#it’s not about if you personally agree with abortion or not it’s about having the choice !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

[gnomeish]

The more I listen to pro-choicers the more I believe the only reason they're pro-choice is to be able to have as much sex as possible with no consequences. Why else would so many liberal men be up in arms for "women's bodily autonomy"?

[daylighteclipsed]

I’m so angry I’m in tears about this, what the fuck !!!!!!!!!!!

[asingingpenguin]

I regret leaving the evaluations for the big panel about current events last.

[spaghettiposts]

Unspoken Truths

Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.

Words: 4k

There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 

Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 

Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 

Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.

“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 

Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 

It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 

When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 

Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 

The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.

Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.

Clearly…that didn’t happen.

“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.

You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.

Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 

You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 

Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.

You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 

Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.

/-/

It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 

Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.

I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 

Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 

Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 

Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.

“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 

Sweeping it is. 

Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 

Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.

“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 

Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 

You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.

She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.

“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.

Does cheese go in there?

“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 

You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”

Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”

“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.

You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”

Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.

Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.

Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.

Right, the talk.

Fuck. 

You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 

She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 

“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”

You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.

She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“

“Abortion isn’t…?”

“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.

Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 

“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 

Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.

“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 

Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 

“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.

You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”

Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

Smooth.  

“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 

The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-

“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 

“Wait- yes?”

“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.

You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 

You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 

“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 

“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.

Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…

As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 

You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 

/-/

The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 

His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.

Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 

Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.

She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 

Wanda could not sleep.

There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.

Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.

Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.

Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.

Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 

Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.

Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 

/-/

“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 

The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.

Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 

“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 

He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 

You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.

Now it seemed you were expecting two. 

You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”

Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.

Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 

Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.

“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.

“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.

You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”

Missing the disappointed look on her face.

Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.

Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”

Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 

More than you realize.

/-/

“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”

Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”

A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.

“Again?” You clarified.

“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 

“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 

“Steves burgers…” She beamed.

“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 

“With, and grilled please.”

“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 

Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”

You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  

“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 

Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?

/-/

“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.

You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 

Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.

Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”

“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 

That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 

Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.

She kissed you.

And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”

Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”

Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.

“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.

Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”

“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 

It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 

[shadycomputerpolice]

I am anti piv s*x because it is an inherently unequal act that puts women at a disadvantage because we are at risk of pregnancy, stds (the person being penetrated has the higher risk of infection), and rape.

But the idea that women should get men's di*ks hard especially through fellatio so that the men can penetrate them is the most upside down shit ever. Men should be doing their best to make women lubricated enough for piv.

You are trying to penetrate me but I have to get you hard and make myself lubricated enough for that, that is so fucking dumb. Patriarchy is so fucking illogical if you really think about it.

For the "some women enjoy piv" response. I should hope so, if you are agreeing to that particular sexual act, I hope you are enjoying it. However, even if you enjoy piv, I still think men should be getting themselves hard and making sure women are lubricated enough for the act. The person with the most to lose should do the least. That will make the act less unequal (note there is no way to remove the inequality from piv, the only thing that can be achieved is reducing the degree of inequality).

Women's individual enjoyment of piv doesn't reduce the material inequality of piv sex. Orgasms do not eliminate the risk of pregnancy, stds and other piv related risks. As seen with the abortion bans in the USA, women are still the ones bearing the physical risk and responsibility for pregnancy prevention.

[rosekasa]

(slumber) partycrasher

He’s finishing up on Rue de la République when he sees Ladybug on Alya’s balcony. His footsteps slow to a halt on the roof tile. It’s Sunday today, isn't it? Ladybug doesn't patrol on Sundays. Did something happen at Alya’s? He stops, reroutes, and heads over.

He gets closer, the lights bringing them further into focus. The two girls stand close together, huddled over Alya’s phone, murmuring quietly.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says as he lands.

The shriek that exits Ladybug echoes through the street.

He stands there, rigid, all the punny greetings he had planned effectively smacked out of his mouth. He has never heard Ladybug make that sound before. He didn't even know Ladybug was capable of making that sound. Even Alya seems taken aback, staring at her wide-eyed.

After five heavy seconds of silence, Ladybug comes back to life. “Um—!” she says. “Wow! Chat Noir! Hi! I wasn't expecting you to crash our slumber party!”

He blinks, still reeling from the scream. “...Slumber party?”

This time, it's Alya’s stupor that lifts. “Um— yep! Ladybug comes over every Sunday and we have a sleepover. Y’know, Ladyblogger-Ladybug bonding time.”

Huh. So that’s why she doesn't patrol on Sundays? He thought it was a civilian thing.

…She could've told him.

“Oh. Well.” He hopes his voice doesn't sound strained. “Don’t let me intrude.” He gives them both a smile, then leaps back onto the rooftops.

Neither of them say goodbye.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

He doesn't want to be petty, but why would Ladybug not tell him about the sleepovers? They’d agreed to keep superhero things completely transparent between each other. So is this not a superhero thing, then? Is Ladybug hanging out in costume with Alya Césaire more personal than hanging out with Chat Noir?

He huffs, eyes snapping over to the light on Alya’s balcony. He has a right to bring this up, surely. He's her partner.

Ladybug is alone, this time, but the glass door is open. She has a blanket over her shoulders, a fox-printed mug in her hand, the light of Alya’s phone illuminating her face, eyes glued to the screen.

Remembering her reaction from the last time, he steps onto the balcony a little gentler from behind her. “Hey—”

“They're making out on a fire escape.”

He chokes on his spit, grappling for purchase at the balcony door. “I— I’m sorry?”

Ladybug whips around, the blanket flying onto the floor. At least she doesn't scream again. But the look in her eye is somehow even more concerning.

Behind him, a toilet flushes, and padded footsteps draw near. “Did you get to the part where he books a hotel—” She cuts herself off with a gasp. “...Chat Noir. Hi.”

The three of them stand together silently, in their awkward vertical line, for what feels like a full minute.

This was such a stupid idea. What’s wrong with him, accosting his partner on her days off? It’s not his business how she spends that, nor who she spends it with. Unlike him, she’s not wasting all her time thinking about their partnership. Maybe he just needs to get a life.

“Sorry for crashing— again,” he quickly says. He takes a couple of steps back to the railing, turning to face both of them. “I— uh, thought there was an akuma down the road and wanted to tell you but, uh, looks like it's just a tree.” He laughs nervously, grabbing around for his baton. “I’ll be off, then.”

“Wait— are you sure—” Ladybug starts.

There’s sympathy in her eyes. His breath hitches.

“Yes!” he says. As he steps away from her again, his baton slips from his hand. “Sorry, I’ll just text next time.”

Alya pipes up from behind him. “Chat, you’re always welcome to stay—”

“No, seriously, I, like, am allergic to sleepovers. I break out into hives.”

Ladybug furrows her brow. “I don't think that's true.”

“My medical history is very complicated.” Finally retrieving his baton, he opens it and turns to the skyline. “Well, bye!”

Ladybug makes a small, aborted sound of protest. But then as she reaches to stop him, her grip on Alya’s phone slips.

She screams. Alya screams. Chat Noir wonders whether this is what they're practicing together every Sunday.

Still balanced on his baton, he grabs the phone midair, holding it up over the safety of the balcony.

Automatically, his eyes fall on the screen.

Ladybug moans as Chat Noir kisses down her neck. He lifts her onto the fire escape, pulling her legs around him, lifting his head to press a hot, wet, kiss to her—

Alya snatches the phone from his hand. “Thanks.”

Ladybug’s face is crimson, hands tight around her mug.

Chat Noir looks from Ladybug, to Alya, to the phone. Her screen is still on. He looks away before he catches any more words.

He clears his throat. “W-Well, I should, uh, get off, then. I mean—!” He holds up his hands. “Be off! This balcony! And back home! Um— you should read— I mean, um, use your phone indoors just in case. Bye!”

He never does get around to asking about their slumber parties.

[transmascissues]

Different anon. FGM is nearly the same to "bottom surgery". It's mutilation based on sex and genitals. The intent doesn't make it any less destructive or sad.

first of all, FGM is not at all nearly the same as bottom surgery, even just from a technical perspective. as many people in the replies of the last ask have pointed out, one difference is that bottom surgery involves the penis being either created from the clitoris or constructed on top of it, not removing it as with many forms of FGM.

but, for the sake of argument, let’s say they are similar surgeries on a technical level. do you really think it’s the kind of surgery that makes FGM bad? would you say that somebody who received a similar surgery for medical reasons was a victim of FGM?

what makes FGM “destructive and sad” is that:

it’s done to people who don’t want it.

it’s done to people who don’t actually know what’s being done to them or what the risks or consequences might be, so victims often find themselves living with complications for the rest of their lives that they never agreed to.

it has many potential harmful effects and no actual benefits.

gender affirming surgeries like bottom surgery don’t match any of those points. they’re:

performed only on people who actively want them and chose to have them done.

only ever done when the patient can give informed consent, meaning they know what the surgery entails and what the risks could be and have chosen to do it with that knowledge.

proven to have mental health benefits for the people who receive them, and are often considered medically necessary on that basis.

fundamentally, bottom surgery is an exercise of bodily autonomy while FGM is a violation of it. that’s what makes FGM so bad and makes the two so vitally different. mutilation is an act that causes serious harm without any true benefit; FGM fits that bill, bottom surgery doesn’t. saying the two are the same is like saying a medically performed abortion is the same as pushing a pregnant person down the stairs to cause a miscarriage: it focuses solely on the most literal understanding of what’s being done without any regard for the details or the impact on the people involved.

the problem with FGM is the fact that it’s being performed on people who can’t give informed consent and who will likely suffer from it while not gaining any benefits from it. if you actually care about victims of FGM, you should be upset about the violation of their bodies and lifelong suffering they’re subjected to, not the fact that it’s their genitals that are being altered.

[just-antithings]

Fictional characters are to antis what "the unborn" are to pro-lifers.

Fictional characters, like the fetus, are the epitome of everything good the anti/pro-lifers wants to demonstrate on their crusade. They're uncomplicated. They're abstract. They are exactly what the arguer thinks they are in that moment. They will never disagree with the arguer and never make demands of their own.

Pro-lifers rarely help born people, and in fact gleefully call for the deaths of born people, because born people make demands, and have their own free wills, and sometimes make mistakes. The unborn will always be a perfect being, a tragedy, a what could have been; "what if the baby you aborted could have cured cancer?"

Antis rarely care for real people, and in fact often gleefully abuse them for disagreeing with their stances, because real people make demands, have their own free wills, and sometimes make mistakes. Fictional characters will always be perfect, and a tragedy, and a what-if; "what if the fictional character knew you shipped them with a literal child?"

Fictional characters are a way for antis to "care" about abuse/rape without actually confronting the reality that abuse survivors, as with anyone else, are messy people who have flaws and don't agree on any one issue. Just as fetuses are a way for pro-lifers to control the abortion debate with an image that is solely about shallow, unearned pathos, and never about the beings that currently occupy this world.

Both are the weak attempts of a person who likes the IDEA of doing/being good, but not the actual work that goes into making the world a better place. You can see it in how they react to anyone who disagrees with them with unrestrained vitriol and hatred. It isn't about "protecting life" or "protecting abuse/rape victims", but about being SEEN as someone who wants to protect life or protect rape/abuse victims.

Sorry for the long ask but I had this thought a while ago and wanted to share it.

Oh yeah they’re very similar mindsets

[qqueenofhades]

So it looks like Sinema, having gotten her requisite pound of flesh for her billionaire hedge fund buddies (basically, they agreed to keep the carried-interest tax loophole and replace it with an excise tax on stock buybacks), has finally agreed to support the Inflation Reduction Act, otherwise known as the $740 billion "pretty much Build Back Better but we are calling it something different" bill that Manchin and Schumer came out with. If/when it passes, which could be as soon as this weekend, the Democrats will have achieved -- with a 50-50 Senate with two habitual Manchurian candidates, a four-seat House majority, a rampantly fascist opposing party, a Supreme Court openly bent on destroying democracy and personal liberty, and an active criminal investigation into the previous administration -- at least the following:

The American Rescue Plan, aka the first post-inauguration $1.9 trillion Covid relief package, which was the largest investment in the working class since the New Deal;

The bipartisan infrastructure bill, which is the first major structural and transportation modernization and systemic overhaul for the country since the 1970s;

The first significant gun safety legislation in 30 years and since at least the Clinton administration;

Multiple executive orders now signed on protecting abortion rights and access to reproductive care, including travel out of state if necessary;

A bill in the works to officially codify same-sex marriage and thus protect it from SCOTUS;

Reauthorization and improvement of the Violence Against Women Act, including strong new protections for LGBTQ+ and Native American victims of domestic abuse or sexual assault, including the ability for Native courts to prosecute non-Native offenders for sex crimes for the first time in history;

Finally (FINALLY) making lynching a federal hate crime;

The largest climate legislation ever passed in America (this bill), which also establishes a federal minimum 15% corporate tax rate and lowers healthcare costs, including for essential medications like insulin, by, like, a lot;

Passage of the PACT Act, aka expanding healthcare for disabled veterans exposed to burn pits, also the biggest expansion in this field for a generation despite Republicans briefly killing it in an outburst of pettiness;

Consistent big packages of support for Ukraine, rebuilding of foreign alliances, huge bipartisan support for including Sweden and Finland in NATO (hahahaha fuck you Josh Hawley);

The CHIPS act, which creates tech and manufacturing jobs in America and was made even sweeter by how thoroughly they fucked over McTurtle to do it (since oh boy does he deserve a taste of his own medicine);

Ketanji Brown Jackson, the first Black woman on SCOTUS, and not an awful white supremacist stand-in like Clarence Thomas, but a genuinely progressive and thoughtful jurist;

Cancellation of almost $6 billion in student loans for the poorest and most defrauded borrowers, such as those who attended scam for-profit "colleges";

And so on and so forth!!!

So like. Please tell me more about how the Democrats are incompetent, their leadership is bad, they are in Disarray TM, you are a terrible person if you support Biden or give them any credit at all, and you're just not excited to vote because they haven't done anything. Like yes! There is a lot more to do! Despite them suddenly deciding to play ball on this particular occasion, Manchin and Sinema still need to be made irrelevant as soon as possible! But as I said, this is happening with the thinnest of imaginable Congressional control, as the other party is literally trying to destroy democracy in real time before our faces. That is not irrelevant.

Also: ruby-red Kansas curb-stomped an attempt to outlaw abortion rights, and approximately 77% of the entire country supports this current bill. The generic Congressional ballots have all shown major movement toward Democrats, and frankly, I have a feeling that we have only just started to see the full impact of post-Roe fallout. So if you get off your asses, quit whining, and put the work in, we could actually win the midterms and then do EVEN MORE!

So yeah. Uh. Food for thought.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Could we maybe get like snippets or blurb about Hector having a wife w/ him when he goes to join dracula’s generals? And maybe she’s really kind to dracula and then it turns out she’s pregnant and reminds him of his late wife? Does it change his plans or maybe he decides to protect her/hector more so than the other humans?

TW: Some Domestic Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Talks of Abortion 

It was a stormy, rainy night when a set of voices roused the young woman from her reading. For too long, she had a habit of getting lost in a text, be it fiction or fact, and losing herself to the words on the page, paying no mind to the reality around her. 

It had become an even more frequent habit now that she was banished from her previous life, her artisan skills not being needed as frequently in her new home as she would have liked. Then again, it was not the worst of fates. Had she stayed in her family home, her life would have most certainly been cut short. Here, she was safe. Here, she was… well… almost loved.

The man of the house, the one who agreed to let her stay, was a peculiar one. He appeared rather simple unless you spoke to him on certain subjects: necromancy and animals, his two favorites. 

His work was deviant. The young woman would go as far as to say it indubitably delved into the supernatural. Contrarily, it was his very association with the supernatural that drew her to him in the beginning. 

Hearing what sounded like an unfamiliar voice, the young woman closed the book she was reading and placed it on the small wooden table in front of her. Looking down fondly, she gave the sleeping reanimated cat in her lap a few gentle pets before scooping them up and moving them onto the bed. 

Yes, reinstilling the life of a dear feline friend may not seem worth a lifetime of isolation to some, but those simply did not understand the grand nature of the bond between cat and owner. The strange man of the house had brought her dear pet back to her, and despite what her fellow townspeople and own family thought, to her it was worth the duration of servitude she would no doubt be forced to continue in the man’s presence. 

Said man was not overly cruel, although he did have a fair temper. His understanding of certain situations was rather naive, yet wholesome all the same. 

As the two young people spent time near one another, the strange man and the young woman’s relationship grew. It blossomed from acquaintances to friends, and eventually to lovers, and understandably so. Their position to one another, in agreement with the man’s proximity to such strange magic, made it so they only had each other to rely on for interaction, for company, for… intimacy. 

Of course, their first few instances of sex left much to be desired, if the older village women’s stories were anything to go on, but it mattered not to her. The strange man was gentle. He never once made a move to force himself upon her. And despite the woman’s own lack of experience, he always assured her, he was quite pleased about her efforts to please him. As far as they were concerned, they were officially a marital couple. Although they did not share rings or papers officiating their status as such, their entwined futures were enough to reassure the other of their intentions. 

It certainly wasn’t the life the young woman had planned for herself as a little girl, but it was a life, therefore, it was good enough. 

Hector, as peculiar as he was, was good enough for her. 

And on the subject of Hector…

The young woman walked down the short corridor from their quaint shared bedroom to the main room of the house which Hector used for his rituals. It was very delicate magic, he once explained, so it could not be tampered with. The young woman didn’t mind. She came from a family of four, who all shared a single bed and a single rented room within a dwelling. Therefore, sharing a private bedroom within a private house with only one other person was very much a luxury, as far as she was concerned. 

“Hector? Is that you?” Her soft voice asked, clearly curious. “I thought I heard voices.” 

Appearing around the curve the young woman made her presence known, clothed in a simple muted dress, and old-yellowed apron. Her eyes were bright and clear, a direct contrast to the dark and dingy walls surrounding her person. Everything about her seemed too bright, too kind, too merciful to be inside the same home as a devil forgemaster, but there she was, clear as day. 

In front of her, Hector shifted, clearly apologetic about his new wife’s timing. Not more than two long strides from him stood Lord Dracula, the king of vampires, and Hector’s respected friend. Mere seconds before her arrival, Dracula had informed Hector about the death of his own, very human wife. 

Shuffling over to the young woman, Hector stood between the two strangers: his much older friend, and his new one, hoping to break some of the ambiguous unease between the two. 

“Master Dracula,” Hector addressed the towering vampire in the room, “This is (Y/N). She’s my-” 

“Friend” 

“Wife.” 

The young woman huffed, a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Yes, ‘wife’, is what I meant to say. I’m, uh, still getting used to that,” she admitted bashfully.  

After looking into the unfriendly gaze of Hector’s guest, the woman lowered her head, trying desperately to shrink herself under the vampire’s irate aura. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hector repeated. “That you’ve lost your wife at a time when I’ve found mine.” 

The woman’s bright, curious eyes turned back up. “Lost?” 

“They killed her.” A deep, grave voice came from the behemoth of a man. “The stupid humans.” 

The woman’s face contorted as a wave of sorrow rushed over her. “I… I am so sorry. That’s awful.” 

Her condolences seemed to hang in the air, suffocating her more than the previous silence or Dracula’s gaze did. Taking the hint, the woman excused herself, retracing her steps back to the bedroom. 

“I apologize for the intrusion. I’ll leave the two of you alone.” 

━━◈◈◈━━

“I cannot believe you’re even considering this.” Already in their shared bed, the young woman lay there under the covers, her arms crossed defiantly. 

“I don’t see why you’re so upset.” Across the small room, Hector worked to scrub off the blood and muck from his arms with a rag and a bucket of salted water. “He says it’s going to be a cull, a reduction in numbers, that’s all.” Grabbing a second towel, he dabbed his arms dry before moving to join his wife in bed. 

“It’s genocide, Hector,” his wife spoke, her voice more urgent this time. “He is asking you to help commit genocide against your own people!” 

Hector scoffed, his brows furrowed. “My own people cast me out, treated me like filth, and now, you ask me to have mercy for them?” There was a venomous edge to his voice his wife had never heard before. 

Trying to rectify the conversation, the young woman swallowed harshly before continuing: “I know they were awful to you. I know they hurt you, and I know you didn’t deserve any of it.” 

Hector sighed as he lay down beside his wife. Soothingly, (Y/N) began massaging soft circles into his scalp, waiting for the man to fall deeper into relaxation. 

“I know you’re a good man Hector, and I am forever grateful for all that you’ve done for me. But this, this plan, it cannot end well. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone.” 

With a jolt, one of Hector’s hands shot out, latching onto his wife’s hand, abruptly stopping her massage efforts. “I don’t want to have this conversation again,” he sneered. “I am going to help Dracula with his plan, and you’ll have no choice but to come with me. I am your husband and you are my wife. That is all there’s to be said on the subject.” 

Just as suddenly as he grabbed her hand, Hector released it and turned over, facing away from his wife, before blowing out the last candle on their bedside table so the two of them could sleep. 

Frozen in shock, and unable to move, (Y/N) lay there on her back, afraid to even breathe heavily, lest Hector turn back over and speak such harsh words to her again. Her wrist stung where he squeezed it, and the position it landed in was anything but comfortable, but she dared not shift it. Laying there, concentrating on both the ache in her wrist and her breathing, the young woman stared up at the pitch-black ceiling over their shared home before the exhaustion was too much to bear, and sleep overcame her. 

━━◈◈◈━━

The move to the castle was silent. The young woman dared not speak lest she voice a contradictory opinion. Hector stayed silent as he simply had nothing else to say. 

Dracula’s castle was beyond daunting. The structure appeared as if it were plucked directly out of hell: dark, and foreboding, with jagged architecture that seemed to change within a blink of an eye. The entire building housed an almost unbearable energy- one of decimation and total grief. It did not feel like the birthplace of some grand war plan, it felt more like society’s tomb. 

Of course, (Y/N) could not say as much to her spouse, now that he was fully invested in aiding Dracula’s army. His forge was already set up within the castle, a molten hearth at the ready to create any instrument Hector would require in his efforts. 

A little week into their stay, Hector emerged victorious from his forge, claiming he had made a perfectly balanced hammer, a tool that would enable him to forge night creatures at an unprecedented rate. He boasted to a very proud, but equally concerned (Y/N), how so few devil forgemasters ever made it to this phase of power. 

Of course, his private proclamations made it all the more humorous when Isaac, another specially chosen devil forgemaster of Dracula showed up at the castle. Isaac, a much more stoic and disciplined man than Hector, used a blade, a red glowing dagger of sorts to create his night creatures. With a slice of the knife, Isaac could accomplish what it took Hector several hammer strikes to do. 

The young woman held her tongue but secretly relished the indignity Hector must have initially felt upon meeting his colleague. Then again, whatever victory she felt was short-lived, as she too got the impression that Isaac cared as equally little for her as he did Hector. 

Isaac became the least of her worries, however, when Dracula’s other generals and his vampire generals arrived one by one at his castle. 

Each time Dracula introduced Isaac and Hector as his devil forgemasters, and her as Hector’s wife, she felt their red eyes sizing the young woman up like a piece of meat. Thankfully, Dracula made it clear that his three human guests were not to be harmed, and his dominion over the vampire generals was enough to keep them away from her. 

Well, most of them anyway. Godbrand, a Viking vampire, was a different story entirely. 

“I still don’t get what you see in the guy,” Godbrand questioned as he followed her down one of the castle’s many corridors. “I mean, sure, he can make night creatures, but he’s not a fighter. Hell, he’s barely a man! With his heart bleeding for all those little mistreated pets of his.” 

She walked faster, doing her best not to spill the contents of the tray she was carrying. “Be that as it may,” she kept her voice curt, “Hector is my husband, and I am his wife. I made a promise.” 

“Promises can be broken. I mean, it’s,” Godbrand emphasized his ‘s’es in between his slurred-sounding words. “Ss’not like you’re really married. Hector brought back your dead cat, as this deformed creature. That’s not exactly a wedding ceremony.” 

The young woman rolled her eyes. “And what constitutes a marriage ritual where you’re from? A fight to the death?” 

Godbrand chuckled. “You know, you may be the first human I don’t find fucking boring.” 

The young woman grimaced, as she backed into a doorway, pushing open a heavy study door with her body. “Oh Godbrand,” she turned to enter the room, “If only I could say the same for you.” 

Letting the door shut softly behind her, she ignored Godbrand’s continued grumblings. She had much more important matters to tend to. 

Taking the two bowls of seeds off her tray, she placed them in new shallow dishes on her testing table. She then picked up the lidded cup, placing its cap to the side. She poured out a small amount of yellow liquid onto one of the bowls that contained new seeds as well as onto the bowl containing seeds from days before. 

Placing the now empty cup back down on the tray, the young woman sighed. The older seeds were indeed beginning to sprout from their dishes, and to make matters worse, her monthly cycle was late. On all fronts, the message was clear: she was with child. 

“Shit.” 

━━◈◈◈━━

The young woman took a deep breath before knocking gently on Dracula’s door. She knew it was foolish for her to approach the man herself, but she found she could not face Hector, not after she discovered the truth of her condition. If she were to even look Hector in the eyes at the present moment, she feared all her composure would shatter, leaving her a sorry, sobbing mess in his arms. 

Oh, his arms! How she longed to be in his arms once more. How she wished for a nighttime of conversation that used to follow their moments of shared pleasure. Now it was brief, still existent but wholly impersonal. The act was there, and all the motions were followed, but thanks to her line of continued questioning about Dracula and his intended efforts, Hector was often in no mood to sleep in the same bed as her, much less hold a conversation with her following a round of passion. 

It just had all unraveled so fast. 

It was on the anniversary of Dracula’s poor wife’s death when the first group of night creatures and vampire soldiers were released upon Targovieste. They spread out like a plague in the night, their howls hinting at what was only the beginning of all the unthinkable horrors they would unleash. 

Before she knew it, the words were coming out of her mouth faster than her mind could think them, her new hormones no doubt adding fuel to the fire. “Traitor!” She had called him. “A child believing himself to be God, punishing the sins of man!” 

In her fury, she could not control the veracity with which she spoke. The only thing that stopped her from berating Hector further was the sharp sting of an open palm slapped against her cheek. Stunned into silence and knocked to the ground, the young woman looked up at an equally shocked Hector through teary, blurred vision. 

“I…” Hector started, almost at as much of a loss for words as she was. “I am so sorry, I…” he trailed off. He couldn’t finish his apology. How could he? When he was uncertain as to whether he even meant it. 

Thankfully, Hector had the sense to leave his wife alone to wallow, and wail without his scrutiny, at the very least, allowing her the dignity to mourn the death of whatever they once shared, alone. 

The test she had run confirmed her worst fears shortly after that. There was no mistaking it. The man who had forsaken his own species, the man who she once loved, the man who struck her down, was going to be the father of her child. That was unless she decided to do something else about it. 

She knew Dracula himself possessed great knowledge. She also knew his late wife was a healer. No, even better, a doctor. Surely, she would have some collection of remedies and treatments on the subject. If she had heard correctly, Lisa Tepes was also a mother herself. 

Recalling that fact, she shuddered. The thought of housing a human baby made her insides crawl, she didn’t even wish to begin to imagine what carrying a half-vampire child to term must be like. Perhaps, she mused, Dracula would be willing to speak on the subject, barring that he didn't strike her down for her insolence first. 

“Master Dracula?” She asked as she pushed open the door to his study a sliver. “Permission to enter?” 

With a loud sigh, the older vampire relented. “Granted.” 

As the young woman entered, she was shocked to find such a large empty room. In the middle, sat Dracula in a large chair, and before him was a fireplace. Off to the side, there was a desk, with a portrait of the vampire lord’s late gorgeous wife above it. But aside from that, the room was sparsely decorated. It certainly did not feel like the study of a vampire lord. And in the middle of it all, sat a large, very disinterested, and downcast Master Dracula. 

“What is it now? Have you come to make your case on behalf of the rest of humanity? Beg me to spare their souls?” His words were serious but his tone was largely indifferent. 

“I see Hector’s spoken to you,” the young woman fiddled her fingers, shamefully. “ I must admit, my position has not changed. Nor has Hector’s. But no,” she settled for clasping her hands together, “That is not what I wish to speak to you about. 

Dracula raised a brow, telling her to carry on in her explanation. 

“I was wondering if you knew how I might go about procuring these items,” fishing out a parchment from her apron pocket, the young woman shakily extended her hand out to him. 

Taking the paper much gentler than she expected, the vampire lord began to read the written list himself, his expression remaining unreadable. “Birthwort, yarrow, barberry, honey, and yue?”

“Yes,” the young woman confirmed. “I wasn’t certain if you had any here. I understand your late wife was a physician and that she learned much of what she knew from you. I thought perhaps some of these herbs would already be gathered and dried in storage within the castle.” 

“Does Hector know?” Dracula finally turned his attention to the young woman as he asked. 

Caught red-handed, the young woman looked down to the floor as she shook her head, hot embarrassed tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “No,” she finally admitted. “I cannot bring myself to tell him.” 

“You intend to keep this from him?” 

“Why?” The young woman spoke up, louder than before. “Do you think I am denying him his right to inheritance? That I am betraying my wifely duties if I do not consult him first?” 

“The decision concerns him as well.” 

“The hell it does!” The rage that had been brewing in her stomach all this time once again found its way to her throat. “It’s my body that will be forced to endure the changes. It’s my body that will risk its life in childbirth. It’s my heart…” She clutched her chest as she spoke, her angry tears now falling freely.  “...That will break when the child I have worked so hard to carry into this world is slaughtered right in front of me by a night creature of his own father’s making.” 

Breaking into silent sobs, the woman shook her head, condemning her outburst of emotion. 

From his chair Dracula said nothing. His irritation at her intrusion slowly faded away as he watched the formerly spirited young woman break down into tears. 

Dracula turned his gaze away, looking over to the portrait of his wife as he recalled how conflicted he felt upon learning Lisa was pregnant. Despite his wife’s optimism and joy, he could not help but feel afraid for what lay ahead. Dhampir pregnancies were uncommon, and highly dangerous, especially in cases where the mother was human. He would have been more than ready to aid Lisa in terminating the pregnancy had she asked, only she hadn’t. Just short of eight months later, Adrian was born. It might very well have been both the most terrifying and the most joyous day of Vlad’s immortal life. 

If Lisa was ever scared, she did not show it. Perhaps she knew she could not be scared, as Vlad would be fearful enough for the both of them. It was an entirely different situation than the one present before him now. Lisa and he were very much in love, and they had years of practice communicating with one another. Hector and his wife’s marriage was fresh. And in many ways, Hector was still a child, naive to the real world around him. 

Not to mention, Hector’s wife did have a point. Dracula intended to end the human race, as well as the vampire race. No humanoids would be left on the planet once he was done with it. That included Hector and her, as well as any future children they might manage to have. It was only a matter of time. Hector did not know that, but she did. Which is precisely why she came to him. 

How terrifying, he mused, it must have been to knock on his door and beg for an abortifacient, knowing full well he intended to kill all those like you sooner than later. How terrifying it must be to live in a castle surrounded by vampires, the undead, always hungry parasites, and have no choice but to hide behind an immature man who could not yet see the forest for the trees? 

Perhaps the great lord Dracula did feel a semblance of pity for the young woman, if only for a moment. 

On the far side of the study, the young woman managed to compose herself for the most part. She rubbed her eyes free of any tears and wiped her nose of any snot, only sniffling on occasion. “I apologize,” she began. “For my interruption and my… outburst.” 

Dracula said nothing as he slowly stood to his impressive full height, nearly reaching the ceiling of the room they were in. 

Suddenly struck by how close she was to such a powerful creature, the woman pushed herself against the farthest wall, trying to increase the space between her and the vampire lord. 

“Do you wish to have this child?” He asked her. 

“Only if I know they are never to suffer.” 

Dracula gave a dry chuckle at her response. 

Huffing, the woman smiled bashfully. “Yes, I suppose it sounds rather silly when said out loud. But it is the truth.” 

“Suffering,” Dracula began, “Is not unique to the human condition.” 

“Nor the vampire one I suppose.” 

Dracula’s eyes softened upon hearing her words. “No,” he finally agreed. “No, it is not.” 

The two of them stood suspended within the silence that followed for a great deal of time. Or rather, perhaps it merely felt like a great deal of time because it was one of the few sentences uttered out of pure unadulterated truth between them. Either way, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They simply stood in each other’s company, occasionally making eye contact. 

Although she found she quite enjoyed the comfortable silence as opposed to the oppressive kind that seemed to consume her in her previous conversations with Dracula, the young woman still found she had a pressing question on her mind. As such, she was the one to eventually break the silence. 

 “Do you think Hector would make a good father?” The young woman enquired, feeling much more impervious in her position to ask questions. 

Dracula stayed silent. 

She nodded solemnly. “That’s what I thought.” Her move to leave was interrupted by the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor behind her. 

“Dracula, sir?” She asked through sniffles. 

“Come,” he said, leading her out of her office. “There is something I wish to show you.” 

━━◈◈◈━━

The castle was beyond enormous, there was no way around that. If one did not have a map of the grounds, or a guide to show them the way, it was amazingly simple to become lost in its maze of hallways and ever-changing corridors that seemed to spawn out of nowhere and vanish just as quickly as they came. It did not seem possible for a building to change and shift on its own, but, then again, it did not seem possible for a building to move from city to city in its entirety within the blink of an eye. 

For the most part, the castle had settled once Dracula’s vampire generals and their troops arrived. It would have been too complicated to educate them all on the shifting nature of the castle, so Dracula demanded it cease. Even with the castle’s internal architecture remaining consistent, navigating the halls remained challenging. Especially for the lesser intelligent vampire spawn and the easily overwhelmed human partner of a devil forgemaster. 

Dracula watched from the corridor as the young woman flitted about the apothecary room, taking breaks in between her searching various cabinets to look down at notes that no doubt once belonged to his wife. Lisa was always interested in aiding the other women of Wallachia, and she had a fondness for the maternal edge of medicine. Briefly, Dracula recalled the first time he had shown Lisa this room. Admittedly, Lisa’s reaction was quite similar to the one Hector’s wife was having now: full of not just awe, but determination as well. As it had mostly been frequented by his late wife during her time within the castle, it had been left alone to gather dust and cobwebs for the past several years or so. Still, if there was any lab or apothecary within Dracula’s home that had the processed herbs she was looking for, it was this particular room. 

He led Hector’s wife there after their previous encounter, granting her his permission to take anything she found that she’d need. It was uncharacteristically generous of him to offer, but it did not make the young woman as pleased as she thought she’d be. This was what she wanted, right? To be rid of this child? Or was it possible she wished for something else? 

Bitterly, Dracula knew it was not the child, but the circumstances, the young woman was considering aborting. She could not promise them a future, much less any degree of safety, so she was ending things before the pain became too great to do so. It was odd. The argument could be made that she was acting out of self-preservation, then again, it sounded as if the young woman knew her death was already imminent. To end this child’s life before it began was not an act of selfishness on her part, but an act of mercy. Despite the grief Dracula could see it caused her, this young woman was determined to prevent her child from seeing the horrors the world, his world, was capable of producing. It was selfless. It… It did not make sense. 

Humans were selfish creatures, greedy, and cruel for sport. They thought only of themselves and anyone who dared show kindness or intelligence was cast out or killed. They did not deserve the teachings of his wife, who worked so hard to provide for their ill. They did not deserve Wallachia, nor did they deserve any part of the world. Their species was a plague, a never-ending mistake. They would not learn even if he gave them centuries more. They had to go and yet… 

Before the last sunset, Dracula would not have cared how the humans suffered and died. Nor did he care about the vampires, who would inevitably turn on each other, once they were finally faced with starvation. All that mattered was their death- all of their deaths. 

Then why was it that Lord Vlad Dracula Tepes could not think of anything but birth? 

He had shown Hector’s wife what she asked for, he had given her the materials needed to prevent such a birth. Granted, it was what she had asked for. One favor for a selfless thing. 

Perhaps… a long-since silent voice of reason in the back of Dracula’s mind spoke up… Perhaps there is hope for humanity yet? Maybe the good few, the intelligent, the brave, and the honorable could be… salvaged from this genocide? Perhaps what was needed was a true cull after all? 

Seated once again in his study, Dracula gazed into the flames of the fireplace. He would need to make plans to speak with all his Generals tomorrow. 

The war, as they knew it, was about to change. 

A/N: Ahhhh! Why is it so longgggg? Forgive me for getting carried away. But to answer your question, I do think there’s a sliver of hope Dracula would be swayed not to stop or anything, but maybe to shift his plans to allow a select, approved few humans to survive. No idea how’d that’d be implemented or how the Generals would respond (prob not well lol.) But that’s sort of my line of thinking. I also believe he’d be even more encouraging for Hector and Isacc to become friends. For Sources, check out these super cool links: Medieval ‘Pregnancy Tests’: (x) And this really cool on medieval abortion/menstruation remedies: (x) And As always, if you liked it, please REBLOG! 

And please consider donating to my Kofi!

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 2

Summary: Curtis explains everything, but that doesn't mean it changes anything

Pairings: Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, mentions of divorce, mentions of abortion, mentions of sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Thatta girl,” Curtis repeats.  His voice sounds as smooth as he did last night as he kissed over your shoulders.  You tap your fingers on your arm aggressively, just to show him how irritated you are, but he grins.  An irritatingly sexy grin.  He is married.  And you’re not falling for his mysterious charm.  Nope.  Already made that mistake once.

“I am waiting,” you spit out, and Curtis looks over to his daughter, and the baby gives him a snaggle toothed grin.  Her chubby cheeks push against her eyes as she gazes up at her daddy.  This shouldn’t be cute, but it is.  It’s adorable.  Even Curtis’ lines on his forehead as he gives her a sweet smile back.  He loved being a father.

Looking away didn’t fare well either.  Pictures of him and the baby were everywhere.  She wasn’t even a year old, but Tati and Curtis made sure that at least the living room was decorated in pictures of him and Poet.  Most didn’t have Tati in them, and that strikes you as odd.  He loves that baby girl, but Tati wasn’t present.  Looking around there was not a single picture of her.  It was all Curtis and his daughter.

“Didn’t take you long,” he mumbles, playing with a faint tan line of his missing wedding band.  “Tati and I are complicated.”

“Well, since I’ve had you inside of me I think I deserve some explanation,” you didn’t care that things were complicated.  Legally he was in fact married.  

Curtis knows you’re right.  But saying it out loud confirms what he knew when he found out about the pregnancy.  There was only one person he was candid with this about, and it wasn’t Tati.  

“So…she’s your sugar mama?” Curtis cocks up his eyebrow as he looks at you, and you hear a whispered cadence of mama from Poet.  “I mean she’s the one that’s running a business.  And she hired me, you’re a mechanic,” flicking your eyes up, you look around the immaculate living room.  “There’s a pool house.  So…you…you were her breeding tool?” 

“My daughter’s in the room,” Curtis chuckles at your low blow.  You are making excuses to not like him.  

“I’m sorry, Poe,” the baby crawls over to the end of the fence, standing up to gnaw on the edge.  “I’m just trying to understand.”

“I get it.  You think I’m a poor mechanic, and that my ‘wife’ paid for this house because I agreed to knock her up.”

“Why are you doing that?” You put up your own air quote, scowling at him, “Your ‘wife’.  What does that even mean?  You were inside me!” 

“Yes, we’ve established that I was giving it to you good.  She’s my wife by marriage only.”

“I hate you.  I’m leaving.  I’m sorry,” of course she was his wife by marriage.  What the fuck did that even mean?  They were married, therefore she was the wife.  He was over complicating something, and it pissed you off.

“Sit down,” his voice changes.  Softening, pleading you to hear him out, but he was going nowhere.  “Please.  I know this doesn’t make sense.  Tati was my best friend.  My best…friend with benefits.”

“Oh god.  You’re….all you care about is sex.”

“I have been friends with her since grade school.  Rich girl and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.  But we just got each other.  She…there’s things I can’t talk about because I’m not even sure.  But we got careless, and she got pregnant.  Her parents are stupid religious, and she was…sh-sh-she wanted to abort our baby, and not tell her parents.  I always wanted to be a dad.  And I would have supported her, but…Poet is my life.”

“Dada,” the baby whispers.  Crawling over to a stuffed teddy bear before lifting it up for Curtis.  She adored him as much as he did her.  He takes the bear, holding it in his lap before his daughter smiles, and crawls off again.

“Her parents would have never accepted a baby out of wedlock, so…marriage.  We were best friends to fuck buddies, and now parents, so it seemed like the logical step.  Things immediately changed.  I could see her regretting every decision that led up to that point.  And then Poet was born, and I fell immediately.  She was everything to me, and Tati loved her enough.”

You gulp.  Shaking your head because it just seemed so bizarre.  This man who you know would strike fear into someone in a twinkle of the eye was so soft for this tiny little angel that kept looking at him as if to check and see if he was okay.  She could sense his distress.  They were kindred spirits.  

“The older Poet got the more I realized Tati loved her just enough.  But she wasn’t her life like she was mine.  Tati has never hurt her, and she's never done without, but being a mother I don’t think is for her.  I don’t regret asking her to keep Poet.  I couldn’t imagine my life without her, but I hate that Tati has to pretend in front of people.  Puts on a smile and her bubbliest of bubbly voices.  Lying to herself and the world that she wants a baby.  And that’s why a nanny was brought up.”

“A babysitter.”

“Sweetheart, she wants you to live in the pool house.  She wants you to be the mother figure that she just doesn’t believe she can be, or take the time to be.  She’s always busy, and always off.”

“But you’re married,” you felt sympathy about his odd predicament, but the fact of the matter was he was still married, and he had committed adultery.

“Only legally.  Tati and I have been separated since Poe was four months old.  I moved out of her bedroom, and into the one beside the nursery.  I have an apartment, too.  I just don’t like being away from this sweet face,” as if on cue, Poet looks up at her daddy giving him a big grin.  “We can’t get divorced just yet.”

“Can’t?  Or won’t?  Curtis, you were…”

“Yes, yes…I was inside of you.  You weren’t supposed to be the nanny.  You weren’t supposed to meet my daughter.  I didn’t even know if I would ever see you again, and if I did I thought I was going to have the chance to explain myself and Tati.”

“When was the last time you had sex with her?” Curtis rolls his eyes.  His attention was back on the baby.  “That short of a time ago, huh?  Great.  You’re the man that promises to leave his wife.  But really you’re sneaking down the hallway to her bedroom.”

“No, I’m not.  Most of the time Poet sleeps with me.  I haven’t slept with Tati since before she was born.  Things got too real after we got married.  And then she was born, and I loved someone more than Tati.  She’s not used to that.  She’s used to being the center of attention, and I have never made her my priority.”

“So…you don’t love her?” 

“I’ve never loved Tati like that, no.  I guess it was a means to an end.  She’s got her secrets, and she’s not ready to tell her parents.  She just continues living her life.  She loves Poet.  Just — I don’t think she loves her the way she should.  She doesn’t want to be a mother.”

“I’m not doing this,” you declare.  He is sex on legs.  You could still feel the stretch he gave you.  But this couldn’t happen.  Wouldn’t happen.  You had standards, and they were not sleeping with a married man.

“I am asking you to be my daughter’s nanny.”

“Da-da,” Poet draws out.  Making grabby hands towards him.  She was done with playing, and just wanted him.  “Da-da,” when he turns to look at her, she gets the biggest smile.  Extending a look over to you, cheesing when her daddy picks her up to sit in his lap.

Poet partially covers her face, still with the sweetest smile, “Pee pie!” 

“She’s playing peekaboo with you,” god, why was he sexier with a baby in his lap?  Why was this man that was carved by the gods, and every inch of him was all man, and pure sin.  But this dainty little baby playing peekaboo with you while her daddy squeezes her squishy feet was doing much more than making you want to say aww.

“Please, be my saving grace again.  My daughter needs someone to give her the soft love a mom can.”

“And us?” 

“You’re an employee.  But…there is a door from my room that walks right to the pool, and the pool house,” you shake your head no.  This wasn’t going to work.  “Grace?  What?  Saving Grace, it fits.  Why are you being like this?” 

“You’re married.”

“Legally.  And you’re the one that brought us up.  I’m just saying that it doesn’t take long to get to the pool house from my room.  And Poe only gets in the bed with me around two in the morning.”

He was serious.  Legally.  What the fuck did that even mean?  You heard his words, but you had standards.  You had to stay away from him.  “Dada,” Poet looks up at him, and points over to you.  “Dada,” making sure that her daddy knew that she was aware of you.

“You can go see her,” sick bastard using a baby to soften your heart, and make you stay.  It was working.  He smirks as Poet’s chubby little legs scoot her towards you, and crawls into your lap with a smile, and clap before calling out his name again.  “You can’t say no to her.”

“But I can say no to you.  What happened last night was a mistake.  If I stay here this is professional.  And you’re just my employer.  This is your space when I’m off work.  And my space is the pool house.  During the day you’re at work, and then I am here.  Have I made myself clear?” 

“Crystal clear,” his voice almost moans as his eyes look you up and down.  You became even more attractive holding his daughter.  He is shameless checking you out.  You could almost hear the filthy things he was whispering in your ear.  Pressing your shoulders down, and face into the mattress as he was fucking you so hard from behind.  “And once the divorce is final.”

“You’re still my employer,” you are being bold today.  You are pissed.  Felt jilted and lied to by Curtis.  He could have been honest with you from the beginning.  But then you wouldn’t have had the best sex of your life.  You wouldn’t have handprint bruises on your legs, and a tender ass.  Wouldn’t have your core on fire with every step you make.  Your body still could feel him, and was still craving him.  It was mean.  But you couldn’t go there.  Not anymore.

“I need to get some groceries for the house.  Poe, do you want to stay with daddy?” 

“Yeah.  Dada, yeah,” the fact she was a baby, and knew very little words could be dangerous.  But no matter what, you weren’t going to fuck Curtis Everett.  

“Poet and I could go with you.”

“No.  You stay here.”

“I’ll…make us some lunch.”

“I’ll grab some when I’m out.”

“Then I’ll make us some dinner.”

“You can make you and Poet some dinner.  I will be eating in the pool house alone.  What time do you go to work, Curtis?  I’ll make sure I’m over here before you need to leave to take care of the baby,” Curtis’ face falls flat, but he answers you.  “If you want to help, you can take my luggage to the pool house.”

That’s not what he wanted to take to the pool house.  He wanted to take you from behind.  This was cruel.  You are being mean.  This was going to be a hard arrangement.  But it was something he was just going to have to live with. Have to stare at you taking care of his daughter when all he can think about is the honey between your legs.

“Poe?” 

“Dada!” 

“Daddy needs a hobby.  You want to start painting?” 

“Aye!” She claps her hands, and Curtis leans down kissing her adorable face.  “Dada!” 

“I know.  Daddy has got himself into trouble.  I think with the wrong head.”

“Yep.  Ugh,” she grunts, crawling out of his lap.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me, or even know what that means.”

“Yep.  Dada.”

“I can wear her down.”

“Nono.”

His face drains of color as he stares at his miniature daughter.  She claps her hands again starting to giggle.  “Voice of reason, huh?” Curtis should listen to his daughter.  Poet was trying to keep him out of trouble.  But…she wasn’t even a year old yet.

“Yup.”

“Here, let me help you with that,” a hand grabs the items that you were putting into the back of your car, starting to help you load it.  You look up at him, and quickly back into the trunk.  No.

Your pussy has already gotten you in trouble once.  You would not look at another man lustfully.  It didn’t matter if he had striking blue eyes, it was your favorite color.  Or the fact that he had tattoos on his hands, you always loved a bad boy.  And rings.  Those rings would look beautiful covered in your essence.  But no.  You wouldn’t fall.  You just got here, and you wouldn’t look at him or entertain him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around.  I see everyone,” he sighs, closing your trunk, and noticing the license plate immediately.  “Visiting or staying?” 

“Currently staying.  Thank you for your help.  I should really go.  I’ve got some unpacking to do,” his fingers tap along the back of your trunk, and you give him a shrug.  What was he wanting to ask or get to?  Because you preferred someone to the point.  Like Curtis.  Except the marriage thing.

“Your tires are looking a bit worn.”

“Oh…oh yeah.  I just got here this morning.  Listen, it’s been a long day,” you gulp feeling Curtis’ breath on your body.  Couldn’t believe the prickles moving along your skin remembering his touch.  “A long night, and weird morning, and I’ve got to pack up…”

“Don’t ride on those tires too long.  If it rains, it may be a bit slick,” clicking his mouth, he gives you a wink, turning to walk away.  “The name is Jax by the way,” that name sounds vaguely familiar.  

“Listen, you’re new in town, and I don’t want to sound too forward, but you don’t want to start off with just sitting at home.  We could hang out.”

“Like a date?  And you don’t even know my name.”

“Darling,” stop it.  No!  “I said hang out.  Doesn’t have to be so formal.  Just…think about it.”

“How will I get in touch with you?” 

“Hand me your phone.  I’ll put my name in it,” you are too trusting and you know it, but you hand him your phone anyways.  He doesn’t take long to put in his number, making sure to call himself from your phone.  “There, you have a good one, darling.  Hopefully I’ll hear from you soon.”

“Yeah,” you squeak out.  That didn’t sound convincing.  You watch him walk through the parking lot enough before getting into your car.  “Breathe.  You can’t do this.  You can not go into old patterns.  Looking down at your pants, you give you’re pussy a pep talk; we’re not sleeping with this man.  You can go out with him, but you are going to keep your legs closed.”

“Yeah, you’re in some deep shit,” Jax smiles over at Curtis, who continues to work on the car.  “You’ve got this fine as hell girl that you fucked hard one night.  And now you’ve got her living with Tati.  And your breeding kink gets to watch this fine piece of ass hold your daughter.  Had Tati even shown even a slightest bit of mothering towards Poet, you wouldn’t be getting a divorce.”

“Yeah, I would,” Jax raises an eyebrow, but Curtis shakes his head.  “Forget about it.”

“So what are you going to do with your problem?” 

“It’s not a problem,” he grunts, wiping his hands off on a rag.  “She’s scared.  Rightfully so.  I show up as Tati’s husband with a kid I failed to mention.”

“You were just fucking.  Why would you bring up a kid or your wife that you haven’t had sex with in over a year?  Literally papers are drawn up, you’re just waiting on her to admit to her parents that the marriage was a mistake, and she only got married because she got pregnant out of wedlock, and you wanted the baby, and she can’t stand to disappoint you.  Now she feels smothered and trapped for being a mother, and being married to you.  To the point you two are no longer friends.  You’re roommates that shares a crotch goblin.”

Curtis throws a tool at Jax, and his friend grabs his arm where it hit, “This isn’t therapy, and Poet isn’t a crotch goblin.  Even you say she’s the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen.”

“You’re too damn soft.  Poe Poe is adorable.  Your relationship with her is precious, and while I get what you’re doing with Tati and giving her time to deal with things, remember she’s out there living her life.  Traveling while you’re stuck here playing house with the babysitter who made it very clear that you’re not going to get to taste her anymore.  All the while you get to watch with a hard cock as she sings to your daughter.”

“I hate you so much,” it was not fun watching you interact with Poet.  And even worse was Poet smiling at you.  Giggling with you, and ignoring him.  

“And I love you, my sweet little ‘Daddy’,” Jax moans, faking an orgasm with a high pitch voice.  “You just need that sweet girl to wake you up by bobbing on your dick again.”

“She was a freak, and the…Jax I can’t handle this.  I just want to fuck my hand every time I see her.  And Poe loves her.”

“Yeah, she probably smelled you on her, and that girl on you.  I’m surprised Tati didn’t take note of the smile on your face.  I knew that morning when I picked you up that you got to fuck something extra sweet and hard.  You, my friend, are predictable.  Pussy is pussy.”

“No.  Not when you have a kid.  Pussy means a potential mother to my baby.  What about you, you act like you get laid every night,” Tati did notice.  Even congratulated him for finally getting it in with someone.

“I don’t,” Jax walks out of the garage, grabbing a pack of cigarettes, “I did meet a fine piece of ass, and did my helping her put in her groceries bit.  She fell for it, and I have a date.  Maybe I’ll get to break a bed.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.  I don’t want to hear if you got laid, or a kiss or anything else.”

Jax stares at his phone looking at the address that you gave him, shaking his head.  “Mother fucker,” he grunts.  This night was not going to end the way he hoped.  The address was all he needed to know who you were.  Curtis’ saving Grace.  The same woman his best friend was hung up on.

He wasn’t going to deny you a night out, but he wouldn’t be getting a kiss.  Wouldn’t dare think about having sex with you.  Curtis meant more to him than some broad, but…he was going to torture Curtis for as long as it took.

His friend had been delaying this divorce for too long.  Had been keeping up a friendly face, and hiding something about Tati, Jax just knew it.  He didn’t know what it was, probably Tati was already in a steady relationship.  Curtis was too old to be this dumb.  

He can’t wait to see Curtis’ face though.  Jax had already talked up that he could be getting lucky, and now it was you he was picking up.  He didn’t know if he needed to head to the main entrance or the pool house.  He’d spent his fair share in that house. 

The hopes of seeing Curtis were much too high though, and he just has to go to the front door.  Has to see the look of his face.  Make him wonder and question things.  Stew as he takes care of his daughter.  Tati’s trip of course had gone longer than two days, and he wonders just how the two of you are navigating the relationship, or lack thereof.  

He cracks his knuckles before giving the door a hard knock.  Waiting on the glare from Curtis, but instead it’s you with such a pretty smile.  Poet on your hip.  He isn’t the most interested in this domestic shit, but he gets it.  You are radiant.  Smiling so big, and then talk to Poet, “We have got to find daddy, because I got to go out for a bit.”

“Nono,” the baby pouts, slapping at your chest softly.  Her bottom lip puckers out before she lays her head on your chest,  “Nono me.”

“I know.  Curtis!  Date’s here.”

“I’ll be right — there,” that’s what Jax was looking for.  Curtis’ face draining, and his mouth setting in a straight line as he glares at Jax.  “Really?  This is your date?” 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning.  Poe bear, good night sweet baby.”

“Nono.  Dada,” yep.  Curtis was predictable.  Three days.  Three days of you keeping things professional, and tending to his daughter, and Curtis was a goner.  Any woman that showed Poet the love of a mother would have Curtis eating out of the palm of their hand.  But knowing that you could take him so well added to his admiration.  

“Dada, Nono.”

“Grace is going out for a bit, baby,” Poet sniffles a bit, and Jax wants to roll his eyes.  He could practically see Curtis’ cock twitching in his pants as the baby holds on tighter to you.  “Grace will be back.  She’s got her a special friend.”

“Dada!” It was cruel.  You want to change your mind, and just hold the little baby close to you.  She was a doll.  The happiest baby you had ever met, and was smart.  She had very few words, but you could tell she understood.  And right now she was clinging to you.  

“Dada, Nono.” 

“Curtis,” you pout looking at him.  She didn’t understand.  She had increasingly become more needy with each day her mother hadn’t returned.  You had to make a clean break.  It’s what your mother told you was the easiest.  Don’t make promises, and extend the goodbye.  

“Poet, you want daddy to give you ice cream?” 

“Nono!”

“Ice cream with chocolate,” she sniffles, loosening up her grip, and looks over at her daddy.  “Come here.  Let’s go see daddy, and you and him are going to have ice cream, okay?” She nods her head, but you repeat it again, “Okay?” 

“Tay,” her sweet self whispers, reaching for her daddy.

“I guess…” she wasn’t your child so to offer up coming home early if he needed you was silly.  The baby needed you, but you needed away from Curtis.  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Jax nods his head toward Curtis with a devilish smirk as he leads you to his bike.

Not at all what you were prepared for.  Before you can offer to take your car, he looks down at his phone, and you swear you hear him chuckle.  “Let’s go, Grace?  Where did that come from?” 

“It’s silly.  He calls me his saving Grace because I rescued him from the side of the road.  It’s nothing,” Jax didn’t hear much.  But he was going to enjoy torturing his friend.  

Even with the threat of, ‘You touch her, and I’ll fucking cut your dick off’ he doens’t care.  Curtis is going to have to learn to go after what he wants.  Even if Jax has to make him.  And a little jealousy might give you a fun time.  Time will tell.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @kandis-mom @awkwardgiraffe726 @kmc1989

[iloveblogging2]

Blue lock boys reacting to you telling them your pregnant

warnings: angst, teenage pregnancies, mentions of getting an abortion (a lot), heartbreak etc

Isagi:

He loves you.

Everything about you, the way you act, your beautiful smile your encouraging personality, your rosy lips that just turn him on and makes him think of stuffs he shouldn't be thinking of

he really does but not like he loves soccer.

in the few seconds you told him about your pregnancy he has already analyzed how his life will take a turn if he accepts and takes care of the baby.

he won't have time to play soccer.

he can't become the best striker.

if he is here for you he wont be here for soccer.

all because he had sex too young.

no

like ego said you make your own destiny

"please get an abortion" he said piercing you with his deep blue eyes

"what" you asked you couldn't believe your ears

sure he had soccer and blue lock but at least he should accept the baby.

he isn't gonna leave you alone is he?

doesn't he love you

"abort the baby" he repeated "or i'll break up with you''

you couldnt believe your ears

"HOW DARE YOU HOW COULD YOU YOU WANT TO LEVAE ME BECAUSE I WANT TO KEEP THE BABY ISAGI'' you cried "I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME"

this broke his heart but he had to continue he couldnt ruin his futeure because of a child

"i do' he replied ''thats why i'm asking you to abort it'' he said puttimg a hand on your shoulder

''so'' he began ''i'm leaving for the bluelock camp again so please abort the child or ill deny ever dating you'' he threatened

Nagi

''man what a hassle'' he accidentally said out loud

he didn't mean to sure that's how he felt but

He adores you

I mean

Sure you sometimes- most of the time you annoyed him sure but he did care for you.

especially the time when you just obeyed him

that wasn't normally your bubbly energetic and stubborn personality would do but for nagi you were willing

Nagi and you deserved each other.

you were still young

but you thought this was love

he made you smile when you think about him

which was everytime

everytime you think about you him

aaah you just wanna get married already and have his kids

that was probably why you agreed easily to have sexual intercourse

that means he feels the same way you thought

so why was he saying this

surely he didnt mean it right?

‘’sorry’’ he hesitated before he continued  

“i dont think i can be a father, i have blue lo-” 

Slap 

“WHAT ABOUT ME !??, I HAVE TO QUIT SCHOOL MY PARENTS MIGHT NO THEY WILL KICK ME OUT AND YOU- YOU JUST WANT TO LEAVE!!!!’’ 

‘’LEAVE ME ALONE!!” he responded “IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU ARE PREGNANT, ABORT THE BABY THEN IT’S A HASSLE TO KEEP IT”  

Charles 

Note: he is still a new character and i know nothing of him

‘'Are you sure it’s mine?’’ 

You and Charles have been dating for a while. 

And while you barely see him because of his soccer career and neo-egoist league- you still loved him. 

So when you found out you were pregnant you were elated 

Since a baby is involved he would spend more time with you  

After all its his child involved 

You smiled when you thought of charles playing soccer with his little son 

What would we name him you merrily thought 

So it hurt hurt you a lot when he asked you 

‘’Are you sure it’s mine?’’ 

“w-what” you replied in disbelief 

“i mean” he yawned “i don’t know maybe you cheated on me” 

“h-how c-could y-you s-uggest th-a-at" you asked tears welling in your eyes 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go 

“woah don’t cry i-i just mean that maybe it’s a- mi-stake yeah, look im not ready ready to be a father and to be honest i dont think i like y-” 

You burst into tears 

You're so annoying Charles thought  

He liked you but you just annoyed him in ways soccer could never 

Soccer never asked for attention and tried to baby trap him 

You made his heat skip a beat but no the way fighting a strong opponent in soccer did 

When he thought about you- the rare time he did he smiled but when he thought about soccer it didnt just make him smile – it brought out a whole new monster  

He can neglect and insult you but not soccer never soccer  

To a normal person this sounded ridiculous 

Soccer was a thing, a sport, a way of life to egoist like him. 

YN was a human being- not that special 

She didnt bring out a whole new ego- she was boring. 

Also he knew if he accepted his role as the father of the unborn child he’ll have to spend more time with yn and not soccer 

So he had to break it off right now and maybe convince her to get an abortion 

“listen YN......” 

Notes: Charles is a new character and i know nothing of him

if you have any requests you can ask me

 

` 

[indiaalphawhiskey]

fake title: almost tethered

💋 Almost Tethered

This was, by far, the longest and most awkward silence in the history of mankind, and yet, Louis couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a single thing to say.

Because, really, what was he supposed to say?

He knew fuck all about the man sitting casually on his chaise in a frieghteningly sexy brown duck jumper, except that he had been crazy enough to agree to a threesome with Louis and his fiancé to help spice up their already very extended engagement (that every single person they loved was still waiting for them to call off).

Well, okay, Louis didn’t know ‘fuck all’ exactly. He knew he had a face that was a little too pretty to be true (so much so that Louis had bet Robbie they were being catfished and was now down £20), that he was probably making an obscenely (heh) good living if his (surprisingly tasteful, only-strategically-posed-artful-nudes) OnlyFans page had anything to say about it, and that his actual real name was Harry Styles.

So, Louis knew some things (four, he knew a total of four things), none of which he could use to fill this rather excruciating silence. Lovely.

It didn’t help that Harry hadn’t said a thing to him either since walking through their door – not that he could have, what with the way Robbie had bulldozed through the introductions before swiftly exiting to make everyone martinis.

(“Do you even know how to make a martini?” Louis had asked as they were getting dressed that evening.

Robbie had waved off his very pressing concern. “I’ll Google it. Wine just seems a little too pedestrian for a threesome, you know?”)

Louis began to roll his eyes at the memory but quickly aborted the motion, worried Harry might think it was directed at him. He reverted back to their mutual staring, though, admittedly whilst Louis was sure his expression was similar to that of a frightened raccoon, Harry’s was painfully cool. Collected and poised. Almost serene. Unbothered.

His smirk was soft; green eyes kind yet still somewhat appraising. Louis supposed he couldn’t help it, given their, ah, agenda for the evening. He actually found himself hoping Harry liked what he saw.

Louis certainly did; found himself wondering if it would be appropriate to lick at the swallows tattooed on Harry’s collarbones, or if that was more of a second session kind of thing.

Would there be a second session? Likely not, since the entire point of doing this with a stranger was to avoid all the awkwardness afterwards. (Which said nothing of the awkwardness during.)

He was overthinking and needed to stop, immediately.

God, say something! Louis commanded himself, unable to remember the last time he blinked. As had become habit since his engagement, his hand drifted down to fiddle with the watch he wore with a fierce kind of loyalty on his right wrist. His mind drifted to three words hidden under the expensive leather strap – his accidental life mantra, bestowed upon him by fate.

He thought of how the curve of capital D swooped, how the N had always been a little crooked, how he had learned the cursive version of an S before he could even write or read.

How Robbie hadn’t said the words when they’d met.

How, because of that, his family thought this engagement had been doomed from the start.

How Harry still hadn’t said anythi—

“Don’t be nervous.”

Louis’ answer was automatic, almost involuntary, because he’d been saying it in mock response all his life. “I’m not.”

Needless to say, the next time Louis found himself staring awkwardly back at Harry Styles, it was not because of their impending threesome. It was because said third in their impending threesome had just uttered his soulmark.

— Or, there were a multitude of awkward ways to meet one’s soulmate. They could say your mark from the urinal next to you mid-wee at a funeral, or sneaking out of your flatmate’s bedroom after a one night stand, or trying to upsell the newest state-of-the-art dildo in their family-owned sex shop.

Still, Louis was pretty sure his version was the one that took the cake.

[ms-demeanor]

What would anarchist Tumblr look like? Could any of the words in the ToS make sense without a top-down authority dictating how to "properly" define things like spam?

Go look at any open source project.

You could get together a group of people who could agree on a number of things, like what spam is and what is or isn't allowed on the platform, and you could have users vote on that kind of thing as they join, and eventually what's going to happen is that people will join the platform in bad faith, take advantage of the gaps in the rules, and be really difficult to remove in a fair and democratic way. You are also going to end up with a small number of people doing the majority of the work and feeling hard done by when people who don't understand the work that goes into making changes demand changes and outvote the engineers (though you can mitigate that by saying "you can demand any change that you personally can implement" but then you'll get people complaining that there's a hierarchy of programmers running the site, or worse, you'll have bad actors who are also programmers who will implement shitty changes).

(also this is highly theoretical because a lot of the words in the ToS are mandated by the laws of the country that the platform is registered in or the laws of the countries it is operating in - if your definition of spam is fucky it'll just mess with who wants to use your platform; if your definition of IP law is fucky assholes in cheap suits are going to start knocking on your door and handing you notices of service)

If you want an anarchist website you don't want a platform, you just want to go and make your own website.

That is, unfortunately, difficult, it can be expensive, and it doesn't scale.

IDK. Much love and respect for anarchists (i consider myself one) and other flavors of leftist but I feel like before any anarchist decides to get started on a big project they should go interface with people in the real world in some setting that requires parliamentary procedure and then watch the ways in which people will fuck with those systems. You only need to see one group fall apart because there is no means of removing bad actors before you realize that you need to build that into all your projects in the future or you're dooming them to schisms.

Basically your question made me think about how I would go about trying to start a social media platform for anarchists and I immediately went "NOPE, I WOULD NOT DO THAT." (Also it's just not a priority; if I was going to start a website that was doomed to failure it would be about, like, abortion access or a map of free resources or I would simply not start a website and would just use that time for some kind of mutual support network)

But also. Like.

Signal groupchat.

[anamericangirl]

So your argument is that the person chose sex and thus chose the responsibility of a possible pregnancy…but what about rape??? You can get pregnant from that too, and it’s not a choice.

Less than 1% of abortions are due to rape so yeah in almost 100% of abortion cases the woman chose to have sex.

However, in cases of rape I still don't think getting an abortion is a good thing to do. You have to understand that the foundation of my pro-life position is that the unborn child is a living human being from the moment of conception. I hold a very firm view that killing children is a bad thing to do. I'm not ok with it under any circumstances. I am against killing children even if they were conceived through rape. If you wouldn't kill a three year old for being conceived through rape you shouldn't be ok with killing that same girl just because she's still in her mother's womb.

Killing a child is not ok. Period.

Rape is a very serious crime that needs to be dealt with but you don't deal with crime by killing an innocent child. We don't need to continue the cycle of violence. The baby is just as innocent as the mother. We don't even kill the rapist, but you want to give the death penalty to the baby?

No, the woman did not choose to have sex in this situation and she has been the victim of a brutal crime and she needs a lot of help and support. She needs counseling, medical care, emotional and even financial support. All of those things help rape victims more than abortion does.

Abortion doesn't help rape victims at all, honestly. It doesn't erase the trauma of rape and in many cases it just adds more. It's not safe for women and it doesn't become safe just because a woman was raped.

There is no benefit to a rape victim getting an abortion other than the emotional appeal.

But for the sake of argument, I'm ok with abortion being legal for rape victims if we can agree all other abortions should be illegal.

So is the rape victim really your concern here or are you just using them to argue for all abortions?