or whatever the hell you call them

We call ships ‘she.’ We call our war machines 'women.’ We compare women to black widows and vipers. And you’re going to tell me it’s not 'lady-like’ to scream, to take up space, to fight and demand respect and do whatever the hell I want. You’ve looked at nuclear bombs and been so in awe that you could only name them after women. Don’t try to down-play my power.

I saw some really shitty images the other day that were mocking the “stereotypical” tattoos that women get, such as a sign saying they won’t tattoo butterflies, infinity signs, and whatever else it is that all women are supposed to get.

And you hear about all the “stereotypical” places women get tattoos, “tramp stamp” and those “silly”, “dainty” ones on their ankles or wrists.

And just in case you needed a reminder than misogyny exists: men don’t get called on any of that shit. (And no one should, because the whole idea is stupid as hell).

You don’t see posts mocking men for getting chest tattoos, you don’t see people posting images saying that they won’t tattoo any of the stereotypical tattoos men like - skulls, naked women, etc.

And just to be clear, the only reason anyone has a problem with butterfly or infinity signs or whatever else tattoo is -because- they’re liked by women. They’re liked by women so they must just be thoughtless, air-head designs. And women get them because they’re all so cliquey and unoriginal and all just copy each other. It’s most certainly not because these are archetypal symbols that appeal to specific ideas relating to the human condition. Nope.

You know if men liked them and most commonly got tattoos on their ankles they’d all be bragging about how badass they are because ankles are one of the most painful places to get tattoos blahblah. And no one would be talking about how it’s soooo common and stupid, etc.

And seriously, fuck that noise.

The West Wing

Remember when I asked if you all wanted a ficlet of Feyre finding Rhys’ mother’s and sister’s wings in Spring Court? And all you Maasochists said yes?

Well, here you go…

Originally posted by blmglove

~

I climbed the stairs to that part of the manor that I’d never visited before. Tamlin had never outright ordered me not to venture here, but it was always an unspoken understanding we had. Before everything that happened, before Rhys, Tamlin always came to my room when we spent the night together, I was never invited to his. Maybe that’s what drove me to explore while he was far from the manor. Not that I was afraid of him, I hadn’t been afraid of him for a long while now, but it would be so much easier to look around without him hovering over me.

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Of course "queer" is a slur. That's why we reclaimed it in the first place.

We started to use “queer” to describe ourselves because to the people who hated us, any word that meant us meant “bad.” Didn’t matter if they said “queer” or “faggot” or “homosexual,” or “like THAT, you know,”– it was a bad thing to be. There was no room in the language for us to be us and proud of it.

So we said, “the hell with that,” and we took ground that did not belong to us, and we made it our own. They can’t insult you by calling you something if you call yourself that first. We said “queer” out loud and proud, and we stood up and marched under banners with “queer” written on them, and there were too many of us to stop when we came out in the daylight and shouted our names.

And there are still people who hate us, and whatever we call ourselves, they still think that word means “bad.” “Gay” can be an insult– “that shirt’s so gay.” And all you have to do is hear a conservative politician sneer the word “transgender” in talking about bathrooms to know that even our own words can turn to venom in the mouth of someone who hates what we mean by them.

But we worked our asses off to say that what we mean by them isn’t bad, and we could call ourselves those things, and be proud. And it worked. We took “queer.” We took it so well that it’s a technical term in academic institutions which sixty years ago would have fired someone just for the suspicion that they were one of us. We fought, and we won.

And when you tell me, “queer is a slur, don’t use it,” you’re telling me that that victory means nothing. That we did nothing to change what the word means. That we have to give back the ground we took, that our fight isn’t worth remembering.

I won’t call someone “queer” if they don’t like it, if they don’t claim the name for themself, if it makes them uncomfortable or brings back bad memories– that’s just rude. But I resent and bristle at someone telling me I can’t use the word for myself. It means what I mean, as “gay” or “lesbian” or “LGBT” doesn’t. And more than that– it means, we won this word. We fought, and a lot of us died, and we are still fighting, and some of us are still dying, though not nearly as many. We’re fighting for the meaning– that we can live the way that suits us, and love the people we love– much more than the word. But the word is a symbol, and I’m not willing to give it up.

Good Princess

A/N: Oops I wrote a thing. Go easy on me, I’ve never written Lucifer but the second I got this ask I got flooded with ideas.

Pairing: Casifer x Reader

Warnings: Fingering, language, daddy!kink, smut, voyeurism if you count Cas seeing what’s happening from the inside, a um, a rough blowjob, hair pulling, light choking

Word Count: 1.3k

Originally posted by zeusisrad

Everybody out!” you shouted as you marched into your father’s, throne room, lair, dungeon – whatever he was calling it these days. The demons surrounding Lucifer jumping and scattering. You loved that affect you had on them.

“Y/N, how very nice to finally meet you.” Lucifer said as you walked up to him as he lounged in your father’s throne.

He was wearing Castiel. Which in all honestly, fit him like a glove. You looked to the side to see your father, Crowley on all fours, trapped in a hell hound’s cage, bound like a dog.

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Battered and Bruised Part 1

Dean, Sam x Reader (Friend but may end up being more)

An anon request:Can you do a one shot where the reader is friends with Sam, Dean, and Cas, but is being abused by her parent and they find out and help her.

A/N: Definitely going longer than I planned!! Mentions of abuse, both mental and physical. 

Your parents were hunters. Which meant your life had never been normal from day one. Growing up on the road, traveling from place to place. Never staying in a school long enough to make friends. On top of that, your parents were constantly getting into fights, making living in a small motel room horrible. Many times, you would find yourself down at the library, staying until they closed just to have some sort of peace.

Everything changed the moment your parents had started hunting with John Winchester. They seemed to calm down, their arguing simmering down to every now and then. Now, you were able to stay at the same high school, spending time with their good friend Bobby while they went on hunts. That’s when you met Sam and Dean, John’s sons. They had been standoffish from the get go. But soon, the three of you realized how alike you were, and you became inseparable. Years passed, and major events happened. Sam had gone off to college, surprising both you and Dean. Your parents had pulled you away from your life in Sioux Falls following a fall out with John. You and Dean had tried to keep in touch, but it was hard, and soon the two of you hadn’t spoken for almost a year.

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You and I, 你和我

Originally posted by sebaeked

→ Reader x Baekhyun

→ Fluffy, a little angsty, smutty, friends-to-lovers vampire AU

→ Warnings: Brief mentions of blood and rape. Smut.

Word count: 4,9K


Legend has it that there were six original families of vampires, whom all now living vampires originate from; the family of Kim is the most common kind with a normal thirst for blood. The family of Byun who exclusively drinks animal blood. The family of Zhang, who’s thirst for blood is humongous and almost unquenchable. The family of Do, a family who very rarely needs to feed. The family of Park is a kind that doesn’t limit their diet to only blood, but very often eats the organs and skin of the human they’re draining as well.

And so far, the mentioned families only have one difference: the diet. But the last family, the small family of Hūn Náo, is described as passionate, turbulent, restless and violent when their thirst is awakened. Hūn Náos have stronger senses and reflexes than the other kinds and their diet is limited to “bad blood”: the blood of extreme sinners. Because of their nature when exposed to the scent of the rare bad blood, the Hūn Náos became a feared kind, and further on, the kind turned shy and held back to avoid keeping the negative label. 

As a Hūn Náo, you always used to turn heads with your strong and sassy personality, and maybe it was exactly that which attracted Byun Baekhyun to you?


It was odd, you and everyone knew it - no, forget that; everyone would have thought so if they knew.

Yet, somehow it had come to be. Your relationship with Baekhyun, that is.

One day, as you were walking down the hallway of the school building, your whole body itching to return to your dorm, rip off your bra and exchange the short checkered skirt for a pair of nice, comfortable sweats pants, when a shoulder lightly bumped into yours. The owner of the shoulder was no passerby, rather, he was walking right beside you. Your schedule let you leave school earlier every Wednesday when most of the other student still had one class left, and because of that the hallway was not crowded at all, but somehow this boy still chose to walk so closely with you. 

So, you had looked over at him and scoffed. “Come closer.” Earning a surprised laugh from the boy, which at a closer, a more focused look was beautiful. He had dark, hooded eyes, a small pout and light brunette, tussled locks that gracefully fell over his cold forehead in a way you couldn’t quite describe. And then, he had had this rectangular grin to add onto his dazzling features.

A sniff of the air had surprised you, your stronger senses revealing the identity of his wonderful boy who found your sarcastic tone funny - a Byun. Along with the discovery came a clump in your stomach, and you swallowed, preparing to tell this Byun that you were a Hūn Náo and therefore probably not the best vampire to associate with. But just as you opened your mouth to tell him, your body tensing at the disgusted look you were sure you’d receive, the Byun had stuck his hand out into the air in front of you.

“I’m Byun Baekhyun, and you?” 

You had reluctantly taken his hand, your mouth open wide as you told him your name, quickly and awkwardly followed by;

“I’m a Hūn Náo, Baekhyun, you may not want to speak to me.”

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Strawberry Pills.

// Jerome x reader.

Requested: Not really.

(Although, the idea did come from an Anon. Thanks Anon!)

Summary: Jerome is snooping through y/n’s drawers one day, and he finds a bottle of what he thinks are pills. He finds her and begins to tell her how perfect her mind is.

Need to know: Y/n and Jerome are a couple.

Rating: Fluff.

Warnings: Mild language.

Title: Strawberry Pills. //

 

When the bed shifts as y/n gets up, Jerome opens one eye, just enough to peek at her as she shuffles across the room. His eyes open more fully as he sits up.

“Where ya goin’?” He mutters, his voice still rough from sleep. Y/n glances over at him, smiling widely. Jerome’s gaze rakes her body, a smile slipping onto his face. In his sleepy state he can’t comprehend much, so he laughs softly as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Come back here…lay down for a while longer, y/n.” He rolls over onto his back, closing his eyes. “We could snuggle for a whil-” His sentence is cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut. He lets out a long sigh as he rolls over again, staring longingly at the door. The sound of another door opening, and then the showering turning on. He sits up slowly, taking his time as he gets out of bed, walking over to his dresser. Jerome grabs a plain grey T-shirt and throws it on quickly, pulling a pair of black sweatpants on over his boxers. He arches his back, stretching slowly. Jerome stares at the door again, wishing that y/n would be done with her shower already so he could be near her again.

But, he quickly snaps out of his thoughts as his eyes land on a small, white bottle half-hidden on her side of the bed, sitting in the cabinet. He walks over quickly. As he reaches out to grab the cabinet door, his foot catches on the rug. He tips forward, grabbing at the cabinet’s handle. His hand slams into and he closes his eyes briefly as he crashes to the ground, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His head tilts to the side as his eyes open, and he gets a sideways view of the small white bottle. It lays on its side on the floor, the cap half undone, the small, cylindrical pills peeking out from the darkness of the bottle. Jerome’s gaze widens as he reaches out, grabbing it angrily.

Just then, y/n bursts into the room, her wet hair hanging down and dripping all over, wetting the front of her grey tank top. Her gaze falls down to the scene in her front of her, and she covers her mouth, attempting to hide her laughter. Jerome stands up quickly.

“What the hell are these y/n?!” He shouts, shaking the bottle. Some of the small pills fly out of the bottle and scatter across the carpet. Y/n’s eyes widen slightly.

“Jerome, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not what it looks like.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He growls. He moves forward quickly. “Listen to me kitten; you, you are perfect. But what you’re doing right now, taking these pills…” He shakes his head. “You’re being like them. And they are all prisoners. What everyone else calls sanity, that’s just a prison in their minds. This prison, it stops you from seeing that you’re just tiny little cogs in a giant, absurd machine! Wake up, y/n! Why would you want to be a cog? What happened to you? I thought you wanted to be free like me.” Jerome shakes his head angrily. “To do this to yourself, that’s dumb as hell y/n! You’re perfect the way you are, you’re wonderful. There’s not a damn thing you need to change about yourself.” He moves forward and sets the pills on the bedside table. Jerome puts one hand on y/n’s waist, and the other on her face. He pulls her closer to him and stares down at her, pushing a strand of her h/c hair out of her face. “You’re wonderful, kitten. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he caresses her face and places a soft kiss on her nose. “Your mind…” Jerome close his eyes and inhales deeply. “Your mind is the most beautiful thing about you. Why would you want to change that? You shouldn’t want to change that, y/n!” He opens his eyes and stares at her. “Promise me, promise me you’ll stop taking them. If you love me y/n, if you love me promise me. Promise me you won’t destroy your mind, promise me you won’t just conform to everyone else.”

“Jerome…” A small laugh escapes y/n’s lips, although she is trying to be as serious as possible.

“You think this is funny?” Jerome snarls, moving over to the bed side table quickly and picking up the bottle. “This isn’t funny, kitten, I swea-”

“Jerome! Those are vitamins,” she interrupts him, covering her mouth to suppress her giggles. Jerome’s mouth falls open as he stares at her in shock.

No.” He breathes.

Yes,” y/n laughs and moves forward, taking one out and popping it in his mouth. A repulsed look crosses Jerome’s face, and then it slowly shifts to confusion. “Jerome…they’re vitamins. Gummy vitamins. I could see how you could mistake them for pills-that is what the look like- but I’m not taking any sort of medicine like that.” Jerome backs away from her, giving her the stink eye as he chews the vitamin. “Oh, come on Jerome, don’t be like that.” She moves forward to hug him and he crosses his arms, lifts his head up, and turns around, all the while still chewing the gummy. Y/n moves to stand in front of him, placing her hand on her shoulder. “Jerome…” He finishes chewing and swallows roughly.

“Who the hell buys vitamins that look like real medicine?”

“They were pink, and smelled like strawberries.”

So?” Jerome scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t believe you let me get so worked up. You could’ve said something, y/n. You could’ve told me before.”

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” she laughs and shakes her head. “I am sorry Jerome, but you have to admit: you overreacted.”

Jerome gasps loudly and places a hand over his heart. “Kitten,” he mumbles, leaning down and kissing her cheek. His facial expression loses all of his anger from before. He pulls y/n to him, kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, kitten.” He mumbles. “I was worried.” She smiles.

“I know, Jerome. I’m not angry.” He stands up straight, and huffs.

“Well I’m still bitter that you just let me ramble on.” With that, he turns around and bounces out the door.

Downright Neighborly; Part Two

Fandom: WWE/TNA

Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday Crew, welcome aboard our jaunty ship once again! Tagging our usual suspects, the Prince Of Badasses @toxiicpop, Strowman’s Maestro @hardcorewwetrash and the All-Seeing Polaris @oraclegazes!

(Also I apologize, but due to my laptop losing its mind every time I try to tag people I’m going to abandon the ‘new tagees’ list. I am so sorry everyone! D: ) Enjoy!


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The Intervention

“Um, guys? What’s going on?” 


Clint looked solemnly toward Tony, shaking his head sadly as he watched the man stumble forward, brow set in confusion as he took in the setting around him.

The communal living room was filled with all the friends that the team had been able to find, and together, they had procured a large banner and written the word INTERVENTION in big black lettering, hanging it from the ceiling as they all stood solemnly underneath it.

It was time they sorted this. It had reached the limit, and none of the team could handle it any more.

(beware the read more, mobile users!)

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anonymous asked:

Here's a little Kaylor plot twist to fuck you up for the night... At the Knicks game, when they were drinking beer... If you look at the pics of them toasting/clinking glasses/saying cheers, whatever the hell you call it, it's their fingers that are touching, not the cups, TSwift is looking confused and Klossanova is smirking, it's like The Door™️: Part 2. Kk is interlacing Tays finger between the outside of two of her own. Ah, good times.

ok but remember karlie reaching out for taylor when they were walking?

wow i miss these pals

being normal american gals

Human: Two

Originally posted by nochujungkookie

Human: One | Human: Two

Pairing: Jungkook x reader [feat: Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon]
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut. Ability!AU Scifi!AU
Word Count: 2.5k

“what is it like to even be human?”

All Jungkook could remember were the events that was being unfolded right in front of him, everything else being untraceable. Being forced into a war he wasn’t even aware that was happening, being paired up with Taehyung and Yoongi during this ‘war’. They were pushed into this, being forced to kill the unknown enemy, relying on their so called abilities to keep them safe. Many questions were left unanswered, that was until he met you. More questions raised up, more confusion being added, and only a few things being answered. How can you tell the difference between human, and non-human?

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Tis for my hoe @wayward-mirage​…Hope u like it!! Just some cuteness.


The Big Truth

“Come on! You seriously expect us to believe that you just so happened to be there?”

Crowley sighed, wishing these damn morons would listen for the first time in their damned existence.

“How many times? I was simply enjoying my day and y/n was the one who called for help. Do you bloody idiots really think I’d ever try and hurt the one I l-”

He stopped himself from saying anymore, knowing he couldn’t reveal anything.

Not when your brothers, Dean in particular, wouldn’t even give a dude the chance to try and flirt with you. 

Of course, you cockblocked him in return, ruining many many chances of him hooking up with someone, not that you’d have left with any of the dudes in the first place.

But Dean was protective…extremely protective of you. 

So there was no way he’d be ok with finding out about the King of Hell’s feelings for you. 

“The one you what, Crowley? Cos from what I remember, you’ve tried to kill us at least a billion times. So…”

Crowley grumbled, knowing they wouldn’t believe a single word he said, especially not when the demon who’d taken you had cut you up pretty bad.

“The one who saved me, you dick”, you groaned.

Everyone snapped their heads back, seeing you wincing as you sat up slightly.

“Whoa! Take it easy, y/n”.

You took a hold of Dean’s hand, smiling softly at him.

“Thanks. Now, leave him alone, he saved me”.

“He did? You sure?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his attempts to baby you. 

He always did have a habit of treating you like a confused child.

“Yes, Mr Dean. He did save me. Now get out of my face, moron”.

Sam stifled a grin as Dean grumbled, knowing you were absolutely fine.

“You ok, love?”

“Love? Don’t call y/n, love!”

“Dean…shut up. He can call me whatever the hell he wants”.

“What? No, he can’t. And he can’t call you ‘love’. No way”.

Crowley simply watched you, slightly intrigued and also amused, wondering what you were about to do.

“Yes he can. He can call me love, pet, darling, honey…whatever the fuck he wants. Cos if you haven’t noticed me coming back stinking like scotch and charcoal…I’m dating Crowley. And before you say a single word”, you cut them off, knowing they’d just oppose, “you dated a demon and fucked a werewolf”, you pointed out, making Sam embarrassed and slightly ashamed. 

“And you’ve fucked like 1000 women in a year…pretty sure you’ve most likely caught something by now. Oh yea, and you had a kid with an Amazon!”

You knew you seemed a little harsh, but your brothers were controlling and slightly obsessed with making sure you remained as innocent and pure as they’d convinced themselves you were.

“Well, now that you know…might want to leave for a few hours. I have a lot of making up to do”.

Sam and Dean grimaced at the thought of you being touched by Crowley in any way…especially in the way they knew you’d be doing. 

“Gross!”


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Popular

Summary: Y/N and Peter have been best friends since childhood, but when they enter middle school, Y/N joins the popular crowd and leaves Peter behind.

AN: this may become a series lol

Peter Parker x Reader

Send in prompts from this list! // Masterlist


Originally posted by gryffinclaw-in-wilde-times

I ran as fast as I could and hid behind a tree. I peeked from the side to see if he was following me and saw no one. He was right behind me. I thought. I faced back and waited for Peter to call out for me. I went to peek behind me again. Nothing. I turned back and -

“Boo!”

“Ah!” I let out a high pitched scream. Peter Parker was hanging upside down from a low branch and laughing his brains out. “Peter! That wasn’t funny!” I crossed my arms.

Peter swung down from the tree. “Oh, come on Y/N. You have to admit that was pretty funny.” He gave me a grin, showing off the loss of his two front teeth.

“For you.” I said, still pouting. I turned around and walked away from Peter. 

“Hey! Y/N! Wait!” Peter yelled out. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He stood in front of me. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He looked down at his shoes.

“Okay!” He looked up and I gave him an equally toothless grin. “Let’s go play another game! I’m thinking…tag! TAG YOU’RE IT!” I tapped his shoulder and ran off, laughing. 

“I’m gonna get ya Y/N!” 

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anonymous asked:

*takes a long drag* *in deep gravely voice* "I've been on this hellsite for a long time, longer than you, kid. I've witnessed the rise and fall of the 'greats', though in the end you couldn't really call them greats. memefacturing, occult-mania, clown-names or whatever the hell their name was, and papatulus. It's a wonder I can even remember their names, let alone what they did. *takes another drag* The fate of funnymen are all the same, so heres a word of advice, kid. Don't be a fuckin asshole.

Me in 10 years.

Undeniable Heat Chapter 27: Leaving For Texas

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1250 Words

Story Summary:  You’ve just gotten a job as one of the makeup artists on the set of Supernatural. Nervous on the first day, you become completely awkward, winning the affection of the divorced Jensen Ackles. You try to fight your desire for him, but he thwarts you at every turn. Will you be able you separate work and play, or will you let Jensen win?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“You can stay in the car. I’ll head on up, pack a bag for both you and me, and be back down before you know it.” Jensen suggested as Cliff parked in front of your apartment complex. You hadn’t been here since that horrific night, and you looked towards the door with mixed feelings. You wanted to take Jensen up on his offer, staying away from the scene of the crime for as long as possible. But another part of you needed to get it over with, to see the damage that had been inflicted and to move on.

“No, I’ll come up. Besides, you don’t know where I keep everything.” You said, sliding off of the leather seat and standing while waiting for him to join you. You were already feel much stronger, back to your normal self, with just some soreness. Nothing that you couldn’t handle.

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Smoke

Prompt: Hi love!! I don’t know if you’re taking requests or even have the inspiration to write at the moment, but I was wondering if you could write a Theo imagine? About him coming back from hell and meeting the reader for the first time? And she sort of takes him in because she doesn’t truly know what he’s done or what he was like and he starts to fall for her but he has all these trust issues??Very fluffy too please!!! – Anon

Author’s Note: So, I had this idea to write this to Maddie & Tae’s song “Smoke.” I think it really fits, and I hope you do too. Hope you like what I came up with! Thanks for requesting!


Smoke.

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When the Ink Dries III

Rated: Explicit with a warning for self harm references.

Notes:  If you haven’t read the previous chapters, go here.  Also on Ao3.  This is (apparently) a novel length fic so you might want to set aside a minute.  Thank you @icedteainthebag for making me earn this one, @holdthiscat for speedy and insightful feedback and @gazeatscully for your endless encouragement and eagle’s eye proofreading.

****

Chapter 7

Stella Gibson didn’t make a habit of watching people sleep.  The last time she’d done it was years ago, a prolonged jag that resulted in the purchase of three new sets of bed sheets, a zealous effort to fight memory with thread count.  She’d traded one vice for another, would spend the rest of her life quietly indulging a weakness for pima cotton and crisp corners, a penchant for Italian linen and French embroidery.  But it would be a long time before she settled in beside someone to wait for their eyes to open, the sleep-boiled scent of peaceful slumber coming off their hair, the fragile spot on their neck pulsing with life.  There were some luxuries she simply couldn’t afford.

It still brought Stella a twinge of private embarrassment to recall it so well.  Bridget sleeping on her stomach, dark hair always parted around her pear-shaped ears, clinging to the mattress like a frog in a rainstorm with her lean swimmer’s leg zig-zagged across the mattress.  Stella would stay in bed tiptoeing her fingers up the crease of a quadricep, stroking an ear to its sylphan point.  And long after the woman was gone, the lightning bolt imprint of a leg split the bed down the center, the new sheets continued to bunch in an invisible hand – fleeting images mistakenly committed to permanence by an overly ambitious pair of eyes.  It was a nuisance but not a surprise.  The only other bedroom vigil she’d ever kept had left an even more indelible impression – a child standing graveside, puffy lavender rings sprouted like violets around her eyes, watching her father be put in the ground.

So by the time Stella woke up next to Dana Scully for the second time in her life, she was so practiced in her abstinence that it took hardly any discipline at all to direct the day’s first glance upward, aim her plans at the ceiling.  Shower alone.  Allow guest to wake and begin gathering own conclusions.  Emerge dressed, provide tea and friendly conversation, make end as forgettable as beginning was not.  

She licked her lips before turning over, sealing her resolve like an envelope.

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I hate the way we can’t just like or dislike things anymore. Everything has to be a debate. If you dislike a thing, you have to prove that it’s objectively bad, preferably by calling it whatever-ist or whatever-phobic. And if you like a thing, you better be prepared to defend that preference against people who’ll tell you it’s whatever-ist or whatever-phobic.

Screw that. I like things because I like them. I dislike things because I dislike them. I don’t have to justify anything if I don’t want to, and other people sure as hell don’t have to justify anything to me. It’s okay to like different things. That’s why the world is so full of stuff, so that there’s something in it for everyone.