#i needed to come here and do nothing for a second okay

[wonderjanga]

Kill Licenses

Stargirl was excited! Captain Marvel had just offered to let her fight crime with him in Fawcett. The man was like a big brother to everyone. That included her. He was super nice, was normally the person who first stepped up to diffuse a situation, and overall just a big teddy bear of a man. So it was a little bit a of a surprise when she saw him snap a rapist’s neck like a twig.

Marvel: *drops the body, muttering something about paperwork*

Stargirl: *gobsmacked*

Marvel: *looks over to her for a second before doing a double take* “Oh my gods I forgot you were here!” *sounds horrified*

Stargirl: “You just killed a man!”

Marvel: “I know- I know!” *leads her away from the body* “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” *sounds completely ashamed*

Stargirl: “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You killed a rapist. That’s one less evil in the world, but my question is how are you gonna get away with this?! Cap, you’re gonna go to jail!”

Marvel: “Ah… Well, no. I have a license to kill.”

Stargirl: “Wait, you can actually have one of those?”

Marvel: “Yeah, uh me, and most of the other Fawcett heroes have one. We’ve all had them since the sixties and had to get them renewed a while back. It’s not a bad thing to have for situations like this.”

Stargirl: “…Can I have one?”

Marvel: “Yes? No? I don’t know? You should in my opinion. It’s a good safety net for if you accidentally kill a villain. You just fill out some paperwork and you’ll be safe. Do you want one…?”

Stargirl: “Yes.” *immediate answer*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I mean, you’re a teenager, so you might need a parent to sign or something.”

Stargirl: “Well, I don’t have a parent right now, but I do technically have a temporary guardian at the moment.” *eyes him*

Marvel: “No… you’re not seriously suggesting…?”

And that’s how Marvel ended up taking Stargirl to a secret government base so she could get a kill license. Stargirl got a stellar recommendation from the Captain and passed with flying colors.

As they’re leaving the base…

Marvel: “Okay, so we need to lay some ground rules.”

Stargirl: “Ground rules?”

Marvel: “Yeah, ground rules. Now I know you’re not the type of kid to go around killing people all willy-nilly, but I’ll say it just in case, don’t go killing people all willy-nilly.”

Stargirl: “Well, duh, I’m not dumb.”

Marvel: “I know you aren’t. And now onto the actually important rule. Under any circumstances, do not kill around other heroes. That’s how Huntress got kicked out of the Justice League after all.”

Stargirl: “I can’t even do it around you?”

Marvel: “Well, I guess you could. And I guess you could do it around the other Fawcett heroes, but just make sure not to do it around heroes who don’t have a license, okay? I don’t wanna get in trouble, and I doubt you wanna get in trouble too.”

Stargirl: “Gotcha.”

Marvel: “Nice. Now that that’s out of the way, wanna go for victory ice cream since you got your license?”

A solid four months passed after this incident. The two forgot about it. They were chilling. Then, Courtney forgot that her stepdad didn’t know that she could legally kill a villain, fill out some paperwork, and face no repercussions.

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “YOU TOOK MY STEPDAUGHTER OUT TO GET A KILL LICENSE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Marvel: “Nothing! I didn’t think it was a bad thing!”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “She’s sixteen. She sliced a man’s head off. CLEAN. With practiced precision. She doesn’t even have a drivers license! What in hell would make you think it’s a good idea to give her a kill license?!”

Marvel: “Okay, her slicing off someone’s head isn’t my fault. I didn’t teach her that, and the guys who gave her the license didn’t either.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Then who did??”

Marvel: “I don’t know! Maybe she’s just bloodthirsty?”

Stargirl: “No I’m not?” *sounds slightly offended*

Marvel: *ignores her* “Look, the point is, I’m sorry for not telling you but please, please, pretty please don’t tell Batman.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Why?”

Marvel: “Oh come on. He’s super anti-kill. If you told him he’d have me removed from the Justice League almost instantly.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Maybe you should be removed! You don’t just give a kid the okay to kill someone.”

Marvel: “I’m not giving her an okay to do anything. I only wanted her to have it as a safety net. I promise.”

It took a lot of convincing for Pat not to squeal to Batman, but thankfully, they got it in the end. Though, the man still ended up chewing the two out.

Inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s repost on my We Thought You Died?! post :) Thanks for the inspo!

[sleepyangelkami]

INDISPOSED d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you always seem to feel more than upset when you're sick. luckily for you, dean's always by your side when you fall ill, no matter the time.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - sick!reader, illness symptoms, flu, dizziness, aches, reader's a little emotional, eating?, crying, mention of reader's lonely past, non-sexual nudity, kinda crybaby!reader, (1) use of y/n, slightly ooc dean, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there's seemingly a tell tale sign of when you're feeling extra poorly, and that's the feeling of water beginning to pool in your waterline.

you couldn't help the dramatics that would take over your body, much less when you find dean sitting in your bedroom, assuring you that it was alright that he'd come home early from his hunt. "you shouldn't have to leave sam alone 'cause of me." you were a sniffling mess at your desk, for two reasons, one being that you were upset and the second being that your nose was so stuffed you could hardly breathe.

"sammy's fine to figure out the rest of this one, baby." dean was sitting on your bed, girly covers and throw pillows surrounding him. "and i don't have to do anything, i'm choosing to be here." dean's voice was all low and soft, the voice he used when you were upset which was seemingly more often than you'd thought.

you heard him shuffle across the room to where you sat on a brown, tattered chair.

he crouched down so he was eye level with you. "come on, sweetheart, you know you're just upset 'cause you feel all sick." his hand was gently tracing your thigh, soothing you from your sniffles. "think you just need to lay down, yeah?"

you mumbled something that he didn't quite catch with a nod.

he waited momentarily but you hadn't made any decision to move. "y/n." your eyes snapped up to meet his. "come lay down."

"okay." was your sheepish response.

dean didn't often call you by your name, he cast it away with all the lovely nicknames he'd picked out for you personally. nobody was baby but his car, until he'd met you. it came so easily, that soft way of loving.

when dean had you finally beneath the blankets, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, half-comforting and half-trying to gauge your temperature.

"where are you going?" your hand reached out for his lower arm.

dean turned down to look at you, a smile softly reaching his lips. "just getting your medication, baby, i'll be back, don't worry." and this time, the kiss pressed against your forehead was purely because he felt like it.

dean was well aware of your inability to take care of yourself. now, he was in no way calling you a nuisance, he just wished you cared for yourself as much as he did. with that being said, he did always love being able to care for you, it was a way that was so different than having to take care of sam his whole life. perhaps it was because this, he wasn't obliged to do, it wasn't expected of him.

he loved taking care of you but if anything were to happen to him... he'd like to know you could take care of yourself, too.

when dean returned to the bedroom, you were passed out asleep against the sheets. the man couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

you were a chatty person, awfully bubbly at times. and dean loved that about you, listening to you babble on about something and when he didn't catch a word he'd ask you to repeat what you said, it was always funny watching as the gears turned in your head, trying to remember.

sometimes you swore you talked so much that you tuned yourself out.

dean didn't though, he listened to every word that spilled from your lips.

but you were chatty with everyone you were close to. god forbid you ever went on a road trip with he and sam.

but with him you could be quiet at times, you still got shy and nervous around him which always made him coo, there was something sweet at the fact you could be so different behind closed doors, so yourself.

and seeing you like this, your lips drew into a pout and pink staining your ill cheeks, well it was rather nice, he thought.

he hated to be so evil as he was to wake you.

"sweetheart." the mere whisper of the name as his hands came down to soothe your arms was enough to have your eyelids peeling open. "sweetheart, c'mon, you gotta take your medicine."

a half-whine fell from your lips as he sat you up against the bed, sitting too so that you could lean yourself against him. dean was suddenly aware of how much hotter your body had gotten. he hadn't been gone long, just a trip to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and the medication he needed, though it'd taken him a while to find it. he had a bad habit of leaving things in strange places and forgetting about it.

he handed you off the capsules and then the glass of water.

"how're you feeling, honey?" the back of his palm pressed against your right cheek then slightly down your top, to your chest. he was like a concerned mother. "you're really hot."

"thanks." you quipped, leaning your hot forehead against his arm and sipping the water he'd given you.

he rolled his eyes at your remark, obviously taking your sickness more seriously than you were. "'m serious, you can't have blankets."

"dean!"

"no."

"dean, 'm cold." you nuzzled yourself further into dean's warm body, a dark grey hoodie coated his form along with black sweatpants, not his usual attire.

"you're not cold." he took your face between his two hands. "you're sick." pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose. you fought the words 'sap' to come from the back of your scratchy throat. "you can have the blankets but i have to take this off, then." you felt him gently pull at the shirt you'd stolen from him, clad on your body.

"deal." you mumbled, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you.

to make matters worse, you shook your head, thinking it would rid of the dizziness.

"hey, don't do that." he steadied your head before taking the glass out from your hands and placing it on the bedside dresser.

you felt his hands on your shirt, slowly pulling it from your frame. you helped by putting your arms in he air, allowing him to pull it off your body and toss it somewhere on the ground.

"want the tv on?" you nodded your head silently as the man rose from his place on the bed, reaching the tv stand where he picked up the remote and switched it on.

aimlessly, you uttered, "my legs hurt." while sliding back under the pretty covers.

he was busy fidgeting with the buttons on the remote. he never did know how to work your tv properly. "'s just cause your sick, it'll go away, baby."

you huffed at his response, laying your head on the pillows while you pulled the blanket close to you. you were cold but it was that sickly cold where you couldn't tell if it was really a chill or perhaps you were so warm that you felt cold, which didn't make a whole pile of sense.

when dean finally climbed back into the bed, your body practically collapsed on top of him.

he laid with an arm behind his neck and the other trailing shapes across your bare back, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the low tv along with the thumping of his heart.

"are you okay?" you mumbled, voice slick with tiredness. the sickness was weird like that, hitting you suddenly, leaving just as immediately.

dean could have cooed at you. even while you were wrapped up in blankets, sick as a small hospital, you managed to ask him if he was okay.

It was another reason why he liked taking care of you. you took care of each other. "i'm okay."

another hushed mumble. "promise?"

"i promise." he answered honestly, fingers against your skin, moving up and down your back. "get some sleep, 'kay?"

a yawn passed your lips. "okay."

they said sleep was the best medicine, that it cured everything that was curable. well, you weren't sure anyone had said it to you but you just knew that it was said.

you had to beg to differ.

by dinnertime, your temperature was running hot.

earlier was the kind of sick that you could stomach, this was the kind of sick that had you flushed against the headboard of your bed, hands running down your face as you felt your head pound against the back of your eyes.

you could hear dean walk back into the room and you felt guilt soar through your veins.

you knew you were being... difficult to say the least. but you couldn't help it, hot tears gathering at your waterline all over again.

the mattress dipped as dean nudged your arm and you looked up at him with glossy eyes before looking down at the sandwich sitting on a plate in his hands.

"know you said you're not hungry but can you try eat some f'me? 's jam." his tone was all soft and his voice was all quiet. by now, he'd turned off the tv and closed the curtains, noticing how the light had been affecting your eyes. the only light on now was the little lamp sitting on your bedside table so you could actually see your surroundings.

you nodded hesitantly and took the sandwich from him.

dean noticed things about you like nobody else. he very early on found out that you loved jam sandwiches, you loved raspberry jam but you had an awful distaste for strawberry jam so from there on, he never bought strawberry jam on the offhand occurence that you may accidentally use it without looking at the label and get your jam sandwich ruined.

you were halfway through said sandwich when you placed it back on the plate, begging to tear up.

dean immediately took notice of it, taking the plate from you. "wh's wrong, baby? too much?"

you shook your head, sniffling. even the act of shaking your head had you clutching it soon after.

dean tutted, moving your hand away so he could soothe your forehead with a kiss and a gentle movement of his thumb. "poor girl." you heard him mutter under his breath, his brows strewn together in sympathy.

looking up at him, you had those glassy eyes that made his stomach feel almost as nauseous as yours. he didn't have to ask what was troubling you for you answered, anyway, to the silent question behind his eyes. "you're so nice to me."

his heart shattered a little.

it was no supirse that you didn't grow up with much comfort surrounding you and that only got worse as you began to get older. some days, you didn't think you'd ever get the comfort that your body ached for. and then dean winchester walked in, and his one and only goal was to take care of you, was to care for you, was to love you.

so you couldn't help tearing up a little from time to time when you think about the strawberry jam he gave up just for you.

"oh, baby. you're my sweet girl." he pulled you closer to him, putting your forehead against his chest so you could lean your weight on him. "'course 'm nice to you."

he helped you sit on his lap, fully discarding the place wherever his hands could push it to.

then his hands found your body, roaming it with this gentleness yet assertion. you'd put his shirt back on a while ago and discarded the blankets, which he was thankful for. he needed to break your temperature.

you weren't due medication for another two hours and you'd taken all the painkillers you could.

right now, all he could offer was himself.

and that was enough for you.

your arms tightened around his shoulders as you sniffled, tears breaking down your cheeks with a defeated sigh. "hate bein' sick." you uttered, sadness evident in your voice.

"i know, angel, i know." he gently rocked you in his lap, not enough to make your head dizzy but enough to bring you back to the moment, to remind you he was there.

and you stayed like that for seemingly a long time, melting into one another's embrace as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.

you pressed your flush cheek against the hoodie covering his bare shoulder. the tears eventually dried up and all that was left was your frustrated sighs and mumbles.

"'s okay, sweetheart." he pressed a final kiss to your flushed face. "it'll pass."

and he was by your side as soon as it did.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual. 

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable. 

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up. 

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?” 

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them. 

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face. 

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.” 

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s…it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt. 

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine. 

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.” 

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes. 

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.” 

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours. 

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection. 

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth. 

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak. 

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.” 

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.” 

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.” 

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration. 

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment. 

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead. 

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.” 

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

[unfortunate17]

Hi! "Are you sure everything is okay?" for the 5 sentence thingy? 💜 ive been thinking about the new fools in a fable chapter all day idk how i will ever recover

Tina!!!!! Thank you for the lovely prompt, here is…..a Wilmon!soulmate/soulmark something 😖 hope you’re somewhat satisfied haha.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Wilhelm looks away, gnawing at the ragged flesh of lip. Despite Erik’s voice echoing faint and tinny over the phone, his tone is far too knowing for his liking. “Yeah,” he repeats, slamming his locker closed. “I’m fine.”

“Wille, you know I can’t help you if you never tell me anything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he insists, “I’m just really fucking tired.”

“Fine,” Erik sighs, sounding exasperated, “if that’s how you’re going to be, then - ”

“Then what?” Wilhelm snarls, “if I’m going to be like what, Erik?”

“If you’re going to be like this,” Erik snaps, sounding frustrated. “I just called to check up on you, Wille, you don’t need to jump down my fucking throat about it.”

“Yeah, well, what part of I’m fine do you not fucking understand?”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then, Erik scoffs. “Okay,” he huffs an annoyed laugh, “you can call me back when you’re done being a dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Erik says coolly, “fuck you too, little brother.”

The line goes dead then, and Wilhelm has to fight against the urge to throw his phone across the hallway. Instead, he finds himself slamming a palm against the front of his locker, the metal rattling loud and sudden around him. The resulting, sharp pain makes him hiss, even if his body is still thrumming with tightly wound rage.

He blinks down at his hand for a long moment and the cheery, golden heart etched into the back of it stares back at him mockingly. What is supposed to be a promise of love and understanding has quickly turned into Wilhelm’s worst nightmare. There has to be some way to get rid of it. Wilhelm can’t spend the rest of his life looking down at it, imagining and wishing for what could have been.

The soft sound of a throat clearing behind him interrupts his spiraling, and Wilhelm spins around at once.

Sure enough, it’s Simon standing there. Because of course it is. Simon in all his beautiful, curly-haired glory, looking as though he’s been touched by the sun itself.

He’s clutching a set of notebooks to his chest, eyes wide and worried. Wilhelm can’t help the way his own gaze zeros in on the back of Simon’s hand, desperate for even a glimpse of the matching golden heart that resides there.

It’s easy to find today, peeking out from behind Simon’s deep purple sleeve.

“Hey,” Simon says. He sounds awkward, hesitant.

For a second, Wilhelm is seized with the hope that Simon has sought him out, that maybe, Simon actually wants to talk to him. He wipes his palms on the sides of his jeans. “Hi.”

They stare at each other for a moment, caught in a breathless dance of silence.

Then Simon tilts his head towards the lockers behind where Wilhelm is standing, gesturing to the books in his arms. “Sorry, could I - ?”

The hope rushes out of him so fast that Wilhelm feels woozy with the loss of it. “Yeah,” he slumps, moving over, “sorry, go ahead.”

He watches as Simon moves to his own locker, twisting the lock open with long, elegant fingers. As he slides the books in though, he hesitates, eyes flickering over to where Wilhelm is still standing there, staring. “Are you - okay?”

Wilhelm swallows, his voice coming out hoarse. “Fine.” He grits his teeth against the urge to do something pathetic. “You?”

Simon’s arm jerks as he closes his locker door, turning the lock once more. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

At that, Simon’s eyes narrow. The first sign of a fight. “Should I not be?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm scoffs, “you tell me.”

Simon makes an aborted movement, almost like he’s contemplating making a break for it. At his side, his hands turn to fists. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” Wilhelm asks incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem?” There are distress flares going off at the back of his mind now, but Wille stamps them out as quickly as they light.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I mean - I’m not - ” Wille gestures wildly between them, “I’m not the one who doesn’t want this. Us.”

Simon’s expression crumples. “Wille - ”

“No, like, it’s fine, it’s not that I - care that much. But - ” Wille laughs, the sound ringing hysterical in the empty corridor, “you’re supposed to be mine.”

Simon’s face floods with color. He looks outraged. “Don’t ever say anything like that to me again.” He turns his back to Wille, turns to the door, turns to leave him behind once more, and a panic so vicious claws its way up Wille’s chest that he can barely breathe.

“Wait,” he begs, reaching out to grip Simon’s warm shoulder. “Wait, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Simon stills, uncertain eyes flickering back to him over his shoulder.

“What I mean to say is,” Wille struggles for air. He has to get this right. It might be his last chance. “I’m yours. We - we’re a match.”

Simon is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it’s only to say, “So?”

“So - we - we’re supposed to be together,” Wilhelm hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s begging but he’s not sure if it’s really working.

“Says who?”

Wille swallows tightly, tracing the soft, delicate curve of Simon’s jaw with his eyes. “I don’t understand. Did I - did I do something wrong, Simon? Is that why you don’t - want me?”

Something jolts across Simon’s face then, a raw emotion that’s gone before Wilhelm can fully catalog. Suddenly, he scrambles towards the door. “I have to go,” he tries to duck out of Wille’s grasp. “The bus is going to - “

Wille catches his wrist, tugging until Simon turns to face him, his eyes wide and wet. “Just tell me why,” Wille begs, “I’ll leave you alone after this, I promise. Simon. I’ve had this mark since I was four. I’ve been looking for you for - for - ”

“And I’ve had this mark since last Wednesday,” Simon breaks, voice loud enough to make him wince.

Wille flinches, his insides going cold. “What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, Wille,” Simon rolls his eyes. He looks angry, brows pulled together unhappily. “Your friends shit on me all the time. Your cousin shits on me all the time. And you just stand there and laugh.”

“I don’t laugh!”

Simon looks at him in deep disbelief. “Uh - yeah you do. And it’s whatever. It’s not like I expect you to stand up for me or something. We barely know each other.”

“But we could get to know each other,” Wille shoots back hotly.

“For what?” Simon lets out a breath of bitter laughter. “It’s not like you would’ve looked twice at me if it weren’t for that fucking mark.”

Wilhelm feels his mouth part in shock. He does a double take of Simon, of the lovely silhouette of his slender shoulders, his soft looking curls, his smooth, unblemished skin, the button nose, the fire that lights his dark eyes, the steel that lines his spine. “That’s not true.”

But Simon only rolls his eyes. “Wake up, Wille, we literally have nothing in common. You’re not my fucking soulmate.”

Wilhelm bites back a sharp flare of hurt. He lets go of Simon’s wrist. “Okay. Fine,” he concedes, vision blurring with tears. “Maybe I’m not your soulmate. But you’re definitely mine.“

From his pocket, his phone buzzes twice. Wilhelm shoots Simon one last smile, drinking in his sweet, wide-eyes gaze before he turns, pulling the offending device out just to give his hands something to do. Perhaps he should call Erik back now, maybe even come clean about everything.

He waits for the telltale sound of receding footsteps, but they never come. Instead, there’s a quiet shuffling, followed by a blissful line of heat pressed along his back.

Simon buries his nose in crook of his neck, and Wilhelm almost jumps out of skin from how good it feels. The heart on his hand feels like it’s singing, warm and alive.

“Alright,” Simon whispers, looping an arm around his middle. The fear in his voice is palpable. “Let’s try then. If you’re so sure.”

Wille reaches down to thread their fingers together, hearts lining up as one. He shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to, Simon.”

“Of course I do,” Simon’s voice is very quiet, “that’s what makes it so scary.”

Wilhelm squeezes his hand tighter, too afraid to breathe. “You can trust me.”

There’s a long moment of silence, weighted in its intensity. Against him, Simon’s frame shakes. “Okay.”

Wilhelm exhales deeply, nodding. He tries his best to ignore how it sounds like Simon is lying.

[nyaskitten]

Dragons Rising Episodes, But Only the Most Iconic Quotes

Episode 1: "The Merge, Part 1"; "I think that mask belongs to me!" (Or Ras' "You failed me... I do not like that.)

Episode 2: "The Merge, Part 2"; "Soon, Imperium will have enough Dragon Power to rule over all the Merged Realms!

Episode 3: "Crossroads Carnival"; "In first place is… Chef Grab-Barg! Congratulations!"

Episode 4: "Beyond Madness"; "Kai, you're still alive!" "I made a terrible mistaaaake!" "You brought the dragons right to us? I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

Episode 5: "Writers of Destiny"; "Is that Euphrasia?" "She's abandoned her scrolls. This is not our way, what is she doing!?" "She's saving us."

Episode 6: "Return to Imperium"; "I hate fireproof monsters!"

Episode 7: "Mindless Beasts"; "I love studying at school!" "But protecting innocents is also cool!" "Sound off!" "One, two!" "Sound off!" "

Episode 8: "I Will Be the Danger"; "Fa-mi-ly... family!"

Episode 9: "The Calm Inside"; "In life, there will be times of chaos, when everything around you is a raging storm. When there is no calm outside of you, you must find the calm inside of you."

Episode 10: "The Battle of the Second Monastery"'; "Do not free me."

Episode 11: "The Temple of the Dragon Cores"; "Nope, you've upgraded to Wyldfyre!" "Upgraded? Really?"

Episode 12: "Gangs of the Sea"; "Destroy the interloper!"

Episode 13: "Wyldly Inappropriate"; "No Core for you! No Core for you! No Core for you!"

Episode 14: "The Last Djinn"; "Uh, okay! I wish for you to help us kick these Howlers in their butts!" "Your wish is yours to keep!"

Episode 15: "They Call it Doom"; "As your teacher, it's vital I instill in you the knowledge that all life is important." "But that's Rapton." "HEY!"

Episode 16: "Land of Lost Things": "This Master Wu guy sounds like he has a lot of smart ideas. I might wanna hear more of them. Maybe."

Episode 17: "The Administration"; "Those two tricked us! They weren't authorized!" "They gave us... Fake forms!" "Ah, wait. We have to fill out trick-by-fake-forms forms first." "No time. Just fill out a defaulting-of-paperwork-to-a-later-date form."

Episode 18: "Absolute Power"; "You and I both know the dragon energy that has kept your kingdom running smoothly will not last forever." "If that were true, which it most certainly is not, what could an outlander such as you do about it?"

Episode 19: "We Are All Dragons"; "NOT THE SHOULDER PAD STORAGE! NOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOOOOO"

Episode 20: "The Power Within"; "And all you traitors to your Empress. You are no better than the ninja! No one will rule this kingdom but me, and I will destroy everyone who stands in my way!"

Episode 21: "The Blood Moon"; "The Blood Moon is coming... The Blood Moon is coming!"

Episode 22: "Shattered Dreams"; "It is a corrupted, advanced form of your beloved fighting technique, that has been long banned, forgotten! Shatterspin!"

Episode 23: "Beyond the Phantasm Cave"; "I've been here for hours, and nothing! Why do I have visions of everything that can go wrong, but none about how to make it right? Source Dragons, are you out there? Can you hear me? Is this just a game to you? I need answers!"

Episode 24: "Force From the East"; "We cannot ignore the threat the Blood Moon brings. With the realms now merged, the Five will have more to conquer, more to destroy. And all of our work, defeating them, banishing them, will be for naught, our legacy meaningless! We must train them."

Episode 25: "The Spell at the Waterfall"; "I await your instructions, master."

Episode 26: "To Mysterium"; "Faster! Quicker! Mental Strength! You can do this!"

Episode 27: "Fugitives From Madness"; "Stop thinking about you, start thinking about Countershot!" "The game we made up in dad's blacksmith shop? Wow, miss those days, not having to worry about saving the world..." "And who was your best Countershot partner?"

Episode 28: "Secrets of the Wyldness"; "UGH! My name is Jordana! You ninja, especially the one you call Sora, are my sworn enemies!" "Still not ringing a bell." "AHH!!!"

Episode 29: "The Forest of Spirits"; "You could be something special, too bad the ninja hold you back." "No, they don't, they're making me better!" "Then how come you aren't any better? I stopped you as easily now as the first time we met! I was weak like you once. My master found me, and taught me the most important thing in this world... strength! Maybe one day you'll find a true master, who can teach you the same."

Episode 30: "Rising Ninja"; "How dare you? You cut and run before you got the other four out!" "You will not speak to me like that, Nokt. You owe your freedom to me. I expect loyalty. And my control device will guarantee I get it... and you! You failed to keep the portal open Jordana! Do you hear me Jorda- AUGH!"

Episode 31: "The Shape of Motion"; "Cease Nokt. This is training, not war." "Everything is war." "Save your anger for when it matters."

Episode 32: "Enter the City of Temples"; "Oh yikes, a real ninja! Let us flee!" "That hurt my feelings!"

Episode 33: "They Gather for the Feast"; "One night before the new Tournament of the Sources, I'm reminded of what the Cragling poet Rockworth once said. Bwah bwahhh mbwhaw mbwahh. Bwahb bwahbhabwah"

Episode 34: "Inside the Maze"; "I am limber, I am loose... I am in trouble."

Episode 35: "United We Fall"; "Arin and his pet dragon, just like I suspected. Did your master Lloyd set you up for this?"

Episode 36: "Truth and Lies"; "Ras says everyone spends too much time trying to find harmony. But you can't passively wait for the world to harmonize, so you must take from life what you need."

Episode 37: "The Sword Shatters"; "Hey hey hey, stop! The game's already over!" "Lloyd, look out!" "RAHAHAHAHA!" "Ack ack, augh, aughhhh." (he died)

Episode 38: "Clues and Suspects"; "It was smart of Bleckt to hide the room's access in this old thing. No way Roby was gonna touch a rotary phone."

Episode 39: "The Final Game"; "In light of this, I declare the victory ceremony canceled! Security!" "In light of that, I un-cancel it! Finally, the powers I've always deserved."

Episode 40: "Elements of Betrayal"; "Get back here! Those elemental powers belong to me! RAHH!!"

[livesincerely]

crash and crave you

Or, the drunk Davey fic. Also on Ao3

00000

Jack’s hauling all six feet and change of Davey’s deadweight back to his car, trying to cram his lanky, drunken, noodle limbs into the passenger seat—Jesus Christ, he really is all leg, ain’t he?—when Davey kisses him.

Jack freezes. Goes perfectly still, frozen in place, as panic pierces his chest like a shot to the heart.

Because Davey is drunk, drunker than drunk, really, his mouth warm and a little sloppy against his own. He clings to Jack like a second skin, every inch of him soft and pliable, and he tastes like salt and tequila and that last round of fireball shots Racetrack ordered for the table.

He tastes like everything Jack’s ever wanted and nothing he’s allowed to have.

Davey makes low, unhappy noise in the back of his throat, then loops clumsy arms around Jack’s neck and tugs him closer: stubborn, insistent, and drunk, so fucking drunk, because Jack knows better than to think he’d ever do this sober.

But he smells so good—like his coconut conditioner and the fancy fabric softener he insists on and Davey—and his body fits so perfectly against his own and he’s kissing Jack like he wants him. Right here in the parking lot, half in and half out of the passenger seat of Jack’s car, with nothing but the buzzing street lamps overhead to notice Jack’s heart cracking into pieces with every second that passes.

Davey sighs against his lips, his fingers curling gently around the nape of his neck as he tries to deepen the kiss, and Jack knows better.

He knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s a mistake. Knows that Davey—clever, gorgeous, wonderful Davey—probably won’t remember this in the morning, and Jack will never, not ever forget.

But he’s only human. He’s just a man, hopelessly in love with his best friend.

And for just a moment, he kisses him back.

Tilts his head and licks at the seam of Davey’s lips until they part, sucks his lip between his teeth and tangles their tongues together. Flattens his palm over the small of his back, braces his forearm against the car frame and lets himself exist, just this once, in a world where he’s allowed to have Davey somewhere besides his imagination.

Davey sinks sweetly into the kiss: eager and trusting and everything, he’s fucking everything and—

And—

Jack forces himself to pull away. Davey looks up at him with big, blue pleading eyes, his mouth wet and red and perfect, and fuck, Jack’s never gonna come back from this.

“Why’d you stop?” Davey mumbles, a swirly curl of hair falling over his forehead. His cheeks are pink from the rasp of Jack’s stubble. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Dave, I…“ 

What can he say? What can he possibly say?

He needs to apologize, needs to beg for forgiveness because Davey might be drunk off his ass but Jack absolutely is not, nursed a single beer the entire night, so there’s no excuse to fall back on. 

There’s no excuse for this.

Davey pats him on the shoulder with all the coordination of a wet mop head.

“‘S okay,” he says, almost kindly, flopping back against the passenger seat. “I don’t want to kiss you either.”

Jack’s pretty sure a baseball bat to the back of the head would’ve hurt less.

He wants to stumble away as quickly as he can, wants to see if Kath and Sarah are still out front waiting for their Uber. Maybe they’ll take Davey home instead if he asks really, really nicely and hurries away before they can ask him any questions.

Instead he sucks in a shaky breath. Carefully reaches around Davey’s waist to buckle in his seatbelt for him.

“There’s this guy,” Davey continues, hushed like he’s sharing a secret. “I wanna kiss him all— all the time. He’s handsome and funny and way, way smarter than he gives himself credit for and— and he’s just the best, you know?”

Jack does not know. Jack would rather be force-fed his own liver than know any of this.

He starts manually lifting Davey’s legs into the footwells. Tucks his feet in so they won’t block the car door.

“His name’s Jack.”

Jack stops. Freezes with his hand still wrapped around one of Davey’s ankles. Wonders, for just a second, if maybe someone did hit him over the head, actually, because—

Because the last ten minutes have been a fucking rollercoaster and he might have the world’s first genuine case of emotional whiplash, but—

His name is Jack.

…His name is Jack, right?

“Dave,” Jack starts uncertainly, but the rest of the sentence goes nowhere. Because Davey can’t possibly mean what Jack thinks he means. What he hopes beyond hope he means.

”Do you know Jack?” Davey asks, blinking up at him guilelessly.

”Uh...”

“You probably do,” he decides. “Feels like we can’t go anywhere without bumping into Jack’s neighbor’s girlfriend’s pizza delivery guy or whatever. He’s the kinda guy that knows everyone, and everyone wants to know him. But they don’t,” Davey informs him, very seriously. “Not like I do.”

“Nah,” Jack says, very softly. “No one knows ‘im like you do.”

Davey perks up. “So, you do know him!”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve seen him around.”

”Then you know,” Davey says, with what might be an attempt at a decisive nod, but comes out as more of a wobbly, bobble-head kind of motion. Jack’s so in love with him it hurts.

”Know what, Dave?”

“How wonderful he is!” Davey enthuses. 

“I dunno ‘bout all that,” Jack murmurs.

Davey frowns: a huge, exaggerated expression that makes his forehead wrinkle adorably. “What do you mean?”

”I just…” Jack shakes his head. “What makes him any different from all the other dickheads in this city?”

Pure outrage. ”He’s not a dickhead!”

Jack lifts a brow.

“Maybe he’s a little bit of a dickhead,” Davey admits. “But not, like, a total, complete, fuck-off-forever-type , dickhead. Just like a normal amount of dickheadish-ness.”

”Oh, just the normal amount, huh?” Jack wonders, and he can feel himself smiling, just absolutely cheesing from ear to ear, unable to help himself.

”Well, nobody’s perfect,” Davey says. “But sometimes I think he’s close.”

“Well, I got it on good authority that he thinks the same thing about you,” Jack says.

“He’s my best friend,” Davey continues. “He’s— meeting him was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Because, before Jack, I was just going through the motions, you know? Just keeping my head down and trying to get through each day, and it sucked, but that’s how it goes, right? And I probably would’ve kept on like that for the rest of my life, but…”

Davey pauses, fighting to piece together his thoughts through the drunken haze. Jack’s hanging, breathless, on his every word.

“Jack’s really charming,” he eventually decides. “Larger than life. He’s got this way of looking at you and seeing you—really seeing you—no matter how hard you try to hide it. And he tries to play it off like it’s nothing, says it’s just that you can’t bullshit a bullshitter or whatever, but it’s really because he cares. Cares so much about every single person in his life, pulls them into his orbit and never lets them go, and you find new ways to believe in yourself because of how much he believes in you.”

Jesus Christ. No wonder Jack’s head over heels for him.

Davey tilts his head, then finishes, devastatingly, with: “I don’t think I knew how to dream until I met Jack.”

“He didn’t know how to plant roots and stay until he met you,” Jack confesses, reaching up to carefully brush a piece of hair out of Davey’s eyes.

Davey tracks the movement until he goes cross-eyed with it, then his mouth scrunches up into a pout.

”Where is Jack?” he asks—almost a whine—completely oblivious to havoc he’s wrought. “He’s supposed to be here.”

“I’m, uh, sure he’s around here somewhere,” Jack answers as steadily as he can. It feels like his chest’s been cracked open, all the softest parts of him spilling out through his fingers, but for once, he doesn’t mind.

”Can you go get him?” Davey asks, tugging at his shirtsleeve. “I wanna— Everything’s better when Jack’s around.”

…Would it be awful if Jack kissed him again? Because he really wants to kiss him again.

“I don’t think Jack would be okay with me leavin’ you by yourself when you’re this out of it,” Jack says instead, which would be true even if he weren’t talking about himself in the third person. “How ‘bout we wait for him to meet us out here, yeah? ‘M sure he won’t be long.”

“Feels like it’s been forever,” Davey grumbles. “I miss him.”

A thought visibly occurs to him then, the alcohol in his system slowing him down enough that Jack can track each individual change in his expression. 

With huge, watery eyes, he asks, “Did he leave without me?”

“What? Of course he didn’t.”

“I thought he was gonna— He said he’d drive me home,” Davey continues, like the thought of anything else is unfathomable. “Isn’t he gonna drive me home?” 

”He’s still gonna drive ya home,” Jack assures him. “Don't worry, he’s not goin’ anywhere without’cha.”

“But—“

“Hey, this is his car, ain’t it?” Jack soothes. “So, if his car’s still here, he’s still here, right?”

Davey looks all around himself, as if only just now realizing that he’s buckled into the passenger side of Jack’s suv. 

“This is Jack’s car,” he says slowly, tracing his fingers over the center console in bewilderment. “Why do you have the keys to Jack’s car?”

Now or never.

“Davey,” he says. “Do you know who I am?”

Davey stares at him. There’s not a lick of recognition in his gaze.

“No…” he says slowly. “Are you one of Jack’s friends?”

“Would Jack pawn you off on someone you didn’t know? Wouldn't he walk you out himself? Make sure you’re safe?”

“I don’t know,” Davey says, squinting at him. “Maybe you’re really trustworthy? You’ve got a trustworthy sort of face.”

Jack laughs—he can’t help it—and Davey's expression brightens. He leans forward, reaching out to pat at Jack’s face like his smile is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“You know, Jack has a scar right here,” he says, grabbing clumsily at his chin. “He got scared by a raccoon crawling out of a dumpster and fell on his ass. It was hilarious.”

“Hey! You promised to never bring it up again!”

“No, I promised Jack I wouldn’t…” He trails off then, frowning deeply.

“Davey. Look at me.” Jack cups a hand around his cheek, tilts his head up to meet his eyes. “Who am I?”

Davey blinks at him. Ponders for a few, long seconds. 

“…You look a lot like Jack,” he says, very hesitantly.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, so fond of him he could burst with it. “That’s because I am Jack.”

Another few seconds for that information to land. Some more slow, fluttery blinks. Then Davey’s entire face lights up, more dazzling than sunlight.

“Jack!” he says, overjoyed, throwing his arms around his shoulders. “Where have you been?”

“‘M right here,” Jack says, holding him close. “I’m right here with ya, Dave.”

“I miss you when you’re gone,” Davey says, and his breath is warm against Jack’s throat, his head nestled safely in the crook of his neck. “Don’t go away any more.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack promises.

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

* **FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

The Shower Scene

Noah leaned over the sink, watching intently in the mirror as the razor glided across his skin. The pitter-patter of the shower the only sound in the bathroom, broken every so often as water splashed. He had lost track of how many times they'd done exactly this. One of them in the shower while the other did whatever they needed to. And every single time he had to fight tooth and nail not to sneak a peek. Friends weren't exactly supposed to want to see the other one naked. But damn it, he couldn't help it.

With a groan he leaned down, rinsing the remaining shaving cream from his face. Friends also didn't sleep in the same bed more than half the time. Or cuddle the way him and Quinn did. They sure as shit didn't get jealous every time one of them went out on a date. She had such shitty taste in men, too. All of them absolute tools that left her disappointed at the end of every date. Yet she still went back. It made zero sense.

Her phone on the counter lit up. A quick glance and he wanted to vomit. Here she was, getting ready for another date with another boring asshole that if he even made it past the first date would disappoint her, again, by the end of the second or third. What the fuck was she doing wasting her time with these idiots?

"Noah? Can you pass me my towel?"

Noah paused for a moment, wondering just what would happen if he said no. If he made her get out and get her towel herself. It was tempting. Maybe a little too tempting. Resigning himself he grabbed her towel off the rack, passing it through the shower curtain to her.

"Got any plans tonight?" He knew the answer, but fuck it, why not torture himself and hear her say it?

"Yeah." She stepped out of the shower, wrapped up in her towel. "Got a date."

Biting back the words that so desperately wanted to escape he moved aside and leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He watched her as she applied her leave-in conditioner. Watched as she wiped her hands on her towel before she picked up her phone. Ignored the pit in his stomach as she responded to whatever the douchebag had said.

"You deserve better."

"You don't even know him, Noah."

"Don't have to. You have fucking terrible taste in men." Noah's eyes widened. He hadn't meant to say that. "I'm sorry. Fuck. I shouldn't have said that."

Quinn laughed. Actually laughed. But it wasn't her usual laugh. He could hear the pain hiding behind it. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Yes, you did. It's okay, though. You're not wrong. Just look at how we met." Her eyes met his in the mirror. "I would like to get dressed now, if you don't mind."

Noah stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. Of course he had meant it, but he hadn't meant to actually say it. She didn't need to tell him that his words had stung. He could hear it in her voice. See it in the way she looked at him through the mirror.

"I'm just tired of seeing you hurt when they all inevitably do the same stupid shit. I love you, terror pixie." He bent down, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"I love you, too, Bigfoot."

She grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. At least she was smiling again. With a weary sigh he reached up, ruffling her hair before darting out of the bathroom. Part of him, real deep down, knew that if he had just asked her to cancel. To stay home with him, she would have, no questions asked. But that would be selfish. Who knows? Maybe this guy wasn't a total douchebag. And maybe he would turn out to be the love of her life. The thought made him physically ill.

Noah burst into Jolly's room, quickly closing the door behind him. Jolly merely looked up from the book he was reading, an eyebrow arched.

"Lemme guess. Another date tonight?"

"Yeah. And we all know how it's gonna go. Gonna need all of you to get lost for a while."

[moinstar]

Lesson 54 spoilers

"...So, tell me. What is it you're plotting, exactly?" Raphael eyed Diavolo with mild irritation in his tone.

He smiles apologetically, caught in an act and felt the need to explain now. "So, you can tell something's up, huh? I was afraid of this."

"It's odd enough that we're the only ones here. And then after we were attacked, your response seemed unusually tepid. There are so many red flags..," the gray-haired angel sighs. "Of course I can tell that something's going on."

Moin speaks up. "I'm guessing that has something to do with me?"

"Yes, it does. Though it's nothing you should feel bad about." Diavolo reassures, though it's not bringing relief to the burgundy-haired human girl.

"This is about your magic power, Moin. And what has been happening to it." Mephisto stresses it strongly.

"Yes, your power has been growing greater by the day. And then there was the incident with the hostile demon in Meowcao. That's when we realized that you weren't in full control of it." Lucifer added.

Simeon nods mildly, carefully regarding Mephisto, Lucifer, and Diavolo's statements. "And when Raphael was attacked earlier, it looked like Moin cast a barrier spell of some sort, but without an incantation. I'm guessing that in the heat of the moment, the spell must have gone off subconsciously."

"What exactly is happening to Moin's powers, we need a definitive answer to that question. Then we can take action if necessary. However, we thought we needed to spend a bit more time observing things from afar." -Diavolo

"Right, our theory was built on too many assumptions. They needed to be verified." -Lucifer

"...So you used the SF as a chance to do that." -Raphael

"That's right." -Diavolo

"Ah, that must be why there was a second preliminary test. You presented everyone with a problem that no ordinary student could solve." -Simeon

"In any case, Lord Diavolo, Lucifer, and I were the only ones to pass the second test." -Mephisto

"So, it worked out exactly as you'd hoped, then." Raphael gapes his mouth a little, coming to a realization. "...Unbelievable. You mean to tell me that the fiery rock that nearly hit Simeon and the beast that attacked us were both YOUR doing?"

"No, that was the work of demons who oppose the royal family. We'd never resort to such cheap tricks." -Mephisto

"However, we knew that if we were to hold the SF finals here, those demons would see it as a good opportunity to strike... That I cannot deny." -Diavolo

"Yes. We did know they were here, and we didn't try to stop them." Lucifer sighs defeatedly. "So in that sense, you might be able to argue that it was "our doing"."

Moin's eyebrows furrowed at this. If Diavolo knew about the opposition, why didn't he do something about it? Why did it have to go as far as almost risking their lives since that incident in Meowcao?

"There are still many lower tier demons who think that harming an exchange student would be a good way to damage Lord Diavolo's reputation. They had no idea they were being lured here, the fools," Mephisto scoffs with a smirk.

"Even so, if you'd only told us this in advance-" Raphael notices Simeon who hasn't been talking for a while now. "...Um, Simeon?"

Simeon smiles. It was that frightening smile back when he used to scold the brothers. "Ah. I see... Thank you for making things so very clear." Everyone except Moin pales at the sight. She knew that Simeon would never direct his anger towards her. "For the sake of argument, I'll overlook the fact that you chose to test Moin's powers. Because I can see how that might be the only way to draw out certain aspects of these powers. Tell me though, why was it necessary to lure the Demon King's enemies into attacking us? What if Moin or Raphael had been hurt? What would you have done then, hmm?"

"It's only thanks to Moin that we're okay. Because she protected us, even though it meant putting herself in harm's way," Raphael added in.

"What's more, I'm a human now: weak and frail. Should I assume none of you cared about what might happen to me?" -Simeon

"I wouldn't call you "weak and frail"..." Lucifer mutters.

"Sorry, did you just say something, Lucifer?" Simeon pointedly smiles at him, daring to continue what he has to say.

"No, nothing."

"I didn't know it was possible to project so much anger while maintaining a smile..." Mephisto whispered to Diavolo as he takes a step closer to him.

"I'm too scared to move a muscle. It's been a long time since anyone's made me feel this way..." -Diavolo

Moin turns to Diavolo with an expressionless gaze. "I'd like you to avoid such methods in the future..., Lord Diavolo." His face immediately shifts to the one who's worried and hurt genuinely, sensing that Moin is indeed mad and felt betrayed at this whole discussion they were having. It's spiraling down rapidly that Diavolo almost forgot to consider her feelings and wanted to comfort her. But as he was about to speak his reassurances once again and offers his hand, Mephisto butts in with a disdainful remark.

"Well, I'd like it if you could learn to control your powers. Then we wouldn't be in this situation."

Something snapped in unison. There was a moment of defeaning silence, as if another wrong answer would cause an explosion, figuratively. Simeon could tell that it was the last straw. The revelation hurt her than they thought it would. And there was another person who wasn't helping the situation get any better. He could feel the gears of emotion running around her head and that she's barely holding to what she might impulsively do: tears, anger, or running away. She really wanted to do those three options but before she could react, Simeon shields Moin from them, hiding her behind his cloak.

"...Lucifer, Diavolo, Mephisto. You need to think about what you've done today."

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 26/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE

CHAPTER TWENTYSIX

                “You cannot eat your weight in ice-cream. It’ll kill you.”

                “Stronzata. Worse I’ll be is sick. I just thought that he’d maybe come here…”

                Vi lets out a sigh and drops onto the sofa beside him, forces him to shuffle over so she can snuggle into his side and she reaches for the spoon and takes a mouthful of ice-cream. He doesn’t both protesting, he’s already gone through one tub and he’s already starting to feel sick, but it’s giving himself something else to focus on. He isn’t heart broken so much as he is disappointed.

                “You did say he wasn’t the one.”

                “Well… no. But I still sort of hoped he’d maybe move here.”

                “America might be home to you, but it’s…”

                “Yeah. Okay. Why would he want to uproot his entire life and leave his family behind.”

                “Not to mention not having a job here. And his English sucks.”

                “Ugh. I know. I know okay? I was just…”

                “A naïve optimist?”

                “Apparently.”

                “Hmm. Well. You have the heart or a romantic at least, even if it’s the only Italian thing about you.”

                “Fuck off…” Bradley laughs, shoving into her and she grins back and he guesses she’s done what she set out to achieve, and that was to cheer him up.

…            …            …

                “Fucks sake Leonardo, what did those onions do to you?”

                “Nothing, I’m just…”

                “Missing your boo?”

                “Fuck off Vi.”

                “That’s not a no.”

                “I’m… wound a little tight. Yeah. I’m missing him.”

                “Missing something, that’s for sure,” one of the sous chef mutters and Bradley shoots her a glare and Vi snorts but continues in Italian.

                “Yeah, no shit. Not just him but the sheer amount of sex you got used to while you were shacked up. Everyone’s been getting it in the neck and have sent me to be the sacrificial lamb.”

                “What?”

                “You know phone sex exists right?”

                “I can’t ask him to have phone sex with me!”

                “Why not? It’s not like you two haven’t had plenty of in person sex.”

                “He hasn’t raised it. I don’t want to…”

                “Oh my god, how are both as idiotic as each other? Have you considered that he’s going to be just as horny as you?”

                “Yeah, but it’s not like he can easily sneak off and jerk off whenever the mood strikes him!”

                “Like you can? Send him a series of messages or pictures so when he does have a moment, he can and then maybe he’ll return the favor. Or you know. Be an adult and fucking talk about it. Cazzo!”

                Bradley looks down at the pulverized mess of onions. There is finely diced and then there’s the slurry he’s created in front of him and he pulls a face and sets it aside. He can use it in a soup. Vi does have a point though and he guesses he’s going to need to see what steps he can put in place and maybe see Jake sooner than he thought.

…            …            …

                Having Admiral Kerner know his name is unnerving, although it does wonders for his reputation, it’s not like he’s related to Jake at all. Plus those he considers sort-of friends are happy to share the baked goods Leo has taken to sending about every four to six weeks. It’s after the second package that Jake takes the time to look up the 1986 Top Gun class with Nick Bradshaw, curious to know who else might be lurking in Leo’s past.

                Holy shit.

                The knowledge that Leo knows one admiral is surprising, but the idea he might know more is mind boggling. There are some absolute legends in this class and he wonders exactly how many have kept tabs on Leo. Clearly Admiral Kerner considers him some sort of family, but there are others, like Maverick Mitchell and Iceman Kazansky and Warlock Bates. Slider Kerner is right there and damn Jake wishes he could ask him how he got his callsign. Obviously Leo would much rather have his dad around, but he has people willing to step into the space left. He knows all about Leandro and Silvia, and Vi and all of Leo’s extended Italian family. He knows there is a godfather he doesn’t talk to, and an Uncle Tom he does, although Leo’s only mentioned him once in passing, face twisted with something Jake couldn’t place.

                Three admirals from one Top Gun class though, that seems disproportionally high, but he also guesses with the ages of everyone and their skill sets it’s maybe not uncommon. He thinks about Leo’s godfather, the person who pulled Leo’s USNA papers and sent him to fleeing to another continent. He frowns and wonders how you pull someone’s papers, do you just have to be their legal guardian? Or was it a favor called into someone higher up in the chain of command. Leo hadn’t said his godfather was in the service, but Jake is starting to suspect he might have been, even if he maybe isn’t now and he studies the photo closely, wonders if any of the men in the photo are Leo’s godfather.

…            …            …

                It’s been a few months now and work is insane and he knows he’s wound up, but he also hasn’t had the time, energy or, frankly, courage, to raise the idea of maybe sexting or sending slightly more risqué pictures. He knows his temper is shorter than usual, and he’s trying his utmost to keep it in check, although when he’s being filmed and they want the drama he lets it fly, glad to have the excuse. He ignores Vi’s eyerolls and is apologetic when he snaps. He counting down in days now to when he will next see Jake, a trip to Japan where Jake will be having some shore leave and he’s doing his best to keep it a surprise but he cannot contain his excitement. Vi has worked her magic and he’s got four days of filming a guest spot on one of their cooking competition shows, after which he’ll be able to see Jake for two days.

                Two days is nothing, not really. But it is still better than nothing and it’s definitely better than waiting another three months before Jake’s deployment ends. Because Bradley knows Jake has other people in his life, that as much as he might like to monopolize all of his time when he’s not working, it’s not a realistic expectation to have. So he will work his ass off now so when Jake is on leave he too can be too. Sort of. He’s not sure if he’ll ever not be thinking about cooking.

                The sauce initiative has taken off, and he’s insisted on any profits that Maria was going to send his way are instead directed to the research around early onset dementia, which had made Maria call him a bastard, but he’s sure it’s because he’d maybe made her cry. He doesn’t need the money though, and while his signature is on the bottles it’s definitely a joint operation, although they use a local commercial kitchen and small-scale bottling plant, there are definitely limited editions because Maria refuses to use any tomatoes not grown on their farm. Bradley’s more than okay with that, as long as Jake continues getting his own supply.

                After his conversation with Maria a few weeks ago he’d found himself in a group chat with all of Jake’s sisters, which has been a great source of childhood photos and stories, but also sharing news or anecdotes about their day-to-day lives and Bradley wonders what the hell he did to have yet another family just open themselves up and include him so effortlessly in their lives. He’s well aware that they’re doing it because of his relationship with Jake, but when a package arrives of pictures that Jake’s nieces and nephews have drawn for him, a painting done by Olivia of Jake working picking tomatoes, handmade wooden utensils that Maria admits to making in her spare time… None of them had to do any of that and it makes him both grateful and also miss Jake’s family almost as much as he misses Jake. Another reason why he’s happy to go and spend time with Jake at his home.

[umbrella-show]

https://www.tumblr.com/umbrella-show/766905601979727872/httpswwwtumblrcomumbrella-show76562826466233?source=share

Ooooooooh I love it! Great now i wanna send this in as a genuine request of your requests are open...y/n can be timid or not depending on what you wanna do but still want twist where y/n was only crowned ruler so there is an excuse for y/n to stay in the castle and be cared for/watched over by all the cookies...like to expand and explain more...cookies claimed y/n is their ruler when in reality, the cookies are the ones making up laws/creating rules, doing all the stuff rulers do and y/n's job is just to sit there with their little crown, that the cookies made sure was very comfy for y/n, and accept affection and attention from the cookies lmao!

(Also now I can't help but imagine in a funny scenario like this...to give an example of what I had in mind lol...

Some bad guy cookie...maybe DE or shadow milk...will call em bad cookie as place holder:

Bad cookie: MWAHAHAHAHA!

*all the cookies panic!*

Gingerbrave: OH NO! IT'S (insert name!)

Bad cookie: IM HERE TO TAKE OVER THE KINGDOM-

*cookies still panic...some readying to fight and others running for their lives and others just having zero clue what to do!*

Bad cookie: -AND TAKE Y/N FOR MYSELF!

*Suddenly, all the cookies froze...and slowly turn to the bad cookie, all going dead quiet. The kingdom became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.*

Bad cookie: what the-?

*suddenly, all the cookies whip out various weapons...either their signature weapons or torches and pitchforks.*

Gingerbrave: you messed up the moment y/n's name left your mouth....CHARGE!

*all the cookies of the kingdom absolutely SWARM the bad cookie.*

Bad cookie, not expecting all the cookies to share a braincell: SON OF A- OH DEAR WITCHES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

*Bad cookie screams in terror as they are now in the middle of a giant horde of angry cookies.*

Meanwhile...

Y/n: *was gaming...suddenly heard a little noise.* what was that?

Strawberry, who was sent to y/n earlier to distract them from the chaos outside: that was probably just the wind...say, how about we do this level next?)

And late reply is ok! I know life gets busy sometimes lol!

Kay i love this idea it made me laugh a little-

Have a short fic!

As you placed down another card on the table from your deck, you couldn't help but wonder. Is this all a ruler does? All the stories you’ve read about kings and queens usually had them attend to important affairs or run their kingdom. After becoming a ruler yourself, you found out that there wasn’t much you needed to do in the first place. All you really did was sit there and look pretty. Your friends, the Ancient cookies, who ruled their own kingdom, did more than you. They were more involved with actually running their kingdom. And you did practically nothing.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Pure Vanilla cookie said it was your turn again. Looking up at him, you saw him smiling at you with his deck of cards in his hands. He had an excellent poker face when it came to these sorts of games, you had learned. He always kept a gentle smile no matter what. You didn’t know whether it was an intimidation tactic or because he genuinely enjoyed playing these types of games.

You placed a card from your deck down on the table and took a few seconds to glance out of the window right in front of both you and Pure Vanilla cookie. It was a beautiful day. The vibrant blue sky, clear of any clouds, caused the sunlight to shine onto you and Pure Vanilla cookies from the window. You could hear birds chirping and leaves gently rustling from the light breeze.

As Pure Vanilla cookie had just placed down his card a sound made you perk up. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder as the source seemed to come closer to where you were. It almost sounded like..screaming? You looked out the window, searching for the noise. You were worried and confused. Was everything okay? Did something happen? Were people in danger? It wasn’t long until you saw what was happening.

Licorice cookie, with Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute close behind, were all screaming and running from something. They just ran by, screaming their lungs out. A horde of cookies followed, yelling and brandishing their weapons. As they chased, you noticed and recognized them as almost all of the cookies in your kingdom, with Gingerbrave and his friends leading the charge. Heck, even some of the children such as Pancake and Cherry cookie were trailing along in the very back, but were determined to catch up.

As the horde passed, you could only sit in a state of shock with Pure Vanilla cookie, looking out the window with raised eyebrows while you attempted to process what you had just seen.

“Oh my. Seems as if that cookie caused quite the stir.”

Pure Vanilla said after a few seconds of stunned silence from the sight both he and you had just witnessed. However, his voice was as soft and tranquil as it always was.

“Well, Gingerbrave and the rest seem to have the situation under control.”

Pure Vanilla cookie then placed down a new card on the table, smiling at you with closed eyes as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t we continue from where we left off.”

BONUS

Licorice cookie scowled, muttering complaints as he brushed the leaves off of his robes. Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute followed him, looking shaken up from their previous experience. Licorice cookie and his companions had narrowly escaped the insane cookies' anger. They had ran into the nearby forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, losing the horde in the trees. Now, they all trudged, defeated and shaken, back to the castle. Dark Enchantress cookie won’t be pleased, and Licorice was sure Pomegranate cookie would rub his loss in his face once he got back. The thought made him grip his bone scythe tighter in anger.

He may have failed to indoctrinate you into the Cookies of Darkness this time, but he promised he would get to you before Pomegranate cookie.

[cipheramnesia]

They're not fun to shop at. They aren't even fun to get to, surrounded by miles of low speed roads, far from their customers, chances are good you have to budget thirty minutes for travel, minimum, longer for a bus. Ride or park, no matter what you get a long walk into a looming gray edifice, wreathed in broken asphalt, overflowing trashcans, and tired people everywhere. It's every ominous portent of cold war propaganda against the USSR, hidden behind blue paint and white block lettering. The sun is somehow always going down behind it.

It's physically painful just breathing the air inside, and their fluorescent lights make it feel as if it's overcast indoors. Inside a WalMart or a Target feels like you're constantly about to get a headache. Another hour of time vanishes the second you walk inside. When did you go there? It doesn't matter, the sun is always setting.

The aisles are so long! There's so much stuff! And it's... all the same stuff. The aisles aren't accommodating variety, they're so you can have 30 different coffee brands, a hundred different shampoos, a dozen colors of energy drink. Your life slowly trickles away while you try and figure out if a dollar a pound or a buck fifty per 10 grams is cheaper overall. Next week it'll be different prices and you have to do it again. You look at three different brightly colored packages of butter and buy the cheapest one anyway because that's what you're in there for. Walk through the clothes, because you're tired of having just ten shirts, and forty-five minutes later you find one sort of okay graphic t-shirt and you can't spend the $25 on it anyway, because people gotta eat here. Everything is a hundred feet away from every other thing you need, you're fucked if you're even a little disabled. You can stare at expensive appliances you can't afford, a hundred different frying pans you just kinda want for no reason, a $600 vacuum cleaner and the damnable thing over all of it is that I know for a fact those all come outta the same factories and use the exact same six colors and flavors. Not in a grouchy old person way, in that it's my profession, it means I'm constantly aware this football field packed with billions of brands is a single monolith with an illusion that's nothing more than the repeating pattern on the wallpaper in an old toilet stall of a hotel room that inexplicably feels like home. And the sun is setting anyway.

It's monstrous, a grinding wheel showing you what you could have, if you just paid more for something that's going to fall apart in six months. So you finish spending most of your paycheck at the registers, go outside for the long walk across the parking lot, the sun is setting, it's over and all you want to do is lie down and sleep.

I wonder how much of the deep down dread and unhappiness of the giant WalMart type stores is familiar outside the USA. Other places gotta have this too right?

[sisterdivinium]

Just came across a newsletter thing for another fandom I am absolutely not a part of but I must say that I'm envious. Organised links to various fandom contributions in the form of short fic, long fic, images/videos/audio AND fandom discussions -- and there's a big handful of each and it's updated regularly and it's all recent stuff that covers different aspects of their fannish experience in different platforms.

Why can't we have that

[jabeur]

im still kinda new to tennisblr and kind of intimidated by you but I think you're cool as fuck. your username slaps and everything you post is always on point. anyway, have a good night!

aw anon you're so kind! i understand being intimidated at first, it's the same for me usually, but just letting you know if you ever want to shoot me an ask, a dm, reply to my posts, tag me, anything, i really am totally chill with it. i am so not cool, like have you seen me have 1.5 breakdowns a day gjfvj that's nice of you to say tho but yeah, i'm chiller than i seem i guess and i'd like you to feel welcome here and not intimidated <3 have a good day or night!

[invinciblerodent]

[Shadowheart: I've squandered too much time already. I want to be with you. Now and always. Do you want the same?]

Uh.

considering that he's never looked at another person like this before, yeah girl, I feel like it's safe to say that he probably does wanna be your boyfriend

(now, is it a good idea to make a situationship official right when you're quite literally fresh out of an extremely traumatic moment, and are about to head into the next, which is also a good contender for one of the top 3 worst moments of both your lives? maybe not. but, hey, counterpoint? he brought you a flower that one time and has pretty hazel eyes that go all soft and round when he looks at you, so, yknow, why the fuck not I guess.)

[nerdylilpeebee]

I've already asked myself this. The answer: very few others that align more to the left do. And I'm tired of not having left-leaning challenging the toxic bullshit that comes from the left.

I'm not unconcerned. As I've stated several times now, the restriction are not oppression. This does not mean they are not an issue. Oppression and an issue, while overlapping, are not the same fucking things.

Because radfem beliefs are rampant throughout the left. :) you think just cuz radfems are overt with it there aren't countless leftists that agree with everything they say except when they add "trans" to the front? The misandrist bullshit needs to be challenged. And I don't care who thinks it isn't an issue or not. Equality means equal fucking treatment. Not "put women on pedestal and treat men like walking erections foaming at the mouth as they eagerly wait to rape everyone in sight at the first opportunity." There are already plenty of pro-trans voices in the left, and I am trans myself. But there are not nearly enough pro-male voices.

Well, first off, because I'd forgotten about that. And second, it holds no real bearing on the current election. Unless he pulled the same shit here, it's really irrelevant to the process of democracy. I hate Trump, I don't want him to be president again, but the fact is, he won. Acting like deranged psychopaths and encouraging people to kill themselves is not an okay reaction to this outcome.

I'm staunchly pro-israel. The fact the left called a man who repeatedly pushed for ceasefires is a massive fucking issue for me, but not nearly as much as how much the left turned on jews. One more thing to add to the list of bullshit that needs to be called out.

I'm not a Republican and never will be one. I'm a centrist who leans left. The only things I agree with Republicans on are our amendment rights. Freedom of speech, our right to guns, etc. there is nothing that can make me fully go on their side, no matter how toxic the left becomes. But the left IS fucking toxic and if we can't call out it's bullshit without people like you insisting our priorities should be elsewhere, we'll never change things for the better. We'll always be doing "damage control" and being told "oh, if you just vote blue no matter who this time you'll be able to vote how you want next time." We'll always have men being pushed right, and Jews being harassed cuz they're not deemed brown enough to be allowed to defend themselves from arab terrorists who killed their people and kidnapped hundreds of innocents, including children.

I am a voice that challenges the left more than I challenge the right because I want the left to be better. The right doesn't give a fuck about what I say, but if some on the left see me, see what I am saying and even just take a second to stop to think about how the left is becoming the exact discriminatory group it prides itself in not being, then I am satisfied in what I am doing.

Oh, I just wanted to say that ectopic pregnancies are not the only version of a pregnancy that is life threatening to the mother. You sort of seemed to imply that, possibly unintentionally, in a previous response.

What about abortion in women with severe preclampsia? Even women who previously had preclampsia have a 20% chance to have it again. Abortion could be an important preventative measure for the women in question.

I didn't mean to imply that was the only issue, but the thing is, in that case... It wouldn't be abortion, it would be a preventative medical procedure to save the woman's life. Even if the procedure was the same as an actual abortion, in that case, it would be legal even in places where abortion is banned. As legally, even in those places, they are not allowed to just let the woman in question die cuz they'd have to terminate the pregnancy to save her. That is not something that is permitted by the law.

[dreadfuldevotee]

i am just...so profoundly tired of being me