#they're giving me so much moral support you have no idea

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

#harry potter #jk rowling #Youtube

[denwritesandcries]

Hold to my Hand – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x fem!reader

Summary: You might be a little – completely – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands and apparently she enjoys that a lot.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: cursing, fluff, kisses, slight jealousy, hazel being a loser AND a mess, soft gfs.

A/N: So… women, right? Women with rings and cold hands… right?

English is not my first language.

“Babe, stop that!”

“What?” You said, “I’m not doing anything.”

But you were.

You were sprawled out on your girlfriend Hazel's bed, a book from your English class abandoned in front of you while your girlfriend had a laptop open on her lap, the cute look of concentration from before replaced by red cheeks and nervousness at your actions.

It was no big deal, actually, your girlfriend was simply very easy to flustreat; you had one of her hands in yours, leaving feather-light kisses along her calloused, ring-covered fingers, sending goosebumps across her cold skin.

“You’re distracting me,” she whines, looking away to a random spot in the room, “I can’t type like this.”

You huff, climbing higher on the bed to be at her height, keeping your grip on her hand and glancing at the laptop screen.

“Boxing and wrestling techniques?” you read, letting your head fall to rest on her shoulder, “Will you really gonna start a fight club with Josie and PJ?”

Hazel immediately perks up, telling you all about the idea that she and the girls had at lunch – you're sure 80% of it must have come from PJ, but you don't have the courage to interrupt her – and how they're going to get along and have fun with this and Hazel will teach everyone self defense techniques. She looks so much like a happy puppy that it warms your heart.

Unfortunately, you can't give her full attention to the conversation, being too involved in the way she gestures to process anything else.

Okay, maybe you're a little – just a little – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands.

“...You sure you don't want to?”

“Huh?”

Hazel's voice snaps you out of your reverie and she's staring at you with bright, expectant blue eyes.

“Are you sure you don't want to join?” She repeats.

“Hm-hm,” you mumble.

“Please?” She asks softly, “For me?”

You look away from her, because there's no way to deny anything if you're looking at that needy dog face, and you keep yourself looking at the old judo and jiu-jitsu trophies that she keeps on the shelves in the big room.

She really wants you to be part of this, but you know PJ and Josie are probably only doing it because they want to fuck someone and Hazel because she wants to make more friends, but the most you'd get from this club would be a broken nose or tooth, so no, thanks.

“I can come to see you at meetings and give you moral support, love.”

It's not exactly what she wanted, but you know you won. Hazel completely softens the moment you call her love, every single time.

Hazel lets out a long dramatic sigh, giving up her laptop and turning to wrap her arms around you, burying her face in your neck.

“Fine, but you’ll definitely change your mind when the club finally starts!” She declares.

You scoff, sinking into her touch when you feel her hands spread on your hips beneath your shirt comfortably.

“Do you really want to get into this with those two, Haze?” Your question breaks the established silence, somewhat uncertain.

Your girlfriend unfortunately had a tendency to not notice or just not stand up for herself when someone was mean to her and PJ and Josie weren't exactly known for being gentle with people, so Hazel running something with them made you quite apprehensive. Of course, you wouldn't do anything to change her mind since it was something she really seemed to want to do, but a little caution wouldn't hurt.

“Oh, they know what they're doing, babe,” she squeezes you a little tighter, “They were in juvie!”

You laugh, “No, they weren't.”

“Still.”

You keep your word and start attending all the fight club meetings – under PJ's complaints that you're not really doing anything –, busying yourself with cheering Hazel on during her turns and talking to Mr.G about any nonsense stuff that he wants to speak in the stands. It's actually quite fun, but you don't change your mind about the fighting part.

You start bringing water bottles as a treat to the girls while you're there and take on the role of tending to all of Hazel's injuries when it's all over – which is a lot, since they don't really seem to know what they're doing in the moment –, you find yourself being very good at it and probably would have become the whole group personal nurse if it weren't for the possessive look in bright blue eyes and the sad pout on Hazel's face when she watched you wipe the blood from a cut on Brittany's cheek and put on one of the cute little band-aids that were supposed to be only for her one day.

Besides all that, the most important thing is that you have a free pass to admire your girlfriend as much as you want and she looks great kicking ass and throwing punches. Especially throwing punches.

In your defense, the obsession with your girlfriend's hands, your girlfriend’s touch, is actually justified. The thing is, you never had many friends since you came to this weird school and neither did Hazel, so when you got together everything in your relationship was a little new; you found yourself suddenly starving for contact.

Holding hands, playing with the rings on her fingers, pats on the shoulders, arms around the body, hugs, caresses. It was simply impossible not to be aware of every little touch that Hazel gives you, even less impossible not to melt with them.

So yes, maybe you liked it a little too much when Hazel came to you asking to bandage her bruised knuckles just because it gave you the chance to touch her as much as you wanted, like now, at home.

“Ouch!”

“Stop moving, Haze,” you complain as you apply the antiseptic to her, “This will only make it worse.”

“But it hurts,” Hazel whimpers, pulling her injured hand to her chest protectively.

She's sitting on the bathroom sink, which probably wasn't very safe, but it was the best way for you to treat her and also where the first aid kit you were using was kept.

Today's fight seems to have been a little more serious than usual because Hazel's dominant hand is hurt. Like really hurt, with purple bruises already forming over the torn skin, so your spare band-aids weren't enough to take care of it. Now, if she would just let you handle it properly.

“That's bad, you're lucky it didn't break,” you say, taking her hand more gently to examine it, “Damn, what did that blue-haired girl do to you to make this happen?”

Hazel stays quiet, suddenly embarrassed and looking at anything else as you wrap a clean bandage around the wound.

"Then?" You press.

Hazel mumbles something slurred and unintelligible and you frown, not knowing what could have made her so embarrassed. With how easily that happens tho, you didn't have a good guess.

“I heard her talking to some girls before the meeting today.” She pauses, “Talking about you.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to pull away a little so you can look her in the eyes, but Hazel closes her legs around your waist so you can’t move, “Saying bad things?”

She shakes her head and swallows, her blush deepening.

“She said that she likes it when you come to see us,” her good hand grabs the front of your shirt, “Said she wanted to ask you out.”

“Oh, Haze–” You begin.

“She knew we were dating. She knew. But she kept talking about it and I– I got mad, so I hit her.”

Hazel says it all quickly as if it were a single sentence, but you understand anyway; she is nervous, keeping her eyes closed and looking down. She was jealous, still is, but she's also scared of what you'll think of her for it.

Screw it, you think, it's a fight club, people are going to get hurt sometimes. Now it's time to comfort your girlfriend.

“You beat the shit out of a girl for me?” You say, taking the bandaged hand gently and bringing it to your lips, “That’s hot.”

Hazel's face is so red it glows, “Babe,” she squeals.

"What?" You tease, leaving smacking kisses from fist to wrist, “She should know better than to say things like that for you to hear, how rude.”

Hazel’s pupils are dilated when her eyes meet yours, “You’re serious?”

“Hmm,” you hum, leaving a mark of lip gloss on her skin, “Like I would leave the best girlfriend in the world for someone else like that.”

She squirms in your grip, swallowing hard and trying to keep from stuttering and you can't help the giggle that escapes as you notice a shiver run through her.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she whines.

“I’m not,” you shrug, innocently, “I’m just kissing it better.”

You think Hazel never really realized the effect her touch has on you until one day at the library.

There's no club meeting today, so when you make your way to the library after your last class, your girlfriend follows along beside you excitedly, rambling about her day and waving your hands together as you walk down the halls.

You had to study for a history test, so you find a table in the back where you like to stay while Hazel looks for a book nearby to entertain herself.

You just spend less than an hour focusing on memorizing dates and names your teacher sent to the next test before your ears pick up the clink of Hazel's rings against the antique wood of the table.

Your gaze shifts away without even realizing it, focusing on Hazel's drumming and immersed expression.

“Have any of your rings ever fallen off?” You ask with sudden curiosity, even after months together this had never occurred to you.

“Huh?” She lifts her head, “Oh, yes. Lots of them.”

Hazel stops for a moment to check it and adjust some looseness and you gently take the hand with the ring you gave her, running your thumb over the silly little smiley face plastered on it.

“I never take that one off,” she smiles.

“I noticed,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up, “You might end up breaking your finger over this, you know? Or someone’s nose.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Hazel snorts.

“Sorry, love,” you lean across the table closer to her, looking between the plastic ring, “I just gave that to you as a silly joke.”

Hazel tilts her head, that confused and bit sad puppy expression back on her face.

“Yeah?”

You nod, “One day I’ll give you a real one, with a real gem,” You can feel Hazel staring at you, her jaw is probably dropped, but you settle for shaking her hand, “A blue one. Will suit you.”

“You think so?” She sighs.

“Of course,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll give you the most beautiful one, the first one everyone will notice when they look at you.”

You look up to find Hazel. Just Hazel. With soft eyes, bright smile and hands full of rings.

There were moments – moments like this – when it felt like there were only the two of you in the world, when you couldn't see or feel anything but Hazel and you drowned in her completely.

Taking a deep breath, she leans over the table, hand letting go of yours to slide down your arm. You swear your skin crawls.

“Babe?” Hazel calls; you notice how she keeps her voice low for fear of ruining the moment, even though she's so clearly nervous.

You open your mouth and nothing comes out, the touch on your skin is cold but it feels like it's burning you from the inside out. What did you come here to do in the first place?

Hazel leans back under the forgotten book and you grab her wrist when she moves to keep her close.

“I– I would like that,” she says, eyes wide and face flushed, “Sounds good, I mean.”

"You deserve it. You deserve this and more, love,” You’re not really sure what ‘more’ is, especially for someone who can buy anything they want like Hazel. Maybe it’s all she wanted, all you could offer her; maybe it’s just you.

Hazel squeezes your hand, leaning in closer and running her thumb over your knuckles so gently that the noise you make is embarrassing. You think she's going to kiss you and maybe she would have, if it weren't for the angry shush! coming from the librarian near the bookshelves next to you two.

She only mentions it days later, when you're back in her bed, curled up in a familiar way while Hazel scrolls through her phone.

Her fingers are running through your hair, almost lulling you to sleep and you feel like you could do the same as the cat at the foot of the bed and melt into a purring puddle under her touch.

“You have a thing for my hands,” she comments out of nowhere, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere, a giggle in her tone.

“What?” You ask confused, using your arms to lean against her chest, “I do not.”

You know it's not true, but denying it is better than admitting something like that. Hazel gives you a look; she knows you better than that.

“But you do,” Hazel turns you in her arms and you let out a surprised squeak at the action when she finds yourself on top of you.

You shake your head, refusing to give in, but she runs her cold hands under your shirt, resting on the warm skin of your belly – this seems to be one of her favorite things to do.

“Jeez!” You hiss, “How can you be so cold all the time? You’re like a lizard.”

“Oh, I love lizards!”

“Haze!”

You squirm in her grip, but Hazel holds firm, an unusual confidence behind her actions.

“Admit it,” she asks with a smirk, “You have a thing for my hands.”

“I have a thing for you.”

The cocky little smile she has every time she touches you for the next week is totally worth it – and it's also totally kissable.

#hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #bottoms movie #hazel bottoms #denwrites

[kortsitron]

Valentine's day

✮ PARING Spiderverse × Gender Neutral! Reader (separate)

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS fluff

✮ SUMMARY Spider's and the Valentine's day

✮ A/N apologies if it's mostly like the most common things (literally never been on a fucking date, someone take me out)

Miguel O'hara

𖹭 I can definitely see Miguel as someone who didn't have much time for any romance for a long while before you came along. So he's awkward, on the inside he's a little worried that he might screw this up

𖹭 He texts you to tell you to get ready for a specific hour and that he's hoping to pick you up. After that, he'll be waiting for you with a bouquet of red roses. You can tell he's a little nervous

𖹭 He's taking you to a fancy restaurant for a dinner. He still might be a little nervous, but soon relaxes because he's with you.

𖹭 Soon, Miguel is smiling, laughing and joking. Forgetting about the multivariate and enjoying his time with you

𖹭 Miles is little nervous, he wants it to be perfect. He prays for that and also the fact that he doesn't need to save the city that day. If he has to, most likely will babble to the villain about how their running the very special day for him and might scold them just a bit

Miles Morales (Earth-1610)

𖹭 You've been together for a while, but while getting ready he has some doubts. He's scared he might forget your favorite things. He's just being paranoid

𖹭 For sure his mom and dad helped him with deciding what to get for you. And in the end, Miles gives you the biggest teddy bear he could find. Cheesy? Maybe a bit. But seeing the smile on your face when he gives you that teddy bear makes his heart skip a beat

𖹭 Besides that, he's going with some sweets and chocolate for you

𖹭 Definitely asks his mom for advice. And does everything he can to make sure his uncle doesn't take him out on a mission. It's Valentine's day, he doesn't want to have anything on his mind other than you

Miles Morales (Earth-42)

𖹭 The city can be quite dangerous without Spider-man in the universe, so he doesn't want to go out even though there's so much you two could do

𖹭 After some thinking and wondering, he decided to take you to his place and make some valentine cake with you. It's not much but he still thought it would a nice activity for the those of you

𖹭 For some reason he thought wearing a black shirt while baking was a good idea. So yes, he is all covered in flour, not only his shirt but also his face. You can't stop giggling whenever you look at him

𖹭 Miles can't help while stare as you decorate the cake, seeing you focused gives him butterflies. 

𖹭 When most of the time Hobie can found on protest or in the pub, you won't find him there that day. It's Valentine's day, he's not just gonna leave you alone on that day.

Hobie Brown

𖹭 He's not supportive of capitalism, so everything he gives you is handmade. For example, have you seen those cute diys on Instagram or Tiktok? You can expect something along those lines. 

𖹭 That said, expect him to give you handmade bouquet of roses and some handmade cookies. They're a little messy, but still hella cute

𖹭 He doesn't really mind doing anything specific. If you wanna stay in bed and cuddle, he's in. Want a romantic dinner? Only at the local restaurant, so he can support the person, but still really into it! Anything you want, he's just happy to make his special person happy

𖹭 Pavitr asks you to be his Valentine's almost like a kid – with a handmade Valentine card

Pavitr Prabhakar

𖹭 He's a big ball of energy on the Valentine's day. He's just happy to spend this day with you!

𖹭 He's taking you out to the cinema, that's for sure, and then takes you home so you can eat a little romantic dinner.

𖹭 He got some cute little decorations, so the mood is even more romantic. So of them he made himself while others are store bought.

𖹭 He cooked it all by himself, with a little help from his auntie. He asked her for help because he wanted the food to be perfect. Besides, his aunt helped him also because she likes you.

𖹭 Instead of typical bouquet, Pavitr's gonna give you a bouquet made of sweets and jellies.

#marvel #spiderman #spider man across the spider verse #hobie brown across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #gender neutral reader #gender neutral language #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miles morales #miles morales 1610 #miles morales x reader #miles g morales #miles g morales x reader #miles morales 42 #valentines day #headcanons #fluff

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts

[dhampling]

I've had this idea in my head ever since I first played as a Dragonborn or Tiefling in BG3, and I have no idea why it isn't discussed more. But what if a Tiefling! (Or Dragonborn, whichever you prefer) Tav shows affection by coiling their tail around their s/o? Like they're close by and are just overwhlemed with love and adoration, and their tail just kinda wraps around their lovers leg? Or wrist or anywhere they can reach! Like Tav is hugging Astarion and then without really realizing it, their tail coils around him as well? Idk, I just think the concept is super sweet/cute. I would love to see this as a small story, or even just head cannons if you want to explore the idea as well. No pressure, obviously, ignore it if you wish to ❤️ hope you're doing well!

a tail of... insert pun here! tavs with TAILS. tails with tav. tav tails with dal.

hello sweetling! can i start by saying that i loved this - genuinely, absolutely loved this. i started by writing HCs and got a bit carried away, so i hope you enjoy the little bit of both here! thank you for giving me something different - this is absolutely not something i'd have thought of and i had SO MUCH FUN. a/n: species isn't mentioned, and I've tried to keep it as generic as possible so it could be applicable for tiefs or dragonborn tavs!

headcanons;

As far back as you can recall you’ve been particularly expressive

It’s not something that you’ve ever seen as an issue, beyond the occasional mishap you can laugh over with any tail-whipped parties later

Frantic little licks of excitement when playing with your peers as a youngling come to mind as an immediate example

Running amok and jumping with the widest of smiles as your tail oscillates behind you

Your family chiding you playfully whilst rubbing their stinging ankles after a particularly jovial day in your presence

Your parents holding you whilst you were still small enough to be held

Your tail bony and light, and yet tightly winding around their forearms as you rested on their torso like a twisting vine

A sign of comfort, safety

A sign that hasn’t lost any significance as you’ve aged

Many a time you’ve run into an old friend and accidentally lashed them in sheer glee, loosely wrapping your tail to whichever limb you can to keep them close as you agree to wander the local bustling market together

And so when you begin to bond with your fellow escapists as you search for a cure for your unfortunate parasite problem, it’s inevitable

It doesn’t even cross your mind

Not until the day where everything just went right 

For the first time since your abduction you’ve emerged your battles all victorious, casualties kept to a minimum, and with enough variety in supplies to have a proper meal 

Spirits are high, wine is flowing; and your party has a real energy of optimism

Your tail flitters back and forth like a moth to a flame as your take to your feet and search for the one who has captured your attention

fool's errand;

It takes Astarion a little aback when the wine steers you towards him.

A few weeks in each others’ presence, sure. A night or two; possibly three, maybe even four at this point, of mutual enjoyment under the stars. Frequent back and forth exchanges while on the road, bantering like old friends. You give him your neck, he offers you moral support.

But on a night where the joy is positively spilling from every cup in camp, you step to him?

He’s unsure whether to be flattered or cautious.

If you’re to end your arrangement, surely tonight - where the conversation is so effusive, so effortless across your party - would be the optimal time to do so. Laugh it away as a lapse in judgement between ‘old friends’, as you often joke, and drift from him to a more viable prospect as the coming days pass. Leave him as the least amicable in camp once more. He’d understand.

Not that he’d like it.

But he’d understand.

Or, he’d try to. He might be a little upset if Lae’zel wins Lady Congeniality over him, but it’s not the end of the world.

He’d have to hope the group still would still want to keep him around of course. Be a little nicer to Gale. Offer to help Karlach carry your packs between camps. 

What is he offering you if not his nimble fingers? Maybe he went too hard on gunning for you. Or not hard enough, perhaps?

You quirk a brow as you snap your fingers in his face, wine sloshing gently in your other hand.

Clearly his face is now showing his displeasure.

“You ok? Hello?”

“Oh! Yes, my sweet. Lost in thought.” 

He waggles his fingers and lifts his goblet to toast alongside yours. To new friends.

“I must say - you being lost in thought is entirely unusual. Still wondering about the left handed tongs Gale sent you searching for earlier?” You laugh warmly. He scowls.

“I don’t eat! I haven’t eaten for two hundred years. What use would I have for tongs in a dungeon, darling?’

He sips.

‘A fool’s errand in very poor taste, if you ask me.”

You still. He pauses.

He’s feeling sour, and he’s ruined it for you. Sapped the joy from your evening. Gods.

He wracks his brain for ways he can come back into favour. 

Suggest other things he’d like to taste in order to clear his palate. He hasn’t eaten in two hundred years, and he’s absolutely famished. Whet your appetite a little. Win you back round.

“I can hear your brain whirring, you know.” You whisper, leaning close.

He freezes. Can you see it? Through the tadpole? His horrid scheming?

And you do the most unexpected thing.

Your arms come around his torso to envelop him in a tight hug.

You aren’t fervently clutching at his waist, running fevered hands over his abdomen or pulling yourself close just to feel his body against yours.

It’s soft. Clandestine almost. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“I do so adore you, you know? You make this sordid little adventure a little more enjoyable each day.’ 

You hum. Your head falls to his chest, your tail wrapping around his leg steadily.

‘You can talk to me about these things if you want to. If you figure out what you want to say. I’m here.”

He wouldn’t have anticipated a single one of your actions in the face of his sullen behaviour this evening.

Yet the one that touches him most is the tail now secure around his leg. 

A reminder of every tired day you flit joyously against him as you trek together, the curiosity and jubilee when he powers through a wholly trapped room with nothing but a single tool and a flourish - for good measure, of course.

Your little happy whips as you stumble on dire-needed pouches of gold alongside him. His lockpicking skill that you find oh-so enthralling, providing for the party in making use of his talent.

And every once in a while when you’re aside him, the way this happens.

A moment that reminds him of the beauty within bodies past their use for sexuality. How genuinely happy those little mindless touches make him. How his undead heart could maybe be cajoled into beating again over this one.

He coughs. Smiles. Brings his arms around you, though delayed.

Head resting atop yours. 

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you, treasure?”

Your tail flits against his leg in a happy shiver.

“Naturally, darling.”

You imitate him in a way that makes you both laugh like fools. Toast once again.

"To us."

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #my writing #headcanons #tavs with tails #request #thank you anon i love you!

[joesalw]

I spent $3k on eras tour tickets and like god knows how much on my stupid costume. I've made so many bracelets and I have a permanent tattoo on my leg of a line from august. as much as I haven't ever really liked it, I'm known for being a swiftie. I didn't like matty healy at all and was kind of part of the speakupnow movement without knowing it (lol), and I was really excited for this album as an english major. for that to be what I got? I've never really gotten along with other swifties, and I've said on multiple occasions that my experience as a swiftie has been incredibly isolating (even despite spending $3k on tickets and collecting most vinyls) but god, I don't think that I'm crazy when I say that some of these people are wild if they think that this album was a #girlboss move.

you guys have talked a lot about the other songs so I won't go over it again, as entertaining as it is, but one of the songs I haven't seen a whole lot of negative discussion about is but I can do it with a broken heart. babe. how are you going to promote that song (with awful lyrics btw) with videos of the eras tour and flashing to the crowd during the line "but the crowd was chanting MORE!" like I'm sorry I expected you to do your job at a concert I spent $3k trying to attend? how does making your audience feel guilty for trying to support you help you in any way, shape, or form? obviously I think she's allowed to feel poked and prodded at and overexposed bc I'm sure it was difficult, but also I can't feel sorry for her after shit like guilty as sin?.

anyways I pre-ordered a vinyl bc I thought "old habits die screaming" and I have to print out a return label for it now, haha. I haven't even opened the box yet, that album was so bad.

This is so valid because why are you crying that your fans expect you to do your job properly for the money they spent on your show???? Most of her fans even go feral with the bare minimum she does. And it's not the fans fault that she decided to do a 3 hours long show for 3 days per week. It was her own idea and own decision. Even though I agree that her fans are spoilt sometimes because they keep asking for more content the more she gives them, but again who made them like this in the first place? She! Nobody asked for an album in the middle of her tour with 16 wait 31 songs but she's dropping it it's like she can't stop feeding her fans. But at the same time she's complaining that they want more from her. And she's also complaining that the fans ruined her relationship like "sorry if you decide to have a moral compass that goes against me and my racist pretty baby boyfriend you are not my well wisher!" That's pretty much what she said and I think she did her fans so bad with this album. But they're still defending her with their lives, idk both swifties and taylor deserve each other at this point!

#anti taylor swift #anti swifties

[autistic-beshelar]

Hey! I'm very interested in what you've told me about antisocial personality disorder, neurodivergence, and empathy vs. compassion so far. I would love to hear more!

hi, sorry this has taken me a bit to get to, i've had a hectic few days, and i knew i'd end up writing a lot!

ASPD:

i'll start by saying that i don't have ASPD, so i'm just going to give the basics and hand you off to people who DO have it. it's important to bear in mind that ASPD is primarily considered traumagenic, and that, like any other disorder, it can manifest in a bunch of different ways, and people with it can behave very differently from one another.

ASPD is a cluster b personality disorder characterised by low empathy, limited range and depth of emotions, disregard for other people's feelings, disregard for societal conventions and morality, chronic anger, and chronic boredom. the common view of pwASPD is that they are violent criminals, but that is primarily because research is only ever done on the worst kinds of people, and i'm sure many of them are misdiagnosed. i'm sure i don't need to explain to you why basing a disorder solely off of people in prison is fucked as a concept, given how both the prison system and psychiatry are both incredibly flawed. (it's also for this reason that i have no scientific studies to give you, because the only ones i've come across are grossly ableist)

having ASPD comes with a lot of challenges, but having a disorder - any disorder - doesn't make you a bad person. from what i have seen, a lot of pwASPD don't so much 'not have morals' as have a deep distrust of authority and base their morality on logic or serving their own interests. in fact i've seen an awful lot of pwASPD who are very left leaning or are anarchists. of course there's also plenty who are right wing assholes, but that kind of goes to show that a disorder doesn't dictate your morality, it just might lead you to approach your sense of morality differently.

ASPD resources, from actual pwASPD:

https://shitborderlinesdo.tumblr.com/post/115096247519/the-anti-social-personality-disorder-checklist

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/your-stories/life-with-antisocial-personality-disorder-aspd/ (cw for mention of csa)

https://inanawesomewave.tumblr.com/post/177638772232/the-bones-of-it

EMPATHY:

my favourite thing to rant about. empathy is wildly misunderstood by most people, so let's start off with a proper description. there are two main types of empathy: cognitive and affective. you will also see some people say that there's a third type, 'compassionate empathy', but i have never seen a definition of it that isn't based on the idea that empathy is necessary for compassion, so i'm ignoring it, and i'll get to compassion later.

cognitive empathy: basically, thinking about feeling. cognitive empathy is the ability to recognise and understand emotions. it is involved with reading people's expressions, or understanding why a certain situation might cause a certain emotional response.

affective empathy: this is typically what people mean when they talk about empathy - the ability to feel what someone else is feeling.

it's extremely important to note that this is fucking impossible. 'feeling what someone else is feeling' is some sci-fi nonsense. it isn't real. the belief that it is causes a lot of harm.

affective empathy, properly defined, is the a person's emotional response to an emotion that they perceive someone else having. it isn't always as simple as 'i'm happy because they're happy'. affective empathy can also be involved in more complicated situations, like feeling afraid because of perceived anger (which leads to a whole conversation about hyperempathy and hypervigilance and the relationship between them, but that's a whole other post that someone who actually has feelings would be more qualified to write)

so that's empathy. it's really just a bunch of feelings that we have about or in relation to other people's feelings. there's no moral component to feelings whatsoever. morality only comes into play when action is involved. which leads me to...

compassion: being kind, not as an inherent state of being, but as a choice.

i'll talk about my own experience here, but i've heard similar from other people with low/no empathy, and i've heard similar from some pwASPD as well.

i choose to be kind because i believe it's the right thing to do. i see a lot of injustice in the world, and it makes me furious - in fact, for me, it's primarily my anger that fuels my compassion. my morals have been based partly on feeling, but also on logic, and on a lot of research. to me, being kind is logical and sensible. it's logical to want people to be happy and safe and free. it benefits me too, for starters.

i don't need to feel sad about people's suffering to want it to stop. and though i don't really feel much empathy, i do still get emotional about things - i can still be sad or angry or happy about certain things happening, it's just... less than other people.

i look at the world around me and i try to find things that i can do to make it better because i think that's my job as a human. sometimes i'm bad at it, and sometimes i'm too tired to, but at the very least i can refuse to cause harm, and when i do, inevitably, cause harm, i can make amends.

(there's also a long discussion to be had about how basing your morality on your ability to empathise with people makes it extremely easy to no longer care about people who have been dehumanised, but that's a post i don't feel qualified to make)

a book i am desperate to read on this subject is Against Empathy by Paul Bloom, but here's an article about it, which is of course not perfect, but makes a lot of interesting points: https://www.vox.com/conversations/2017/1/19/14266230/empathy-morality-ethics-psychology-compassion-paul-bloom

i hope that helps explain some things. if you have - or anyone else has - more questions, feel free to ask, and i'll do my best to answer.

#empathy #low empathy #politics #kind of #autistic #actually autistic #there's a lot more i could say tbh but lets leave it there or i'll write an entire essay. with chapters #also i've used pwASPD because i usually see person first language used for personality disorders #and it's not my place to use identity first if that's not the community consensus #but pls let me know if you are ASPD/ are someone with ASPD (or another PD) and have thoughts or feelings on this #identity first vs person first is sth that's interesting to me #disability #ableism

[wannabepapa]

I see you’ve been reboggling a lot of old asks from me which has also gotten my brain juice flowin like

Lately I’ve been thinking about roommates who bond over a pregnancy. A one night stand or a surrogacy, doesn’t really matter, all we care about are the roomies who are now stuck in this fun situation of finding a new groove. Bonus points if the pregnant one gets big and uncomfy quick, leading to far far more late night rendezvouses.

The way I picture it, it starts with your typical incredibly awkward “I gotta come clean about something” scenario, with roomie B expecting a broken appliance or a forgetting power bill, but certainly not a pregnancy! Then as roomie A grows, they get needy, which sends roomie B into overdrive. Late night pizza runs become a regular occurrence, waking up way too early to hold their roommates hair, sitting up at night cause roomie A thinks they felt a kick and wants witnesses.

Then break happens, they go home, and when roomie A comes back they’re HUGE, which changes everything. Suddenly they need so much more to be comfy, and roomie B begins to realize just how much they like being there for their pal. They spend all afternoon at school just to come home and both collapse into the same twin bed, using the other bedroom as storage because who needs it? Sharing is caring after all. Roomie B is there to hold roomie A when they’re sobbing at a ghibli film or some advertisement about sad animals, they’re there to help with anything academic or physical, they’re driving their expectant buddy to and from appointments now that they’ve outgrown the drivers seat.

Bajshxjhshxhs it is 5 am and this ask is ridiculously long winded but I am tired and sappy and obsessed with this idea and thought you’d like it okie bye

uh hello???????? you have left this beauty of an ask in my inbox?????? Marin i am kissing your forehead right now.

roommate B has had nothing but terrible experiences with past roommates so when A comes to confess something they brace themselves for a problem. it's expected, especially when A looks anxious and worried before spilling the secret. the last thing that B would have ever expected was to be living with someone who was going to have a baby. they don't hate babies but they never hung out with people who had children of their own. it was going to be a learning curve to say the least.

the roommates were never close in the beginning, keeping to themselves as they had only recently roomed together but now they find themselves in each other's space. A has asked for help in the morning because the nausea makes it tough to function early in the morning so B is on kitchen duty. B tends to do a lot of the clean up now to give their roomie a break in the first trimester. it's only fair that someone does the bulk of the housework when A is creating a whole person over the course of nine months!

B is also in this weird "I'm not the parent of this child but I feel responsible for A and this child" state of mind that is confusing to them. they don't know why their brain has latched onto being the caretaker for a pregnant person but whatever A asks for, they get. A is feeling cold and wants to borrow a blanket? it's put in the dryer so it's extra warm. it's two am and they have an intense craving for pizza, but only the pizza at this shop that is an hour away? yeah just let B get dressed and get coffee in them before they take the drive. they don't want to be sitting alone at their doctor's appointment and want moral support? of course B will be driving them to and from every appointment now so they don't have to be alone. A meekly knocks on the bedroom door and says the baby needs a cuddle? get in under the covers and pick a movie! it's this perfectly platonic relationship that both just don't acknowledge but now all of their family and friends wonder if they're dating.

when they have to go home for their respective holidays there are definitely tears shed by A. it's seventy-five percent hormones and twenty-five percent not wanting to be away from B for weeks on end. they're ending their second trimester right now and terribly needy. the roomies have forgone sticking to each other's rooms to alternating every few days—it's become their routine. A also worries that something catastrophic will happen and B will force them to move out which B shuts down immediately. they're stuck with each other now whether they liked it or not. this comfortable thing the roomies have with each other is too precious to B for it to ever cross their mind to end it. A has become more than a friend, they've become a companion that has made their days more exciting ever since they got close. it isn't long after A is dropped off at the airport (with more tears shed) and B not even out of the parking structure that a text is sent that reads "we already miss you :c"

they talk every day of the break. A leaves no details of the crazy antics sprinkle (the baby has a thing for funfetti cake and B said they were probably a sprinkle now so it stuck) has been up to and complaining how cold it was where their family lives. they've sent many a selfie where they were hidden under piles of blankets or bundled up in multiple layers of warm clothes with a pouty lip and silly quip about how nobody does the dryer trick here like B does. it's too cute for B to handle. the weeks drag on for eternity to their dismay, their mind straying to how their gravid friend was doing.

to make matters worse A was stuck for an extra week due to a surprise blizzard that grounded all planes going in and out of the state. that was nearly a month apart and it drove B mad. too much time has been spent away from A and there was going to be hell to pay if this new flight would be canceled. if they were stuck any longer with their parents A wouldn't be cleared to fly, leaving them with no other choice but driving hours back down. B would have gone up there themselves to bring A back if it was necessary but to their happiness there were no cancelations and A was in route back home. B couldn't pick them up—work had switched schedules without asking—so they sent a friend to go to the airport for pick up. luckily A would already be home by the time B was off work so they wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

B never considered how fast someone grew in their final months of pregnancy. A's clothes still hide the bump before they left. now, walking into the apartment, B could do nothing except stare at their roommate. A hadn't grown, but popped in the last month since they were apart! there was an undeniable swell that tented A's shirt, their stance wider as they waddled to the door to greet B with a watery grin. the bump is pressed between them which makes it impossible to really hug while making it hard for B to not plaster their hands on the belly. the baby takes the opportune moment to shift between them as they were clearly unhappy about being squished. A chuckles at the movement but B is completely losing it.

after that they don't really stay apart for long. they're very, very close to one another at every second of the day just to revel in the fact that the baby will be born soon. A likes to complain about the pains from the movements of the nugget but they will actually miss it. B, however, has made it loud and clear how they'll miss being able to cuddle up with the belly and feel the nugget move. though both are equally excited to meet the little kicker that they've been waiting nearly ten months to hold.

#;ask and ye shall receive #darling marin #domestic things #platonic friends

[metamatar]

ok so i am very much uninformed on politics, i decided at a younger age that i wasn't interested in it and therefore would not read or keep myself particularly informed about it. obviously this is a bad idea, and i want to change and keep myself informed on actual politics and well, abstract[?] (wrong word but cannot think of another, basically mean like. knowing which political .. stance ?? [idk. like marxist or communist or whatever] i might be.) ones as well. what's a good place to get started here? where do i look for actual politics going on in india since i'm pretty sure ndtv or whatever isn't exactly the best source? or maybe it is? idk, like i said i'm pretty uninformed on the matter but would like to learn more

so one thing is, in india you have to accept the media landscape is just dire because being a journalist with integrity is a bit like signing up to have your life ruined. all major media has been bought by hindutva already. what you have to do is more learn to read between lines, understand people's motivations, which is a matter of practice. a good way to start is to read analysis (not news reports) of the same incident in different media and you'll start noticing patterns. even more important imo is to talk and bounce ideas with a friend at a similar place as you or someone interested in politics who won't overwhelm you with their perspective. you can try online but idt its safe or advisable anymore to do that experiment online. i had debate club in university (sad) and some socialist reading groups (better) after. the thing is this journey to self education is kind of personal and im also not pedagogically oriented or trained? so lots of first person description instead of prescriptions.

i still check what's up on ndtv because it gives me a good pulse of what english language media and liberals are thinking. major newspapers i scan hindu and the indian express sometimes. online i have a look at newslaundry (also has some youtube content) and the wire, they're reader supported and haven't turned full hindutva yet. i read longer form things in the caravan and epw, but these are subscription based. i keep tabs on the latest round of hindutva fake news when alt news debunks it.

for the abstract things, i literally did an online course bc i was frustrated by what all the liberal arts grads seemed to already agree on. i did ian shapiro's moral foundations of politics which is available online as both youtube lectures and a textbook. if you want to go that route feel free but it's not necessary, you can also try to read the entries on wikipedia or stanford encyclopedia of philosophy (more expertise) when you encounter something unfamiliar and build up like that. podcasts like bbc in our time will often interview academics to give intros to many political philosophy concepts and thinkers. whatever your learning style supports! i think the important thing is to find something you are actually interested in, and take that tack. i like history, so i might read books about historical revolutions or historical forms of organising society or listen to podcasts like mike duncan's revolutions.

For communism the usual starting points are these very short pamphlets:

Principles of Communism by Engels

The Manifesto of the Communist Party by Marx

Wage-Labor and Capital by Marx

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Engels

feel free to ask for more specific questions!

#asks

[jedi-enthusiast]

Did you ever see that trailer for that SWTOR expansion Legacy of the Sith? It was one of the most anti-Jedi things I have ever seen in my life and painted them as being no better than then Sith, and that made me so mad!

No, I haven't seen it and---at this point---I'm going with the "canon is what I decide, fuck you Disney" way of consuming any new Star Wars media.

George Lucas created Star Wars and the Jedi, and he was very fucking clear that the Jedi were the good guys---so I know that, above all else, I'm right when I say that the Jedi were good. I know that, whatever anyone else says, the Jedi were moral and good and they were doing their best in a shitty situation where they just could not win.

Which means that all of the other stuff that's coming out where people are leaning into the edgy "everyone's actually evil, and there's no good in the world, and good guys can never actually be good because who would actually ever be selfless and kind????" narrative that's, for some reason, gotten so popular nowadays---I'm either ignoring it or taking it with copious amounts of salt.

That Legacy of the Sith expansion? Ignoring it.

Acolyte? I might just watch it so I can hate on it, but honestly I'll probably just ignore it.

The Ahsoka show? I'll watch it, but my expectations are very low.

Etc. Etc.

People can say whatever they want about my doing this, but honestly---thanks to Disney handing over a vast amount of creative control to people who don't actually give a fuck about Star Wars and people like Filoni, who's now just pulling shit out of his ass to lift up his OCs--- with the newer stories and timelines and shit, you almost have to make up your own reasons for why things are happening/why certain characters are doing/saying things.

Take Bo-Katan for example and how the writers are portraying her in the Mandalorian.

----------

They're completely ignoring the fact that she was a member of Death Watch (a violent terrorist organization), that she had a hand in her sister's death (since she did help Maul alongside Visla, even though she was vocal about not wanting to/thinking it was a bad idea), or that she even fucking had a sister.

So now, since all of that is happening, you have to figure out for yourself why, in-universe, Bo-Katan is ignoring all of that---and that's obviously going to be colored by whether you like her or not.

Is she ignoring that she was a member of Death Watch because she thinks it doesn't matter/wasn't a big deal/wasn't bad? Or is she doing it because she can't face the guilt she feels over having been apart of it?

Is she ignoring that she had a hand in her sister's death because she doesn't really think she was responsible, since she vocally didn't support helping Maul? Or, again, is it out of guilt?

Is she not mentioning Satine because she wants to erase the fact that Mandalore was successfully peaceful for decades under Satine's rule until she [Bo-Katan] fucked it up and basically kicked off the whole "Mandalore basically dying/hanging on by a thread" thing, so she doesn't want anyone to know that? Or is it because she's still filled with so much grief and guilt that mentioning Satine is literally painful for her?

You have to make those assumptions and those decisions, because the writers just don't give a fuck anymore.

----------

So, with that in mind, everything that George Lucas didn't have a hand in, especially regarding the Jedi? I'm taking it as a suggestion, and a suggestion only.

#star wars #sw prequels #the clone wars #the mandalorian #george lucas #bo katan kryze #satine kryze #darth maul #pro jedi #pro jedi order #in defense of the jedi

[piosplayhouse]

This didn’t quite fit into my response to the mpreg survey, but I’ve been thinking about it and wanted to mention it to you somewhere— I’ve noticed that a lot of mpreg content has a passive or even overtly pro-life stance. The most dramatic outliers are what stick with me ofc (I once read a fic where Shen Jiu said he wouldn’t get an abortion because “he’s not a child murderer”. The irony.) but for they most part it’s just a subtle slant. Do you think this is caused by the fact that, by the plot’s necessity, they gotta force their blorbo to have that baby (inserting moral objections to abortion like a horror movie inserts reasons for cell phones not to work)? Do you think that people with that belief set are more likely to have a pregnancy kink? Do you have other ideas for causes I’m not considering?

Ok I can only speak to things I've read and other responses I've seen (that fic sounds so ?????) so I do have to say the majority of things I've read (esp in scum villain) are mostly pro choice leaning where if a character gets pregnant they're given the chance to abort and usually don't take it (insert sy voice binghe I would never abort you) (however I do remember reading a wangxian fic where lwj drives his coworker wwx to a clinic to get an abortion (pre wangxian relationship) because lwj wanted to support wwx in his decision bc lwj was horrified that his mother was never given a choice on whether or not she wanted to be a mother and suffered a lot because of that, which was a really interesting subversion on the topic I think)

There is a trend I've seen in the responses to the poll where some people appreciate mpreg as a genre that takes bodily autonomy to a sort of emphasized issue, particularly outside of omegaverse/transfic (responses on whether or not people see trans pregnancies as mpreg were actually pretty even from all demographic groups) where there's this heightened sense of unexpectedness and urgency to the idea of pregnancy. As far as I know, there are a nonzero amount of people who use this framework to work through their own issues with a sense of detachment-- for example, many people mentioned having pro-life family members in real life who are pressuring them to get pregnant, and they like mpreg that either subverts that idea (what if a character was given the space to get pregnant on their own terms with full family support) or portrays it to an extreme (what if a character was being forced to not abort) but from the safe distance of fiction where they can just pull away whenever things get too real. It gives them a sense of agency and control over a situation that in real life they don't have control over, similar to how a lot of trauma kinks work.

Of course, there are equal numbers of people who are vehemently uncomfortable with that as well, so that should be considered too. On a broader demographic level, since much of fandom skews (unfortunately) American, there's also of course the probability that a lot of people have just grown up with heavy evangelical pro-life beliefs/influences, and this either consciously or subconsciously affects the way they view pregnancy as a topic. In terms of the actual heavy pro-life evangelicals, I think the majority of them would be opposed to mpreg on the basis of lgbt topics (lol) but it has been long speculated that quiverfull movement and adjacent adherent people do have some form of pregnancy kink that unfortunately they work out in real life on real children rather than in fiction, based on how they treat their coming baby/themselves while pregnant versus how they actually treat their children when they come out (unfortunately very poorly in most cases)

Anywayy that's all kind of speculation, but I hope that helps a little bit. There are always people with a billion different reasons for everything, and it would be impossible to capture those all in the span of a Tumblr ask response, but I hope this gives you something to chew on! If anyone else would like to add things to this feel free to reply or reblog or send another ask with your thoughts, it would be much appreciated :)

#tw mpreg #mpreg #tw abortion #abortion #long post #long posts

[mintmoth]

Speaking of smiling Jamil, there's not a thing on this earth that makes me happier than the art on the Groovified version of his fairy gala card I need it so bad I just want the fairy gala event in the en version please and thank 😭 Do you have a favorite card either of the Scarabia boys or a different one? Also I really like how Kalim and Jamil's dorm cards tell two sides of the same event 🥺😂

OH MAN THE FUCKING CARD ART

I'm tagging this as spoilers but also heads up to anyone who doesn't have that term muted, I'm going to be posting groovy card art and rambling about it!

REAL TALK I LOVE WHEN THE CARDS MATCH UP- be it matching art or two sides of the same story- OH MY GOD like so many of the ceremonial robes cards having some little tie in about poor Malleus having no idea why everyone is dressed up 😭😭 it's just so fun seeing the different aspects

LIKE THIS IS ADORABLE ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

As for a favorite card in general? That's a tough one honestly, so much of the art is just such a good depiction of the characters- especially when it's cards with interactions

But as far as the Scarabia boys go-

I ADORE both of Jamil's birthday cards, like in the first one he looks so endearingly embarrassed and uncomfortable, and in the second like, he's having a great time- maybe not literally but come on he looks like he's having so much genuine FUN I absolutely love it

It's also a big part of why I am so excited for the fairy gala event, because not only is everyone gorgeous but everyone gets to genuinely have a bit of a good time and you get to see them smiling and laughing and I'm just 😭😭😭

Also not groovy art but shout out to Jamil's beans day outfit since it's just a great look for him?? Like he's so genuinely cool??

Also special shout out to these two because they're also so cool 😭 I'm so excited for Halloween lmao

BUT speaking of Kalim

LIKE THESE ARE BOTH SO GOOD?? His groovy dorm uniform art is GORGEOUS and he's just so PRECIOUS, and for the fairy gala he's having such a good time and the colors are lovely like 😭😭😭 kid's makin me cry come on

Also I adore Kalim's culinary card, he's just doing his best and looks SO distressed, idk it's really cute and I want to help him- even if it's only giving moral support because he needs to learn how to do things himself lmao

#i have TONS of other favorites but tumblr limits the amount of pictures i can put in the post lmao #ask #anonymous #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twst spoilers #long post

[astrofiish]

hmm I wonder who I should ask you about /silly I am genuinely curious on your Barnham characterization thoughts

Pick a character I am likely to have Feelings/Opinions about and I will give and explain the top five ideas/concepts/etc that I believe are essential to accurately depicting them.

HEHEHEHEHE ZACH BARNNNN I love that guy so much. Hes been through so much shit and hes being so so so gaslighted but he genuinely thinks hes doing the right thing. Idk hes so so compelling to me I really do wish that his story was actually explored more in game- he has a character arc of someone who learns to go against the norm and figures out that what he is doing is not good and incredibly immoral, but because they bench him for case 4, he really doesn't have the resolution that I feel should have been given to his character.

1. One of the top concepts that I feel is essential to depicting this guy (especially post-PLvsPW) is regarding how he perceives his status as a person. Hes an authoritative figure (even though hes left out of the Storyteller and Eves conversations, he's still a prosecutor and has power over the townspeople) and hes also famous in his own special Barnham Way TM (the townspeople fucking love him), but regardless of his fame hes very much "I do this for the whole town, instead of doing things for his own personal gain". Post Case 3 Barnham is fascinating to me because hes taking down the wall of his perceived status and doubting the system that hes very much a cog in the machine with, but I also love really exploring how that effects his relationships with the townspeople and how he thinks of himself. Like- for example, I feel that he would have a shit ton of imposter syndrome, especially because for so long he was considered a celebrity and he was held in very high importance. Post case 3 Barnham would be an overthinker, whos morals and ideas are crashing into each other SO so frequently, giving him a sort of identity crisis (which also continues into post-PLvsPW Barnham's story, especially after Labrelum's experiments are shut down)

THEREFORE I feel that a crucial part of post-PLvsPW Zacharias Barnham is understanding the consequences of doing the work to deconstruct the monarchy that he's been under and a part of for all of these years. Now that he knows that he's been left out of SO many conversations with Eve and The Storyteller, as well as also being mind wiped like his fellow civilians, he deserves to be really really fucking angry. And ofc all Labryinthian civilians deserve to be fucking angry at the Storyteller, but I wouldn't be surprised if Barnham took it VERY personally, especially because his judgements that he was handing down to people was ALSO a cog in the machine that he did not understand to the extent that he should have. To be fair, I do feel like if he did know about what was actually going on, and wasn't mindwiped, he would have said fuck this shit im out a long time ago.

I do feel like post PLvsPW he would feel more of an obligation to stay, because everyone is getting their memories back after such a long time of not having them, and they all need a lot of support. Zach Barn, although he is an authoritative figure in his own special way, would definitely want to help with getting the townspeople back on their feet. However, I do very much headcanon that he does eventually leave several years in the future- he no longer has the authority that he had before, and honestly I dont think the connections he had with the townspeople (before and after) were incredibly strong given that he was perceived both with status as well as with a celebrity like guise. Sure, he stays in Labryinthia for a year after, but I do feel that he does eventually gets out of Labryinthia (it takes quite a while for him to do so, however. I'll talk about that later)

2. This man is so fucking uncultured. Labryinthian Culture is such a fascinating subset of English culture, especially given that they're living in a strange microcosm of British culture, which is, at the same time, entirely separate. Theres so many people from so many different places being put into this program, and of course we dont know the substats of how many people from how many different places are IN labryinthia, but based on accents, etc, they seem to be mostly British/French. However, BECAUSE of that, and also because they're being very mind wiped, Zacharias doesn't know shit about the outside world. This man has to be introduced to what English politics is, what different countries are, how different people interact with each other, etc. given that they have been all gaslighted that Labryinthia is its own separate thing and that there is NOTHING outside of the wall. I would also consider him really shit in regards to certain celebrities or historical figures- he wouldn't know, for example, who the Prime Minister is or who *insert famous singers are*, and would have to be told. Like I do think he GAINS knowledge about what things are over time, but learning about things and culture outside Labryinthia would be a learning curve for him.

I also love to HC that over time he loses his stupid lil knight "accent" (/affectionate) (also idk if its an accent but its certainly the knight like sentence structure) post-PLvsPW if he ever moves to outside Labryinthia, but when hes either stressed or angry it comes out. (but that's a smaller lil headcanon)

3. He has had a REALLY SHIT EDUCATION from this lady who has HORRIBLE ideas and genuinely all of her advice is shit. Therefore, I feel that whenever he goes back to average society, he'll have problems with mundane things that most other people wouldn't have problems with. I've always headcanoned that his sister is Rouge and that he was brought in with his sister because both of them were orphans of some way shape or form, and therefore (if Barnham was a baby), he would have all of his reading and writing skills taught by a lady that (arguably) does not know what shes doing (he also mentions that he was taught by her in the special episodes, but I also feel that its important to mention how young Barnham was when he moved to Labryinthia.) I also think that Arthur would also make the learning curriculum teach him how to specifically do things in a formal knight-like manner, which would also fuck up his vocabulary to a degree. Educationally, Barnham has soooo much to learn, simply just because of the way he grew up.

4. Also, on another side of this, I feel that he would get really really excited (and also really really nervous) when traveling. I dont feel that hes a guy that likes being outside of his comfort bubble (and for example, he went outside of his bubble when going against the storyteller) but once he gets his metaphorical feet wet into traveling his mind would be BLOWN with how much there is in the world. Hes been stuck in his lil Labryinthian-sized sphere for all of his life, and outside of that he really doesn't know much. The world is an intimidating thing, but also something that (when he learns and gets comfortable with it) he would be fascinated to learn more about. It'll take several years until he's at the point where he can travel, simply because he would be stressed out about the idea of going out of his social sphere. But eventually he'd get there!

5. He really needs therapy. This guy needs. so much therapy. Theres so much gaslighting that has gone on in his life and he needs so so much help and support post Labryinthia because (IMO) the feeling of your whole world falling apart at the seams (especially BECAUSE he decided to poke and prod at the idea that the Storyteller is a bad man) is not something that anyone should experience. Thankfully he has the support of some of his friends, and he definitely has his sister to talk to and get to know again but It'll definitely be a journey for him.

---

ANYWAYS IVE RAMBLED ENOUGH I hope this makes any lick of sense (Im writing this somewhat quickly- that last point wasn't as good but you have a whole essay to read so I'll let you read all of that). Most of this is all post plvspw stuff cause I find post plvspw barnham FASCINATING and I wanna go into that a lot more in the future- Before PLvsPW Barnham feels so consistent, but post PLvsPW is a whole ball of Barnham trying to figure out his whole life and his whole personality and status all over again from the beginnning.

#zacharias barnham #zach barn #plvspw

[stupidgtblog]

Trying writing

just a disclaimer that I have never written before - EVER! so don't expect this to be some life-changing top-tier literature. It's mostly self-indulgent, about 1.6k words, got a bit of cursing, and elements of fear, but that's about it. I don't really have a title hope u like it pls give criticism but b nice abt it <3

...

Mira had always found stories and folktales interesting. She liked humming the tunes, thinking about the morals they taught. She'd even (much to her parent's dismay,) decided to pursue a career in cultural studies, opting to focus less on the gift of her magic. Her parents always told her that magic was something that gave her endless possibilities, and she was lucky to have a supportive family, and not one that decided they'd rather burn her at the stake. She'd learned to ride a broom to cut on cost-of-travel, and a bit of minor healing spells for first-aid, but, her training had stopped there.

Her interest had been piqued by a new character popping up in some folklore in some mining regions. These places weren't the best to witches, so she'd be going a bit undercover. She'd come in, write as much of the oral stories as she could, translate, and then publish them for the general public, so more people could experience the stories. That was her mission.

She hadn't known much about the character yet, but descriptions had been inconsistent to say the least. Some swore by the figure being a cruel, powerful witch, others claimed the figure was clearly a horrible, evil wizard.

the only snippet of undisputed lore was a poem called “Titan of Ore”, that went as follows:

Skin of Bronze,

Hair of Silver,

Eyes of Gold,,

Axe of Iron,

Heart of Stone.

Mira was interested in such a character, popping up in only the last 5 years or so in the culture, with so much mystery surrounding it. In Mira's own experience, cases like these would just end up being stories around a new species of animal, or even weather phenomena. (Mira had gotten her hopes up in a previous case of a giant, twirling lady, just to find out they were talking about some dust storms that had been recently passing the area.)

Mira knew it was stupid, but one day, just once, she wanted these folktales to lead to something. She wanted - at least once, for them to be real.

Mira's travel plan was to fly as far as she could, then rent a horse for the cheapest she could to go the rest of the way. Sure, it'd be annoying, but far less annoying than being burnt alive. After she'd taken down everything, she'd fly as far away from those witch-roasters as her broom would take her.

...

The town was very quiet. Nothing really happening, just people doing their errands, buying goods, coughing (a lot), and going about their day.

Mira didn't really know where to start, But found a hopeful lead as a group of children gathered around, hearing a story from a woman standing in the middle. It was a nice thing to see.

As Mira sat a little farther and listened, after she wrote down as much as she could, she tried to ask the woman some questions.

She started to introduce herself.

“Hi! Hello- I'm Mira, I study culture, folklore, y'know, the stories? I noticed you were-”

“Where are you from?” The woman didn't let her finish. Rude, but Mira didn't want to give a bad first impression.

“Oh- I'm from Willowstead, It's pretty far, but - I came to study some particularly interesting stories that've-”

“You come all the way from Willowstead, for children's stories?” OK, that's just mean.

“Well, uh, you could say that, but to me, they're just so much more than that- They're magical, they're wonderful-”

The woman cut her off, “Witch!”

Was she seriously only talking to her to accuse her of witchcraft? Ok. These people might've had interesting folktales, but unfortunately, they were also crazy.

“What? Why would you say that about me?”

Turns out this wasn't too good of an idea. Turns out the townspeople were very keen of accusing her of witchcraft. (They weren't really wrong, but, y'know.)

“Listen, listen, hear me out, I'm just here to listen to your folklore! I've done nothing wrong!”

“Quiet!” Now they were getting mad.

“But- What did I even do?!”

Mira felt someone grip her hand, tight. Maybe she was actually about to get burned at the stake. For real.

“No! NO! Let me go, let me go right now!”

“You can't do this to me! I didn't do anything!”

...

They'd put her in the jail. It was a cold, single cell, with nothing but brick walls and a cold, dirty floor. She had not but one conversation in this town, and they already wanted to kill her. The walls were covered in all types of written curses, some names.

“MINERVA DIED GRACEFUL” was scratched into the corner wall.

“KIMARI, FOREVER SERVANT OF THE DARK” was written with some ink-like substance Mira didn't want to touch.

“BELARA WUZ BBQ'D HERE SEE U IN HELL” was funny at first, but then made realized that the message was addressed to her. And that all these people were real deal witches, and they were all dead.

Mira considered writing, but what would she even put down?

She took a rock and scrawled

“I WAS ONLY HERE FOR A DAY!”

It was funny for a second, but then reality hit her. She was going to be killed. Really. Killed. Dead. Would her parents ever know? She told an acquaintance where she was going... but would they remember? It was too much for her.

What was she going to do? She couldn't do anything! Was she supposed to just sit here and die? She didn't want to die!

She started to cry. She cried for a pretty long time, until she got tired and, somehow, slept.

...

It was a couple hours later. She'd woken up, been paraded through town, dark, save for bright, hot torches, some held by children. Jeering and chanting were loud in her ears all the way. Maybe this was where they got their entertainment, not their stories.

They'd bound her up tight to half of a log, and placed that log on top of a bunch of firewood. She was half-expecting them to let her down, But then, a torch was thrown, and the whole thing started to go alight. With Mira still on it.

“Haah... Oh my god. No, nonono!”

It was agony already. Just watching the flames creep up menacingly, heat rising, heart sinking...

“Wait... wait! I'm only 19! I'm still in school! I don't even use my magic! I didn't do anything!”

It was getting to the point where this started to hurt. The flames danced at her ankles, And the smoke was already getting to her head.

The flames grew more gradually, Like a wall of fire had been built all around her, closing in, slowly.

“No! I, my family! I need to talk to them!” It's like everything had gone quiet, but the roaring of the flames.

“I can't breathe!”

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, drowning out everything -

It was almost like the ground was shaking beneath her...

Was she dying?

*WOOOOSH!*

In an instant, she felt the strongest wind she'd ever felt ruffle through her hair, the only thing stopping her from being blown away herself was the formerly-on-fire log. She was back to feeling the cold, night air. It was like someone blew her out like a big birthday candle. She was actually really, really cold.

“...huh?”

She looked down at the once-cheering mob all looking utterly horrified, eyes staring up, At something Mira couldn't see. It was night, but Mira could tell a very, VERY long shadow was being cast behind her... and two, bright golden spotlights shone on the crowd.

Eyes of Gold...

Oh god, If she thought burning to death was bad, what was this thing going to do? This was the worst day EVER-

She felt a rope *snap* behind her. Her hands were still bound, but she was off the pyre.

She tried to move, but she wasn't coordinated enough, shivering and bound, and fell forward. But almost instantly, something closed all around her, firm, but comfortable. Warm. A hand. She was being held in one, huge hand. Moving until she was put up into something. Something almost leathery to the touch, close to the chest.

Whatever this thing was, it was holding her in it's pocket. And, to Mira's shock, it spoke - to defend her.

“I've warned you idiots far more times than you've deserved.”

The voice was deep and rough, but not necessarily masculine or feminine. Its defining trait is that it was angry.

Their apologies were almost inaudible through the fabric - muffled, but desperate. The response was furious and immediate. They clearly didn't want to hear it.

"SHUT UP! If I ever see you fucking weirdos do any of this sadist shit again, I will curse you all to death!”

Mira was scared. Scared of everything. They were true. They were real. Everything was extremely confusing, and she had no idea what this person wanted. She shook like a leaf, she couldn't tell if it was because she was cold, scared, or both.

They must've noticed how shaken she was, because they pulled her out of the pocket, into what could only be described as a big, big hug.

“You're gonna be alright.”

—

The girl was so horribly cold. She'd almost just burnt to death, and now she was freezing. Just wonderful.

Taking her back to the house seemed like a good idea, but she guessed she'd be scared half to death - but wasn't she already?

Well, didn't matter now. They'd started on the path already.

...shit. Is she crying? Yeah - she's definitely crying.

“Hey, calm down, you're alright, ok? I'm just gonna take you inside.”

”I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. You haven't done anything.”

”I was really stupid.”

“If you're stupid, I'm a complete idiot.”

That made her laugh. It was cute.

She liked her.

“You have a name?”

”Mira.”

“...Mira.”

What a sweet name.~

I actually found writing this pretty fun even though it's not the best I think it's still cool beans radical pls give me all ur criticism pls and thx

#g/t #g/t community #oc: mira #sfw g/t #g/t stuff #g/t concept #giant/tiny #my writing hehe #oc: sylvia #giant tiny #wlw g/t #new writers on tumblr #first time writing

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Put A Little Love on Me - Sam Wilson x OC

warnings: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, air force friends, soft smut, 18+

word count: 8.4k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1437355323-put-a-little-love-on-me-lane

vibe: "That's not fair, Sam," she whispered, hugging her arms around her middle, her fingers gripping into the fabric of her dress.

Sam shook his head and stepped closer to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "No it's not, but it's all I had. We promised we'd always have each other no matter what happened. After everything you helped me through when Riley -" his words cut off and her let out a breath, keeping his dark eyes on hers, "I just wanted to be able to help you the way you helped me," he finished

Masterlist

A few raps sounded at his bedroom door as he changed his tie once more. 

“Mr. Wilson, sir?” Sam smiled  at Peter’s voice coming from the other side. “I don’t mean to rush you but Barnes-”

“Completely means to!” 

Bucky’s exasperated voice boomed through the first floor of the compound interrupting him causing Sam to snort out a laugh as he tightened his tie and looked over himself quickly in the mirror. The soft pink tie he had finally landed on looked great  against the crisp navy suit he had chosen for tonight. 

They had been invited to a spring gala in honor of the Armed Forces tonight and they’d asked him, as Captain America and former Air Force, to say a few words. 

“Looking good Wilson, looking good.” He winked at himself before pocketing his phone and wallet to head out the door. 

Sam made his way over to where Bucky was sitting alongside Peter in the common room, looking like he was going to burst into flames as the youngest showed him something on his phone excitedly. 

“Don’t scare him off Parker, he might bail on us.”  

His partner rolled his eyes and cleared his throat before standing and running a hand through his hair. 

Sam whistled, “You know for a person who didn’t wanna go you clean up real nice Buckaroo.” 

“Don’t push your luck Sam,” he replied pointedly. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Sam grinned as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “Are you guys coming?” He asked innocently, just catching the way Bucky glowered, unimpressed, as he followed with a heavy trudge. 

The car waited outside, tinted windows and a security detail that felt entirely unnecessary and did little to ease Sam’s nerves. It’s not that he hated public speaking, it was a given now, but the cause for tonight was important. It sat close to his heart, in both pride and heartbreak, and he just hoped the small speech he had prepared did it justice.

As the cavalcade approached the Plaza, Bucky looked through the tinted glass and whistled. "Very fancy Sammy boy." The car pulled up in front of the huge double doors, the red carpet lined with press and reporters. "And they're all here for you." As the door opened Bucky held his arm out, "After you, I insist," he smirked to Sam, "Me and the boy will just hang here until the heat dies down." 

"So much for moral support, " Sam complained, over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car. The camera flashes and the cacophony of voices that greeted him confirmed that Bucky had the right idea.

He took a breath and transformed his face into the friendly, all-American grin that he knew the public loved and stepped forward. He held his arms out slightly, as if he were about to give the crowd a hug, and then waved. Here, there, up to the right, wherever he heard his name called as he slowly but resolutely made his way towards the doors of the building.

His right hand went to the watch on his left wrist and he surreptitiously fingered the tiny control panel. Gasps of delight came from the crowd as Redwing swooped down and performed some aerial acrobatics, guiding Sam the rest of the way to the doors through a chorus of cheers and applause.

Once inside, he took a moment to steel himself with a breath as everyone in attendance bustled around the room; taking pictures, grabbing glasses of champagne from trays. He took his phone out quickly typing out a text to Bucky and Peter letting them know he’d find their table. As soon as Bucky responded, he pocketed his phone and made sure his speech paper was still  safely tucked inside his jacket pocket before making his way through the crowd of attendees.

He scanned the room until he found the seating chart by the bar — open, he hoped — and found their names under table number one, right front and centre. 

The table was still empty when he arrived, eight exquisitely laid places and a beautifully crafted centrepiece. Sam wandered around the table, searching out his name and slid into his seat, just taking a moment of calm before he would inevitably be thrown into the fray. 

Bucky and Peter’s voices mingled with the music as they bustled over behind him. 

“I was waiting for a text so we could sneak in, Wilson. Do you know how many hands I had to shake tryin’ to find you?” Bucky grumbled, slumping into the chair beside him.

Sam cocked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips, "Poor little super soldier, having to mingle and get appreciated"

The small stifled laugh from Peter caused a chuckle to bubble from his lips as Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam knew the spotlight was something Bucky was still getting used to and for the most part he always supported his friend's decision to hide in the shadows but with their recent successes and their new team growing, he'd have to accept the supportive attention, even if it was just for one night.

"To be fair Bucky, you were the one who insisted every man for himself," Peter started to explain, before seeing the look Bucky was sending him and pulling himself short. "I know, shut up kid, " he finished, pushing his chair backwards, he stood and suggested, "should I to go see if they have any Asgardian Mead?"

"Good idea, kid," Bucky replied, "I've a feeling I'm going to need it."

"You need to go easy tonight Buck," Sam advised.

"I know how to behave in polite society," Bucky shook his head at Sam, "I was brought up by a lady and know how to treat the dames."

“Rule number one,” Sam countered, “don’t call ‘em dames. They don’t like that anymore.” 

“Aw, shucks! That’s why I can’t get a date.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the rest of the room. It was probably time to get this show on the road, be the man of the people and shake some hands. 

“I’m gonna go mingle, hold down the fort and don’t let Parker drink.” He pointed a finger at Bucky as he stood. Brushing his hands down his suit, he took a deep breath and headed towards Rhodey, the first face he’d recognised since he walked in.

Clapping his friend on the back, Sam grinned his signature grin and extended his hand to the two council members that Rhodey was talking too, "Gentleman, I hope my friend here isn't boring you with his tank story, again," 

"That story is a classic and always kills," Rhodey defended as the men with him laughed, shaking their heads. 

"Only to people who haven't heard it ten times," one of them retorted with a booming laugh. 

Sam nudged his shoulder into his friends with a smirk as the conversation moved on to the recent PR that was needed for their growing team and how it was going to be handled. They wanted Kate and Yelena to make appearance's at schools and Peter needed to do tech presentations, stepping into the shoes that Tony had left for him. But something caught Sam's attention, and the councilman's words drifted out to a dull whisper. 

A girl with soft brunette waves stood by the bar in a navy blue satin gown, her deep chocolate brown eyes trained on his with a soft smile playing on her lips as she took a sip from her wine glass. Sam's chest squeezed as his mind jolted to the last time he'd laid eyes on the girl in front of him. The soft goodbye she'd whispered into his ear, and the press of her lips to his cheek before she'd walked out for her last mission. The day she'd walked out the door, taking his heart with her. 

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good, we'll talk about it Monday," Sam mumbled, squeezing Rhodey's shoulder, "Will you excuse me?" He didn't wait for an answer before he walked away, his tunnel vision setting in as the rest of the room faded.

His heart rate picked up with each step he took towards her. Sam slowed to a stop in front of her, those eyes he'd fallen into time and time again trail up and down the navy suit he wore. "Lanie?" Sam breathed out her name like an unanswered prayer and her smile only grew. 

"I'm a little disappointed you didn't wear the wings." She quipped, taking a sip of her drink. 

He was too busy admiring just how much more beautiful she had gotten since the last time he saw her for her words to register and when they did he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shoot, I left them in the car." 

Lane laughed and the sound hit deep in his core. The feelings he had bottled up and tucked away started to bubble in his chest as her laughter slowed and it was just the two of them. 

"You look good, Sam," Lane said softly.

"This old thing," he gulped, trying to get his racing heart under control.

 Lane had always had this effect on him, even before the feeling was mutual. Just a look from her in his direction or a parting of her lips sent his pulse through the roof. Lane had been so weary of the guys in their squadron, conscious that they were a bunch of entitled A-holes, who made a female pilot work twice as hard for the privilege of wearing the wings.

 She'd finished in the top 5%  of their class, proving herself and nabbing a commission most of the other flyers could only dream of. When Sam had transferred to Dulles Air Force base a year after graduating he'd been delighted to discover not only was Lane still there but had blossomed into a confident, pack up your shit and take a hike, no-nonsense lady. Well-liked and respected by her squad, she had remembered Sam fondly and had been happy to show him the ropes and eventually allowed him to take her out for a drink.

“You, uh… you look good too, Lanie,” Sam murmured softly, taking her in properly. She’d always been beautiful, even with her hair in the regulation bun, slicked back and shining with gel and a fresh face. Now though, he wasn’t sure he could be in her vicinity much longer without a drink in his hand. 

“Thanks, big shot,” she smiled, that heart-stopping, flirty thing that always sent his heart a flutter. “How is that going? Being Cap?” 

Sam sucked in a breath. “Big shoes to fill,” he chuckled as Lane caught his elbow gently, leading him towards the bar. 

“And yet they fit you so well, Sam,” she replied, “I certainly had no doubt they would.”

A familiar fluttering filled his chest as Sam felt a blush creeping up his neck, “Thanks Lanie, that uh, means a lot coming from you” 

She smiled again, that smile that was seared into his brain from the first moment they met at training camp. A smile that brightened the room and dulled away all the worries that plagued his heart since taking up the mantle. 

“And you,” Sam cleared his throat, as his tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, “I hear you’re basically running the program now, but not flying anymore what’s that about?” 

A flash of a pained expression crossed her face, before she covered it with a soft smirk and shook her head, “you keeping tabs on me, Wilson?” She questioned, teasingly.

His heart flipped at the question. He had been keeping tabs on her, a small obsession and mainly just to make sure she was still kicking. "You know how airmen and women are." 

Lane raised a brow, "and what about you? Any new aliens I should know about." 

Sam chuckled and shook his head thankful for the change of subject. If she knew just how much he had been following her career on his own it would open that can of worms they decided to close a long time ago. "Androids maybe, aliens..." he shook his head, "not as of late."

"Good to know the world's in safe hands." She turned to the bartender. "Can I get an Old Fashioned and...?"

"Just a beer for me," Sam ordered. The area around the bar was getting crazy busy, with other attendees pressing against them trying to get served. 

Lane passed him his beer and stepped away from the bar, taking a gulp of her drink, she then motioned her glass towards the balcony doors. "I need to get some air, it's a little warm in here." She turned away from him and took another couple of steps. "It really is lovely to see you Sam," she smiled, a shy smile which reminded him so much of their first time together. "Maybe we don't leave it so long next  time."

He wanted to say something else, to follow after her. To continue the conversation that he craved so desperately but he could see she needed out. She had never quite fit in events like these. She was beautiful and good at pretending she was social but Sam could see the obligatory scowl flicker to her face when the important people weren't looking. Same old Lane. Wanted to be anywhere else than where she had to be. 

Sam spent the night fielding questions from politicians, and making sure his overgrown, chaotic dates, Bucky and Peter, stayed out of the mead. It wasn't until he was sitting alone with his third beer in the wind and the band started to play the after dinner music that he realized his mind had been on Lane all night. She floated around the room, avoiding the big crowds and speaking directly to a few important people but it never lasted long and she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. 

"Why don't you ask her to dance?" Peter slumped down into the chair beside Sam. "I've been watching you, watching her all night." 

"I haven't been watching no-one, Squirt." Sam brushed him off but his eyes found her again, slender curves and bright, fake smile as she awkwardly shook hands with another man. 

"She looks like she needs saving," Peter shrugged. 

But Lane had never needed saving, not really. 

"Chicken," Peter resorted to name calling and as soon as he turned on him the squawking stopped.

“I will put you on mission laundry duty,” Sam threatened, “and I know for a fact Barnes leaves his go-bag far longer than he should between washes. Every. Single. Time.”

Peter shuddered and Sam cackled as the younger man scurried away to the bar. 

“No mead!” Sam called after him before his gaze fell back to Lane. She was holding her own against the man, a Sergeant in full dress who was pushing his luck with how close he was standing. It wasn’t until his hand skimmed across the small of Lane’s back and she stepped out of his reach that Sam chugged back the rest of his beer and heaved himself up. 

“Not saving her, just deterring the creep,” he muttered to himself as he headed in their direction.

"Sergeant, I think it's important to remember we are in the company of many of our superiors." Lane reminded the man with that sickly sweet smile that to others seemed just polite, but Sam knew the venom around it. 

The man was just about to part his lips to counter when Sam stepped to her side, "Sir I believe Rhodey was looking for you." 

He frowned and shook his head walking away from them. 

"I didn't need saving Cap." Lane said after a moment when the man was out of earshot.

"No you didn't, but he did. I remember when you almost roundhoused a guy who thought touching you was a god given right." Sam responded, "And as you say, we're surrounded by superiors."

"That was a lifetime ago Sam, the new me doesn't get violent, I just get even. Unfinished business and all that." She bit her lower lip and looked like she wanted to say more, but took another sip of her drink instead.

Sam watched as another uniform approached her from behind and instead of leaving her to the dogs like she so clearly wanted to be Sam extended his hand. 

"How about a dance?" He asked. 

Lane eyed his hand, thoughts swirled around behind those pretty eyes and then she downed her drink and set it aside and slid her hand into his. 

"You still step on toes?" She teased and Sam huffed. "I'll take that as a yes."

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Sam quipped, leading her onto the dance floor and Lane laughed lightly. 

“I’m a risk taker, Wilson. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” 

The music grew louder the closer they got to the band, big brass swelling around the crooning of the singer they’d hired. Sam pulled Lane closer, holding her slender frame against his body as they began to sway gently. 

“Now, I don’t know about that, Lanie. You’ve never hidden yourself from me.”

"That you know of." Lane smirked up at him, her long hair cascading down her back as her chin lifted to look up at him. Those dark eyes finding his, "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets." 

Sam raised a brow, "you can't keep a secret for the life of you." 

She grinned up at him again, a mischievous look behind her eyes, "that you know of."

Sam led Lane around the dance floor, the two of them in comfortable silence, but he was sure she could see the words brewing in his eyes, something he had been dying to offload ever since they parted ways. 

He cleared his throat, pulling her closer to him so that their cheeks met, entwining their fingers so that there was no escaping his nearness. "Before, when you mentioned unfinished business, did you mean us? Is that what we are?"

"What do you think, Sam?" she asked softly, "Are we unfinished or was this over a long time ago?"

Sam felt his breath catch in his throat before speaking, "You tell me, Lane. I wasn't the one who took a mission and didn't come home."

"That's unfair Sam," She said, "you know what it's like on those missions..." She trailed off. Her hands tight in Sam's as they spun in a lazy circle. 

"Out there, sure," Sam answered, "but you came home, all I expected was a phone call." 

"Phone calls can still be hard when you don't know what to say," She hummed and let him spin her out and away from him, before gently bringing her back against his chest. Her back molded to his front as their cheeks pressed together as they silently worked through all those hard unspoken emotions. 

"We were never very good at talking anyways, Lanie."

Sam felt the reverberation of her hum through his chest and he turned his head, letting his lips graze lightly over her jaw. 

“Sam,” she said softly, her breath hitching. 

“Tell me you didn’t want it to be over,” he whispered lowly, “because I know I didn’t.” 

Lane tensed in his arms and Sam sighed. He should have known. 

“Sam, you have a speech to make soon. Let’s not do this now, please? Just dance with me a little longer.”

"Give me something, Lane," he was battling to keep his voice neutral. He was sure that once he left her to make his speech, she'd take off again. 

"I can't do this here, tonight Sam. Just for now let's pretend that we're a couple," she rested her head against his shoulder and Sam tightened his hold on her slightly as she turned her face and rubbed her nose up and down his neck. If Sam  closed her eyes, he could imagine that he was her wingman, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, making her shudder with want. 

When she spun away this time, her fingers slipped from his and just like before she slipped into the crowd and away from him. 

He made to go after her when the crowd parted and the mic screeched over the heads of everyone, "everyone please welcome to the stage our very own Captain America, Sam Wilson!" 

Sam nodded, turning on his heal and painting a smile on his face and raised his hand in the air making his way to the stage to do his speech but his mind wandered to his Lanie, where she would have run off to and how far he'd have to go to chase her down this time.

Jogging up the steps to the microphone, Sam squinted against the lights and gathered his wit, feeling a little out of sorts now. 

Under the attention of literally everyone in the room, he cleared his throat and patted down his pocket for his speech as his eyes settled on Bucky and Peter, the two of them lounging at their table with tumblers that were definitely filled with the Agardian mead he told them to steer clear of. Bucky grinned up at him and flashed two over-enthusiastic thumbs up and Peter cupped his hands around his mouth, whooping and cheering far too loudly for such a dignified gala. 

Still, it settled something within him and he dragged his eyes across the room, telling himself he wasn’t searching for her as he unfolded the piece of paper in his hand.

His entire speech felt distant, like he was on autopilot as he said the words and the crowd laughed from time to time. When the applause started and he folded the paper back up his heart raced with one last scan of the crowd. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of navy satin disappearing out onto one of the balconies that he finally took a breath and followed her outside.

As he tried to make his way through the crowd, people clapped him on the back and stepped in front of him to comment on his speech. His eyes stayed trained on the balcony door, politely and professionally stepping around everyone who got in his way. He'd fight his way through an alien battlefield if it meant Lane was waiting for him on the other side. The glimmer of hope that clung to his chest drew him forward, through everything. 

Stepping out into the fresh spring breeze, Sam felt his breath catch in his throat once more as the moonlight shimmered on across her gown and illuminated her eyes, "Leaving me again so soon, Lanie?" he commented. 

"That's not fair, Sam," she whispered, hugging her arms around her middle, her fingers gripping into the fabric of her dress. 

Sam shook his head and stepped closer to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "No it's not, but it's all I had. We promised we'd always have each other no matter what happened. After everything you helped me through when Riley -" his words cut off and her let out a breath, keeping his dark eyes on hers, "I just wanted to be able to help you the way you helped me," he finished.

She stood there, throat bobbing. 

"Listen, I don't want to spend anymore time here and I don't think you do either. I did my speech, I paid my dues," Sam stepped forward, "why don't we go home?" 

Sam watched as her whole body tensed at his use of the word. He knew what he was doing, they had never lived together but home was less of a place for the two of them, more of a feeling. "You can talk," Sam said quietly but firmly as he reached out to her, "I can listen."

He watched the tears pool in her eyes as they darted softly across his face, almost like she was looking for the man he was all those years ago. Trying so hard to ground herself before putting her hand in his. Lane never did like showing her feelings, she always felt like she couldn’t and he could only hope to make her feel as safe as she did for him.

"Damn you, Sam Wilson," she muttered, but there was a soft, tentative smile on her face as she threaded her fingers with his. "If we're gonna do this, I need the greasiest, cheesiest burger you can get around here."

"I'll do you one better. You come back to the compound with me and I'll cook you up somethin' special, maybe somethin' from my Mama's secret recipe stash." 

"You mean Sarah finally shared them with you?" Lane chuckled, her eyes still glistening. "God, I used to love going home with you for that cooking." 

"Just for the cooking?" Sam replied, flashing her his best smile as Lane rolled her eyes. "What do you say, Lanie? We're both here, now, and if this is the only chance we get..."

"Take me home, bird boy," Lane smirked playfully, squeezing his hand gently. 

Another swarm of butterflies fluttered against Sam's rib cage at the familiar nickname he'd earned from his friends back on base. He let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back, "Oh that's what we're doing now?" 

Smiling brightly, Lane hummed and nodded once, bumping her shoulder into his as she dragged him back towards the door. Sam shook his head once more as he followed, tucking the two of them close to the wall as they snuck through the crowded room. Only a few people tried to catch his attention but there was nothing that was going to take him away from escaping with his girl.

The car was waiting out front and when he finally had her in the back seat it was like a tidal wave of relief had washed over him. He always knew how much he missed her, but seeing her here, ready and finally willing to just talk to him. It was different. He couldn't explain how real it all felt. So he kept his hand tucked in hers, craving the sensation of her skin until he could get her alone. 

Lane was nervous, he could feel it in her touch when she squeezed his hand with worry. He couldn't even remember the last time she had gone home with him. 

God he had missed her. "We're almost there," he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

Lane smiled, small and tight, when the car pulled in through the security gate and she peered out the window at the sprawling compound. Once parked up, Sam helped her out, tucking her under his arm as they headed through the front door and through to the common room. 

The place was in relative darkness, the soft lighting usually set for night time, and Sam caught the way Lane’s shoulders fell, tension physically oozing out of her. 

“Take a seat,” he murmured softly, “I’ll open a bottle of red.”

He wandered over to the small wine storage, searching for the bottle of Lane’s favourite he knew he kept for memory’s sake, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Sliding it out, he was met with a selfie of Bucky the idiot took when Sam wasn’t looking — Peter’s doing really, he’s sure — and he brushed his thumb across the screen to quickly take the call. 

“Are you allowed to bail on your own gala?”Bucky asked immediately, “at least tell me you’re alive.”

Sam breathed out a short laugh, "Alive and well, Buck. Just something I need to take care of," he smiled softly, grabbing the wine bottle off the shelf and turning it over in his hands. 

"Something or someone?" Bucky pressed, the hint of a joke in his grumpy voice, "If I have to stay here, I don't think it's fair that you got to leave, even the kid is leaving with Kate and Yelena, something about playing Kings" he grumbled, "but there's no royalty visiting the city,"

With a shake of his head, Sam couldn't help the roll of his eyes, "It's just a game Buck and you can leave too, just give the kitchen and common floor some space, I'll talk to you later" 

Letting out another laugh as he hung up his phone, Sam sauntered back into the living room presenting the wine bottle to Lane, with a proud smile, "Rippon Pinot Noir, just the way you like it,"

"Almost like you kept that sitting around in case I showed up," Lane teased but her voice was tight. 

"Better to be prepared than empty handed," Sam uncorked the wine. 

"Don't," Lane covered her glass with her hand, "straight out of the bottle or not at all," she smiled.

"Just like the good old days?" Sam nodded. 

"I wouldn't call them good, but they were days, and there was wine." Lane added, "and you."

"Then we got all we need," Sam replied softly as he took a seat beside her on the couch. Lane had kicked off her heels  and made herself comfortable, and something about that made him smile. That she could be so comfortable in his space again after so long apart. 

"So," she started, making grabby hands for the bottle and sipping it delicately. "Are you ready to listen?" 

"I'm all ears, sweetheart," he breathed, pressing his body against hers as offered him both the bottle of wine and her hand. He squeezed her fingers gently as Lane took a deep breath.

Lane turned her eyes down to their intertwined hands and swiped her tongue over her lips. Using two of his fingers, Sam lifted her gaze back up to meet his with a soft nod of his head, ensuring she knew that he was right there, whatever happened, he was with her. With a gentle smile ghosting her lips as her dark eyes skated over his face, Lane cleared her throat and began the story of her last mission. The amount of people they'd lost, and how she did everything to save as many as she could, but even the ones who came home didn't really. The emotion in her voice as she talked about her troops, the soft voice cracks and the small tear that escaped down her cheek made Sam's whole body ache. It was supposed to be a track and report mission, but it turned into a search and rescue. He'd been on difficult missions himself but this was something else all together. 

Sam wanted to gather her up in his arms and never let her go. To remind her that she was home and safe back in his arms. To tell her that he was never going to let anything bad happen to her again. 

"... I was shot out of the sky, just like Riley," she whispered, taking a small sip from the wine bottle in front of her, "My wings wrapped the wrong way and I just... fell. Shrapnel from the shot was lodged in my back with bits from my pack, if I hadn't been over water, I would've -" her voice broke again and Sam traced his thumb over her cheek, catching another tear. 

"There's a reason I didn't wear an open back dress tonight," Lane tried to joke, "The scars from surgery after surgery, it's not pretty Sam... and the - mental scars that I carry, it was too much to put on you. You were working with Steve Rogers when I got back, I wasn't about to swoop in and take that away just because I'm broken."

The words caught in Sam's throat, broken. He'd never once thought of Lane as anything but strong and fierce. Like a tidal wave. To hear her talk about herself in a way that was anything less than that, it broke down a wall inside of him.

"Show me, Lanie," He urged, knowing the chances of her saying no were high but he also knew that telling her that she was beautiful, unmarked and flawless. Those words would mean nothing to her, he needed to show her. "I'll show you mine," he added with a soft smile. 

"I've seen all your scars, Sam." She whispered, her fingers tighter around the bottle now. 

"I have some new ones," he returned the tease, trying to make her comfortable enough to give in and trust him just one more time.

"I don't know, Sam." Her voice was hushed, a quiet murmur in their little corner of the common room. 

"How about I go first?" He responded, and with the slight nod of Lane's head, Sam hopped to his feet and shrugged off his jacket, chucking it across the arm of the couch. She looked up then, her sad eyes fixed on his fingers as he worked quickly to undo his tie. Sam flashed her a grin, wiggling his eyebrows as if he were undressing for any other reason but to show off the jagged lines and mottled skin he carried with him now. And he'd do it a million times over if it meant Lane could see the beauty in the scars she carried herself. 

Once he reached the last button of his shirt, he let it hang open before he moved onto his belt, ridding himself of his clothes until he stood in nothing but his boxers and his socks and he began to point out his most recent scar, a long, freshly pink line that was a deep slit in his thigh just a few months ago. 

"Sam," Lane breathed, her breath hitching. 

"One for one?" Sam replied as he held his hand out, waiting patiently for her to take it, to trust him with her hurt like he had with her all those years ago.

Hesitantly, Lane placed her hand in his and stood, leaving a few inches between them as she spun slowly and paused with her back to him, looking over her shoulder, "could you help me?" She whispered. 

Sam trailed his fingers softly up her back until he reached the zipper of her dress, pulling it down agonizingly slowly. A long line of raised, discolored flesh ran along her spine, growing the lower he got. He stopped his fingers when he reached the end and Sam swallowed thickly, tracing his thumb over the scar that ran the entire length between her shoulder blades. 

 "Surgery number one," Lane breathed, leaning into his touch and meeting his gaze once more.

His breath caught in his throat as she let the dress slip from her hips and stepped out of it, turning around to face him. Her face was tight and every agonizing motion she felt was on display as she arched her neck and closed her eyes. "Number two," she whispered, showing him a fleshy twisted scar that spiraled over her bicep and cut into her shoulder. Sam couldn't believe the pain she must have endured from the fall. Not knowing if she was going to survive it, even worse the agony she must have felt waking up alone, completely transformed by the accident.

The strength she must have held, still held, to get through that. Sam would never know what it was like to come out the other side of something as intense as what Lane had been through, but he knew a little something about grief, about the loss of something and the heaviness you live with after as you rebuild your life. 

"I think you might be the strongest woman I know," he murmured, taking a small step closer. "but then, you always have been." 

Lane's mouth curved into a soft smile, not quite meeting her eyes as she reached for Sam's hand and brought his fingers to her stomach and around to the side of her waist. 

"Scar number three," she murmured, as she pressed the pads of Sam's fingers along the thick, raised line that stretched around to her back. "This one's from a piece of my pack that decided to embed itself in my side on impact."

"Lanie," her name came out as a breath as his fingers traced over her skin. 

Scar after scar, each and every little one a small reminder of everything she'd been through. Every moment he wasn't by her side to remind her how amazing she was to him. He didn't see the ugliness that she did, all Sam saw was a strong, incredible woman who had been through hell and stood taller because of it. He saw her. 

He used his free hand to place two fingers under her chin and bring her eyes up to meet his, "You're beautiful, Lane. Every piece of you. Inside and out. And I will show you that as many times as you need me too and more, if you'll let me," he spoke quietly, drawing her closer, pressing their bodies together.

Sam felt her tremble when he dipped his head and his lips pressed to the scar on her shoulder. Her entire body giving into the soft, slow praises in the form of kisses. A tiny moan slipped from her tired lips as Sam began to show her just how beautiful each scar was. 

"I missed you," he said, so quietly it might have been missed over the sound of their breathing but it was out there and it was true. "More than anything."

"I missed you too, Sam," she breathed, as she tilted her head back and to the side as Sam's lips trailed up her neck to her earlobe. 

His fingertips dug gently into her skin as he moved up and pressed his forehead to hers. He needed her. He needed her to understand just how much he missed her. Just how beautiful she was in his eyes. Sam swooped down, and lifted Lane into his arms, pulling a giggled from her perfect lips as she pulled back a little to look at him. 

Sam shook his head once, and rounded the couch, heading straight down the hallway to his bedroom. There was no way his first time with her was going to be on a couch or the floor of the living room. Those pesky butterflies tickled his chest once more the closer they got and he let the feeling of them wash over him just like her warm citrus scent. 

"Sam," Lane practically whined as she dipped her head and kissed a small scar he had on his collarbone.

Electricity shot down from his head to his toes as her lips touched his skin. He’d been waiting, dreaming of her back in his arms for so long and here she was, finally. His Lanie. 

He held her tighter reaching a hand out to open his door as quickly as possible, once inside he kicked the door shut and walked them over to his bed. Lane kissed a line up his neck as she ran her fingers delicately through his scalp. A shiver ran up his spine as she reached his jaw and pulled back to meet his eyes. He propped his knee on the mattress before softly laying Lanie against it. He stared at her, looking just like the angel she was to him with her hair spread out along the mattress. Her throat bobbed under his gaze, and her breaths picked up, Sam smiled at her soft and full of all the love he’d been holding onto for her. 

He pushed her legs open a bit with his leg before he settled into a hover atop her body, holding onto his weight he dipped his head and touched his nose to hers eliciting a gasp from her lips. 

“Can I kiss you Lanie, please?” He whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“If you don’t I’m definitely gonna kiss you,” she said with a soft chuckle.

Sam didn't hesitate, dipping into her soft laughter and consuming it whole. He wanted everything. Her lips felt like heaven dancing against his as he cupped her face and tangled his fingers into her hair. He missed her so much that nothing else mattered, he barely remembered to breathe. Her mouth parted and he swiped his tongue against hers, deepening their connection as her hands roamed his chest and back. 

Her fingers dragged over his shoulder blades, tickling his skin and drawing a throaty laugh from him as he broke away. 

"I'm glad we haven't forgotten everything," he winked at her as he pulled away and started to work down her throat with his teeth and lips.

Her soft laugh turned into a breathy moan as he moved over her skin, paying attention to the little scars that littered it like a story of everything she'd overcome. "My strong," he dragged his lips across her collarbone, "incredible," a soft kiss to the scar on her shoulder, "beautiful, girl" he moved down to press his lips to the large scar on her side. 

Her breath picked up pace as her fingers trailed, "Baby please," Lane whispered, as her eyes followed him down her body, "Come back to me," 

Sam obeyed, stretching his body back up and capturing her lips with his with more passion than he knew what to do with. Everything he'd ever dreamed of was laying beneath him and it was his new mission to make her understand how much she meant to him.

Sam pulled his lips from hers with a soft tug of her bottom lip, pulling a whine from her with the action. He kissed along her jaw and down her neck the soft mewls coming from her pushing him forward. He reached the curve of her breasts and breathed in her scent, smiling against her skin. 

“Sam please,” Lane whispered. 

He pressed wet  kisses along her clothed breasts, flicking his tongue lightly along her pebbled nipples. He pulled back, smiling at her and moved a hand under her lifting her gently, pressing her chest flush against his. 

“I’m taking this off now, yes?” 

Lane nodded and took his lips in his in a feverish kiss.

Sam smiled against her skin as his fingers worked deftly at her bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it aside. He palmed her breast and brought her exposed nipple between his lips, sucking gently until her hips arched into his touch. Her hands raked over his scalp as he massaged her chest. 

"What do you want?" He asked her, not knowing where to start himself. His touch was fuzzy against her warm skin and all he wanted to do was kiss her until she begged him to stop.

"You... just you," Lane breathed, moving her hips up into his, "touch me, baby, please" 

Sam groaned into her skin at her words, kissing his way down her body and stopping at the edge of her panties, "Can I take these off, beautiful?" he hummed. 

It still felt surreal to him that she was here, allowing him to explore her body and take in each and every sound she made for him. He wanted to savour the moment, remember every movement but his own body betrayed him. It ached to touch her and drink her in, to keep her skin pressed against his and make her whine his name over and over. 

With a nod of her head, Sam hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled them down her legs, pressing soft kisses along the way until he flung her panties across his room, landing them over a picture of him and Steve, making Lane giggle softly.

He sat back and admired her taking his time to commit every single inch of her body to memory. He wrapped his fingers delicately around her ankle lifting her leg up and pressing his lips to her calf with a teasing smile as she writhed under his touch. 

“Really, all this time and you wanna tease me now?” 

Sam breathed a laugh against her skin, pressing more kisses along her leg, inching closer to her center painfully slow even for himself. 

“I’m savoring you,” he hummed. “Two very different things, your cute little scowl is just a bonus.”

"This cute little scowl is impatient," Lane cooed at him but her words were swallowed by a sharp gasp. 

Sam's tongue flickered out over Lane, already so wet and sweet. He couldn't stop himself as his hand roamed over her hip and pressed against her stomach. He peered up at her, drinking in how euphoric she had become under his touch. He worked in slow circles that drew the sweetest sounds from her lips as he quickened in pace, chasing the sounds of her pleasure.

Lane’s hands ground him in place, soft but firm as her hips moved in sync with his tongue. Her moans filling the room as she whispered his name over and over like a prayer as she chased her high. Sam felt her tense up beneath him before he fingers reached for his cheek, calling his attention to her. 

“Sam please, I need to feel you,” She panted and he smiled pressing a kiss to her thigh, “Come here handsome.”

Despite wanting to please her, Sam took his time, kissing his way back up her body, paying specific attention to each scar that littered her torso. A soft whine escaped her lips and her soft hands found his cheeks as she gently tried to pull him back to her. 

"So impatient," Sam whispered, ghosting his lips up her throat and capturing her with his before she could say anything, tangling their tongues together and letting her taste her sweetness. 

He settled himself between her legs and teased her entrance with the head of his cock, ignoring his own throbbing to take in more of her beautiful pleading sounds. He hoped to any god listening that they would have many more moments like this, just the two of them enjoying each other, but he also knew that life could be reckless and unpredictable, their scars telling that exact story to one another. It just made this moment with his girl all that more important to him. 

Lane's hand travelled down and cupped his ass, urging him forward, "Sammy," she breathed against his lips.

Nothing else mattered in that moment as he slipped into her entrance with a soft, silky thrust that melted their bodies together. She was so tight that it took him an moment to adjust, gently rocking his hips back and forth until she was a puddle of breathless moans and tiny huffs. His lips found hers again, needy and hungry for more. He wanted to be closer than ever before and he accomplished that mission with each thrust forward. 

"You're so beautiful," he hummed when he parted, cupping her face with his hand and admiring the soft freckles that danced across the bridge of her nose. Her lips partially open and her eyes searching his as they rocked together at a delicious pace chasing their high in unison.

His fingers danced along her skin trailing from her cheek down her side. Her scarred skin was soft and smooth under his touch while he mapped a constellation of scars on her side. Lane wriggled beneath him, her moans bringing a smile to his face. There were so many times that he felt an incredible pang in his chest with every moment he ached for her and now having her so close feeling the way her body molds to his, Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let her go after this. 

“Lanie,” he breathed, dipping his head and pressing soft chaste kisses along her collar bone to the spot on her neck that always makes her squirm. His hands traveled down her sides to the outside of her thighs, pulled her even closer and hiked her hips off of the bed in a new angle, one that dragged a delicious moan from her lips.

Lane's head lifted as she pressed a kiss to the scar on his collarbone, gasping into his skin as he thrust forward and hit her sensitive spot. A shiver of pleasure shot down his spine as she gripped his length tighter and fluttered around him, her orgasm growing within her. They're soft sounds echoed through his room as his pace became quick and needy, chasing their highs together. 

"Sammy," she whined, moving her hips in tandem with his, craving the same closeness that he was as her head fell back into his pillow and pressed backwards. 

The pressure grew deep within his stomach but Sam needed her to reach her climax first. He needed to give that to her, to feel her pleasure erupt around him.

Her nails dug into his skin as her breathing became ragged and her body tensed in his arms. He felt the cord snap within her as his name danced off her lips in a series of breathless moans that made him heavy dizzy with pride. 

"That's my girl, keeping going," he praised both verbally and physically as he picked up the pace, his rhythm growing sloppy as he chased her orgasm in search of his own.  Her lips on his skin was enough to drive him crazy as her cunt fluttered around him, dragging him inch for inch closer to the edge.

She felt like heaven around him, gripping his length and still fluttering. Warmth spread through his veins and pleasure curled around his lower back the further he pushed himself. Lane’s moans turned into soft whimpers as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, whispering soft praises as his hips snapped against hers, out of rhythm until it was too much. He felt her nails dig into his back, her legs hooked around his waist as he came. 

His hips slowed, rocking lazily as he trailed kisses along the inside of her neck.

Her fingers trailed up his spine and scraped into his scalp as she did her best to catch her breath. The overwhelming sense of comfort drifted over Sam as he kept his lips pressing into her skin, relishing in the moment of their bodies together. The sound of a hitch in her breath made him sit up slightly, catching her soft brown eyes with his own as he furrowed his brow. 

"Lanie, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He asked, his hand coming up to cup her cheek gently. 

She shook her head with a ghost of a smile and placed her hand over his, "I just - I missed you so much, Sam" 

With a small breath of relief, Sam returned the smile, leaning his forehead down against hers and brushing their noses together, "I missed you too, Lanie. More than you know"

#sam wilson #sam wilson au #captain america #captain america au #sam wilson oneshot #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x oc #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #marvel one shot #marvel au #marvelous #fluff #hurt/comfort #friends to lovers #one shot

[azrielgreen]

Hi! I really hope that this doesn't come across wrong, because you're my favorite author of all time, but I am curious about how and why you write pairings with Billy? I mean, he's a violent and awful racist who tried to kill a kid. I'm just curious about Billy shippers, and I wanted to know what you think about all that! You really are my #1 author, and I really, really hope this doesn't come across as mean!

I debated answering this at all because I really don't involve myself in anything remotely related to fandom unpleasantness or the kind of immaturity that leads to "ship wars" and outright bullying, but I can tell your question was asked in good faith so this will probably be the one time I answer anything like this.

I write for myself. I write characters that interest me. I'm interested in complex characters. They have the most wiggle room for expression and interpretation of angst and growth and suffering within my kind of creative narrative. I fully appreciate that the Stranger Things fandom is where I gained traction, but I've been in fandom for a decade and I've written for Hannibal, Supernatural, Vampire Chronicles, Dragon Age among many others that I usually orphan because writing for myself is essential. I don't write to appease or instruct or create a moral guideline for how to be or how to love.

I won't reel off a list of reasons "why" i write pairings with Billy because I don't need to justify anything to anyone. I don't endorse what I write. I explore complicated characters and I feel things through them and I write and follow my creative instincts where a story might lead. I don't write to be popular, I never have, and I never will and if I thought for a second that the only reason my fics gained traction in this fandom was because anyone saw me as some kind of Anti-Billy Flag-waver, I'd delete every single thing I wrote including my AO3 username. Luckily, I know that's not the case and those who like my writing and stories enjoy them because they're smart enough to select what they like and leave what they don't.

I think there's a stunning level of dissonance between people who are insecure and fandom and those who are secure. It's fanfiction. It's literally transformative works. I can transform whatever I like and I write what I'm drawn to and I am drawn, always, to complicated characters with the potential for growth and evolution from low places. I've written so much for so many fandoms and some of what I've written has been pure, ice cold horror, straight up. The idea that I'm supposed to be someone who only ever writes Fandom Stamp-Approved Characters is hilarious to me. I write about murderers, people who kill, soldiers, assassins and even serial killers. I could spend time and energy explaining why I'm drawn to writing darker elements and giving them a bright, hopeful growth arc but I shouldn't have to explain ANYTHING and I don't, so I won't and please, anyone else reading, do not ever feel like you have to explain or justify what you write. That path leads nowhere good. No one should regulate what people write. NO ONE has the right to bully someone out of a fandom because they disagree with what they're writing about. No one.

I have always tried to be very open and supportive about encouraging people to feel safe exploring their interests, be it kink, trauma, whatever. I'll fight fiercely to defend people's right to enjoy literally whatever the fuck they want because life is hard, time is short, real life is disappointing and AO3 at the end of a long day can be comforting as fuck. The idea that some people are handwringing because people write about a "violent awful racist who tried to kill a kid" is so ridiculous to me it makes me laugh every single time. It's not real. It's a story. It's a TV show. I can explore whatever I want and so can everyone else.

Here's the very closest you'll come to hearing me give reasons why and I'm only doing it because I want other people who feel belittled and bullied and shamed for exploring what they're drawn to, to see this. The person I was at 17 years old is nothing like the person I am now and I cannot emphasise that strongly enough. I come from an abusive home. The girl I was at 17, 18, 19 and even 20... if I met her now, I wouldn't know her and she absolutely wouldn't know me. I lost who I was as a child because I was abused and it's only in the last ten years I had enough experience, distance and self-exploration to rediscover myself and really grow. Nothing excuses racism or violence. Me writing these characters is not excusing it. Writing domestic violence is not endorsing domestic violence. People need to understand this because it's a massive problem in the queer publishing community; this idea that all queer media needs to be morally squeaky clean, to be flawless and sexless and adhere to the perfect cis-heteronormative outline in order to be "acceptable" and not cast a pall on queers overall. I believe people can change. I believe people can see themselves in a piece of media and WANT to be better. I know because it happened to me. People can change. I like to think there are circumstances in which Billy could change. In which there was an intervention point, the possibility for redemption.

Fanfiction isn't real life. I would be so happy if people could understand this. Fiction is FICTION. It's exploration, it's themes, it's freedom of expression, it's art, it's for fun. It's not for everyone. No single thing is for everyone and it never, ever should be. My writing isn't for everyone. That makes me really happy because it means those who might resonate with what I write, will find it and have their own space to enjoy it. I'm a person with finite energy and time who dedicates a lot of that energy and time to this corner of fandom where I reasonably expect to be able to write whatever the hell I like however I like and if anyone has a different opinion of that, they'll be sorely disappointed. Complex, flawed characters whose experiences mirror my own will always be compelling to me and I will always be drawn to exploring redemptive narratives for them. If people don't like it, they don't have to read. If they get upset that I'm writing something they disagree with, that's on them and if they feel the need to draw attention to their discomfort, that's far less to do with the person they're complaining about and more an indication they need to do some serious shadow work.

Thank you for your question, no harm was inferred and I wish you all the best. Az. 💜💜💜