadn’t been allowed to join the procession until that year.

My hair was tied back in complex knots and I pulled on them regularly, trying to dislodge the tight coils and chew on the ends. It was a bad habit, my mom had been trying to cut the habit out of me for years (at nine she would threaten me with a spritz bottle).

I tugged on my hair coils and stared up the night sky as my mother fiddled with her high-tech camera, she had wanted to be a photographer at one point when she was younger. My father was still trying to find the ‘perfect’ patch of grass for us to settle on.

I held my mother’s skirts as I stared up at the approaching mass in the sky, dark and shimmering as it hefted across the sky like a rolling tangible storm. I was aware of the floating continents at that point, but it was still making me suck in my breath.

I sucked on my bottom lip instead of my hair and try to keep my eyes fixated on the glowing jagged shapes miles away. I had some eminent sense that if I blinked the whole thing would fall from the sky or disappear altogether.

My sister called me a fanciful girl at that age, but that was one of the nicest things she called me overall.

I kept my hand latched onto my mother’s skirt, her fingers ticking over the different filters on her camera and cursing softly, not loud enough for me to overhear, but I filled in the gaps. My sister was with her first boyfriend that year, somewhere high up, close enough she said to almost touch the bottom of it.

I doubted that. I didn’t believe anything could reach that high, my mouth falls open as the rumbling machine gently glides closer and closer. I had always known about floating continents, I see the lights first.

Honey yellow, glacial blue, cherry lipstick red, tangerine orange, all the crayon colors I could think of and more, they lit up one by one as hovering fairy lights against the dark. It was a dream of a dream and my eyes itched as I refused to look away.

The continent was poised against the last last tendrils of the setting sun and I could see buildings and trees outlined in a fantastical twisting design. And the lights.

My mother told me this happened every nine months or so, but I wasn’t listening, the fairy lights, lanterns, gently, slowly, were released from the darkness, lights carried on the breeze.

My eyes trace dipping patterns of glowing paper as they glide soundlessly out, cheering erupts around me as people whoop and clap for the release.

My eyes are drawn to a light pink one, pansy pink, kissed sunset pale pink, pink like my little fairy princess set.

“Mommy!” I say shrilly, hotly, “that one’s for me.” My mother sticks her bottom lip out, “Winnie-” She warns.

I release her skirts, “I have to go get it!”

“Winnie!” She grabs for the back of my green hood, “you’ll miss the paper airplanes, don’t you want to see-” They told me I was too young for a paper airplane anyway, I block out the rest of what she says, which was probably a deep groan as I dart into the cheering crowd.

Skirts and rustling coat tails flow around my small head and I ignore them, I had to keep my eyes on the light pink lantern, it was twisting gently in the sky with all the others

“Winnie!”

I duck my head under a low fence and feel the grass on my knees as I run away from the glow of the festival. “Come here little light!”

I almost scrape the palms of my hands as I scramble up and start sprinting up the side of the hill where only a smattering of people had perched, but my pink lantern was floating down slowly, slower than the others. Just gasping over the ground. I hear cries as people start to catch them.

“Here!” I reach my little arms in the air and flail them back and forth; the pink was far above my head. I run around in large circles as I try to guess where it is going to drop. I start to whine as it picks up and floats far above the others. Almost gone.

“Please,” I plead with it, “don’t be difficult.” That’s a phrase my grandma was always using, I reach up on my tiptoes. The pink lantern falls, my fingers curl around the sun panel on the very bottom

My entire face lights up, heart soaring, fingers clasping around the cool panel that held the lantern up. I tumble backward onto my backside as I grab the sides and fall back down to the earth

“Yes!” I can feel the grass staining the back of my light green fancy jacket. My heart is pounding in my chest, the lantern was pink poppies, sweet jam, I can see the little note inside.

“RELEASE!” I hear the cannon shot, I just catch the end of the ceremony, the little metro area launching thousands of colorful paper airplanes back at the floating cloud city. I hear cheering as people up there must be trying to catch them too.

I can’t stop smiling, “hello little light.” I reach inside, avoiding the tinted LED light bulb and curiously taking out a piece of paper.

The piece of paper wasn’t the point of the exercise for me, but I squint at it anyway. I knew some people sent things down with their light.

Dear anyone,

It was written with curling alternating colors, like a rainbow with each letter delicately formed and chosen. I was impressed.

I hope you get this!!! My name is Iris, this is my lanturn :) It’s the same color as my play kit and I piked it out myself.

I have 2 parents and 1 cat. He is a fat cat named Marshmellow and I wished he would have kittens, mommy says he can’t. I feel very sorry for him when he mews to go outside and we don’t let him outside

I would want to go outside if I was a cat- even if I couldn’t swim or pet dogs.

I go to scool every day and want to be an artist or detektiv one day, I have a magnifying glass and 2 crimes already

One is who stole Stacy’s bike (not me) and the second is who nocked over the grass hut I built

Here some of the grass I found at the scene!

Pleese enjoy my lanturn, my mom says this is a very specile time of year and I really really want someone to find it and keep it like in the movies

PS- do you have a cat? Has it had kittens?

PSS- do you think breakfast cereal is okay to eat out of a big cup? I think it’s a weird but okay

PSSS- please be careful with my lite! I spend very time on it and I hope you love it too :D

I held the note to my chest as I lie on my back and watch the last of the lanterns and paper airplanes fall to earth. The music is already increasing behind me as the rest of the night heats up with noise and clattering feat.

My dad wanted to show me how to do a cartwheel.

Instead I start to wonder how I was going to tell Iris that I got her lantern.

------

I was grounded for two weeks after I ran away during the festival and stained my nice clothes. I don’t mind being grounded because it just means I don’t go outside and can’t use the internet.

I can still use my toys and paint programs on my computer systems and mommy doesn’t take down my fort, so I’m okay. She doesn’t know why I like my fortress so much anyway. I didn’t stop crying for a week after they took it down the first time, so I can keep it in the corner of my room as long as I don’t try and bring it to the living room again.

I prefer having it in the living room since the couch holds the blankets up better, but the lamp in my room works pretty good anyway as long as no one runs into it.

I crawl inside the soft insides of my fort and I start writing back to Iris immediately.

Dear Iris,

I sit for a very long time as I excitedly go over what I want to tell her. I have my sister check all the spelling before I try and write it out sentence by sentence.

I found your lamp!! It is the best color, I love pink, it’s my favorite color. How old are you? You sound like you’re about my age. That’s good, I don’t have a lot of kids my own age.

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was true enough. I didn’t consider myself part of the ‘losers’ but I knew people didn’t think I was very popular. I didn’t have a group, sometimes I really really wished I had ‘a group.’

I keep writing to Iris.

I don’t have a cat, my mommy is allergic and sneezes a bunch when she gets near one. It’s bad. There aren’t too many pets down here, how many pets are there up there??

Do you really eat clouds up there? (my sister told me not to ask this but she doesn’t know more than me. She only gets normal points, I get lots of class points for my group (which is green banana))

Do you like living up there? Is it windy?

I sometimes eat cereal out of the big mugs when everyone forgets to do dishes and I don’t say anything since sometimes I’m the reason no one did dishes. I eat out of big mugs then, I don’t think it’s weird. Mine has scooby doo on it! Do you like scooby doo? You like detective stuff, so I hope so.

Tell me what happens with your crime!!! I sniffed the grass but couldn’t find any clues.

Please write back soon!

My name is Winifred, which isn’t a good name, and my mommy calls me Winnie and my uncle calls me Freddi for fun. But I want to be ‘Lumin’ since it means light and my favorite God (Apollo!!) is the light God. I like mythology and magic and shows about animals a whole lot, I like your light!!

I hope I hear from you soon.

-Winnie

My sister says it’s too long and rambling, but I don’t know what rambling exactly means so I just ignore her. She says I need to make real friends and I tell her that Iris is my friend.

I was eight that year.

I was going to find Iris.

---------

I didn’t find Iris. It turned out there were a lot of Iris’s on the continent of Tritos, I told my mom I was going to write all of them and she told me I could try. If I did my homework first.

They want me to a lot more testing, a lot more than the other kids. I notice, I’m not sure if they want me to notice or not, I don’t think it’s a secret.

Ms. Kamau keeps me after school sometimes and has me take these quizzes that ask me things like which graphs make sense and what kind of money I would make. I like the part where I make stuff up like money, I’m little sick of telling them that their graphs suck though.

I don’t really want to be in the ‘separate’ class by myself, I had always been in the separate class and it was little jarring to be more separate than even the separate class.

It makes it hard to go to the library after school and look up the names of all the people in the cloud cities. There were a lot of cloud cities at this point, and even more Iris’s.

My dad asks me why I have a giant book on my lap, typing emails in from the directory and looking up the different names. I tell him that Iris needs to know, she needs to know someone found her lantern like she wanted.

I write a second letter in only pink pen.

Dear Iris, I get sad sometimes, do you get sad? Please tell me what your favorite music is. I like the ones where it’s quiet and you can’t always understand the words.

It’s pretty dark tonight, another continent is coming overhead, but they aren’t our sister. That’s what my mother said, so there are no lanterns. Just night. It’s kind of sad because I can’t imagine what you’re up to, like waking up in the morning and eating cereal and putting your hair up. My mom makes me put my hair up now. Do you have uniforms up there in sky cities?

Please tell me if you have any more mysteries to solve.

From,

Winnie.

-------

It takes three years before I get in contact with Iris again, I had twelve letters at the time, some were better than others. I settle on three and a picture of our home and my family, I hoped she would like those (and she wasn’t a creep).

I got to put my hair up myself that year, the lantern festival was back, the year before that I had been sick during the night and the year before that I couldn’t find her lantern. I checked every pink one in the area, but maybe she changed colors.

I was ten.

Instead, this year I was going to send up the brightest airplane in the night sky, I had been working on the motor for months now. I was in the separate separate class of just sometimes just me, sometimes they let me join just the one separate class. But not always 

They let me work on whatever project I want in there, so I decided I wanted to create a tiny motor for my airplane, so it would stand out.

It says Iris in giant purple letters on top, the paper itself is a vibrant pink, just the same hue as hers. I know on some level I should be ‘moving on’ as my sister insisted, but some things are worth seeing to the end. That’s what my dad said, my mom just nodded at him. They were getting a stipend now to have me do the extra classes.

They always want little scientists, that’s who made the floating continents in the first place and solved overpopulation and the poison in the dirt. Some of the dirt is poisoned but the dirt up there isn’t now, so it solved a couple problems.

I’m not sure how I feel about all the science, but I feel like I can warm up to all the numbers when they leave me alone with them. They’re simple, like a game I can solve. This was another problem I could solve.

The motor came out of that, numbers and drawings and a puzzle I can solve. I tell Iris all this in my third letter, that I still like my classes but I wish they let me do more stories about Apollo. I send her one of my short stories about him and Helios, they both want to ride the sun across the sky but can’t. I ask her about Marshmallow and what she did all day up there.

I make sure to put a streamer on the back of my airplane, everyone loved the ones with streamers.

I make it to the festival early and avoid anyone trying to get my attention and ask me when I was going to take the PISA and get placed. I told them I didn’t want to do either, The Qualifier could wait.

I find a spot on the grass behind my older sister and her new boyfriend as we stare up at the sky. Titros rolls through the sky, the hover panels reflect off the ground and glow softly, the lights of the city are turned off one by one.

“They do that for us,” Bee’s boyfriend says sweetly and tucks my sister’s hair behind her ear. “They want us to see the lights.” I try not to look down at my sister and her boyfriend, my face is already hot from seeing my sister even giggle at one of his dumb jokes. At least this boy is sweet.

My mom is taking pictures again, standing at the very top of a craggy peak, we’re waving at her as she stands with a giant smile on her face. I loved seeing her like that.

I wave until my arm is tired and she still doesn’t see me, that was okay, Titros is almost at our doorstep, I hold my breath as the lantern lights are turned on one by one.

“Here it comes!” I sing over the noise and my sister glances over her shoulder with pursed lips at me, she was doing that a lot more now, pursed lips like a coin purse locking. I almost miss the yelling.

“Are you going to catch another one this year Winnie?” Chege asks me politely.

I just nod fervently, “I’ll try.” The lights come down like falling stars one by one, little tear drops from the darkness, slowly at first until they were a cascade of color and light. People down below are wagging their hands above them frantically as they try to catch a good luck lantern.

Most of them had special patterns and little words of encouragement and phrases, many had letters within. Some letters were greetings or wishes and secrets they couldn’t tell anyone else or even class assignments they wanted to get rid of. Some unlucky person sometimes got a prank lantern, but I preferred not to think about those- the fake ones.

I try to survey the sky for pink ones, but my hopes were a little down, there was a high chance she would switch patterns by now. She didn’t even know I existed in the first place, my heart sinks at that thought and I bite my lip.

I still liked to chew on things, but it’s mostly gum and toothpicks now, my sister assures me neither of those things are cool.

I sit a little numbly as people reach and reach toward the lanterns and catch them in a flurry of limbs and laughter, cheering. I watch as Chege jogs purposefully to bright red one, a heart in the very center, my sister squeals as he presents the heart-lantern to her. I have to look away again.

I watch as the lanterns dangle and dip, this isn’t what I was waiting for though, I hold my breath again as I hear the second little jingle of silver noise, a blast. Windchimes and a cannon release.

“There it goes!” I jump to my feet to watch as my sister was busy embracing her boyfriend, I run to get the best view as the blast fills the air. The stream of little paper planes arches just high enough to reach the floating continent, more whooping follows.

I run, chasing the arch as long as a snaking river, I spot the white of my streamer just in time: Iris! It says, Iris!

I can only pray she sees it, the people are just waving outlines above us, wiggling stick figures with one voice and one gasping mob. I couldn’t even imagine what Iris looked like, what she saw in the morning, what she thought about when she went to bed.

I watch as outstretched fingers I can’t see start to catch the little planes one by one.

Catch it.

I pray to something indistinct and nameless, something that must make the lanterns float in the first place.

Please catch it.

I chase the planes until I am breathless and sweating out of every pour, my chest heaves try to see something that isn’t there. I imagine her ripping her airplane open to see my letters snugly placed there, I imagine she is relieved- someone had got her lantern all that time ago.

I pray.

----

I am eleven, I get the first best surprise I could ever wish for. An IM.

The tests are coming fast and furious now, for the first time I am struggling in school and wish I was outside doing anything else.

My sister is listening to happy music and my mom is developing more photos, she got one of the festival where the lights were reflecting off a toddler's cheek as they shrieked at their first Lantern Celebration. I don’t know what she sees in it, but she keeps looking.

My father is trying to get a hot tub for the backyard, it’s a very long process that I think it taking more time than strictly necessary. The hot tub was being bought from my stipends.

They aren’t talking to me like they used to, I wished terribly to talk to somebody but I feel like my tongue is made of moonrock even when I’m around the other kids. There was too much competition, too many points and tally’s and names written in line on the board.

My name is always at the top.

I close my eyes every night and try to think about what Iris is doing, what I tell her if we ever talk. I might lie a little bit, I won’t tell her my ranking.

It’s a nice fantasy.

That’s why I almost leap out of my skin when I see a new IM on the family computer locked into the living room wall. It pings brightly with little white notification in the corner and I pass in front of it before I head off to school.

I assume it’s for my sister, for some assignment from a classmate or some friend that wants to go to the mall. Maybe a boy she turned away.

The day goes by like every other day: they let me do independent study for an hour, always building something. I like building things but the joy of it kind of soured after my motor didn’t seem to make a difference last festival.

I have no idea if I actually did anything or not.

I poke and prod at the electronic bits of a cube that can tell you the weather at any place in the world. It was pretty as it was superfluous.

I see another ping on my handheld phone at school.

I blink a couple times at that, a family IM was one thing, I blink again, but this meant it was for me. I sit up straight in my chair and make sure no one is paying attention to me. Ash seems to be consumed in her robotics project and the teacher is helping Tumanai.

I quickly poked at the ping to see where the message was from, my eyes go wide. IW. IW from international satellite coordinated in the middle of the Pacific.

My heart leaps into my throat, that had to be a floating continent. It had to be her.

I thrust my hand in the air.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” I almost shout it at the top of my lungs, the class looks at me but I stopped caring what I thought after the day they threw all my pencils out the window on SAT day last year.

My teacher adjusts her glasses, “What’s that Miss Otiena?” I scrunch my nose up, “I need to go home.” “You just said bathroom,” Ash hisses at me, I make a face at her.

“I feel awful.” I slump down on my desk, my teacher adjusts her glasses again.

Brief haggling follows, but I had never asked to be excused before, never asked for any favors. She had no choice but to believe me, she didn’t even bother calling my parents, I was eleven now. And separate.

I run home with my pulse throbbing in my wrist and eyes wide, it could be a false call, it could be a prank, it could be that I had finally lost it.

I run home and put up a pile of blankets between the chair and the couch. An impromptu fort.

The little light glows in my face, I wipe my sweaty palms down, my finger trembles as I push down on the answer button.

A message dings up immediately.

“Hello!” My computer offers to read it out loud for me, I decline. “This is Iris.” I close the program immediately, taking deep heaving breaths.

“She’s here,” I bury my smiling face in my hand, “She’s here, she’s here!” I couldn’t help it, I had been waiting. Iris. Iris Wegener it said.

I bite my lip and wish I had something to chew through, I had her name, her whole name. And she knew I was someone.

I almost start to dance, she had gotten my plane! The world is somehow bright and larger than it ever had been before.

It takes several more minutes before I can even think about opening the IM again. My whole body was tensing, I remember about reading an article about expectations. Some part of me hadn’t thought this would ever work.

What would I fantasize about after this? What if I made it bad? 

I take deep rattling breaths, I had worked for this. I couldn’t keep Iris waiting, not anymore. I open her messages again.

IW: hello Winnie!

There were less exclamations points now.

IW: I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, I had to go through a couple of bargaining chips to get my parents to believe this is real.

IW: but… it feels real.

IW: you were seven when you got my lantern? That’s so embarrassing, I barely remember what I wrote. But… thank you. I was pretty excited when I saw an entire plane with my name on it. I almost lost it!

IW: I don’t know what I’m writing, I’m sorry.

IW: anyway, my name is Iris Wegener. I’m thirteen this week :), Marshmallow passed when I was nine sadly :(, I like horses though I’ve never seen one. I don’t like Game Shows since they seem so fake, I don’t really want to be a detective now.

IW: I’m sorry you feel sad sometimes.

My mouth is fully open now, Iris had responded. Iris had responded a lot, she was almost my age. She liked horses, she didn’t game shows! She was a real person, not something I just made up.

I close my computer and lie on my back, I trace the lines I remember of Tritos with my fingers on the bedsheet above my head. The outline of the continent stands out in my mind’s eye.

“Iris,” I mouth the word. I don’t know what to say back.

----

I don’t know to say back, I figure it would come to me, so I sleep on it. But it doesn’t come, not the next day or the day after that.

Iris keeps messaging me.

IW: hey, I’m sorry if I said anything weird

IW: I hope I got the right number, maybe you lost your phone or your parents took it when they ground you :(

IW: that sometimes happens to me, my mom calls me a troublemaker. I’m locked up in my room right now, I don’t know what her problem is >:(

IW: I don’t feel like a troublemaker, but it’s always this or that, detention for talking in class, detention for running in the halls, detention for writing my essay with The Truth

IW: I mean, everyone knows the The Fifth War was started by a systematic flaws of any era built on blood and exploitation

IW: It’s not news!

IW: anyway… I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you

 IW: I think

IW: I think the plane is the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me.

That was the first day, I read it over breaks, over dinner, smiling it down on my lap as my father tries to ask me about my studies and my sister rolls her eyes. I read it before bed, first once, and then what felt like twenty times.

I liked Iris Wegener.

I need to say something cool to her.

IW: Day three!

IW: I’m still freaking grounded, it sucks so hard

IW: do you ever get grounded? I hope you are right now

IW: oh dang, that sounds bad, I just mean I hope you message me, the computer says this is the right address

IW: who do you think was the most handsome member of the Imperialist Russian dynasty? I’m doing a project

IW: the headline is ‘Hottie or Romin-notty?’ It’s a thinkpiece

I didn’t get any more messages until the next day.

IW: I got double grounded!! My mother must not agree that Ivan the Terrible was a notty

IW: This is probably why you aren’t IMing back lol

My heart fell at that, I needed to say something. I need something, I need to tell her that I think she’s funny and that I think we’d have fun if we went to school together. My head falls, I wished so bad for a moment we went to school together.

My thoughts go blank as I try to make the first move, to say anything. It doesn’t come to me that whole week.

Iris keeps going.

IW: here’s a picture of a dog: [FILE PICTURE]

IW: does this make me normal? I honestly don’t want you to think I’m that weird

IW: here’s a list of my favorite members of V-W in order of best hair to worst personality:

Iris was bored and interesting, and I was interested and boring. I couldn’t figure out when any of these lines could be intersected.

It would be three months until the next Festival.

Iris kept writing.

----

Iris liked boy bands, she owned 27 arm bands, she wrote papers that made her teachers angry, she wanted to study zoology sometimes, and sometimes she wants to be a bakery chef.

She was in the normal class.

She hated asparagus and loved salty things ranging from fried chips to plain peanuts out of a jar. She loved the color grey now, the type that was almost silver, she wanted to paint her room that color and carpets, but her mom wouldn’t let her.

She didn’t have any siblings, but her friend Holly was almost there she argued.

Her parents circled her like a vulture sniffing for problems.

It was a month before the next festival, I was working harder than I ever worked before. I had my new project. Iris was telling me something else now.

It was 2 in the morning, I was still looking at phone, going over numbers in my head, going over the test scores. My parents would get more stipends the higher I reached. And then the next step, The Qualifier.

I didn’t want to think about The Qualifier.

My phone pinged, I turn my phone over as quickly as I can.

IW: sometimes I feel like nothing I do is good enough for her

IW: I couldn’t buy birthday flowers for her, she’s ‘allergic’

IW: it doesn’t matter if I try

IW: none of it makes her happy, do you ever worry about that Winnie? IW: that you’ll never be good enough

IW: Winnie?

I hold the phone close to my chest and imagine the next words I would write back if I could.

WO: I feel that sometimes Iris, I think it’s normal. WO: I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, please don’t think that of yourself. You don’t have to be good enough

WO: everything about you

WO: is good

I wrap my fingers around the little box, right up against my thumping heart, and fall asleep like that.

-----

Iris goes slightly quiet the couple days before the festival, I try not to let it bother me, I was busy enough as it was. This had to be perfect.

I had all my responses from the last couple months saved up.

The first was an apology, it was on flower paper and a little crying laughing face.

The paper reads briefly:

Hey Iris,

I wanted to say something cool! But I wait too long and the pressure kept building up! I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t cool either.

-Winnie

If Iris stopped messaging me after that then that’s how it would be, but I had to clear the air. I had to try again.

I’m sweating in the dead of summer as our sister continent came sweeping across the horizon, bleeding into the night and showing itself just as the sun went down. My mouth is dry and tasteless, I would be fourteen that year.

It felt so strangely routine compared to the wonder of being seven and struggling for the single light in the sky. It had felt like it had to happen at the time, that it was always going to, but here I was, a mess in all regards. Not messaging back.

I am in the launch prep room right up to the final bell, tinkering, adjusting, trying to figure out what to really say.

There are five letters stuffed into the fat airplane this time, I hope they stay fixed in there after everything. My jaw hurts from clenching when I go to the Festival Master and give her my plane, she examines it skeptically for a moment.

The little motor and basket on it’s back are both off model, she shrugs anyway, almost smiling in a knowing way. She places my plane right next to all the others.

I exhale.

My phone trembles in my hand, waiting. The lanterns had already fallen, only the planes were left. I run outside and I’m typing as fast as I can, before my thoughts catch up to me.

WO: Iris, look up!

I don’t know where I get the courage, but my fingers are flying over the letters.

WO: Please look up!

The blast of air tickles my neck, a twinkle of wind chimes fills the air as thousands of little airplanes are pushed high into the sky. Shot toward the continent and waiting crowds.

My plane is slightly higher than the others, I see the mechanisms clicking in my mind’s eye, igniting the tails of the string. Lighting up the little plane as it let out the series of purple sparks. The sparks fizzle and boom, twisting into large colorful letters.

Iris!

It wrote the letters in curling, carving sparkles that filled the sky. I wished I had more to say but the white and glowing Iris hangs in the air with a rainbow of color and series of pops.

I exhale again, hoping the rest of the plane makes it there after the fireworks were released. I hope she looked up.

I take a moment to lie down and feel the crowds churning around me, my mother was nowhere to be seen, my father was putting together our new hover car somewhere. My sister was eating ice cream with her friends over her friend’s latest breakup.

I was lying on my back, looking up, panting, phone clutched in my fingers as I wait.

I told myself I didn’t care if she messages back after that, but my phone hangs empty and quite next to me. I feel pinpricks on the edges of my eyes, I strangle the feeling as it rises up.

She had every right to be mad, I hold the phone harder. I tell myself she never has to talk to me again, my cheeks are flushed and wet.

Ping

I let the stress tears roll out before wiping at them, before rolling over frantically to open up the IM.

IW: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh

IW: I DIDN’T KNOW YOU GOT MY MESSAGES

IW: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

I can’t stop smiling.

WO: don’t worry about it

WO: hi my name is Winifred Otiena, I am almost fourteen, I still like the color pink and think that your detective business would have been wonderful

WO: I’ve seen a horse, but think they’re little too big

WO: and thank you

WO: thank you so much for messaging me

IW: you’ve been reading this crap??

WO: please don’t stop

WO: I’m not great with words but I liked yours

IW: you’re great with fireworks apparently tho!! :D

WO: I wanted to say something great back, I knew I had to say something great

IW: Well...hi

WO: hello

We started to talk back and forth, at last. It was touch and go at first, I still had to hide my face sometimes and Iris filled the gaps with her chatter.

It was okay. In fact, Winnie grinned, it was great.

-------

I was fifteen, I was messaging a girl on a floating island. The girl on the floating island was messaging back.

She sent me a lantern that year with wings on it, wings and floating clouds around it. It held all of the Odyssey released in bits of scrap paper into the air as it descended. I caught it and took a selfie with the clouds and Apollo lantern.

We talk for the whole night.

-------

I am sixteen and I am messaging Iris every night, Iris is on her third suspension and I was spending less and less time at home. We had a new home, we celebrated my sister leaving for college.

I missed her terribly.

My parents are just glad she didn’t stay for her boyfriend Chege that she was on-again-off-again for all these years.

I am more grateful than ever for someone to talk to.

Iris sends me lantern with moving kittens on the side and chocolates that taste like bourbon and sugar. She says she wants to taste real bourbon one day and thinks I look like I’d make a cute kitten. I say we all would.

I go through my second growth spurt and am still barely reaching 5’4.

I send Iris an airplane with flowers from the ground, iris’s and poppies. She says there aren’t poppies up there.

The Qualifier preppers are at my door almost every night. I gulp and sometimes shake my head, I had more questions than answers.

------

I am seventeen, the air is thick with summer.

Iris sent me a lantern that is red and silk, an outside made of slick flowery material and smells like her perfume. I blush and send her a plane with a bright pink ribbon on top. I tell her to wear it.

I am tired all the time, numbers and figures float through my head.

I keep getting the same message from her.

IW: where do you go after you ‘qualify’ ?

WO: I don’t know

IW: find out!

WO: that’s classified, the WG only shows you the paycheck

IW: :/

What do you qualify for she asked.

-------

I am eighteen.

I feel the age creeping up on me like a battered old woman about to curse my soul and suck it out of my body with a straw. That’s an image Iris suggests to me, she is already nineteen, she’s got a temporary job at a shoe store.

I don’t know what to tell her, she sends me snaps of her DnD games and I show her my tired puffy face.

I took the test, it took me five hours and my hand almost blistering into nervous hives as I finish. I wished I had failed.

The conversation from before ringing through my ears

IW: botch the test

WO: I can’t, they’ll know, they already know what I can do

IW: … don’t go.

WO: you can’t say that

IW: don’t go! You don’t know where they’re taking you

WO: humanities brightest, they’re gathering us

WO: it’s how we got the floating cities… the World Government, everything

IW: THey don’t need you!!! Not all of you

WO: :

IW: for me

I start shaking, did I really want to go? My parents barely spoke in the sprawling house we were provided, my sister was trying not to fail out gracefully from of one of the top schools in the country (she was doing her best). I had nightmares of hands and timers every night.

For her.

I start sneaking into my old school again, into the old building room.

I would solve all of humanity's problems, somewhere I didn’t know. Somewhere they didn’t let people come back from.

She sends me the article.

IW: READ. THIS.

[LINK RECEIVED]

IW: they did this on purpose, they do it all on purpose

I’m not sure I want to know, I click on it anyway, stomach sinking.

Our Smartest Children: Isolated, for a Reason?

Does competition and strategic pushing help young minds bloom? One investigation says that the next crisis will be averted through grooming the next generation.

But at what cost?

Teachers are said to be taught to pick out the brightest and set the rest of-

I close the article at that, I had seen enough. I go back to my workshop, I start building, I start bleeding my fingers on nuts and bolts. It starts to look like something from a fairy tale.

I break into our hover car and take out the resisters.

I borrow the reflectors from my neighbor’s tool house, the boards they used on the continents, to reflect. To blend in.

I stop going to class, I had already qualified.

The days tick by like maple syrup, dripping and slow. Sticky.

Iris facetimes me. Her face is round and bright and dark as the sister earth that left our soil all those years ago from the mountain.

I pet it slowly and she grins back at me, “so,” she makes a hiccup of noise, “where is my postcard from earth?” I smile back, “wait for it.” I’m almost done.

-------

The night beats on my brow like a violent slap, making me shake. I didn’t know if they were watching, maybe they’ll think I’m going to fail anyway.

I knew the reflectors would only last a couple minutes, I knew the hover material may barely hold me up. I worried she might not want to see me anymore after the first day passes.

I knew I would miss my parents, but I wouldn’t miss the tests and the headache and the burden. There were other ways to save humanity.

I perch on the edge of the gulch where it looks out on the planes. Where they had scooped out the earth, purified it, made it wholesome and able to plant trees again. Then the made it float, build, grow.

Trees were starting here again now too, but they came from the floating cities first.

I reach up and close my eyes, breathing in deeply as the shallow breeze licks my neck. It felt forever ago I stood there and chased a small pink lantern.

I shake, my eyes open just as the first little colors of glowing light come softly floating down from Titros.

I engage the thrusters of my machine, clenching around my shoulders and humming against my spine.

“Iris,” I try to make her out in the crowd on the land above, I can’t. “Iris.” I pray again, my shoulders tensing as my feet lightly, slowly, stop bearing my weight, I feel a smile grow across my mouth as I begin to ease off the ground. The motor I had been developing since I was nine pressed against my back, I took the next leap.

My hover wings hold me up, I go hurdling toward Titros, to the dirt and the earth and away from the eyes of the World Government. Titros was its own.

I reach my hands out, temples pounding, a blur of light and sound as I become a weightless leaf in the wind, I rise.

“Iris!” My voice is hoarse and almost gone, I’m afraid I will be shot down. That I will be chased and punished and told I have failed them. All of them.

I see the edge of the continent like a guillotine’s blade, I reach for the very bottom of the first panel, “please.” I gasp and I hear the voices from below for the first time.

“Who is that?” “What is she doing…” “What’s that on her back?” “She’s going to fall!” The ignition stutters, a coughing choking sound that sparked fear deep in my gut. A sputter comes from my home-made wings and the world is popping and whirring all around me. The air rushes through my ears, through my hair, I gape. No.

My fingers grasp at nothing and I begin to fall. “Winnie!” A hand is surging toward me, wrapping around my wrist, pulling me.

My face splits into a smile, heat surges throughout my whole body from where she touched me. “There you are.”

I don’t know who says it, I am pulled up into Titros, a hole in the sky that sucked me in as she yanked on my hands. She wraps around me like a light and I fall into the depths of the continent, with her.

The voices are still calling out, the hatch closes behind us and we collide in the way universe’s come together. It steals my breath away and chases every thought I ever had away.

“You made it,” she laughs against me, “took you long enough.” All I could do is nod, “I suppose I couldn’t stay away.” She shakes her head, we kiss for the first time in the last moment. I hold her close and my whole body feels light, powerful.

We watch the last of the lanterns fall and she squeezes my hand, “This is my favorite one.” We come together again.

[im-abanana]

-The Demon and The Angel- ch.1

Mhh... mk’okay? This is the first word of my first Bendy x Alice One-Shot series, that is on AO3 as well. Here’s the link, if you’re interested: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12736851/chapters/29045748

I will write random chapters about random AUs and genres (fluff, angst, sfw, nsfw, tragedy, family, romantic... it depends), as I said if you have a word you’d like me to turn into a chapter, you’re free to send me that word in an ask. I doubt somebody will, but just so you know. Of well, enjoy this first one-shot tho.

-Plane-

“Alright guys, everybody get on board before it's too late! Are you all ready for our first tour in Italy?” that rhetorical question immediately got an ecstatic, happy and unanimous shout as a reply, and Joey couldn't help but smile in front of his cartoons's, the creatures he created by himself, the ones he considered as his own children and family, impatience and enthusiasm. “Good to hear! Then com'on, follow us, but careful not to get lost.” the young animator, helped by his trusted co-worker and best friend Henry, guided the unexperienced and rather curious group inside the huge plane, showing them their seats and the bathroom, just in case. Turning his head and facing his best pal, Joey whispered with a cheerful tone: “They're really excited about their first tour, aren't they?”.

“Can you really blame them, buddy? After all, this is the first time they travel by air, too. It must be an overwhelming experience.” Henry crossed his strong arms and grinned as well, finally catching his breath and wiping some sweat off his forehead with an old handkerchief. “Let's just hope they won't cause any trouble... especially Bendy.”.

“Wow, this flyin' thing is fuckin' huge!” a member of The Butcher Gang, to be specific Edgar, loudly admired as he rapidly explored the unknown area and walked up and down the main corridor, his four spider legs sensing the soft fabric underneath their inky feet. “I've never seen anythin' like this, gang!”.

“Edgar! No swearing, there are little kids with their parents around us! The creators told us to behave, remember?” Alice promptly scolded the incredibly rude hybrid-arachnid and incinerated with a sharp gaze Barley and Charley too, perfectly aware that cursing was a pretty common habit for those three. “I swear to God, if I hear one single unfortunate slip of your tongue, you'll have my horns puncturing the spot where the sun never shines. Do you understand me?”.

“Play by your rules, my ass! Ya listen up Angel, ya ain't nobody here! Ya can't tell us what we can or can't do, girl! I'm the boss!” Charley aggressively growled and cracked his knuckles, trying to appear scary and bossy despite his ridiculous height. “If ya wanna lay down the law, bring it on!”.

“A pleasure.” the black haired fallen angel kneeled down and stooped on her enemy's inferior level with a deep frown, showing and swinging her pointy, deadly and dangerous horns with untamed rage and dominance. “Watch me closely, you disgusting short-stack, 'cause I'm about to smash your face!”.

“I'll beat ya to death instead, pathetic wingless bitch!”.

“Woah, woah, woah, stop it you two! Joey, Henry! Help, Alice and Charley fighting again!” Boris and Bendy immediately jumped forward and grabbed Alice's right leg and narrow shoulders, trying to hold the young singer back with great effort, while Barley and Edgar did the same with their older leader Charley, wrapping their thin arms around his gaunt waist and pinning him down against the cold floor of the plane. “Gotcha!”.

Letting out a deep sigh of resignation, the two animators stood up and approached the six squirming cartoons and stared at them with a very serious look, defusing the situation in a quick blink as they spoke in unison: “We talked about this guys, during the flight you'll have to be absolutely quiet and respectful of other passengers, we are not alone on this plane. No fights, no screams, no death threats. Our seats are pretty far from yours, and we can't just check on you every five minutes, besides we think you're mature enough to understand our point and be good and friendly. Will you do all that for us?” Henry simply inquired with a paternal expression as they all nodded, messing with Bendy's bristly hair and making the little devil giggle, amused. “Good.”.

“Oh and Charley, Alice can actually tell you what to do: she's in charge from now until the end of the flight. I'm sincerely sorry, I know how much you two hate each other, but she's definitely the most responsible here.” Joey added with a sly smirk, gently patting the fallen angel's back with his right hand. “Except for Boris, you're my only consolation: please, keep an eye on them all, Alice.”.

“Of course I will, Joey. Thank you very much for your trust, I'll make sure everything will be alright, you don't have to worry.” the black haired woman agreed with evident pride and satisfaction, sitting in her own seat and seeing her co-workers slowly doing the same thing. Boris was quiet and composed as usual, his fluffy tail wagging non-stop since he was completely thrilled, while Bendy and The Butcher Gang were complaining and grumbling by themselves, offended and almost outraged by their “dad's” last admonition and decision.

“I should be the one in charge. I'm the star of this show... I don't get why they always leave you in charge. It's not fair.” Bendy dramatically groaned out with a grumpy face and sat down beside the stunning and majestic angel, while Edgar and Boris sat together right behind them, and so did Charley and Barley soon after. “It's not fair at and-... Uh?” the demon concluded his silent speech with a surprised yelp and almost jumped up in fear, suddenly hearing the airplane doors closing. “What's this? What's happening, guys? Are we taking off yet?”.

“Looks like we are, Bendy. About time.” Alice replied and carefully fastened her own seatbelt while the hostess was talking and explaining the emergency manoeuvres to them, lying back and trying to relax her sore muscles, breathing heavily but showing happiness at the same time; it was finally time! “I can't believe we're finally going to visit Italy, I mean, that sounds really interesting and important to me! That country has a lot of history and an amazing culture! I wonder how it is, but I've heard that food and people are pretty nice there. I honestly can't wait.”.

“Me neither, but I agree with Alice: I bet Italy it's a beautiful place! I wanna try the food, like pizza, pasta or lasagna... I'm hungry!” Boris merrily barked from behind the other two main characters and caught everyone's attention, and especially the smaller children's, who recognized their favourite heroes immediately and called their names. “Hi, kids!”.

“You're always hungry, Boris. We've got a very long flight  ahead us tho, you'll have to resist a little.” Alice simply snickered with a sweet and kind tone, turning her head to face their little fans as soon as she heard their pleas and almost desperate calls. “Oh, hello everybody! Nice to meet you!”.

“Mommy and daddy, look: there are Bendy and his five friends over there!” a blonde kid quickly insistently pulled his parents' refined clothes and pointed the six nervous cartoons with his tiny index finger, clapping his hands with immense emotion and joy.  “Bendy, hello! Bendy!”.  

“The one and only, my dearest kid! Today's your lucky day indeed, but if you want an autograph on your t-shirt or plush you'll have to wait until the end of this flight!” the dancing demon frantically fixed his white bow tie to appear impeccable and just winked, resting his right elbow against Alice's left hip and then buried his head in her, umh, chest to look even more smug in his little fans' sparkling eyes, but ending up with an energetic and firm slap on his cheek from the black haired fallen angel, evidently irritated by his uncaring behaviour and brazen, flirty moves. “Ow! W-why the Hell did you do that!?”.

“Guys, I think we are jetting off right n- Woah!” before the humanoid wolf behind them could even finish his whole sentence, the plane officially took off and the prepared passengers experienced the first and sudden air pocket; Boris let out a scared yelp at first, not familiar with the new sensation, but then he shyly stared out the little round window beside him and gasped, admiring the breathtaking landscape from above. “Wow! It's beautiful!”.

“It's so amazing, you're right Boris!” Alice echoed with uncontrollable energy after a second and pressed her smooth palms against the freezing glass, completely unafraid and willing to see the world from a fresh perspective. “Bendy com'on, take a look as well, you don't know what you're missing. Bendy! Bendy? Bendy, will you just-... are you kidding me right now?”.

“Bendy, it's not that bad. Calm down and be an adult please, everyone's watching us and not because they want an autograph!” Alice mumbled and patted her co-worker's sweaty back as the tiny demon shook, trembled and shivered in pure fear as he perceived that their artificial feet, or to be specific the whole plane, was not safely on the ground anymore. “There's no need to panic, we're alright. Breathe, and stop freaking out!”.

“I wanna get off this thing, this second! Dad Joey! Uncle Henry! Help me!” Bendy cried out in instinctive terror, every single movement or vibration of the jet scaring the skilled dancer to death and forcing him to hug the patient fallen angel beside him even tighter. Two young and worried hostesses rushed beside them and asked what exactly was wrong with that short cartoon along with other confused people, earning a sincere apology from Alice and just a scared shout from the elegant devil, as a cracked reply: “What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me, you dare to say? Everything is completely wrong, don't you see!? Stop this stupid plane woman, I wanna get off!”.

“Bendy, will you shut the fuck up already!? Stop it, you're embarassing us all! Calm down!” the angelic girl yelled at that point, completely enraged, her pale cheeks flushed and a bit greyer than before, of course ashamed of him and his childish behaviour. Grabbing the main star's narrow shoulders, she tried to keep her partner still against the seat and avoid the precise strikes of his pointy and bothering black horns. “Ouch! Be careful with those things, you idiot!” Alice hissed in stinging pain and hit Bendy back, the two of them starting to struggle with strong slaps, powerful kicks, fierce lock horns and ruthless punches.

“Mommy, mommy! That lady said the F word!” a little baby girl laughed in genuine amusement, pulling her shocked mother's leather jacket and merrily squirming around and singing an improvised song: “She said the F word, she said the F word, she said the F word!”.

“Well guys, that's freaking great.” Charley rolled his pitch black eyes and huffed out, resigned, seeing his co-workers violently brawling as usual, not caring about their surroundings or anything else beside their pride, reallly. “Just what we needed to hear and tolerate; a yelling kid and Alice and Bendy fighting  like an old married couple for the next ten hours, verbally and physically. Shit.”.

“Well boss, you know them after all.” Barley simply replied with a neutral shrug, crossing his strong arms and spotting Joey and Henry, alarmed by those loud and terribly familiar screaming and grunting, desperately trying to separate the devil and the fallen angel. “One thing's for sure: next time, that wolf will probably be the one in charge.”.

[thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog]

LAW # 36 : DISDAIN THINGS YOU CANNOT HAVE: IGNORING THEM IS THE BEST REVENGE

JUDGEMENT

By acknowledging a petty problem you give it existence and credibility. The more attention you pay an enemy, the stronger you make him; and a small mistake is often made worse and more visible when you try to fix it. It is sometimes best to leave things alone. If there is something you want but cannot have, show contempt for it. The less interest you reveal, the more superior you seem.

TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW

The Mexican rebel leader Pancho Villa started out as the chief of a gang of bandits, but after revolution broke out in Mexico in 1910, he became a kind of folk hero—robbing trains and giving the money to the poor, leading daring raids, and charming the ladies with romantic escapades. His exploits fascinated Americans—he seemed a man from another era, part Robin Hood, part Don Juan. After a few years of bitter fighting, however, General Carranza emerged as the victor in the Revolution; the defeated Villa and his troops went back home, to the northern state of Chihuahua. His army dwindled and he turned to banditry again, damaging his popularity. Finally, perhaps out of desperation, he began to rail against the United States, the gringos, whom he blamed for his troubles.

In March of 1916, Pancho Villa raided Columbus, New Mexico. Rampaging through the town, he and his gang killed seventeen American soldiers and civilians. President Woodrow Wilson, like many Americans, had admired Villa; now, however, the bandit needed to be punished. Wilson’s advisers urged him to send troops into Mexico to capture Villa. For a power as large as the United States, they argued, not to strike back at an army that had invaded its territory would send the worst kind of signal. Furthermore, they continued, many Americans saw Wilson as a pacifist, a principle the public doubted as a response to violence; he needed to prove his mettle and manliness by ordering the use of force.

The pressure on Wilson was strong, and before the month was out, with the approval of the Carranza government, he sent an army of ten thousand soldiers to capture Pancho Villa. The venture was called the Punitive Expedition, and its leader was the dashing General John J. Pershing, who had defeated guerrillas in the Philippines and Native Americans in the American Southwest. Certainly Pershing could find and overpower Pancho Villa.

The Punitive Expedition became a sensational story, and carloads of U.S. reporters followed Pershing into action. The campaign, they wrote, would be a test of American power. The soldiers carried the latest in weaponry, communicated by radio, and were supported by reconnaissance from the air.

In the first few months, the troops split up into small units to comb the wilds of northern Mexico. The Americans offered a $50,000 reward for information leading to Villa’s capture. But the Mexican people, who had been disillusioned with Villa when he had returned to banditry, now idolized him for facing this mighty American army. They began to give Pershing false leads: Villa had been seen in this village, or in that mountain hideaway, airplanes would be dispatched, troops would scurry after them, and no one would ever see him. The wily bandit seemed to be always one step ahead of the American military.

THE ON AND THE CRAPES

A starving fox ... saw a cluster Of luscious-looking grapes of purplish luster Dangling above him on a trellis-frame. He would have dearly liked them for his lunch, But when he tried and failed to reach the bunch: “Ah well, it’s more than likely they’re not sweet—Good only for green fools to eat!”

Wasn’t he wise to say they were unripe Rather than whine and gripe?

FABLES. JEAN DE LA FONTAINE. 1621-1695

Once when G. K. Chesterton’s economic views were abused in print by George Bernard Shaw, his friends waited in vain for him to reply. Historian Hilaire Belloc reproached him. “My dear Belloc,” Chesterton said, “I have answered him. To a man of Shaw’s wit, silence is the one unbearable repartee.

THE LITTLE, BROWN BOOK OF ANECDOTES, CLIFTON FADIMAN, ED., 1985

By the summer of that year, the expedition had swelled to 123,000 men. They suffered through the stultifying heat, the mosquitoes, the wild terrain. Trudging over a countryside in which they were already resented, they infuriated both the local people and the Mexican government. At one point Pancho Villa hid in a mountain cave to recover from a gunshot wound he received in a skirmish with the Mexican army; looking down from his aerie, he could watch Pershing lead the exhausted American troops back and forth across the mountains, never getting any closer to their goal.

All the way into winter, Villa played his cat-and-mouse game. Americans came to see the affair as a kind of slapstick farce—in fact they began to admire Villa again, respecting his resourcefulness in eluding a superior force. In January of 1917, Wilson finally ordered Pershing’s withdrawal. As the troops made their way back to American territory, rebel forces pursued them, forcing the U.S. Army to use airplanes to protect its rear flanks. The Punitive Expedition was being punished itself—it had turned into a retreat of the most humiliating sort.

Interpretation

Woodrow Wilson organized the Punitive Expedition as a show of force: He would teach Pancho Villa a lesson and in the process show the world that no one, large or small, could attack the mighty United States and get away with it. The expedition would be over in a few weeks, and Villa would be forgotten.

That was not how it played out. The longer the expedition took, the more it focused attention on the Americans’ incompetence and on Villa’s cleverness. Soon what was forgotten was not Villa but the raid that had started it all. As a minor annoyance became an international embarrassment, and the enraged Americans dispatched more troops, the imbalance between the size of the pursuer and the size of the pursued—who still managed to stay free—made the affair a joke. And in the end this white elephant of an army had to lumber out of Mexico, humiliated. The Punitive Expedition did the opposite of what it set out to do: It left Villa not only free but more popular than ever.

What could Wilson have done differently? He could have pressured the Carranza government to catch Villa for him. Alternatively, since many Mexicans had tired of Villa before the Punitive Expedition began, he could have worked quietly with them and won their support for a much smaller raid to capture the bandit. He could have organized a trap on the American side of the border, anticipating the next raid. Or he could have ignored the matter altogether for the time being, waiting for the Mexicans themselves to do away with Villa of their own accord.

THE ASS AND THE GARDENER

An ass had once by some accident lost his tail, which was a grievous affliction to him; and he was everywhere seeking after it, being fool enough to think he could get it set on again. He passed through a meadow, and afterwards got into a garden. The gardener seeing him, and not able to endure the mischief he was doing in trampling down his plants, fell into a violent rage, ran to the ass, and never standing on the ceremony of a pillory, cut off both his ears, and beat him out of the ground. Thus the ass, who bemoaned the loss of his tail, was in far greater affliction when he saw himself without ears.

FABLES, PILPAY, INDIA, FOURTH CENTURY

THE PRODIGY OX

Once, when the Tokudaiji minister of the right was chief of the imperial police, he was holding a meeting of his staff at the middle gate when an ox belonging to an official named Akikane got loose and wandered into the ministry building. It climbed up on the dais where the chief was seated and lay there, chewing its cud. Everyone was sure that this was some grave portent, and urged that the ox be sent to a yin-yang diviner. However, the prime minister, the father of the minister of the right, said, “An ox has no discrimination. It has legs—there is nowhere it won’t go. It does not make sense to deprive an underpaid official of the wretched ox he needs in order to attend court.” He returned the ox to its owner and changed the matting on which it had lain. No untoward event of any kind occurred afterward. They say that if you see a prodigy and do not treat it as such, its character as a prodigy is destroyed.

ESSAYS IN IDLENESS, KENKO, JAPAN, FOURTEENTH CENTURY

Remember: You choose to let things bother you. You can just as easily choose not to notice the irritating offender, to consider the matter trivial and unworthy of your interest. That is the powerful move. What you do not react to cannot drag you down in a futile engagement. Your pride is not involved. The best lesson you can teach an irritating gnat is to consign it to oblivion by ignoring it. If it is impossible to ignore (Pancho Villa had in fact killed American citizens), then conspire in secret to do away with it, but never inadvertently draw attention to the bothersome insect that will go away or die on its own. If you waste time and energy in such entanglements, it is your own fault. Learn to play the card of disdain and turn your back on what cannot harm you in the long run.

Just think—it cost your government $130 million to try to get me. I took them over rough, hilly country. Sometimes for fifty miles at a stretch they had no water. They had nothing but the sun and mosquitoes.... And nothing was gained.

Pancho Villa, 1878-1923

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

In the year 1527, King Henry VIII of England decided he had to find a way to get rid of his wife, Catherine of Aragon. Catherine had failed to produce a son, a male heir who would ensure the continuance of his dynasty, and Henry thought he knew why: He had read in the Bible the passage, “And if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing: he hath uncovered his brother’s nakedness; they shall be childless.” Before marrying Henry, Catherine had married his older brother Arthur, but Arthur had died five months later. Henry had waited an appropriate time, then had married his brother’s widow.

Catherine was the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, and by marrying her Henry had kept alive a valuable alliance. Now, however, Catherine had to assure him that her brief marriage with Arthur had never been consummated. Otherwise Henry would view their relationship as incestuous and their marriage as null and void. Catherine insisted that she had remained a virgin through her marriage to Arthur, and Pope Clement VII supported her by giving his blessing to the union, which he could not have done had he considered it incestuous. Yet after years of marriage to Henry, Catherine had failed to produce a son, and in the early 1520s she had entered menopause. To the king this could only mean one thing: She had lied about her virginity, their union was incestuous, and God had punished them.

There was another reason why Henry wanted to get rid of Catherine: He had fallen in love with a younger woman, Anne Boleyn. Not only was he in love with her, but if he married her he could still hope to sire a legitimate son. The marriage to Catherine had to be annulled. For this, however, Henry had to apply to the Vatican. But Pope Clement would never annul the marriage.

By the summer of 1527, rumors spread throughout Europe that Henry was about to attempt the impossible—to annul his marriage against Clement’s wishes. Catherine would never abdicate, let alone voluntarily enter a nunnery, as Henry had urged her. But Henry had his own strategy: He stopped sleeping in the same bed with Catherine, since he considered her his sister-in-law, not his lawful wife. He insisted on calling her Princess Dowager of Wales, her title as Arthur’s widow. Finally, in 1531, he banished her from court and shipped her off to a distant castle. The pope ordered him to return her to court, on pain of excommunication, the most severe penalty a Catholic could suffer. Henry not only ignored this threat, he insisted that his marriage to Catherine had been dissolved, and in 1533 he married Anne Boleyn.

Clement refused to recognize the marriage, but Henry did not care. He no longer recognized the pope’s authority, and proceeded to break with the Roman Catholic Church, establishing the Church of England in its stead, with the king as the head of the new church. And so, not surprisingly, the newly formed Church of England proclaimed Anne Boleyn England’s rightful queen.

The pope tried every threat in the book, but nothing worked. Henry simply ignored him. Clement fumed—no one had ever treated him so contemptuously. Henry had humiliated him and he had no power of recourse. Even excommunication (which he constantly threatened but never carried out) would no longer matter.

Catherine too felt the devastating sting of Henry’s disdain. She tried to fight back, but in appealing to Henry her words fell on deaf ears, and soon they fell on no one’s. Isolated from the court, ignored by the king, mad with anger and frustration, Catherine slowly deteriorated, and finally died in January of 1536, from a cancerous tumor of the heart.

Interpretation

When you pay attention to a person, the two of you become partners of sorts, each moving in step to the actions and reactions of the other. In the process you lose your initiative. It is a dynamic of all interactions: By acknowledging other people, even if only to fight with them, you open yourself to their influence. Had Henry locked horns with Catherine, he would have found himself mired in endless arguments that would have weakened his resolve and eventually worn him down. (Catherine was a strong, stubborn woman.) Had he set out to convince Clement to change his verdict on the marriage’s validity, or tried to compromise and negotiate with him, he would have gotten bogged down in Clement’s favorite tactic: playing for time, promising flexibility, but actually getting what popes always got—their way.

Henry would have none of this. He played a devastating power game—total disdain. By ignoring people you cancel them out. This unsettles and infuriates them—but since they have no dealings with you, there is nothing they can do.

And in this view it is advisable to let everyone of your acquaintance—whether man or woman—feel now and then that you could very well dispense with their company. This will consolidate friendship. Nay, with most people there will be no harm in occasionally mixing a grain of disdain with your treatment of them; that will make them value your friendship all the more. Chi non stima vien stimato, as a subtle Italian proverb has it—to disregard is to win regard. But if we really think very highly of a person, we should conceal it from him like a crime. This is not a very gratifying thing to do, but it is right. Why, a dog will not bear being treated too kindly, let alone a man!

ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER, 1788-1860

THE MONKEY AND THE PEAS

A monkey was carrying two handfuls of peas. One little pea dropped out. He tried to pick it up, and spilt twenty. He tried to pick up the twenty, and spilt them all. Then he lost his temper, scattered the peas in all directions, and ran away.

FABLES, LEO TOLSTOY, 1828-1910

This is the offensive aspect of the law. Playing the card of contempt is immensely powerful, for it lets you determine the conditions of the conflict. The war is waged on your terms. This is the ultimate power pose: You are the king, and you ignore what offends you. Watch how this tactic infuriates people—half of what they do is to get your attention, and when you withhold it from them, they flounder in frustration.

MAN: Kick him—he’ll forgive you. Flatter him—he may or may not see through you. But ignore him and he’ll hate you.

Idries Shah, Caravan of Dreams, 1968

As some make gossip out of everything, so others make much ado about everything. They are always talking big, [and] take everything seriously, making a quarrel and a mystery of it. You should take very few grievances to heart, for to do so is to give yourself groundless worry. It is a topsyturvy way of behaving to take to heart cares which you ought to throw over your shoulder. Many things which seemed important [at the time] turn out to be of no account when they are ignored; and others, which seem trifling, appear formidable when you pay attention to them. Things can easily be settled at the outset, but not so later on. In many cases, the remedy itself is the cause of the disease: to let things be is not the least satisfactory of life’s rules.

BALTASAR GRACIÁN, 1601-1658

KEYS TO POWER

Desire often creates paradoxical effects: The more you want something, the more you chase after it, the more it eludes you. The more interest you show, the more you repel the object of your desire. This is because your interest is too strong—it makes people awkward, even fearful. Uncontrollable desire makes you seem weak, unworthy, pathetic.

You need to turn your back on what you want, show your contempt and disdain. This is the kind of powerful response that will drive your targets crazy. They will respond with a desire of their own, which is simply to have an effect on you—perhaps to possess you, perhaps to hurt you. If they want to possess you, you have successfully completed the first step of seduction. If they want to hurt you, you have unsettled them and made them play by your rules (see Laws 8 and 39 on baiting people into action).

Contempt is the prerogative of the king. Where his eyes turn, what he decides to see, is what has reality; what he ignores and turns his back on is as good as dead. That was the weapon of King Louis XIV—if he did not like you, he acted as if you were not there, maintaining his superiority by cutting off the dynamic of interaction. This is the power you have when you play the card of contempt, periodically showing people that you can do without them.

If choosing to ignore enhances your power, it follows that the opposite approach—commitment and engagement—often weakens you. By paying undue attention to a puny enemy, you look puny, and the longer it takes you to crush such an enemy, the larger the enemy seems. When Athens set out to conquer the island of Sicily, in 415 B.C., a giant power was attacking a tiny one. Yet by entangling Athens in a long-drawn-out conflict, Syracuse, Sicily’s most important city-state, was able to grow in stature and confidence. Finally defeating Athens, it made itself famous for centuries to come. In recent times, President John F. Kennedy made a similar mistake in his attitude to Fidel Castro of Cuba: His failed invasion at the Bay of Pigs, in 1961, made Castro an international hero.

A second danger: If you succeed in crushing the irritant, or even if you merely wound it, you create sympathy for the weaker side. Critics of Franklin D. Roosevelt complained bitterly about the money his administration spent on government projects, but their attacks had no resonance with the public, who saw the president as working to end the Great Depression. His opponents thought they had an example that would show just how wasteful he had become: his dog, Fala, which he lavished with favors and attention. Critics railed at his insensitivity—spending taxpayers’ money on a dog while so many Americans were still in poverty. But Roosevelt had a response: How dare his critics attack a defenseless little dog? His speech in defense of Fala was one of the most popular he ever gave. In this case, the weak party involved was the president’s dog and the attack backfired—in the long run, it only made the president more sympathetic, since many people will naturally side with the “underdog,” just as the American public came to sympathize with the wily but outnumbered Pancho Villa.

It is tempting to want to fix our mistakes, but the harder we try, the worse we often make them. It is sometimes more politic to leave them alone. In 1971, when the New York Times published the Pentagon Papers, a group of government documents about the history of U.S. involvement in Indochina, Henry Kissinger erupted into a volcanic rage. Furious about the Nixon administration’s vulnerability to this kind of damaging leak, he made recommendations that eventually led to the formation of a group called the Plumbers to plug the leaks. This was the unit that later broke into Democratic Party offices in the Watergate Hotel, setting off the chain of events that led to Nixon’s downfall. In reality the publication of the Pentagon Papers was not a serious threat to the administration, but Kissinger’s reaction made it a big deal. In trying to fix one problem, he created another: a paranoia for security that in the end was much more destructive to the government. Had he ignored the Pentagon Papers, the scandal they had created would eventually have blown over.

Instead of inadvertently focusing attention on a problem, making it seem worse by publicizing how much concern and anxiety it is causing you, it is often far wiser to play the contemptuous aristocrat, not deigning to acknowledge the problem’s existence. There are several ways to execute this strategy.

First there is the sour-grapes approach. If there is something you want but that you realize you cannot have, the worst thing you can do is draw attention to your disappointment by complaining about it. An infinitely more powerful tactic is to act as if it never really interested you in the first place. When the writer George Sand’s supporters nominated her to be the first female member of the Académie Française, in 1861, Sand quickly saw that the academy would never admit her. Instead of whining, though, she claimed she had no interest in belonging to this group of worn-out, overrated, out-of-touch windbags. Her disdain was the perfect response: Had she shown her anger at her exclusion, she would have revealed how much it meant to her. Instead she branded the academy a club of old men—and why should she be angry or disappointed at not having to spend her time with them? Crying “sour grapes” is sometimes seen as a reflection of the weak; it is actually the tactic of the powerful.

THE MAN AND HIS SHADOW

There was a certain original man who desired to catch his own shadow. He makes a step or two toward it, but it moves away from him. He quickens his pace; it does the same. At last he takes to running; but the quicker he goes, the quicker runs the shadow also, utterly refusing to give itself up, just as if it had been a treasure. But see! our eccentric friend suddenly turns round, and walks away from it. And presently he looks behind him; now the shadow runs after him. Ladies fair, I have often observed... that Fortune treats us in a similar way. One man tries with all his might to seize the goddess, and only loses his time and his trouble. Another seems, to all appearance, to be running out of her sight; but, no: she herself takes a pleasure in pursuing him.

FABLES, IVAN KRILOFF, 1768-1844

Second, when you are attacked by an inferior, deflect people’s attention by making it clear that the attack has not even registered. Look away, or answer sweetly, showing how little the attack concerns you. Similarly, when you yourself have committed a blunder, the best response is often to make less of your mistake by treating it lightly.

The Japanese emperor Go-Saiin, a great disciple of the tea ceremony, owned a priceless antique tea bowl that all the courtiers envied. One day a guest, Dainagon Tsunehiro, asked if he could carry the tea bowl into the light, to examine it more closely. The bowl rarely left the table, but the emperor was in good spirits and he consented. As Dainagon carried the bowl to the railing of the verandah, however, and held it up to the light, it slipped from his hands and fell on a rock in the garden below, smashing into tiny fragments.

The emperor of course was furious. “It was indeed most clumsy of me to let it drop in this way,” said Dainagon, with a deep bow, “but really there is not much harm done. This Ido tea-bowl is a very old one and it is impossible to say how much longer it would have lasted, but anyhow it is not a thing of any public use, so I think it rather fortunate that it has broken thus.” This surprising response had an immediate effect: The emperor calmed down. Dainagon neither sniveled nor overapologized, but signaled his own worth and power by treating his mistake with a touch of disdain. The emperor had to respond with a similar aristocratic indifference; his anger had made him seem low and petty—an image Dainagon was able to manipulate.

Among equals this tactic might backfire: Your indifference could make you seem callous. But with a master, if you act quickly and without great fuss, it can work to great effect: You bypass his angry response, save him the time and energy he would waste by brooding over it, and allow him the opportunity to display his own lack of pettiness publicly.

If we make excuses and denials when we are caught in a mistake or a deception, we stir the waters and make the situation worse. It is often wiser to play things the opposite way. The Renaissance writer Pietro Aretino often boasted of his aristocratic lineage, which was, of course, a fiction, since he was actually the son of a shoemaker. When an enemy of his finally revealed the embarrassing truth, word quickly spread, and soon all of Venice (where he lived at the time) was aghast at Aretino’s lies. Had he tried to defend himself, he would have only dragged himself down. His response was masterful: He announced that he was indeed the son of a shoemaker, but this only proved his greatness, since he had risen from the lowest stratum of society to its very pinnacle. From then on he never mentioned his previous lie, trumpeting instead his new position on the matter of his ancestry.

Remember: The powerful responses to niggling, petty annoyances and irritations are contempt and disdain. Never show that something has affected you, or that you are offended—that only shows you have acknowledged a problem. Contempt is a dish that is best served cold and without affectation.

Image: The Tiny Wound. It is small but painful and irritating. You try all sorts of medicaments, you complain, you scratch and pick at the scab. Doctors only make it worse, transforming the tiny wound into a grave matter. If only you had left the wound alone, letting time heal it and freeing yourself of worry.

Authority: Know how to play the card of contempt. It is the most politic kind of revenge. For there are many of whom we should have known nothing if their distinguished opponents had taken no notice of them. There is no revenge like oblivion, for it is the entombment of the unworthy in the dust of their own nothingness. (Baltasar Gracián, 1601-1658)

REVERSAL

You must play the card of contempt with care and delicacy. Most small troubles will vanish on their own if you leave them be; but some will grow and fester unless you attend to them. Ignore a person of inferior stature and the next time you look he has become a serious rival, and your contempt has made him vengeful as well. The great princes of Renaissance Italy chose to ignore Cesare Borgia at the outset of his career as a young general in the army of his father, Pope Alexander VI. By the time they paid attention it was too late—the cub was now a lion, gobbling up chunks of Italy. Often, then, while you show contempt publicly you will also need to keep an eye on the problem privately, monitoring its status and making sure it goes away. Do not let it become a cancerous cell.

Develop the skill of sensing problems when they are still small and taking care of them before they become intractable. Learn to distinguish between the potentially disastrous and the mildly irritating, the nuisance that will quietly go away on its own. In either case, though, never completely take your eye off it. As long as it is alive it can smolder and spark into life.

[captainmariamhassan-blog]

Understanding kitten behavior

Understanding kitten behavior

Understanding kitten behavior

To understand kitten behavior and kitten body language, you should know that not only does your kitten use her mouth to talk to you, she also speaks through her eyes, ears, tail, body posture, and even her scent. Felinese is like any other foreign language:

If you talk to a person from a foreign culture and listen to the words only, you may be confused.

But if you look at how someone stands, whether he’s smiling or frowning, and whether his hands are loose or clinched, you start to understand more of what he’s saying.

Understanding kitten body language

Your kitten uses different parts of her body in combination to get her message across. If you’re going to be a good kitten communicator, you can’t just listen to what the kitten says. You have to think feline and look at her big picture, at the whole kitten. Like a line of kitty greeting cards, kittens have facial expressions and body positions to handle all situations.

1.Tail 

The first thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s tail. Your kitten’s tail is one of his most effective communications tools. How he holds his tail can clue you in to how your kitten feels at any particular moment:

When the tail is held up high like a flagpole, he’s confident and contented.

A kitten wiggles his tail at either the base or the tip as a friendly greeting.

With a tail safely curled under his body, he feels threat- ened. This is a submissive posture that says, “Curses! Caught red-pawed.”

The tail can fluff to more than twice its normal size when he’s terrified. Be careful, he can switch from retreat to charge in the blink of an eye.

A flick of the tail tells you that your cat’s disappointed in some way.

A wagging tail means you’re bothering her (the exact opposite of a wagging dog tail).

If you see your kitten staring at something and slowly twitching her tail tip while crouched, she’s curious or excited. My kittens will assume this position when they sit on the window perch and spy a bird.

As a cat grows more frustrated with the situation, she’ll use her tail more forcefully. When motion escalates to thumping against the floor, look out and stop whatever you’re doing to annoy her. She’s getting ready to nail you (or the other cat).

  2.Ears

The 2nd thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s ears. Your kitten’s ears not only hear, they speak volumes: The position of his ears reflects his mood. Because 30 muscles control each ear, your kitten can move his ears 180 degrees and change their shape. Although it may vary from kitten to kitten

When he’s feeling friendly, content, or relaxed, your kitten’s ears face forward and are slightly tilted back.

Erect ears mean he’s alert even if he’s lounging.

Ears pointed forward indicate he’s curious about something.

A fearful or defensive kitten will usually have his ears back and down — lying flat against his head. He does this to protect his ears from being scratched or bitten in case the ruckus escalates into a full contact brawl. He also avoids eye contact. A submissive kitten holds his ears like airplane wings

The aggressive cat on the offensive rotates his ears so the inside of his ears are folded up, but facing behind him. Beware! You don’t want to bother a kitten with flattened or rotated ears.

3.Eyes

The 3rd thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s eyes. Your kitten’s eyes provide a window into what’s going on inside her mind. Take a close look at her eyes. Every part of her eye sends its own message. Especially pay attention to her pupils (the black dot at the center of her iris). Not only do the pupils contract and dilate to control the light, they react to emotional responses:

Contracted pupils: A relaxed or contented kitten will hold her eyes half-open with her pupils contracted.

Dilated pupils: When your kitten’s bug-eyed with fully dilated pupils, look out; she’s either fearful, defensive, surprised, aggressive, or maybe even preparing to attack.

Staring: An unblinking stare from her means she’s challenging you. I use dominance staring as a discipline tool on occasions when the kittens play with me too roughly or attack bare skin. Silly as it sounds, I get down on the kitten’s level, make direct eye contact, and hiss. Most of the time they stop what they’re doing and start to groom their paws or butt as if to change the subject.

Blinking: The opposite of the stare is when your kitten deliberately blinks at you. He’s telling you he likes you and feels safe and comfortable with you. You can return the favor by blinking slowly back. Some people call it a kitty kiss. You will know that your kitten has developed real affection for you and feels comfortable with you if he slowly closes his eyes.

A kitten’s eye view

Kittens can see almost as well as humans with 20/20 vision can. In some ways, kittens can see even better. Kitty vision is designed to aid in hunting. Consider these interesting tidbits:

1-Kittens are slightly nearsighted so that they can focus in on a nearby mouse or lizard rather than distant prey.

2-Kittens’ retinas have more rods than cones. (Rods are the cells used for nighttime vision; cones are the cells used for daytime sight and seeing colors.) Having more rods helps a cat see at night, enabling him to pinpoint sudden motion with his peripheral vision. (Of course, having fewer cones means that your kitten can’t see colors as vividly as you do.)

3-Your kitten has large, elliptical pupils that contract and dilate much faster than your round pupil can. Because of its size, the kitten’s pupil lets more light in. His eyes have a tapetum membrane that reflects light through a second time in the opposite direction creating a visual double exposure of light (this is why your kitten can hunt in near darkness). The yellow glow seen when light shines onto your kitten’s eyes is the light reflecting off of the tapetum membrane.

4-If you don’t mean to discipline your kitten, but he catches you looking at him, try slowly blinking at him to break up the stare. That should put him more at ease. Also try this during stressful times to calm your kitten down.

4.Whiskers

The 4th thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s whiskers. Although your kitten uses his whiskers like a probe to determine whether a hole is big enough for him to go through, he also uses them to communicate.

When your kitten feels relaxed, he holds his whiskers to the side, allowing them to droop down.

A curious kitten perks his whiskers up and forward slightly.

A hunting kitten moves his whiskers forward — a great help for locating prey in the dark.

Making sense of scents

Your kitten marks his territory using pheromones from glands located in his chin, temples, the corner of his lips, and at the base of his tail. If a male kitten is un-neutered and becomes sexually mature (between 6 and 9 months of age), he may start marking territory with pee pee graffiti.

If he becomes the dominant tomcat, he’ll mark his territory by leaving his poop uncovered for all the other cats to find, as if to say, “I’m the king of my world.” The other cats and kittens cover their poop, leaving themselves in protective anonymity. Early spaying and neutering helps prevent the need to do this kind of marking. However, older neutered kittens sometimes spray to express anxiety about changes in life.

  Some of the ways your kitten’s going to communicate to you

Kittens not only speak to you through vocalizations and posture, but their physical contact with you also speaks volumes. Following are some of the ways your kitten’s going to communicate to you:

1.Head butt

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about head butt. The head butt is a friendly cat-to-cat greeting that your kitten may extend to the favorite people in her life — the equivalent of a kitty hug. She’s greeting you like you would greet another cat at a family reunion. She’s also marking you with scent from the glands around her mouth and ears.

2.Kneading

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about kneading. Whether you call it kneading, milk treading, or making biscuits, kneading is a sign that your kitten is a very happy camper.

When she’s resting on your lap and massages your legs with her paws, she may feel as if she’s gone back to her mother’s nest. After all, you feed and protect her like her mother did.

When she was a baby kitten, she massaged her mother while she suckled to make the milk flow faster. An older kitten kneads because she feels safe and content.

This kind of affection can be a bit rough on your legs when those needle-sharp claws dig into your thighs. Like several other kitten responses, this one is a compliment, so don’t get mad or brush your kitten away; you’ll confuse him. A real queen would never push her kittens away like that.

Instead, trim his claws regularly. Another way to protect your legs is to lay a thick towel or blanket across your knees as you sit down, before your kitten climbs into your lap.

3.Drooling

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about drooling. You may notice as you pet or stroke you kitten that he’s not only purring, but he’s also drooling, too. The petting has sent your kitten into such a state of euphoria that he’s actually forgotten to swallow.

Take this as a wonderful compliment. Still, if you object to a little kitten spit landing on your clothes, occasionally press your finger against your kitten’s nose or the side of his mouth. He’ll swallow instinctively without shattering his mood.

This kind of drooling isn’t a problem, providing it only happens when you’re petting your kitten. If he dribbles all the time, he may have a problem with his gums or teeth, which would justify a trip to the vet’s office.

4.Licking

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about licking. When your kitten licks you, it doesn’t mean that she’s kissing you. She’s probably grooming you. But don’t be insulted. Kitties only groom other kitties they feel are in their own family. When she licks you, she’s telling you that you’re one of the clan.

5.Wanna smell my butt?

Your kitten may approach you, turn around, and present his bottom to you as if to say, “Ya wanna sniff me?” This is something he only invites his friends to do, whether the friend is human, feline, or even canine. Some experts say the kitten is offering an invitation to take a sniff of his anal glands so you’ll know who he is — sort of a kitty handshake.

Others say you remind him of his mother, and he’s asking you to groom his bottom. I don’t recommend you go to that extreme to bond with your kitten, but thanking him and scratching the base of his tail when he presents his butt is an acceptable response. Regardless of whether he’s asking for grooming or greeting, take the presentation of his bottom as a compliment — an intimate and meaningful moment, at least for a kitten.

6.Leg weaving

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about leg weaving. As with most of your kitten’s affectionate actions, leg weaving originated with mom. A kitten greets his mom with his tail upright, and then wraps his tail around her rear end to get her to lie down so he can eat.

As he gets older, he continues to rub against friendly cats to place his scent on them. His tail has scent from his anal gland on it. As he rubs his tail against another cat or you, he’s marking you — another display of affection and a good way for him to get attention or food. It works on me.

7.The classic Halloween cat posture

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about the halloween cat posture. When something frightens your kitten, she may assume the classic Halloween cat posture. (Sometimes playing kittens assume this position out of excitement rather than fear.)

She fluffs up her tail as big as it can look, puffs up her fur by making it stand up on end, and arches her back. She assumes this posture when she wants to look bigger and meaner in the hopes of bluffing a potential attacker into believing she’s invincible.

This terrified kitten won’t approach you head on. She stands with her profile to you and, instead of turning and running away, hops off to the side so that her opponent (you in this case) continues to see a big scary cat even as she’s madly retreating. When you see this posture, back off. Even though she’s a cute, adorable kitten, she may bite you. If you do get bitten, speak to her in a gentle voice and leave her alone until she calms down.

8.See my tummy

If you’ve ever watched littermates play, you may have seen one roll over with all four paws in the air. With her claws sheathed, she’s inviting contact. The other kitten jumps right in, and the growling and tumbling mock battle begins. Your kitten may also greet you with this position.

When she shows you her belly, it could mean that she’s so relaxed and so totally trusts you that she’s showing you her most vulnerable position. She’s not saying, “Scratch my belly,” like a dog would. It’s a show of trust, not an invitation.

If your kitten offers you her belly when she gets older, you may want to reconsider before you reach down to rub that feline Venus’ flytrap. Look a little closer. When lying on her back, your kitten is in a heavily armed defensive position. On her back, she can attack an adversary with claws from all four feet plus her teeth.

Read more about cat and kitten behavior:

Cat vocalizations

My Kitten is crazy – Crazy kitten behavior

Using Comfort Zone Feliway

Cat Marking Territory

Cat Spraying

Cat Body Language

Understand your cat body language and cat behavior

Cat Separation Anxiety

Cat Scratching

Aggression in cats towards others

Aggressive cat behavior toward other cats and solutions

Common Cat Behavior Problems and Solutions

https://www.xyqmfc.com/kitten-behavior-kitten-body-language/

[nohaahmedali-blog]

Understanding kitten behavior

Understanding kitten behavior

Understanding kitten behavior

To understand kitten behavior and kitten body language, you should know that not only does your kitten use her mouth to talk to you, she also speaks through her eyes, ears, tail, body posture, and even her scent. Felinese is like any other foreign language:

If you talk to a person from a foreign culture and listen to the words only, you may be confused.

But if you look at how someone stands, whether he’s smiling or frowning, and whether his hands are loose or clinched, you start to understand more of what he’s saying.

Understanding kitten body language

Your kitten uses different parts of her body in combination to get her message across. If you’re going to be a good kitten communicator, you can’t just listen to what the kitten says. You have to think feline and look at her big picture, at the whole kitten. Like a line of kitty greeting cards, kittens have facial expressions and body positions to handle all situations.

1.Tail 

The first thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s tail. Your kitten’s tail is one of his most effective communications tools. How he holds his tail can clue you in to how your kitten feels at any particular moment:

When the tail is held up high like a flagpole, he’s confident and contented.

A kitten wiggles his tail at either the base or the tip as a friendly greeting.

With a tail safely curled under his body, he feels threat- ened. This is a submissive posture that says, “Curses! Caught red-pawed.”

The tail can fluff to more than twice its normal size when he’s terrified. Be careful, he can switch from retreat to charge in the blink of an eye.

A flick of the tail tells you that your cat’s disappointed in some way.

A wagging tail means you’re bothering her (the exact opposite of a wagging dog tail).

If you see your kitten staring at something and slowly twitching her tail tip while crouched, she’s curious or excited. My kittens will assume this position when they sit on the window perch and spy a bird.

As a cat grows more frustrated with the situation, she’ll use her tail more forcefully. When motion escalates to thumping against the floor, look out and stop whatever you’re doing to annoy her. She’s getting ready to nail you (or the other cat).

  2.Ears

The 2nd thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s ears. Your kitten’s ears not only hear, they speak volumes: The position of his ears reflects his mood. Because 30 muscles control each ear, your kitten can move his ears 180 degrees and change their shape. Although it may vary from kitten to kitten

When he’s feeling friendly, content, or relaxed, your kitten’s ears face forward and are slightly tilted back.

Erect ears mean he’s alert even if he’s lounging.

Ears pointed forward indicate he’s curious about something.

A fearful or defensive kitten will usually have his ears back and down — lying flat against his head. He does this to protect his ears from being scratched or bitten in case the ruckus escalates into a full contact brawl. He also avoids eye contact. A submissive kitten holds his ears like airplane wings

The aggressive cat on the offensive rotates his ears so the inside of his ears are folded up, but facing behind him. Beware! You don’t want to bother a kitten with flattened or rotated ears.

3.Eyes

The 3rd thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s eyes. Your kitten’s eyes provide a window into what’s going on inside her mind. Take a close look at her eyes. Every part of her eye sends its own message. Especially pay attention to her pupils (the black dot at the center of her iris). Not only do the pupils contract and dilate to control the light, they react to emotional responses:

Contracted pupils: A relaxed or contented kitten will hold her eyes half-open with her pupils contracted.

Dilated pupils: When your kitten’s bug-eyed with fully dilated pupils, look out; she’s either fearful, defensive, surprised, aggressive, or maybe even preparing to attack.

Staring: An unblinking stare from her means she’s challenging you. I use dominance staring as a discipline tool on occasions when the kittens play with me too roughly or attack bare skin. Silly as it sounds, I get down on the kitten’s level, make direct eye contact, and hiss. Most of the time they stop what they’re doing and start to groom their paws or butt as if to change the subject.

Blinking: The opposite of the stare is when your kitten deliberately blinks at you. He’s telling you he likes you and feels safe and comfortable with you. You can return the favor by blinking slowly back. Some people call it a kitty kiss. You will know that your kitten has developed real affection for you and feels comfortable with you if he slowly closes his eyes.

A kitten’s eye view

Kittens can see almost as well as humans with 20/20 vision can. In some ways, kittens can see even better. Kitty vision is designed to aid in hunting. Consider these interesting tidbits:

1-Kittens are slightly nearsighted so that they can focus in on a nearby mouse or lizard rather than distant prey.

2-Kittens’ retinas have more rods than cones. (Rods are the cells used for nighttime vision; cones are the cells used for daytime sight and seeing colors.) Having more rods helps a cat see at night, enabling him to pinpoint sudden motion with his peripheral vision. (Of course, having fewer cones means that your kitten can’t see colors as vividly as you do.)

3-Your kitten has large, elliptical pupils that contract and dilate much faster than your round pupil can. Because of its size, the kitten’s pupil lets more light in. His eyes have a tapetum membrane that reflects light through a second time in the opposite direction creating a visual double exposure of light (this is why your kitten can hunt in near darkness). The yellow glow seen when light shines onto your kitten’s eyes is the light reflecting off of the tapetum membrane.

4-If you don’t mean to discipline your kitten, but he catches you looking at him, try slowly blinking at him to break up the stare. That should put him more at ease. Also try this during stressful times to calm your kitten down.

4.Whiskers

The 4th thing to understand kitten body language and kitten behavior is observing the cat’s whiskers. Although your kitten uses his whiskers like a probe to determine whether a hole is big enough for him to go through, he also uses them to communicate.

When your kitten feels relaxed, he holds his whiskers to the side, allowing them to droop down.

A curious kitten perks his whiskers up and forward slightly.

A hunting kitten moves his whiskers forward — a great help for locating prey in the dark.

Making sense of scents

Your kitten marks his territory using pheromones from glands located in his chin, temples, the corner of his lips, and at the base of his tail. If a male kitten is un-neutered and becomes sexually mature (between 6 and 9 months of age), he may start marking territory with pee pee graffiti.

If he becomes the dominant tomcat, he’ll mark his territory by leaving his poop uncovered for all the other cats to find, as if to say, “I’m the king of my world.” The other cats and kittens cover their poop, leaving themselves in protective anonymity. Early spaying and neutering helps prevent the need to do this kind of marking. However, older neutered kittens sometimes spray to express anxiety about changes in life.

  Some of the ways your kitten’s going to communicate to you

Kittens not only speak to you through vocalizations and posture, but their physical contact with you also speaks volumes. Following are some of the ways your kitten’s going to communicate to you:

1.Head butt

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about head butt. The head butt is a friendly cat-to-cat greeting that your kitten may extend to the favorite people in her life — the equivalent of a kitty hug. She’s greeting you like you would greet another cat at a family reunion. She’s also marking you with scent from the glands around her mouth and ears.

2.Kneading

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about kneading. Whether you call it kneading, milk treading, or making biscuits, kneading is a sign that your kitten is a very happy camper.

When she’s resting on your lap and massages your legs with her paws, she may feel as if she’s gone back to her mother’s nest. After all, you feed and protect her like her mother did.

When she was a baby kitten, she massaged her mother while she suckled to make the milk flow faster. An older kitten kneads because she feels safe and content.

This kind of affection can be a bit rough on your legs when those needle-sharp claws dig into your thighs. Like several other kitten responses, this one is a compliment, so don’t get mad or brush your kitten away; you’ll confuse him. A real queen would never push her kittens away like that.

Instead, trim his claws regularly. Another way to protect your legs is to lay a thick towel or blanket across your knees as you sit down, before your kitten climbs into your lap.

3.Drooling

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about drooling. You may notice as you pet or stroke you kitten that he’s not only purring, but he’s also drooling, too. The petting has sent your kitten into such a state of euphoria that he’s actually forgotten to swallow.

Take this as a wonderful compliment. Still, if you object to a little kitten spit landing on your clothes, occasionally press your finger against your kitten’s nose or the side of his mouth. He’ll swallow instinctively without shattering his mood.

This kind of drooling isn’t a problem, providing it only happens when you’re petting your kitten. If he dribbles all the time, he may have a problem with his gums or teeth, which would justify a trip to the vet’s office.

4.Licking

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about licking. When your kitten licks you, it doesn’t mean that she’s kissing you. She’s probably grooming you. But don’t be insulted. Kitties only groom other kitties they feel are in their own family. When she licks you, she’s telling you that you’re one of the clan.

5.Wanna smell my butt?

Your kitten may approach you, turn around, and present his bottom to you as if to say, “Ya wanna sniff me?” This is something he only invites his friends to do, whether the friend is human, feline, or even canine. Some experts say the kitten is offering an invitation to take a sniff of his anal glands so you’ll know who he is — sort of a kitty handshake.

Others say you remind him of his mother, and he’s asking you to groom his bottom. I don’t recommend you go to that extreme to bond with your kitten, but thanking him and scratching the base of his tail when he presents his butt is an acceptable response. Regardless of whether he’s asking for grooming or greeting, take the presentation of his bottom as a compliment — an intimate and meaningful moment, at least for a kitten.

6.Leg weaving

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about leg weaving. As with most of your kitten’s affectionate actions, leg weaving originated with mom. A kitten greets his mom with his tail upright, and then wraps his tail around her rear end to get her to lie down so he can eat.

As he gets older, he continues to rub against friendly cats to place his scent on them. His tail has scent from his anal gland on it. As he rubs his tail against another cat or you, he’s marking you — another display of affection and a good way for him to get attention or food. It works on me.

7.The classic Halloween cat posture

To understand kitten body language and kitten behavior, you should know more about the halloween cat posture. When something frightens your kitten, she may assume the classic Halloween cat posture. (Sometimes playing kittens assume this position out of excitement rather than fear.)

She fluffs up her tail as big as it can look, puffs up her fur by making it stand up on end, and arches her back. She assumes this posture when she wants to look bigger and meaner in the hopes of bluffing a potential attacker into believing she’s invincible.

This terrified kitten won’t approach you head on. She stands with her profile to you and, instead of turning and running away, hops off to the side so that her opponent (you in this case) continues to see a big scary cat even as she’s madly retreating. When you see this posture, back off. Even though she’s a cute, adorable kitten, she may bite you. If you do get bitten, speak to her in a gentle voice and leave her alone until she calms down.

8.See my tummy

If you’ve ever watched littermates play, you may have seen one roll over with all four paws in the air. With her claws sheathed, she’s inviting contact. The other kitten jumps right in, and the growling and tumbling mock battle begins. Your kitten may also greet you with this position.

When she shows you her belly, it could mean that she’s so relaxed and so totally trusts you that she’s showing you her most vulnerable position. She’s not saying, “Scratch my belly,” like a dog would. It’s a show of trust, not an invitation.

If your kitten offers you her belly when she gets older, you may want to reconsider before you reach down to rub that feline Venus’ flytrap. Look a little closer. When lying on her back, your kitten is in a heavily armed defensive position. On her back, she can attack an adversary with claws from all four feet plus her teeth.

Read more about cat and kitten behavior:

Cat vocalizations

My Kitten is crazy – Crazy kitten behavior

Using Comfort Zone Feliway

Cat Marking Territory

Cat Spraying

Cat Body Language

Understand your cat body language and cat behavior

Cat Separation Anxiety

Cat Scratching

Aggression in cats towards others

Aggressive cat behavior toward other cats and solutions

Common Cat Behavior Problems and Solutions

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