#v. dirty politics ( election arc )

[thornedrose44]

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class. 

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work. 

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there. 

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists. 

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves. 

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront. 

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people. 

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories. 

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten  prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks.  “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again. 

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts. 

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” 

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.” 

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week. 

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork. 

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by. 

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes. 

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life. 

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class. 

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled. 

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.  

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.” 

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either. 

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing. 

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime. 

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant. 

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”  

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs. 

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew. 

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying. 

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope. 

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.  

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.” 

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards. 

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night). 

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most. 

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers. 

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait. 

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a superb owl, vol 2

i made that joke last year too, for anyone keeping track (✿◡‿◡)

9pm, sunday feb 13, 2022 in the past two weeks, the stuff i read and watched got...gayer and also sadder? despite also there continuing to be romance? read on, dear friend, if you dare...

reading finished red, white and royal blue in a wave of what i can only call grief, as it called back up all the shit that went wrong in 2016. i'd...liked bits and pieces and characters and scenes, to be sure, but overall i felt really sort of at a remove from the story, every single callback to the real world or name drop of a real politician was totally jarring, and every other detail or thing that happened pinged my skeptic brain really strongly. this is probably exactly what some folks needed as escapism from the tr*mp years, but it was both too real and too false for me! it's a romance novel, the fact that it wasn't West Wing levels of intensity and none of the political shit made sense shouldn't have to matter quite so much, but to me it did... the best scene was the lake house weekend, for reference. burst into sudden hot messy tears during the election night scene, and it was mostly grief and longing for stuff that never happened.

made myself feel...better? by finally reading james baldwin's giovanni's room, which i'd had on hold and just happened to get at last. and. god. this book is incredible. don't get me wrong, it's fucking tragic, but also the fact that it was published at all, by a black man, in the FIFTIES are you KIDDING. lots of parisian cafes, cognac, smoking, everyone is probably dehydrated and so sleep deprived and the atmosphere is so claustrophobic, but the language. god the language. this isn't even the most lovely passage, just one of the best, and of course it's said by a drag queen who the (pathetic) main character is v disdainful of:

"Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters? And how long, at the best, can it last, since you are both men and still have everywhere to go? Only five minutes, I assure you, only five minutes, and most of that, helas! in the dark. And if you think of them as dirty, then they will be dirty – they will be dirty because you will be giving nothing, you will be despising your flesh and his. But you can make your time together anything but dirty, you can give each other something which will make both of you better – forever – if you will not be ashamed, if you will only not play it safe."

listening small section here, not a lot new. finished listening to the audio book of beka cooper: terrier and considering how stories read aloud vs. silently affects me differently; listened to some old taz: balance and rediscovered the rockport limited arc. listened to the classical music radio station while at my desk a couple of times and felt a sort of fondness for the retirees who were doing the same thing and calling in to request sonatas, etc. listened to my fall 2021 playlist while grading for four hours yesterday.

watching interesting synergy with the reading section here because last weekend for @pep-squad-lizzie's birthday we watched the broadway 2016 production of falsettos! which is also pretty sad and gay and also has (which the characters in giovanni's room definitely have) a ton of gender roles/expectations going on. how do i continue to understand my masculinity when its tied to being in a relationship with a woman? how do i exist in a relationship with another man when i'm so desperate for a woman to take care of all the domestic labor (here stephanie j. block wanders through and sings out "slavery! slavery!"), but since it's a few decades later the tragedy here is less about repression and denying your love, and more about. aids. but also the damage we do to others while trying to figure ourselves out is, still, applicable to both. anyway, i cried here too.

EDIT: oh FUCK how did I forget to mention that I’ve also been watching, here and there, some other excellent things, in order: legends of vox machina episodes 1-6, lupin in the shadow of arsene season 1 and the first ep and a half of season 2 holy shiiiiit, succession end of season 2 and first two eps of s3 (holy shiiiiiiit), and episodes 11-12 of the wolf (xiao zhan has finally shown up and while his character does make me cackle without actually trying to, it’s a good time).

playing i've saved some links to some browser games which i intend to play to jazz this section up, but alas all i can bring to it this week is more pokemon ultramoon. made it to the next island at fucking last i wish the plot was. sign posted a little better. because i put the game down for a month and when i picked it back up there was absolutely no hint or reminder about where to go and i did just fart around doing nothing for quite some time. but today, we surfed over to the next stage, hooray.

making baked some bread today! not sourdough, my starter is no longer with us except in the form of the dried bits i saved over the summer, but i found this recipe very easy and satisfying and it even worked with 1/2 regular, 1/2 whole wheat flour: https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/6788/amish-white-bread/ also i totally repotted some plants while in various zooms on friday; listening only obviously, it was very satisfying. nothing like getting some dirt under your fingernails while it's three feet of snow outside.

working on fuck if i know. i'm supposed to be writing this book history practicum, but aside from reading the beginnings of two books the prof recommended, i'm really just trying to do my TA and RA hours and avoid sending email.

#in lieu of a commonplace book #weekly roundup #ilcb #getting these on a more or less bi-weekly schedule and yes that does make me chuckle

[marcjampole]

We celebrated the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, but we live every day by a Constitution that the Supreme Court says favors property over people

Whether grilling hamburgers, attending a parade, watching fireworks, playing softball or zoning out to the Dirty Hairy binge-a-thon on Sundance TV, our celebration of July 4th commemorated an obsolete document.

All the fuss about Independence Day celebrates the signing of the Declaration of Independence, easily recognized by its key passage, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

The idea that animates the Declaration of Independence is equality of rights and opportunity for all men (which at the time meant white males but has since been expanded to include people of color and women). This ideal, however, was superseded by the Constitution, which as interpreted by the Supreme Court almost from its first case onward, holds as government’s primary function the protection of private property. “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America” is how the Constitution begins. Sounds like a contract between large corporations, which, as it turns out it was, and is.

I have been reminded of the predominance of property over people in U.S. law reading We the Corporations: How American Corporations Won Their Civil Rights, Adam Winkler’s breezy history of Supreme Court decisions that have gradually recognized and expanded the rights of corporations. As Winkler notes, one strand of legal thinking shared by many of the rich white merchants and slave owners who wrote the Constitutions “understood the Constitution largely in terms of protecting private property and private economic relations from majority rule.” This theory predominates the thinking of the Reagan Era right wing. It is a guiding principle of the Heritage Foundation, Cato Institute, Mercatus Center and other 21st century right-wing propaganda mills. It animates the political contributions of the Koch brothers. (see Nancy MacLean’s Democracy in Chains.)

One ramification of the industrial and financial revolutions after the Civil War was that vast amounts of property (wealth) were transferred from the hands of individuals to corporate control. Even though individuals controlled corporations and other individuals owned them, a corporation was something different from the sum of those individuals. In essence, a corporation comprises its tangible and intangible assets and its debts (which are negative forms of property) and thus is nothing more or less than a piece of property, no less than land, furniture, equipment or the right to use an image.

Early on, the managers and owners of corporations wanted to assert corporate rights, while governments and reformers wanted to restrict them. It was up to the Supreme Court to interpret the Constitution and decide what rights corporations—compositions of property and property rights—had. According to Winkler, the “corporate rights” movement developed alongside the Civil Rights movement, and was more successful earlier on.

From the turn of the 20th century to just before World War II in what is known as the “Lochner Era,” named after a 1905 case, the Supreme Court distinguished between property rights and liberty rights. The court gave property rights to corporations, but not liberty rights, such as the right to free speech. In fact, it was in this era that the first laws were passed limiting the ability of corporations to give money to support candidates. But the Court in the Lochner Era also invalidated state and federal legislation that constrained corporations, such as minimum wage laws, federal child labor laws, and regulations of the banking, insurance and transportation industries.

After World War II, the Supreme Court under Chief Justice Earl Warren focused much more on protecting the rights of individuals, but to the degree that these included property rights, Court decisions also helped corporations.

Since Nixon replaced four Supreme Court justices with pro-business conservatives in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the Court has gradually recognized that corporations—again, collections of property owned collectively by individuals—have liberty rights, too, in decisions such as First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, in which the Court ruled that corporations had a First Amendment right to speak and spend freely on ballot referenda. The coup-de-grace for corporate liberty rights was, of course, Citizens United, which has enabled corporations to give unlimited amounts of “dark money” to support candidates.

By giving corporations that same rights as individuals, the Supreme Court has enthroned property as more important than “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” It has also created a number of asymmetries which give large corporations overwhelming advantages over smaller businesses and individuals. While corporations can’t cast votes, they have greater influence over elections than individuals because they have more money to spend. Once de facto limits are removed from campaign contributions, as Citizens United did, those with more money have more votes. Likewise in employment: the corporate entity has the power not to hire someone who doesn’t accept an arbitration agreement.

Most Americans like to think that the great arc of history—and in particular American history—bends towards freedom and justice for all, as Martin Luther King once said. The freeing of the slaves, the gaining of the right to vote, minimum wage, child labor and overtime laws, the end of legal segregation, gay marriage—these are all milestones in the American pursuit of liberty and equal opportunity. But Winkler’s conclusion in We the Corporations is that over the course of time, corporations have won more constitutional rights than have individuals. And every win for corporations is a win for property over people. Remember, we live by the Constitution, not the Declaration. Our right to pursue happiness—enshrined by the Declaration of Independence—exists, but it’s not as strong or as meaningful as the rights of a corporation to pursue profit for the rich folk who own it.

#july4 #constitution #property #supreme court

[alltheworldsrpg-blog]

WELCOME TO ROSWELL, ADONIS PETYR

Admin Ais: Adonis is absolutely perfect as The Holo, and such an interesting contribution to the political game being played out in the rp. You managed to create a wonderfully complex and manipulative character, and I loved reading about his personal feelings on his position and his motivations.

You’ve been accepted as THE HOLO with the faceclaim of KIM WOO-BIN. Please follow all rules and regulations as laid out by the Roswell Town Council, especially concerning any non pre-approved biologic. All UFO’s outside of city limits must be stickered or will be towed. Enjoy your stay in the first city of extraterrestrials. 

OUT OF CHARACTER.

NAME/ALIAS + PRONOUNS:

Kael, he/him.

AGE:

Nineteen years old.

TIMEZONE + ACTIVITY:

Y’all know I go through college and I’m a human disaster–I’m at GMT+8:00 and I’d put my activity at a solid 6 for the moment because of fast paced summer classes, but afterwards? 8 or a higher probably before school.

TRIGGERS:

Removed for privacy. 

ANYTHING ELSE?: X.

IN CHARACTER.

SKELETON TITLE: The Holo

FULL NAME: Adonis Petyr

GENDER + PRONOUNS: Cis male, he/him

SEXUAL + ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Homosexual homoromantic.

DATE OF BIRTH + AGE: November 5th + 26 years old

OCCUPATION: Protege to the current Chosen.

FACECLAIM: Kim Woo-bin

BIOGRAPHY:

Your life is not your own. It is the first lesson you learn.

You were something made to propel everyone else into the great unknowns of the future, bringing about altruistic change to the world that you’d grown up on. You were to be of great importance, your parents said, a child whose destiny was to be part of something that could give rise to a new age that would tip the fates of many. You were the promise of a Starweaver to your parents, and you were going to deliver on that, whether you liked it or not.

You learned the cost of a new world early on–an assemblage of teachers, of tutors and groomers that would make you into a Chosen that the people deserved, that Proxima deserved. They built you up and stripped you down in to be who they wanted you to be. The golden child, the savior, the foothold in politics, and when they were done, they marveled at who you were, a child scrubbed clean of his identity. After that, the dream soured into a nightmare, making it feel like servitude–forced indenture, rather than a choice you would have gladly made for yourself. But you smile, and grin, and bear it because there is no other choice to make.

At least, for now.

Like Atlas, you bore the weight of everything on your shoulders, of a destiny from a Starweaver, of the pressure from your parents to run and be the Chosen, even the people who never met you, but expected you to save them from themselves even though you wanted nothing more than to be one of the men who waited for deliverance. It was tiring, walking up to people and putting on facade after facade, only having moments to discard it and resent ever having to put a mask on before walking around and shaking hands and answering questions once more.

You felt the cracks on your face, on the carefully manufactured visage that they had constructed for yourself, weathered and worn, until the bubbling from the inside had to be released somehow, for fear you would burst from the sheer pressure. Haunting bars, haunting people in the dark of night was one of the only ways you could maintain everything thrown at you, shore up the supports for the cracks in your foundation. It was intoxicating, to say the least, always coming back for more under another name and another guise just to relax and live a life that seemed better than yours.

As the years leading up to the election went by, resentment grew and blackened within your heart because you were–you are more than what they made you to be, an obedient puppet, serving the whims of the people that you should so dearly think of. But in your bones, you knew that you were never meant to bend the knee or serve the masses, but to rule over them with sweet words and a sweeter tongue.

( You remember winning by a mere thousand votes–crocodile tears on the stand, hugging your opponent as a show of good faith, and you deliver your speech with the hammering of your heart inside your chest. It is good, you think, to show them emotion while you still have your plan in the works. Win their hearts over and they will bow down and smile when they do it.

And for a second, you feel yourself again, show through the cracks–even just for a while. )

Playing Luther’s protege did take some getting used to, the new impositions and rules chafing into your skin as if they were chaining you to the floor, but you managed to pull through, enjoying the little diplomatic acts that they had done for themselves on a regular basis. You were going to be in it for the long haul, you thought, as every board meeting, every public appearance, ever last one of Luther’s missions to some backwater place had to make you think of what to do when he was going to step down.

But this time, you control the moves you were going to set into place, the pace you were going to go, and you feel yourself return to something greater, something meant to wear a crown and preside over the masses. You smile and nod to the public as your mentor watches you at your periphery, a subtle glance, as if he hears the whispers of those in power and believes them. ( For a petty old fool, he knows how to listen, you’ll give him that. )

Though you watch as he self-destructs before you, his impartial leanings towards the masses making them walk into his arms every second he gets up on that pulpit, or consults with a foreign leader, and you barely have to lift a finger. You watch and laugh in private, for Luther was an age long past, and you are the harbinger of a brighter future.

( Once, you asked a Starweaver under cover of night, in cloak and hood, if what you wanted was going to come true. They smiled at you, a tense smile, full of nervousness and worry, and told you that if he was going to let himself be what they wanted to be, it would. If he was going to.

But if recent events have shown you, that’s not really a question for you anymore. Not really.

And with Luther, it wasn’t ever a question of if you would take the helm anymore—it was a question of when. )

MUSING + HEAD-CANONS.

HEAD-CANONS:

i. miss me, lover?

Your first tryst is with a boy you don’t remember–maybe he never was worth remembering.

You remember looking at the bright neon, the glare of the lights and the bodies, the strobing of the nearby clubs as you skulked down what was a dark alleyway into a den of vice and debauchery. It was against all they taught you, against everything that you’ve learned from sacred texts and philosophy–no leader should be attracted to the allures of the forbidden, but when did happiness and duty ever meet?

But what you remembered the most wasn’t the bright lights or the the allure of it all, it was the intoxicating power that came with it, every moan, every hitch of his breath that you made happen in a matter of minutes. He was putty in your hands, and you can’t forget about the look in his eyes, the unmistakable devotion that he gave you as you held his tenderness in your hand and made him see brightness in the skies.

( Pleasure is the most intoxicating drug you know. )

ii. moving forward.

You see glamour and technology as you walk within the streets, and you curse yourself for not coming to Earth sooner.

Technological marvels are wondrous and many-faced, and you want so badly for the future to be as bright and as gleaming as the cities that dot the Earth’s landscape, of a Proxima that rivaled that of the Luytan’s home with might that rivaled that of Earth. For an observer in a foreign land, there is much to be learned from watching and waiting at the wings, not that your mentor has any reason to want for a modern world.

But you are determined to bring this to your backwater world, a forceful renaissance in the history of Proxima, for you have grown tired of horses and candlelit houses, and seek the beauties of metal and technology. There is so much to learn, so much to do, if Proxima could just leave the past behind and walk towards the future.

( And if they resist? Well, everyone needed a little push. )

TIDBITS:

i. Adonis likes black tea and often prefers an overpriced coffee milkshake to an economical black coffee, just because he’s worth it. He also has a really long order that he sticks to most of the time, but no one could ever get right.

ii. While he has a handle on sex, he has more of an awkward time trying to actually date someone, since almost all his exposure was through seedy bathrooms and secret motels. He does try to be romantic sometimes, but it just doesn’t have the same effect.

iii. After finding out that his “protector” was not on his side, Adonis is currently trying to learn martial arts and weapons handling for fear of being assassinated in a dark alley with no one to defend him. It’s a fear he’s kept on the back of his mind ever since, and it’s not one he’s going to stop having for a long time.

iv. He doesn’t talk to his parents, not after they basically moulded him into being their perfect little pawn for political and financial gain. They’re his dirty little secret that he wouldn’t share for the world, even if it gave him the throne.

v. Though he is supposed to dress modestly, he wears his clothes with a little bit of flair for people to remember him by. He doesn’t remember visually, so he mixes and matches and it mostly looks like the same thing, though with little alterations.

vi. Adonis has one tattoo. He’ll show you where if you ask nicely.

vii. Luther is cold and unfeeling and is full of secrets, much like him–Adonis thinks that he wanted to impress him once, but not anymore. These days, he’s much too busy plotting for himself rather than caring about what Luther thinks of him.

PLOTS + CONNECTIONS:

story arcs:

i. the pieces are all set.

The passing of the torch is meant to happen sometime, and Adonis prefers having all his duck in a row when he’s made the new Chosen among his people–I’d like to see him try and curry favor amongst political leaders and the Centaurian council members to at least get them on his side. It’s going to take some charisma and political will, but he thinks he can manage that, even with the several dangers that are on all sides.

There’s also the fact that he needs to get public perception on his side if he ever wants a chance of ever taking power for himself, and so I’d like him to try to be the golden boy that the Centaurians see, though we all know it’s a facade.

ii. the fallout.

This arc could go one of two ways–success or failure.

Either way, it involves him doing damage control with the affected groups that would have him taken out of his rightful place ( or so he thinks. ) Suppression and eradication in the shadows would be done, attracting support from the populace or sympathy, if the event calls for it.

For success, keeping the throne and making plans to get to Proxima Centauri to consolidate forces are of paramount importance, as well as silencing any opposition to his rule, from council member to guards. Adonis doesn’t tolerate unloyalty when he succeeds, and he does not suffer traitors for the life of him.

For failure to take the throne, he will try to muster support to his cause to take the throne from Luther or any insurgents that may threaten his ascent. I’d like to see him combat the insurgents with any political power that he may still have and piece together his reputation back up again.

I’d like to see him use his guile to survive the new reality he finds himself in when he makes a beeline for the Centaurian leadership.

connections:

i. darling, my mouth is poison.

You’re a regular Casanova, and you know it, using your good image and blinding white smile to consistently string along a number of guys, and it is so enjoyable to have them be at your beck and call when you ask. But political intrigue and information is your main goal now, and this is why you’ve seduced–or at least tried to seduce, them. They don’t know your agenda yet, and you’re not keen on letting them know, but you’re patient and persistent, and you’ll get something out of them yet.

ii. the ties that bind.

Allies are hard to come by, and in this current political climate and the hplots against you, it’s harder to find anyone who would knowingly align themselves with you, knowing what you have in store. And yet, they are by your side, an alliance–either momentary or permanent, where both of you could come out on top, seeking higher power and farther reaches beyond your meager stations. You don’t know if they’re by your side for the long run, or if they’re going to ditch you when they get what they want, but you’re grateful to have at least one person reaching for the same goals as you.

iii. my most beloved harbinger.

A willing follower, your first, and one of your closest friends. Adoration may scare some leaders, and may even be unadvisable for most, but you see it as a tool to use when necessary. They believe in the vision you share, even if it is just fragments, and you are grateful for their utter passion to your cause, their unwavering belief in you. You’ve needed a right hand for so long, a second to throw down the iron gauntlets, as your guard and protector has chosen such a contrary side to the aspirations that you have.

WRITING SAMPLE:

Removed for privacy. 

ETC:

pinterest board: x

moodboard: x

#accepted. #the holo.