#even if you think it is a hot take! all opinions are valid and welcome here!

[stexconfessions]

Mod Blog:

Little feeler to ask for more headcanons, opinions, thoughts or feelings about Starlight Express!

(You are also welcome to vent and get things off your chest if you want to! If typing things out and posting them in the box helps to clear your head of it then go ahead❣)

(Feel free to reblog this around too :) )

[acespec-ed]

I don’t really know if that’s a right blog to say this, but you helped me earlier and I feel forever thankful for this and you are very trustworthy person so I’ll try.

Am I in the wrong for actually not minding that some ship aro or ace characters? I know that it’s huge topic in the fandoms and a lot of people feel like it’s scraping identity from the character, but meanwhile I sit there and I’m like „As long as they portray it as a spectrum of aromanticism or asexuality, or will make it queerplatonic relationship I’m fine”.

Like, please- I really need a different opinion on this topic, because I feel like I’m in the wrong, because this behaviours really can hurt aro/ace person and in the same time that my opinion is valid, because I dunno, maybe I’m kinda projecting my own experiences on characters.

Sorry for bad english and repetetive phrases, I’m kinda overworked heh. Also, I bet you don’t remember my take, but I had internalized arophobia (idk if I used a right word. I mean that I was denying that I can be aromantic). If you don’t want to answer I’m fine with it. I’m still thankfull for running this blog and answering even for difficult questions. We need more people like you.

You're welcome! 💜

Shipping ace/aro characters is something I have mixed feelings on. For the most part, I think it's okay to ship ace/aro characters IF the person shipping them is respectful of their identities. After all, some aces and aros enter sexual/romantic relationships for a variety of reasons. I don't see anything wrong with exploring those options. Especially when it's an ace or aro person doing the writing. I've heard writing ace/aro characters in relationships have helped ace/aro people with their own feelings. But we also can't force authors to come out when they don't want to, so we can't demand only ace/aro people are allowed to write them. (Besides, allos writing about us will hopefully cause them to do research on us, thus helping them be more educated when they otherwise wouldn't be.)

So, I'm mostly okay with it, as long as the person is respectful of the identities. If you (anyone reading this) are concerned that you're not being respectful, then chances are, you are being respectful. The kind of people I'm referring to are those who use the "aces/aros can still x!1!" excuse to justify shipping two characters together because they think they're hot. And go on to write them as allo characters. And then double down when you try calling them out on it/pointing out flaws in the portrayal. But people who are capable of listening to aspecs when they point out mistakes in their rep and willing to learn are okay.

My only major concern is, when the majority of a fandom starts shipping a potentially ace/aro character with someone. It's worrisome that the creators are gonna scratch the possibility of them being ace/aro by shoving them in a relationship to make the fans happy. And then we lose that potential rep. Then, have to come up with our own excuses as to why we see that character as ace/aro. Then, WE'RE the ones who have to sit there and go "aces/aros can still x!" while aphobes brush us off as a joke. But in my experience, that potentially ace/aro character will get paired off with someone regardless. So even that doesn't bother me enough to shame fans for shipping them.

All that aside, it looks like you're shipping them while still being respectful of their identities. So you're good. 💜

(Any concerned writers out there reading this, I once made a post about how to respectfully write acespec characters here.)

[murderousginger]

Gentle Giant

Arthur Shelby x reader

Word count: 1,708

Warnings: Adultery. Sex. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Requested by @caelys for this song.

You tried not to stare, but you failed every service. You resolved yourself to sitting opposite them in the circle of foldable chairs instead. Easier not to be seen breaking your neck over a married man, rising suspicions and idle gossip among the chickens.

The meetings were held in secret in the pastor's business. Quaker service was simple and pure. You all read the Bible together and discussed passages as the pastor mediated the flock if discussions got heated. Those of you with the urge could sing whatever the lord influenced you to. Or, you all sat in silence if no one felt compelled to talk.

You sang quite often. 

It soothed you and seemed to soothe others, so you were regularly called to sing at the beginning of the meeting.

You liked making others feel at ease and were often called on to welcome new members or talk to those that felt the need to talk to someone. 

As a widow, you often helped after service to put the chairs up or see to the children while their parents did the rounds of greeting others. You weren't there for the gossip or the social hierarchy that so many used these meetings for. You just liked being around similar minded people. 

And then Linda brought her husband around. 

They were dating at first. Arthur, following Linda around like a lost puppy with his hat wrung in his hands, was hard to ignore. His face was haggard in that same way most men that returned from the war was, but his eyes were soft. He kept his voice soft around everyone and often looked to the floor, but there was a sense of power hidden in his rough hands, his brow, his tense back. It was as if he was a lion hiding as a lamb in fear of being cast out.

Linda never particularly liked you; she never particularly liked anyone that she couldn't control or otherwise bend to her whims. She was a strong woman with a strong voice and the opinion it needed to be heard. You both stayed cordial but otherwise away from each other, but you couldn't help but be interested in him.

There were whispers. A Shelby, they said. Dangerous. 

But he didn't seem dangerous. He seemed lost. All too eager to follow Linda to whatever she dragged him into if it meant she continued smiling at him. 

He became a regular member, following Linda on her constant reach for more. You found yourself talking to him more than once as she made her rounds, and that's when you realized you cared about the quiet, strong man that was being overshadowed by his ambitious wife. 

Today, the smell of gunpowder and whiskey was stained on his clothes from the night before. His eyes still floated along as if he was half drunk. Linda held his arm in a vice grip as she dragged him along to make the rounds of greetings after service. Her smile was tight and never met her eyes. The honeymoon phase was well over.

"Y/N, so nice to see you!" Linda's voice raised in fake cheer. 

"And you, sister of the lord!" you answered back with equally fake cheer. "How are you both this morning? Late start?"

"Good!" Linda sung. "We are good. Nothing slips past you! Our resident songbird also has eagle eyes."

Your mouth fought to grimace at the dig, but you kept your smile plastered on.

"And you, Arthur?" you asked softly, ignoring Linda. "How did you find the service?"

"Your voice always brings out other's inner light to service, Y/N," he said with a smile. "It's a right beautiful way to start a Sunday."

You smiled, tucking your chin to your chest to hide your embarrassment at his comment. 

"Thank you."

"Really?" Linda said as she looked up to her husband. "Her voice always had a grit that I thought belonged in a nightclub rather than singing to angels. Oh look, let's go say hello to Mr. Peyton."

Linda dragged Arthur off by the arm as he shot you an apologetic look and you bit your cheek at her comment. His compliment bounced through your brain even as Linda's comment stung.

You started to gather the chairs, folding them and carrying a few at a time into the pastor's  office to pack away into a storage room. With almost 30 members, it would take almost a dozen trips to collect all of the chairs.

You turned around to make your way for another trip when the door swung open and Arthur came in with 4 or 5 chairs tucked under his arms.

"Thought you could use a hand," he said with a small smile. "Save you a few trips, songbird."

"That's very kind of you, Arthur," you smiled back. "Thank you."

You opened the storage door and let him set the chairs down with the rest. He patted himself, turning to you as you both stayed in the doorway.

"Sorta selfish, too," Arthur said hushed. "Helping you gets me out of the rounds today. I'm in no shape for pleasantries with Linda's friends."

You both chuckled.

"Well I won't tattle on you, Arthur," you chuckled. "It's not my cup of tea, either. That's why I offer to do these types of things. I like being helpful."

"It'll be our secret."

Your heart fluttered as he stood in the doorway with you, looking down on you with those soft, sad eyes. The whiskey made his breath hot and your mind race. You didn't want to think anymore.

You reached up on your toes and you kissed him, feeling him freeze under your touch. You pulled back to see a look of shock on his face but also a spark in his eye. 

"We shouldn't do this, love," he stammered, his hands finding your hips as you raised to your toes to meet his lips again. "I'm married to Linda. It's Sunday after a service. You're a good Christian woman."

"And you're a good Christian man," you replied as your hand found his chest. "You try to be, and that's all that God asks of us. It's Linda that demands more of you."

Arthur licked his lips and your eyes followed the movement for a moment as you bit your own. When you looked back into Arthur's eyes you noticed the spark grew brighter. 

"She's just trying to keep me from sin, love," he said hoarsely. "She's a good woman who took pity on a sinner and is trying to keep my soul saved."

"Or she's trying to control you, Arthur," you replied. "Just like your brothers do. I don't want to control you. I want to be beside you."

"What do you know of my brothers?"

You shrugged. 

"Church holds the spirit as well as a lot of gossip," you say. "Whatever they say about your business is not mine to judge you for. I only think that Linda is using the phrase 'love the sinner, hate the sin,' in the wrong way intended. Your inner light is valid."

"How old are you, songbird?" Arthur asks suddenly, his warm rough hand lightly caressing your cheek. "What do you want with an old man?"

"I'm two years older than Linda," you laugh as you press his hand into your cheek.

"You church girls always look so young," he murmured as you pressed closer to him. "Like sin ages a body."

"Kiss me, Arthur," you sighed. "You're stalling."

And he did. Hesitantly. Softly. His mustache tickled your nose but his lips were soft against yours. Your heart slowed, just like time did.

When a light sigh escaped your mouth -- the faintest moan of happiness -- Arthur's tongue grazed your lip and you happily allowed him access to explore.

His hands held onto you like you were an anchor. He pressed you backward out of the doorway until you were lifted clumsily onto the pastor's desk, knocking over a chair on the way. The noise made you both jump and freeze for a moment. Arthur's hands played at the hem of your skirt.

"We shouldn't," you said breathlessly. "Not here. Too many people could walk in."

Arthur kissed you again, trailing kisses to your ear and down your neck as his hands pushed your skirt higher. 

"We can be quick, songbird," Arthur growled into your neck. "An old man can make quick work of a beautiful lady."

"Arthur," you gasped as his fingers found their destination and he pushed your underwear to the side. 

Your head fell back as he pressed into you and growled into your chest. His hands gripped your hips roughly, surely causing bruises as he found a rhythm. 

"Say it again, love," he mumbled, pulling you back to the moment rather than being lost in the sensation. "Say m'name again, sweet like."

"Arthur," you said softly as you bit your lip. His thrust sharpened and you held onto him as your pleasure rose.

"Sounds like fuckin' music," he murmured.

"Arthur," you moaned louder before his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the yell of passion you wanted to make as he got rougher. 

There it was, the beast that hid behind the softness. And he was glorious.

He buried his own head into the crook of your neck as you bit his hand and came, him following moments after. 

He stayed inside you, catching his breath over you before reluctantly stepping back and tucking himself away. 

"Can you find a reason to get away, Arthur?" You asked as you smoothed your shirt and stood up from the desk to straighten your skirt. "Can you visit me tonight?"

"Ayuh," Arthur nodded. His eyes looked clearer than before. "I'll tell Linda there's business and come round after dinner."

You nodded, guilt stinging you as he said her name. Your lip began to tremble as the realization set in.

"Hey," Arthur said, his finger tracing your lip. "None of that, love."

He kissed you softly, once again a lamb. 

"Tonight," he said as he kissed you. "We'll have time to be slow. Until you're hoarse from singing my name."

You smiled, feeling the bruises forming on your hips now that the thrill was over. 

"Tonight, then."

[kireiwoo]

[3:39pm] # jeong yunho.

“do you think your mom would like a tampa drill or a keychain?” you ponder, holding up both a tropical palm-tree keychain and a pearlish-purple conch-like shell. your boyfriend of numerous years, jeong yunho, furrows his brows acutely. his lips screw into an agog quirk as he fingers the fabric of his opened floral print button-up, glasses draped atop his curled baby blue tresses. the salt water from earlier’s endeavour landed his body in a refreshed but chilly state, locks frizzy and body reddened from the slight cold.

“mom likes anything you give her,” he informs, his relaxed posture practically dwarfing your own hunched one. “remember that mixed stem bouquet you got her? she wouldn’t stop bragging about how her ‘daughter in law is the sweetest thing!’” he imitates his mother with a haggard, high-octaved voice, laughing when you crack a simper. you’ve always had insecurities when it came to yunho’s family; albeit the fact that you all got along splendidly, many cliche worries harassed at you and hindered your ability to truly stay comforted.

yunho was raised properly, with boundless respect and his lovable personality birthed from familial support and care. at heart, he was and always would be a family man, no matter how often he denies it. you just didn’t want to leave a sour impression on the people he loved with his entire kind heart, knowing that their opinions have a great impact on his outlook of things. not only that, but you want to be someone that his mother and father regard with pride; proudness that their son is with someone approval-worthy; someone they can depend on to take care of him. 

and on the contrary, despite your mental exaggerations, yunho knew his family would welcome you with widely open arms and rather zealous smiles on their face.

“sweetheart, don’t worry! mom loves you, i promise.” the cliche doubtfulness you were experiencing made you rethink a lot of your choices. maybe getting a gift in general would seem too desperate for validation—or what if not getting a gift was unthoughtful? there were so many diffidences that bit at you boldly.

“yunho, i don’t know... are you sure she likes me?” yunho frowns at your lack of conviction to his honest assertion. befuddled, he pulls out his mobile device, quickly ringing up his mom while you questionably gaze at him. after a few beeps, his mother answers the phone with an enthusiastic prowess, her voice exhilarated and tickled with peculiarity at the oddity of yunho’s random call. she babies yunho with question after question of whether or not he’s eaten or how his day has been—but one inquiry above all sticks to you with anxiety.

“is y/n with you?” her voice is restrained but enthusiastic and you can hear the anticipation straining from over the phone. yunho confirms her question by mentioning that you’re right there beside him, enjoying the thrill of the beach and the tourist-centric gift shop the two of you were currently exploring. his mother gasps and immediately requests that she talk to you, voice rushed and impatient. you gulp and conspicuously shake your head adamantly at yunho who only smiles devilishly and pushes the phone into your hand, taking the keychain and ornamental but beautiful shell.

“he-hello, mrs. jeong...” you mumble, and the woman squeals and greets you with a motherly tone, requesting that you call her ‘mom’ before she asks questions similar to the ones she shot at yunho earlier. the shock on your face is quite obvious, mixed with the tinge of embarrassment you harboured for doubting yunho, himself. his mother fretted about the hot weather and how she had dinner plans for when the two of you returned home—she droned about how she misses you and how her other, smaller son misses you as well. it brings an subconscious smile to your face as you converse with her, walking the shop as she laughs and makes small talk with you. your tall boyfriend watches with a simple smug glint in his eye at the mere fact that without a doubt, his mother loved you.

his mother loved you because he loved you. and because you were a dazzling soul—someone considerate and intelligent and wonderful to everyone you know. it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but yunho doubts that his mother would think otherwise even without his countless speeches about the upsides to dating you. lately, he’s been chatting with his mother while you sleep, and nowadays the aforementioned woman’s little rambles about her infamous and affectionately labelled ‘daughter in law’ have yunho thinking.

yunho toys with the velvet lined box holding a ring in his right pocket, observing as you fiddle with different multitudes of trinkets and knickknacks, laughing with his mom over baby stories and misplaced reminiscence. soon, he thinks—because looking at you right now? there isn’t an uncertainty in his mind.

[gentledragxns]

Here’s a hot take the day before Pride Month begins...

I’m a nonbinary bisexual person.

Now, you might be thinking, “how can someone nonbinary identify as bisexual?” Simple.

Bisexuality was never limited to binary attraction.

This goes all the way back to the The Bay Area Bisexual Network article, “Anything That Moves: Beyond The Myths of Bisexuality,” published in 1990 and commonly referred to as the, “Bisexual Manifesto.”

The article reads, “Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. Do not assume that bisexuality is binary or dougamous in nature; that we must have "two" sides or that we MUST be involved simultaneously with both genders to be fulfilled human beings. In fact, don't assume that there are only two genders.”

Bisexuality has never excluded nonbinary genders. In fact, it’s written in the manifesto that assuming bisexuality operates in a binary or assuming there are only two binary genders is a myth. Bisexuality has a deep and rich history of including nonbinary folks.

So why, then, do some people use the label, “pansexual?”

The way I see it, some people identify as pansexual for the same reason that some people use the label, “pescatarian.” Pescatarian usually refers to someone who eats fish but no other type of meat. Many people who call themselves, “vegetarian,” also eat fish but no other type of meat. But some people want to use a more specific label than, “vegetarian,” that helps communicate their identity to the world around them. They want you to know that they include fish in their diet, even though some vegetarian people do too.

It is the same with pansexuality (although obviously the labels pescatarian and pansexual vary in large degrees). Pansexuality is an identity that builds off of bisexuality, creating a more specific and conspicuous label to make their intentions clear.

In my opinion, pansexuality is not, “biphobic.” It is simply a way for people to let others know, in a more obvious way, that they include nonbinary people in their attraction. It’s not wrong to do so.

The problem is that many people have begun to interpret pansexuality as being more inclusive, and assume that bisexuality excludes nonbinary folks as a result. Obviously the 30+ year old Bisexual Manifesto and conversations with most bisexual people prove that that has never been true.

So if both pansexuality and bisexuality include nonbinary people, what’s the difference between the two labels? To be honest, that’s up for each individual to decide. The meaning is different for everyone and that’s okay. There is no right or wrong answer.

So why do I choose to identify as bisexual rather than pansexual? To put it simply, I have identified as bisexual for most of my life, and I feel accepted and safe in this community. Bisexuality has a deep and rich history in the LGBTQ+ community. It is more recognizable and oftentimes more accepted than other labels like pansexual or omnisexual, and this makes it feel safer to use. To me, bisexuality means being attracted to two or more genders, including genders like my own and not like my own. It is a label I personally feel more comfortable using. As a nonbinary person I feel welcome and at home in the bisexual label and community, because bisexuality has always included people like me.

And identifying as bisexual doesn’t make me, “panphobic.” Quite the opposite really. I think pansexual people have every right to feel like they belong in this community, just as much as bisexual folks do. I just personally choose not to identify that way.

At the end of the day, these labels are constantly changing and adapting, and each person has an individual perception of them. But claiming that bisexuality excludes nonbinary identities or that pansexuality is more inclusive than bisexuality is false. There is no real reason to argue about how someone chooses to identify themselves, and trying to perpetuate these ideas is dismissive and destructive to both bisexual and pansexual people (as well as those that use other labels like omnisexual or polysexual).

Let people identify how they want to. There is nothing wrong with using the labels bisexual or pansexual to describe yourself. We are all valid and should be focusing on unifying within the LGBTQ+ community rather than fighting over linguistic context.

I’m nonbinary and bisexual and that’s okay. I belong here. I’m not being excluded or marginalized in the bisexual community. My identity fits me. And honestly, that’s all that really matters.

•💖💜💙•

•💛🤍💜🖤•

TLDR: bisexuality includes nonbinary people and always has, bisexuality isn’t panphobic, pansexuality isn’t biphobic, both identities are valid, let people identify how they want to

[baggebythesea]

In a peacetime modern AU of SPOP where the characters are fans of a show similar to our SPOP, how would they engage in fandom? For example: Who would ship whom? Who would write fic or draw art? Who would write or draw smut?? Who would have a wall of theories with evidence connected by a web of threads? Who would do their own thing shipping a rare pair and who would be a card carrying popular ship shipper? Who would strongly empathise with their parallel character and who would just not get them at all? Would anyone cosplay? Which older adult would shock the young'uns by saying 'Well I wouldn't say no...' as they sip their tea from the doorway? (Obviously answer as much or as little as you like!)

Ooooh! Great ask.

Glimmer declares the show the best thing ever (because it's pink and princessy and kicks ass), and the best friend squad watches it religiously. Adora doesn't really get what the big deal with shipping is supposed to be, but she think it's neat that Netossa and Spinnerella is a couple. Lowkey ships Glimmer with Bow because she likes the idea of childhood friends falling in love with each other. Also, she really likes it when the title character gets a horse. Hangs out a lot in fandom space but doesn't really produce content, at least until Bow and Glimmer manages to talk her into writing down some of her many, many theories of how the show will turn out and just what the logistics network through the whispering woods are supposed to look like. She secretly worries when one of her posts don't get as much attention as the last one.

Bow is just hung up on poor Catra and want for her to get some love. Mostly he cheers on Scorpia, but he would ship Catra with Adora or even Double Trouble in desperation for someone to take the cat away from the hole she spend most of the series in. He takes up sewing and makes a point of cosplaying every single princess. Comments on everyone's fanfic and likes everyone's posts.

Glimmer sees a bit of herself in Catra (because she too knows the pain of having a mother who doesn't understand her). She totally ships the cat-girl with the glitter princess and writes really messed up fanfics about them. So much passion. So much delicious, delicious self-destruction. Practically drools at the end of season 4 and all the angst that goes down there. She regularly asks Bow to beta read and traumatises him badly. Gets into fan-fights on social media about stupid shit. Cosplays Catra on a con and makes out with a Glimmer cosplayer.

Angella vaguely recalls the first show from when she was young and earns some much needed mom-points with Glimmer when she digs up a mint condition original She-Ra+Swift Wind toy from a carefully labelled box in the basement. She ships Glimmer with Bow because she really likes that boy. Micah used to watch the show as a kid and had a bit of a crush on the original She-Ra. Ships Bow with Sea Hawk and cheerfully fills the hashtag #SeaBow with memes at least a decade out of fashion. Mortifies his daughter when he take them to a con and insists on cosplaying as Hordak. Ends up in the bar together with George and Lance and sings karaoke to My Little Pony-songs.

George and Lance don't really get the show but are happy to take the kids to con. Cosplays as characters from old Belgian comics.

Catra thinks the show is silly (and watches every episode passionately. Shut up. Just humouring Scorpia, is all). She thinks the Catra character in the show is a wimp, but ships her with Double Trouble because she likes it when villains get their way. Draws really good fanart. A bit of a troll on social media because its so fun to rile up people like Glimmer.

Scorpia ships Catra and Adora and cries just as much as Bow in the First One's Temple part of season 1. She is completely floored by the large, femme and kinda clumsy Scorpia character hooking up with the beautiful, beautiful Perfuma because... um... Writes really bad but 100% heartfelt self insert fanfics. Draws stick figures of Perfuma and Scorpia holding hands. Reads and re-reads her favourite fanfics until her eyes are red from crying and in the end leaves a shy little "it was good"-comment for the last chapter. Tries to work up the courage to go to a con and talk to other fans. Wants to cosplay but has too bad self esteem.

Entrapta thinks the robots are unscientific for reasons she is happy to write hundreds of blog posts about. Ships Darla with the Velvet Glove (the word 'docking' is used extensively). Considers Hordak a total hottie and draws really - and I mean really - explicit fan art. Spends her first convention on the parking lot trying to fix her Emily cosplay.

Lonnie rage-quits watching the show the moment Adora leaves the Horde but thinks Adora and Mermista should just do it already.

Kyle ships Bow with an OC named Lyle who everyone likes and no one makes fun of. Has written a ten chapter fanfic which no one has commented.

Rogelio ships Tung Lashor with Sea Hawk. His fanart can melt through steel.

Sea Hawk ships EVERYONE with Merm-iiiiiiiiiista. Runs ten different fan-events simultaneously. Mermista just ships Adora with Lonnie or whatever. They do duo-cosplay on cons, much to Mermista's embarrassment.

Perfuma ships Entrapta with Hordak, writes post after post exploring their psychosocial dynamic and is downright gleeful when it becomes canon. Spends the cons friend-momming on the rest of the group and makes sure they are all hydrated.

Frosta thinks shipping is stupid and want to see more of princesses teaming up and beating the shit out of the bad guys with the power of friendship. Also has a really detailed backstory for her OC. Only ask if you have plenty of time. Has a pretty good Glimmer cosplay.

Huntara ships Juliette with Castaspella and writes surprisingly sweet fics about them crushing on each other. Keeps order on social media.

Castaspella ships Shadow Weaver with Angella and writes fanfic that could easily be published as high class erotica. She's a really good commentor on other people's fics, giving tons of support and little constructive hints where she feels it might be well received.

Juliette has better things to do than watching a children's cartoon, but she does enjoy some of Castaspella's stories.

Spinnerella ships Catra and Adora and is just so proud when it turns out to be canon. Tells everyone who wants to listen how little representation was available in her first fandom and how far things have come.

Netossa ships Adora and Mermista and draws really hot fanart of them making out in gym showers and the like. Prefers modern aus and couldn't care less about canon as long as it gives her hot characters to play with.

Shadow Weaver doesn't ship anyone because no one is worthy of the love of Adora who is the only worthwhile character. Writes a 40+ chapter story about a badly out-of-character Adora who takes over the Horde and laughs at her enemies from the throne. Is enraged when people dare having the wrong opinion about things but can't tell them so because she feels social media is beneath her. Secretly reads Castaspella's fanfic.

Horde Prime ships Horde Prime with Shadow Weaver. She is written completely out of character in a rather insulting and sexist way. Completely insufferable on social media and insist on everyone signing up to his headcanon.

Hordak says he doesn't ship anyone because romance is silly. Cries over Adora's redemption arc when he thinks no one watches and ships her with Glimmer because he just wants to the poor, rejected Horde soldier lost in a strange land she doesn't understand to get some love and kindness.

Wrong Hordak ships Scorpia with Perfuma because love finds a way. Draws the purest fluff you'll ever see.

Double Trouble trolls social media at every turn and gleefully ships the most messed up shit they can think of. Shadow Weaver and Perfuma, Catra and Sea Hawk, Angella and Hordak, Horde Prime and Swift Wind... Also ships the characters they deem to have most dramatic potential to derail the story such as Entrapta and Hordak, Glimmer and Catra, Glimmer and Double Trouble... kinda has a low key crush on the sparkly character but denies it if anyone asks. Really good at cosplay and runs a tutorial at the cons.

Swift Wind thinks there are too few horse characters. Ships Swift Wind with Rainbow Dash.

Light Hope only ships canon pairings because by definition canon is the only thing that is valid. Writes long, convoluted predictions that she updates after every episode. She gets an existential crisis when her predictions don't pan out in canon.

Mara ships Adora and Glimmer. Still gets hot and fussy every time she thinks of the s1 hot spring scene. Wants the hardworking perfectionist to get love.

Razz write novel length stories where she ship a character mentioned in passing in an unpublished Dickens novel with her old middle school math teacher. No one has any idea what she is going on about or why she posts it in the she-ra tag, but her stories are good and she's a complete delight at cons, so she's welcome in the fandom.

[novelconcepts]

prompt from @alominific​: a snapshot from FWB ‘verse, in which everybody absolutely, without a doubt, knows what color Jamie’s eyes are

“Dani?” 

She raises her head, fingers sliding between the pages of her book to mark her place. “Yeah?”

“Got a weird question for you.” Jamie is leaning against the kitchen counter, frowning at her phone. Dani would best categorize her expression as gently perplexed--not the first time something on the internet has sparked such a look, though the inciting incident could be anything from an odd social media message to a truly bizarre animal photo. 

“Shoot,” Dani says, when it becomes apparent Jamie is lost in whatever has plucked up her puzzlement. “Though if it’s about the mating rituals of ducks again, I really don’t think I’m the person--”

“What color are my eyes?”

Not what I expected. “Um. Do you...not know?”

Jamie gesticulates with the phone as though it’s just insulted her family name, shaking her head. “No, look--stop laughing, there’s a goddamn debate raging over on my most recent photo. Which, honestly, how bored do you have to be? Eye color doesn’t spark debate.”

“Evidently, it does.” Dani grins. "Your fan club never ceases finding new ways to stay busy, huh?”

Jamie squints at her. “Are you stalling?”

“No!” Why stall? This is an easy question. Barely a question at all, really. A nice-straightforward-- “Your eyes are definitely--I mean, they’re--”

“You have to look?” Jamie sounds scandalized, squeezing her eyes shut and clapping her free hand over her face for good measure. “Jesus, Dani. You’ve only been starin’ into ‘em for a year.”

“No, it’s not--” Dani flops back in her chair, closing her own eyes and casting back. The memories spill over, neat as Saturday morning: Jamie, grinning from across the table; Jamie, glancing up in the supermarket; Jamie, gazing down at her in bed. 

Jamie, whose eyes are definitely, absolutely--

“Blue?” Dani asks hesitantly. Jamie makes an undignified noise. 

“That was a question. You just answered a question with a question.”

“Brown,” Dani says, with as much certainty as she can muster. “They’re definitely--”

"Brown?” Jamie sounds vaguely outraged. “You think they’re brown?”

“Well,” Dani says, a bit peevishly, “what color do you think my--”

“Blue.” Jamie doesn’t even wait for her to finish. Her mouth is working, the way it does when she’s trying desperately to hang on to a grumpy mood even as it’s slipping away. “Blue as a fuckin’ summer sky. Blue as the songs say. Blue as--”

“All right! Point made.” Dani leans over the kitchen table, book forgotten, hands reaching hopefully toward Jamie’s hunched frame. “C’mere, let me look. We’ll settle this.”

“Oh, settle it, will we?” Jamie grumbles. “Sure, right, you’re doin’ me a favor.”

Now she’s just being childish. Dani raises an eyebrow. 

“Would you say keeping the upper hand in this conversation is more important than sleeping in my bed tonight, or...?”

“Valid.” Tossing herself moodily into the next chair, Jamie shakes the hair from her face, leans in, opens her eyes comically wide. “Right. Settle it, then.”

Dani leans close.

Dani looks.

Dani keeps looking.

“Seriously?” Jamie blinks rapidly, scrubbing a hand across her face. “Practically half a goddamn hour, you still don’t have an answer?”

“They’re--” Dani makes a helpless gesture. “They’re--very pretty.”

“That is not,” Jamie says, clearly fighting a grin now, “what I asked.”

“So pretty,” Dani repeats. “Gorgeous, really. Best eyes I’ve ever--”

“Dani Clayton, do you legitimately not know what color my eyes are?”

“Well, they’re like a--I don’t know, a sunbeam.”

“A sunbeam,” Jamie repeats, like Dani has started speaking French mid-conversation. Dani winces.

“Sure. Beautiful. And, um. Unknowable.”

“This is ridiculous.” Jamie flips her phone in her hand, taps the screen several times. “We’re getting a professional opinion.”

“I’m not a professional opinion?”

“You just told me my eyes are sunbeams. All rights to a career as number one Jamie enthusiast have gone out the door for the foreseeable.” Jamie punches something on the screen and folds her arms on the table as the phone begins to ring. 

“So, who are you,” Dani begins, cutting herself off when a voice on the other end of the phone says pleasantly, “Wingrave residence, Mrs. Grose speaking.”

“Hannah,” Jamie sighs. “Dire question for you. What color would you say my eyes are?”

There is, Dani is amused to note, an extremely long beat of silence, after which Hannah’s voice--hesitant, and not the least bit formal now--pipes back up.

“Um...blue?”

“This is ridiculous,” Jamie repeats, sounding as though she has no idea how she’s ended up surrounded by such lunacy. “Ask Flora. Flora will know.”

“You’re outsourcing to the children now?” Dani is mildly insulted. 

A scuffling sound, as Hannah covers the phone and calls for the kids. Another, as tiny feet skitter over tile. Breathless, and no less excited for it, Flora’s voice filters through the speaker. 

“Jamie!”

“Flora,” Jamie says, narrowing her eyes at Dani with a grim little smile. “Important question for you. What color are my eyes?”

“Well,” Flora’s tiny voice comes back without missing a beat. “They’re definitely not blue--” Jamie makes a vindicated little motion in Dani’s direction at this. “--because Miles has blue eyes. And they’re definitely not brown, because mine are brown.” A pause, as Jamie leans back in her chair and smirks. “I think they’re...green.”

“Green,” Jamie repeats. Dani takes her by the chin, twisting her jaw left and right in an effort to coax the poor kitchen lighting to reveal hidden secrets. “You think so?”

“They’re not,” Dani mouths. Green, she feels, is a very straightforward color. Jamie’s are anything but straightforward.

“Yes,” Flora says with all the certainty of a child who rarely believes herself to be wrong. “Definitely. Except for the days when they’re not.”

“Oh,” says Jamie in a rather distant tone. “Well, clears it right up then, doesn’t it?”

“You’re welcome!” 

“Well.” Dani taps the table once. “That’s--who are you calling now?”

Jamie mutters something that sounds just a little too much like last hope for Dani to take seriously. She shakes her head. 

“I’m really starting to think--”

“Owen,” Jamie says, hefting the phone to her ear. “Oi. Quick question--no, everything’s fine. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Okay. Look, question: you’ve been looking at my face for a while, yeah?” A pause, as Owen ostensibly agrees. “Great. What color are my eyes?”

Dani watches, amused, as the determination slowly drains from Jamie’s face. It is replaced by something very much like defeat, her head slumping onto her arms; by the time she’s saying, “Right. Uh huh. You really think so?”, her face is almost completely barricaded in the sleeve of her flannel. 

“He said blue, didn’t he?” Dani asks, when Jamie hangs up and slides her phone so forcefully across the table, it nearly spills onto the floor. “You know, there are many shades of--”

“Gray,” Jamie says into the hollow of her arm. “He seemed very sure they’re gray.”

“Gray is,” Dani says helpfully, “sort of like blue.”

Jamie makes a noise a little like a growl. Dani swallows the impulse to laugh.

“Jamie.”

“Mm.”

“You don’t actually know the answer, do you?”

Jamie raises her head, hilariously morose. “I honestly write a different fuckin’ answer on every form.”

The giggles are going to make it out of her, Dani recognizes; it’s just a matter of fending them off long enough to get Jamie grinning, too. “What, um. What does the fan club have to say about it?”

Without looking, Jamie fumbles for her phone. Takes a deep breath. Flicks it open.

“There is,” she says dryly, “a dead tie between gray, green, and fuck all knows, she’s hot.”

“That settles it, then.” Dani slips out of her chair, resting her chin gently on Jamie’s shoulder. “Next time you have to fill out a form, just write in fuck all, she’s hot, and you’re golden.”

Jamie snorts, dropping the phone and leaning back into the embrace. “Really think they’re pretty, at least?”

“None prettier.”

"Maybe I’ll just start putting that.” Jamie shakes her head. “Prettier than yours. Think that’d go over all right?”

“Think they’d stop arguing the minute they saw your face,” Dani says, and finds herself meaning it with no shame at all. Jamie turns, nuzzling into her hair. 

“You’re just saying that to distract from how you defaulted to brown.”

“Okay, literally everyone said a different color, you’re still going to tease me for brown?”

“Dani.” To punctuate the imminent point, Jamie widens her eyes again--as far as she can manage, at least, while dissolving into laughter. “Of all the fuckin’ colors. You picked the one I have never once seen in the mirror.”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let me look.” 

Still laughing, Jamie shifts in her seat, catches her around the waist, pulls her down into her lap. “You,” she says fondly, “are the smartest person I know. And, if I’m being honest, the love of my life.”

“And?” Her hands are warm, slipping under Dani’s shirt, her mouth soft on Dani’s neck. It’s almost pleasant enough to forget Jamie is about to say--

“And your observation skills are, and I mean this with boundless affection: non-existent. I mean. Brown?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dani takes her face between gentle hands, gazing at her with all the seriousness she can muster. “Let me get this right. Your eyes are...a perfect green-gray-gold-hazel. In this light. Tomorrow, I’ll provide an update out in the sun.”

Jamie’s entire body is shuddering with laughter, her head falling forward until Dani releases and allows her to lean into her collar. “Best stick to pretty, I think.”

“I thought you’d say that. But if you want me to drop a comment tomorrow, resolving the issue once and for--” She cuts herself off with a shriek as Jamie stands abruptly, hoisting her with a sharp motion onto the table. “You’re about to pretend we never had this conversation, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Jamie says pleasantly, brushing a kiss against her lips. Her hands are sliding up Dani’s thighs, squeezing just hard enough to distract from the issue. “Unless you’d say keeping the upper hand is more important...”

Dani sees no reason to dignify this with a response. 

[bisexualbuckleyy]

my thoughts on the lawsuit arc: my 911 hot take of the day

i know the lawsuit arc is one of the most controversial storylines in all of 911 and everyone has wildly different opinions on it so i’m here to offer my take on it. this is just my opinion and how i view the characters so enjoy!

first of all, i feel like a lot of times if people love a character they get mad when the character does something they don’t agree with or that they think is wrong or selfish or harmful. and while it can be very hard to see a character that you love do things that aren’t good, that’s what makes a character interesting. if a character was perfect and never did anything wrong, they would be incredibly boring and one-dimensional. but instead of looking critically at character choices and analyzing their motivations and accepting that they’re a flawed character with complex emotions they often just get angry and say that a storyline was dumb or didn’t make sense because it didn’t fit with their view of the character.

this is what i’ve seen a lot of people do with buck, bobby, and the lawsuit arc. they say that both of them acted recklessly and impulsively and handled the situation terribly, and i’m here to say: yes, they did, and that’s the entire point.

the entire lawsuit arc revolves around all of these characters making all the wrong decisions, but with very valid and understandable motivations behind those decisions. neither of them acted like their best selves because they weren’t being their best selves. they weren’t acting out of logic, they were acting out of raw emotion and that led them to make stupid decisions that caused a lot of pain. and that’s a good thing. (for the story, not for the characters obviously)

let’s first look at bobby, who arguably was the catalyst for this whole situation (technically it was the truck bombing, but i’m talking season 3). the end of season 2 sees bobby being forced to deal with his traumatic past and relive the deaths of his wife and children and all of the people in that apartment building that he felt responsible for. he has his title and job stripped away, he’s taken away from the thing that provides him with healthy coping mechanisms, and then he’s forced to watch from the sidelines while the man he thinks of as a son is trapped under a ladder truck that was intended to kill bobby.

obviously bobby gets his job back, buck survives, and everything’s relatively okay at the end of season 2, but bobby still has that guilt on top of the guilt he’s been dealing with for years over his wife and kids. beginning of season 3, bobby is tentatively ready to welcome buck back, and then he watches buck almost die in front of him (again) and, understandably, panics. he tells buck he’s not ready to come back and buck lashes out and quits.

bobby watches buck almost die yet again during the tsunami, which he almost certainly blamed himself for, feeling that if he had let buck come back to work, buck wouldn’t have gotten caught in the tsunami.

buck obviously comes around and takes the fire marshal job, which bobby viewed as a way to let buck do what he wants while still protecting him. bobby blames himself for everything that’s happened to buck in the past six months, so of course he’s going to do everything he can to keep buck safe.

so, bobby lied to him and kept him from doing what he loved, because he didn’t know another way to keep buck safe. the concerns bobby raises even outside of his personal investment are very valid: buck is on blood thinners, which would make it significantly more dangerous for buck to be on a call. bobby already worries about buck constantly and this would only add another level to that, and he has an entire team to look out for.

and the most important thing: bobby blames himself for everything that’s happened to buck. if he allowed buck to come back and buck got hurt, bobby would blame himself. bobby has already lost so much and still blames himself, and he doesn’t think he can handle another loss like the one he’s already suffered. his actions come from a place of love and concern for buck and his safety.

and now for buck. i relate a lot to buck so there might be a bit of projecting in here but i’ll do my best to keep it impartial. to start off: what buck did was stupid, impulsive, selfish, and ended up hurting everyone he cared about. but it also makes complete sense when you look at it from his point of view.

as viewers of the show, we see the complete picture. we see every point of view, all of the thought processes behind character decisions, so it’s much easier for us to judge characters for their decisions. but we have to remember: buck did not have the full story. buck couldn’t see into bobby’s head and understand that this was coming from a place of love and a desire to protect.

all buck saw was the people he cared about abandoning him and thinking he wasn’t capable enough to do his job. this wasn’t at all what happened, but from his point of view that’s what it seemed like. and when you look at the situation from buck’s point of view, this starts to make a lot of sense.

end of season 2, buck gets crushed by a ladder truck and nearly dies. in an instant, his job, his normal life, and everything he cares about is ripped away from him. his girlfriend breaks up with him (not blaming ali, she had her reasons) which was just another person that left him, so he feels completely and utterly alone.

in the 5 months between season 2 and season 3, buck worked tirelessly to get better and get to the point where he could get back to being a firefighter, which he views as his entire life and the only thing that gives him purpose. he finally gets to where he can come back, and it’s all ripped away from him again when he nearly dies (again). after the blood clot, bobby tells him that the higher ups don’t think he should come back yet because of the blood thinners. buck is still in a very emotionally raw state, so he quits.

buck is understandably miserable after this, he feels like his life has no purpose and he’s unable to do what he loves. and then: the tsunami. buck nearly dies (AGAIN) and also almost loses christopher, who he basically views as a son. buck feels like he’s failed eddie but eddie reassures him that he trusts him completely.

and now we get to the primary conflict between bobby and buck’s respective motivations. bobby’s decisions, at their core, were out of guilt. he felt responsible for buck being injured, so he did everything he could to try to make up for that and keep buck from being injured.

buck’s motivations, on the other hand, revolved around trust. he always felt like he could trust bobby and the 118 completely, and saw them as family, especially bobby. buck thought that bobby was on his side, that he wanted buck to come back as much as buck did. when he finds out that bobby is the reason buck can’t come back, he feels betrayed. he sees the decision as an indication that bobby doesn’t trust him, and that he didn’t trust him enough to tell him what was really going on.

another important thing: buck had every reason to believe that the rest of the 118 knew what bobby was doing and were also lying to buck. the only person who knew was athena, but buck had no way of knowing that. buck himself says that the 118 tells each other everything, so why wouldn’t he assume that hen and chimney and eddie all knew and also chose not to tell him?

in buck’s eyes, his entire support system (excluding maddie) is ripped away from him at once. the 118, his family, doesn’t trust him, they lied to him, and they replaced him. obviously none of this is true, but from buck’s point of view, it makes complete sense.

this also makes eddie’s conversation with buck after the tsunami take on a whole new meaning. buck’s best friend looked into his eyes and assured him that he trusted him more than anyone in the world, and now buck thinks that eddie has been lying to his face. if bobby can lie to him and eddie can lie to him, then he can’t trust anything he thought he could.

so, buck goes for the nuclear option. he doesn’t feel like he has any other choice because he doesn’t feel like he even has anyone in his life that he can depend on right now. without his family, his friends, and his job he has nothing, so he grabs the first opportunity he sees to get that back.

was it a good decision? absolutely not. did it end up hurting everyone he cares about and nearly costing him everything? yes. was it stupid and impulsive and selfish and a whole bunch of other bad things? also yes.

but that is why it makes sense. it’s a very human decision borne from very complex, human emotions, and so is bobby’s decision. these characters are deeply flawed and complex and sometimes do impulsive and selfish things and that’s what makes them interesting.

the lawsuit arc is a perfect example of two people who deeply care about each other making all the wrong choices in an attempt to protect themselves and the people they care about. and that is why i think it is an incredibly well executed storyline that added tremendous depth to both buck and bobby’s respective characters and their relationship.

hope you enjoyed my ridiculously long post of the day! let me know if you want to hear my thoughts on any other storylines because i spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about this show.

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (6/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Some swearing.

Notes: Wow, last chapter blew the fuck up. I’m excited that y’all seemed to hate that cliffhanger, but I hope this chapter makes up for it! Enjoy! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Captain Rogers looks awkward in your living space - broad, large, and imposing where he sits on the couch. He sits stiffly, feeling out of place in your personal space, your private space, observing the tiny glimpses of who you are. He doesn’t feel he deserves it, doesn’t deserve the chance you’ve, to his own shock, given him.

Your rigid posture, hands behind your back, imply you’re expecting orders. And despite his attitudes toward you, you’d obey without question.

It makes his mouth twitch sadly, and he shakes his head. The gesture draws your eyebrows downward. Confusion, perplexion - he can’t blame you. He’d stood outside your door for thirty minutes and he’s still unsure of what he’s actually going to say.

How about, I’m sorry?

He knows you’re losing your already waning patience with him the longer he remains silent. Swallowing heavily, he forces himself to meet your eyes.

“I… I owe you some apologies.”

You almost succeed in masking the sheer shock your expression morphs into, but you aren’t quick enough. He huffs through his nose, a bit amused by you.

“I know it isn’t what you were expecting to hear but… I’d been doing some thinking - a lot of thinking, actually - and the way I’ve been treating you is far from fair. Or right. I haven’t been very accommodating to you since you first interviewed here, and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s deathly silent between the two of you, and you’ve managed to school your features back into that quiet stoicism that kind of unnerves him. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and each second you don’t speak drags by like a lifetime.

“What game are you playing, Captain?” you finally retort, terse and clipped. Even from across the room he can see the suspicion in your eyes, the mistrust. He hates that he’d been the one to put it there.

He spreads his hands, a gesture of innocence. “No games, I promise. I know I haven’t given you any reasons to trust me but, I sincerely hope you believe my sincerest apology. My treatment of you...it wasn’t intended to be personal…”

“It sure as hell felt personal,” you snap, and Captain Rogers winces, nodding in understanding. “I mean, what’s your angle here, Captain?”

The title is said scathingly, mockingly, a sneer curling your features. A look that’s so familiar when it’s directed at him it makes his stomach sink, makes it feel like it’s full of rocks. The guilt and disgust with himself puts a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“What are you getting out of this? There’s no way you’ve just happened to have a change of heart.”

“And if I have?” he questions sincerely.

“Then I don’t believe you,” is your immediate reply. Muscles in your jaw jumping, you continue, “From the get-go you have been nothing but a self-righteous asshole to me, ridiculing me in front of the other agents, second-guessing me, making me feel like I’d chosen the wrong career. You make me feel small, Captain Rogers, and like I don’t belong here. That being said, if your opinion of me actually mattered as much as you think it does, I would have put my notice in months ago.”

He knows the feeling of not being taken seriously, knows the pressure of being underestimated, ridiculed, taunted, pushed until he thinks he’s going to break. The fact he’s pushed you to this point puts nausea in his stomach.

You, meanwhile, can see every emotion as it plays out across his face. The furrow in his brow has grown more prominent, his frown deeper, fingers tightening into fists where they rest on his thighs. He squeezes his eyes shut and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to be sick. A small part of you realizes he’s actually disgusted in learning how he’s made you feel, but the angrier, less rational side of you is quickly stomping it back down.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness - not yet. Too many months had been spent questioning yourself, your training, your confidence. Your resentment of him for making you feel such a way is nearly palpable.

“You’ll understand why I’m having trouble believing a single word you’ve said to me.” Not a question, but a confident statement, and he can only nod. He’s done a lot of that in the time he’s been here, but he deserves every biting remark and question of motive you throw at him.

“So...where do we go from here?”

A valid question, but you aren’t sure of the answer, not right away. A few more moments’ pause and then:

“Give me time. Treat me like a human being, like an agent. Like I belong here because you and I know both know that I do. Start with that, and we’ll see. I can promise to remain professional - but only that.”

“I understand,” he says, and he stands because he’s getting the feeling he’s beginning to overstay his very reluctant welcome. “I know you don’t trust me, but I hope I can earn it back. You are a good agent, Y/N, truly. One of the best I’ve seen.”

He departs after your sharp inhale, a compliment that staggers you, honest-to-god nearly brings you to tears. Because even though he’s been a royal pain in your ass, it’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear him say. 

You’re sure that makes you some kind of mental case, but you can’t find it in you to care. Once the door closes, your knees buckle, dropping you into the armchair. A few tears escape your eyes, emotions in overdrive - first the incident with Bucky, and now this? Your head is spinning, a pulse behind your eyes that warns of an oncoming migraine.

You groan, dig your fingers into your eyes because while dealing with the typhoon that is Captain Rogers, you’d forgotten about Bucky. You’d kissed him, or he’d kissed you - you aren’t really sure how it happened, only that it did.

And it shouldn’t have.

As comfortable as you feel around Bucky, as addictive as his presence is, this can only spell trouble - for you and for him. For one, he’s a higher rank, a commanding officer right underneath Captain Rogers. If anything were to happen between you, it’d be so deeply frowned upon you’d probably have to find another job.

Slamming your fist into the couch feels counterproductive and not nearly as satisfying as punching a wall, but you doubt Director Hill would appreciate having to repair it. So you settle for a hot shower and some Bailey’s in a cup of coffee, a book in bed once you’ve rubbed your skin raw. You have a mission debrief later this afternoon, your second mission, and you can’t help the swell of insecurity - will you fuck this one up like you almost did the last one?

Cursing under your breath at the endless bout of tug-of-war in your head, you abandon the book and rifle through your files for the mission summary. You’re determined to do this next one right.

A part of you, a tiny, miniscule part that speaks up against the crowd, wants to do this to prove Captain Rogers right - that you are a good agent, and that hiring you had been a benefit to SHIELD. You’re determined not to let your blunder on your first mission become your legacy. It bothers you that you feel this way - after all, you’d asserted to the Captain himself that you didn’t give a shit what he thought of you. 

It clouds your concentration - your insistence that the Captain’s opinion doesn’t matter, yet your determination to earn your place amongst the ranks. Growling under your breath, you force yourself to memorize the mission notes front and backwards, shove the Captain and his opinions to the back of your head.

You take the stairs down to the conference room, give yourself a little more time to pour over the debrief. When you get there, you’re surprised to see Sam Wilson amongst the six other agents chosen for this mission.

“Agent L/N,” Hill greets, standing at the forefront of the room in front of a projector screen. She waits for you to take your seat before launching into the mission.

A drug kingpin who grew a little too curious about sense-enhancing substances. A bit too close to HYDRA territory, and it’s a simple extraction job. In and out, cease and desist.

Sam’s sent for supervision, to act as the senior agent in case things go awry. To your delight, they don’t. In fact, things go very, very well. Instead of being ordered to stay behind, Sam assigns you the lead position, lets you map out the plan to the other agents. A few heated glares, others envious of the responsibility you’re given, but overall, your plan comes to fruition neatly and quietly. Minimal hand-to-hand, zero injuries or deaths on either side, and you’ve successfully pilfered the scientific documents for the new substances.

You’re congratulated by Sam back on the jet, a bright grin against his dark skin. You like Sam, respect him and appreciate that he hasn’t seemed to judge you for the last time you worked together. In fact, he seems to recognize completely your desire for redemption and he sings your praises on the ride back to the tower, to your embarrassment. Some of the other agents warm up to it and join in, while others roll their eyes and turn away.

It brings heat to your cheeks as he rests a hand on your shoulder and says, lowly so as not to be too overheard, “I can see why Barnes likes you so much.”

A cold panic washes over you, but you just manage to keep it off your face. “What are you talking about?”

A simple disbelieving glance from Sam, a nervous shuffle on your end, and it tells him everything. He smiles knowingly.

“I won’t tease you about it, but you got our resident Iceman all tied up in knots.”

He chortles heartily while your face flames, and you have to look away. Though you feel the twitch of a smile trying to get through. It shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as it does, considering just that morning you’d run away from him.

But knowing you make him feel the same way he does you puts a lightness in your chest, and you resolve to talk to him, apologize for running. The flutters in your stomach intensify as the jet nears the tower, and if Sam picks up on your sudden urgency, he doesn’t say anything.

Chapter Seven

[khaleesiofalicante]

OK MY ELECTRICITY WENT BUT IM HERE WITH MY LIVE BLOG. Im also wearing a tiara i found during cleaning at 2 38 am...

LXI'S STILL HAVING THOSE DREAMS

You see, that’s how Lexi functioned. Unlike Selena who had a weekly planner with her name doodled on it, Lexi didn’t like having a schedule. She would decide what she wanted to do when she wanted it.

SAME LEXI SAME

IM SORRY IF THIS IS MSOTLY IN CAPS IM TOO EXCITED

lexi

lexi why are you in pain

what what what

whats happening

im freaking out

GEORGIA

There were six of them. Each handle in one colour of the pride flag.

gimme

THE ACADEMY

NO NO NO

these demons can talk as well.

that's what bothers me the most

CLARY STFU YOU KNOW DAMN WELL YOU FOUGHT A WAR AT 15. I know she's worried for valid reasons but im losing it right now.

calm its ok its gonna be ok

georgia collecting the ichor-

i love her so much

Lexi didn’t think it was possible, but the sight somehow made her gayer than before.

me every time i look at amy or rosa from b99

OLIVIA

“Of course you are not dying!” Lexi said severely. “Neither one of us is allowed to die before we finish binging Game of Thrones.”

with the major character death tag right there

dont make me think of georgia getting sick

dont

The bar was extremely low for shadowhunters.

yes it is

OH MULTIPLE POVS

RAFAEL

did i just sob "my child" ?

maybe i did

im so proud of him

LEAVE ME ALONE

wait but in tid sophie was over the age of ascention too

WAIT HOW OLD WAS SOPHIE AT THE AGE OF ASCENTION

WAIT OMG SOPHIE WAS YOUNG

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT

“Life is too short for bad blood,”

yeah. yeah it is

i still really like camilla

He could go to Mexico right now. His heart wanted to do it. His body screamed at him to do it.

It wasn’t the distance that was the problem. He had two warlocks at home. He had a bike. He had money to buy a plane ticket.

It wasn’t the distance at all. Rafael would walk to Mexico for her if necessary.

i screamed so loud here i was grateful for the closed door

CHAIRMAN MEOW

CYUKGUCDGYMDYUD

THE PRECIOUS CAT

WHAT IF THE MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH IS ABOUT CHAIRMAN???

“Y’all really be acting as if portals are like a bag of Cheetos!” Max pointed out seriously. “It ain’t $2.50, bro! Do you have any idea the energy it takes to make a portal? What people actually pay for it? I can’t be making portals for free. I don’t get a salary from the Clave like you do. This is how I make a living!”

SO TRUE

“I was going to say you should go stay at the institute with David,” Rafael said. “But you are right. You are not a baby. You can stay here on your-”

“On second thoughts,” Max interrupted with a grin. “I’m still a fetus in warlock years so I will go the institute.”

THEY ARE SO PRECIOUS

AHHH HE CALLED HER PRETTY THE FIRST TIME HE SAW HER

THEY WERE 7

IM SCREAMING SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

my throat hurts

JAIME MY BABY

Y'ALL I MISSED HIM SO MUCH

“All thanks to the amazing Isabelle Lightwood,” Jaime replied. “I think I am a little in love with her.”

“Who isn’t?” Rafael chuckled.

we all are in love with isabelle lightwood

no no no

where's anjali

where is she

dont fuck with me right now

why does diego look like a mess

“Diego,” the woman rasped. “She is coughing up blood again.”

no

dont

it's chapter 1

stop making me cry

THE LIGHTWOOD SIBLINGS

YUSDFGYUSDFSDGYUD

if anyone gives izzy shit for this i'll kill them

JACE STOP GOING SO FAST

“Jace, if you want to a baby so much then grow your own damn uterus,” Isabelle snapped.

TELL HIM

THIS GOES OUT TO THE WHOLE MALE POPULATION

After Georgia’s birth, they had promised each other that they would always choose the children first. If it ever came to a point, as it often did in their lives, where they had to choose between themselves and the children – they had promised each other to save the children.

dude theres a major character death here

Jace thought for a moment and then grinned at her. “No uterus. No opinion.”

“Selena has trained you well,”

selena my smart feminist child

I JUST KNOW ONE OF THE LIGHTWOOD-BANES IS DYING

AND IM NOT OK

“Do you really need those?” Alec asked, pointing at the glasses.

“No,” Jace replied. “But Clary thinks I look hot with glasses.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Alec shook his head.

Jace turned around. “Really? And your beard is for character building, is it?”

there's no use lying alec we all know why it's really there

I KNOW WHAT LEUKEMIA IS SHUT THE FUCK UP IM LOSING MY SHIT

no

no

she cant die

IF SHE DIES I WILL RAISE HELL

my throat hurts from all the shouting

“Can I get a cinnamon latte with extra cream and two sugars please?” Alec asked.

Jace raised an eyebrow.

“Magnus had a long day at the Spiral Labyrinth,” Alec explained.

“Can’t he just magic his drink?”

“Well, yes,” Alec replied. “But I like buying it for him. It’s called being a good husband.”

aww that's so sweet

THIS IS HILARIOUS

“I’m saying no one can do better than David,” Jace huffed. “He is precious.”

tru

“If you are going to be this way, things are going to be very awkward at their wedding,” Jace muttered.

“They are not getting married, Jace!”

“Do you not want them to???”

“They are nineteen!!”

“Doesn’t mean we are not allowed to think about it,” Jace pointed out. “If they get married, we will be family!”

“We are already family!” Alec all but yelled.

“Yeah, but we will be even closer!” Jace sighed happily.

“You are my parabatai!” Alec said incredulously. “My soul is literally tied to yours! How closer do you want to get?”

THIS IS AMAZING

OH MY GOD I LOVE

JACE BEING OVER PROTECTIVE OVER SELENA DATING SOMEONE IM LOSING MY SHIT

wait how old is michael

"Oh my god,” Jace gasped. “Three out of three! I win!”

“It’s not a competition, Jace!” Alec rolled his eyes.

“It is and I won,” Jace grinned. “You’re welcome, LGBTQ+ community.”

YUP JACE WON

“Can we talk about something else?” Izzy demanded. “We are not those parents who only ever talk about their children.”

Alec cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.”

“Yeah, we have lives of our own,” Jace nodded seriously.

They drove quietly for a while before they started discussing about their children’s love lives again right up until Jace pulled over at Jade Wolf.

of course...

Lily’s face was pale – paler than usual.

lily what's wrong

please lily

anjali...

lily is close to her

of course

“Then we burn all the angels,” Lily growled.

YES YES YES YES

Jace walked in that moment, sipping from his latte. “I bought donuts, y’all!”

A chuckle escaped Magnus. “Jonathan. Your timing is impeccable.”

"Is everything okay?” Jace asked, looking troubled.

“No,” Maia replied. “But at least we have donuts.”

at least they have donuts

“I love you,” he mouthed, and Alec’s heart was okay for a moment.

THE FEELS

ISABELLE

NO NO NO

NO

IZZY

PLEASE

WHY IS EVERY POV ENDING LIKE THIS

They had put on their clothes

AHEM SIR-

they grow up so fast...

no

im crying

dont please

izzy

she was poisoned

oh my god

WHO

GIVE ME NAMES RIGHT NOW

Rafael drank like a dozen a day.

understandable have a good day

OH MY GOD STOP JOKING AS A COPING MECHANISM

Im squeezing the life out of Emma (my emotional support stuffed cat) right now

seelies

the first time i heard the source was angelic my very first incstinct was seelie. I didn't wanna share it because of how absurd it sounded. but it doesn't anymore.

charlotte was poisoned by a seelie unintentionally which cost her her child

oh

OH MY GOD

NO THIS WASN'T IZZY'S COFFEE

MAGNUS GAVE IT TO HER

THIS WAS MAGNUS' COFFEE

SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO POISON HIM.

I'm losing my mind oh my god... I am so scared. Please Anjali and Isabelle please they cant...no i dont wanna think like that. tryna take deep breaths. ok. it's gonna be ok. maybe.

see ya friday!

Now I want to write lbaf while wearing a tiara. Hmmmm. I'll look for one online.

See you Friday! Also hope you had a good birthday!!!

And send pics of Emma!!!!!!!

[darkverofthngs]

So I don’t have a problem with stating your beliefs or opinions on this site. I’ve seen my fair share of blogs stating things like “anti-terf” and “anti-battleaxe bi” or “anti-mspec” and the list goes on and honestly…this should be absolutely allowed. That’s part of why we come on here, to express our opinions and voice our views on issues that we care deeply about. It’s kind of like the whole point of tumblr.

Where I think the issue comes in is when a difference in opinions morphs into dangerous intolerance. I see so many blogs where it’s become the norm to actually provide a list of people that you categorically will not interact with, no exceptions. I’ve seen it range from TERFs to bi lesbians to literally just peoples interests - “if you like Harry Potter, DNI.” And I think this is an incredibly harmful philosophy to have. For two reasons.

1. First off, and this one only applies to some of the less extreme examples, having “XYZ” as an interest or a belief doesn’t make you an inherently bad person. Just because someone likes Harry Potter, doesn’t mean they should be assumed to be a raging transphobe. They might just be ignorant, out of the loop. And in this case it’s actually incredibly important that we DO interact with them, so we can educate them on these issues instead of alienating them. Or, thinking even more nuanced, maybe they prefer to separate the art from the artist. You know, the classic “pretend Harry Potter was written by Daniel Radcliffe” take. I’m not necessarily saying this is entirely unproblematic, but should we really be so quick to judge someone who just prefers to keep politics out of their personal entertainment?

2. And this is where I’m expecting to get a bunch of hate, but hear me out: even in some of the more extreme examples, for example TERFs, I think a blanket “do not interact, I categorically hate you by default, you and I will never see eye to eye” is incredibly harmful, dangerous, absolutist, and, quite frankly, a binary way of viewing the world. Yes, I said it. For a community that’s all about acceptance and inclusionism - it’s like literally the whole reason this community came into existence - we sure have become pretty good at dividing and alienating in recent years. Am I saying that we should welcome TERFs with open arms, tell them that their hot takes are in fact hot, validate their views? Absolutely not. But by refusing to engage with the other side of the argument, we not only exclude the possibility for ambiguity and a more nuanced discussion that we had anticipated, but we also allow TERFs, radfems and other hard conservatives to fall further down the alt right pipeline. If they can’t interact with us, if they’re excluded from our spaces, then they will subsequently feel more included in anti-LGBT spaces. By refusing interaction, we refuse education. We cultivate ignorance and divide, and essentially, we achieve nothing but a backwards step.

Am I saying that it’s every LGBTQ+ person’s job to educate every single misinformed conservative they see? Of course not. That would be exhausting, and it sucks that we have to do it at all. Am I saying that we should embrace hate speech with open arms? Not at all. If you see a slur, delete the comment, block them. Put your safety first. If it’s harming you, do not engage.

But a blanket ban on any and all people that don’t fit our often incredibly restricted list of “correct” beliefs? I think that’s where the danger comes in - in the preemption. No one is saying you have to sit there, grit your teeth and bear it as you get flooded with hate comments. But don’t try to preemptively strike something that might not even come to pass. Because yes, some of those people that you listed as “DNI” will be actively trying to hurt and harm you, and in that case, for you own safety, ignore them, block them. But in the case of misinformation, ignorance, misunderstanding, a second perspective, nuance, ambiguity, complexity? The capacity for change, the recognition that this person is not Adolf fucking Hitler and IS capable of being educated and being reminded of their morality? I think blanket terming this incredibly large spectrum of grey area with a three letter “DNI” is a pretty backwards attitude to have.

We are humans. Nothing is binary, nothing is simple. We should know that better than anyone. Let’s start treating opinions the same way we treat our identities - fluid, non-static, diverse, and absolutely capable of change.

(Unless they’re genuinely harming you or other people in the community. In that case, DNI all you want, my friend.)

[liberty-barnes]

Hi Libby!

I'm curious to find out what's your take on Sam and Aaron Taylor-Johnson's marriage. Because I really believe she groomed him.

She knew he was a teenager and went after him anyway. She said there was no funny business happening during the set of 'Nowhere Boy', but then she also said that everyone knew that's something's up. She's also his boss at that time, so sus. People keep saying that, 'Oh, he's legal' and 'Oh, he's a grown man'. It is absolutely irking, because had the roles been reversed, it would face double the amount of scrutiny it is facing now. Instead of 'He got lucky', it would be, 'He's a monster, a pedophile' or 'He should be in jail'. This belief never benefited anyone; it only strips survivors, male survivors of abuse specifically of validation, and proper rights to justice.

Anyway, there are so many shady details that come with these two, I can't type them all.

Thanks for reading my very angry thoughts at 11 pm GMT+8 xx

hi lovely!

ooh, smart and controversial discourse, love that, you're welcome to rant in my inbox whenever you want, doll.

so, i didn't follow his career very closely before or after the mcu, but i did see that and it made me a bit icky so i did some research at the time. in my opinion, if you don't agree with something, you have to really look into it and ask yourself "does this make me uncomfortable cause i don't like it" or "does this make me uncomfortable cause something fishy's going on" and it did strike me as kind of strange.

the double standards in the industry when it comes to dating are undeniable, just like in the rest of society. younger men are expected to chase after older, richer women, cause it makes the patriarchy feel like they "tamed another beast". even though it's not right, married women are seen as less powerful than celibate ones, because it's still common for the husband to have control.

i think that's why most people skimmed over that. it didn't bother men cause "good for him, he got himself a rich, hot beast" and for those who didn't like it, the "he's legal" argument was there.

so let me tell you straight up what i think about that "they're legal" argument. people that use "they're legal" as an excuse scare me, cause for them, as long as the law says it's okay, then it's okay. they don't question it, they don't research it, they just follow like nicely trained monkeys. there's nothing more dangerous to the free world than people who blindly follow orders, that's what makes dictatorships thrive. in order for this to be a democracy, people need to question, to research, to demand explanations when things seem to be done in a bad way.

cause that's a bit of what this was. he was legal, but barely so. he wasn't even old enough to drink in the us (which, sucks to be you btw, europe's much better in that sense) and he was supposedly old enough to understand he loved a woman who a)is 23 years older, b) was his boss and c)was his boss in his breakthrough movie. i mean, didn't even know that aaron taylor-johnson was his married name, cause i never knew him when he was just aaron johnson.

that's all kinds of weird.

so if we ignore the age part, cause hey, we're not here to judge the age difference, that's not my point. she was his boss which always makes me cringe cause that's bit unprofessional, but Nowhere Boy was aaron's breakthrough movie, it's the one that really got him out there. could he have gotten another breakthrough? yes, i believe he's a very talented actor and he would've still made it to where he is today, perhaps by another way. but he didn't.

he had to be thankful to her and admire her for giving him a shot, especially being that young, so was it love at first? i'm not so sure.

it might have been admiration, gratefulness, and i doubt he was the one holding/sharing the reins in the relationship at first.

is it possible that he fell in love with her afterwards? absolutely, the foundations over which they built their love and relationship are just shaky cause what happens if one day he realises that "hey, it sounds a bit like i was lured into a relationship and stayed there cause i didn't know better"? they met, got engaged a year after, and it might be a bit fast for his age.

so yeah, i forgot where i was going with this, but to sum it up, there was definitely a weird start to their relationship, and i don't know how it's gonna evolve.

but at the end of the day, they've been together for over ten years and both seem happy in their relationship, so i don't wanna judge them if it works.

it's a weird situation cause half of me is screaming "grooming, weird start, what even is legal age?" and the other is screaming "they're happy, let them love".

so yeah, what i think about their relationship is that i honestly don't know. i think i'd rather focus on his career, watch interviews, and keep an eye out for signs of discomfort when their relationship. i hope they have people in their life with enough critical thinking to intervene if necessary, but until that's necessary, i guess we'll just support him in any way we're comfortable.

hope that helped cause i'm not even sure i understand half of what i wrote lmaooo

feel free to send me more of these, i love it when you guys make me think

-Love, Miah

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟎)

note: hey y’all welcome back!! the chapter we’ve all been waiting for is hereee honey chile.

jusss so you know there will not be smut this time around. i took y’alls opinions and my own opinions into account and decided it would be best!! sry if you’re disappointed, i promise u will get smut. and since i’ve made my decision n planned it out it will be juicy and perfeeect. for now i hope y’all enjoy this chapter ! <3 it’s the longest yet so buckle up and share your thoughts with me!!! love u. 

playlist (always always adding new additions, go check it out n listen while u read!!)

warnings: none

word count: 14.4k

     Steve was resisting the urge to pace back and forth in his room that morning. He knew that any minute now, you would receive his gifts, and see the ticket. He was a bit nervous. He just wanted everything to go well. God forbid someone find out by accident and not only ruin the surprise, but discover what you and Steve had been up to.

     Or maybe you'd changed your mind — no, you wouldn't, not without talking to him first. He was really just anticipating the moment he knew you'd actually seen the gifts, which he wouldn't know until you contacted him.

He kept looking over at his phone, glancing down and waiting for the screen to light up with your name. But he knew this was unhealthy, sitting around, waiting for your response. He had nowhere else to go, but he'd retire to the kitchen to make some coffee. Granted, it didn't really do anything for him, but it filled in the time, and distracted him from waiting around for your response.

The clock ticked on as Steve waited. Drinking coffee and reading the paper could only take up so much time out of his day. Soon enough, he was back to waiting. And waiting. Until...

His phone seemed to be ringing with more ferocity than he ever remembered, and he practically snatched it off the table in the meeting room, causing several eyes to glance up at him. He blushed, smiling awkwardly,

    "Gotta take this."

He accepted the call without even looking to see who it was, hurrying out of the office and into his room in brisk, long strides, speaking hurriedly into the phone,

    "Hello?"

    "Steve! Holy shit!" it was your voice on the other end, and Steve was relieved to hear it. Now he could stop anticipating, stop worrying. His heart was soaring just hearing your voice, and he knew you'd received his gift. He was hardly listening as you went on and on, not saying much of anything, just shouting excitedly into the phone.

Once you'd opened the envelope again to see the single plane ticket which read DESTINATION: MANHATTAN with the date and time printed elsewhere, your mouth literally dropped open. It was as shocking as the moment Steve revealed his face to you, but the context was oh so different, and so much better, even. Of course you'd been expecting to see him, and you knew it would be soon, but you hadn't expected it to come about in this way at all. No, not at all.

    Your heart pounded and you dropped the ticket onto the floor, swiping it right back up like it was a check for a million dollars. And those butterflies in your stomach went wild. Your mind was a blur, but one thing was clear: you were actually going to meet Steve. Maybe your reaction would've been different had Steve done this in a more mundane manner, but he had taken you completely by surprise.

    And honestly, you were over the moon with excitement to meet him. So, rightfully so, you were freaking out. You had tripped over yourself trying to find your phone, your hands trembling as you called him.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear at the sound of your voice. He'd never heard you so ecstatic, so happy over something which he was anxiously awaiting your reaction to. And it settled in for Steve too - he was really going to meet you. It was as big a deal to him as it was to you, and the days of waiting only made you both more antsy to meet.

     "Oh my god!" you squealed again for a final time. "Are you for real? How long have you been planning this, how — did you know about this before I went out with my parents? How the hell did you pull this together, how did you- oh god, I should let you talk. But, fuck, seriously? You're serious right now?"

     "Hundred percent," Steve replied, still beaming, closing the door to his room behind him.

You went off again, shouting expletives and declarations of joy into the phone. You knew you weren't being very mindful right now, but fuck it if you weren't. You didn't get nice things like this often. The fact that Steve had taken you seriously and took the dedication to make this happen when you knew it wouldn't be easy? Your reaction was completely validated.

     "You're fucking amazing. You know that?" you blurted, unable to hide your praise, making Steve's cheeks heat up yet again, the curve of a shy grin appearing on his lips.

     “You're sweet," Steve uttered out, his heart feeling warm.

     “Are you blushing, Stevie?" you teased, and he laughed.

     “To answer your other questions. I've been planning it ever since we spoke about it on Facetime, during your party. But I didn't finalize plans until last week. And no, I didn't know about it before you went out with your parents. How'd I pull it together? Well, it was complicated, I had to do a lot of things very discreetly and plan out when I can take time off so I can be with you. But it's not that hard to get plane tickets- granted, it's a private jet—"

You didn't even let Steve finish talking or let that process in your mind before you blurted out,

     "Private jet?!"

You thought nothing more could surprise you, but here Steve was, full of surprises. And honestly, you hadn't expected anything fancy. You figured he'd just pick you up from the airport after an economy flight, and that was enough for you. A private jet, though? It was unfathomable. You'd never even been on a plane past standard class.

Steve's eyebrow raised - had he done too much? Honestly, everything that went into this took a lot of internal debate. He didn't want to do too much, and he didn't want to do too little. But, he figured, after all you two had been through, after all you had been through, you deserved a bit of luxury. Besides, that wasn't all Steve had planned — you didn't know it, but you were in for even more of a shock.

     "Is it too much?" Steve muttered, and you scoffed in disbelief,

     "Hell yeah. Steve, I can't afford to pay you back, I-"

Steve's brows furrowed together as he laughed, realizing why you were reacting this way. He had considered how you might react to the extravagance Steve was planning, but he should've known you'd act like you now owed him something.

     "Come on, princess," he drawled, his voice seeming to drop a few octaves unexpectedly. At the sound of Steve's voice deepening and the new nickname he'd donned for you, you felt your face warm up. "You know you're not paying me back."

You took in a deep breath, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe, fanning yourself. You liked this side of Steve for sure. But, that didn't mean you wanted to be super spoiled. You were used to getting special treats from customers, sure, but that was different. That was for work. When it came to romances? The last time you'd been "spoiled" was when your ex-boyfriend gave you flowers, and that was hardly spoiling. You realized now that that was the bare minimum.

So, you weren't used to being spoiled, hell, even really being taken care of by people, be it your parents or your romantic partners. It was a part of the reason you had always felt like you had to ask to be loved, a habit you had to teach yourself to grow out of. Steve didn't make you feel like you had to ask for anything.

     "Right. I just..." you sighed loudly, pressing a hand to your hot forehead. This was a lot for you to take in, overwhelming in the best way. You couldn't believe this was your life right now. "I don't want you to feel like you have to — I mean, it's just... why?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. He found it adorable how stunned you were by his gestures. He wanted to fly you out and make it an experience. Steve wasn't usually one to go big, so he even surprised himself in his actions, but he thought it was all worth it. It was so unlike him, so unlike anything the Steve a few months before would've expected of him. Out of anyone he knew, he felt like you deserved it.

     "Because you're you. And you deserve it. I just want to make this day special. I figure, why not splurge and go all out? And since you and me both care about the environment, I sent in one of Tony's environmentally friendly jets. Do me a favor, don't push this away. You deserve a treat. You're so hardworking and the gift of seeing you is something I could never repay... but I could at least try."

You felt your heart warm at Steve's words, sinking into your couch with a hand on your chest, feeling your heart flutter as you cooed,

      "Steve, you're such a darling. I... this is the fucking craziest and best thing that's happened to me in a long time. But... just promise me this isn't the beginning of a sugar relationship, because that's not something I'm into."

You were half-joking, but you were serious. Steve didn't seem like the sugar daddy type, but in any case you didn't want being with him to mean that he supplied you with your every need and then some. You didn't side eye people who sought that out, but you were so used to being on your own and making money the way that you did, that someone genuinely devoting all their time to paying you just for existing felt unnatural. You weren't the type to sit back and get paid for nothing. While you understood the appeal, you just couldn't feel comfortable doing it. And you didn't want Steve to think he could buy your time, though you knew he didn't think that.

    "I know. Don't worry, that's not what this is. Just special treatment for a day, is that alright?" Steve asked.

    "It's more than alright," you gave in — you knew Steve had good intentions only, but it was still hard for you to accept that someone would do this for you just because. You were trying to get used to your energy being reciprocated — more than reciprocated, it was overflowed. "I can't thank you enough, Steve. Really."

       "Don't worry about it. I look forward to seeing you," Steve said, and the words felt like a relief just to say them, now that he knew it was a reality.

      "I'm counting down the days," you trilled, laying back on your couch with a dazed smile on your face.

❁❁❁

    "Since when do you have family in New York? Thought your whole fam was California born and raised." Aaliyah quirked a brow, pinching the straw of her strawberry daiquiri.

     "Since... now, I guess," you shrugged.

You were lying your ass off. You had to make up some excuse to Aaliyah as to why, in a week, you would be leaving to New York for two weeks.

    "Huh," Aaliyah furrowed her brows, running it over in her mind and then shrugging. "Well, I'll miss you. Who else am I gonna get drunk off my ass with in the middle of the day?"

You laughed, squeezing Aaliyah's hand. You felt a bit bad for lying, but it was what you had to do for now at least, until you felt comfortable enough to reveal your secret. So you didn't dwell on it. You weren't hurting anyone, and you were honest with her about everything else but this.

     "It's two weeks, not a year."

Aaliyah's eye twitched and she glared at you,

    "Two weeks is a year."

    "I'll write," you rolled your eyes playfully, and she nudged you from across the table.

    "You better."

      In the days leading up to your big day with Steve, you stressed about every little detail. What did you need to pack, what could you leave at home? What clothes should you bring? Would Steve want you to bring something in particular to wear, besides the lingerie he'd bought you? Oh of course not, he wouldn't give a rat's ass what you wore. You didn't know it fully yet, but you could wear a t-shirt with holes in it and dusty sweatpants and he'd still see you as a perfect ten.

    You packed for a few days, and you talked to Steve everyday since that day. Sometimes you could only text, but luckily you could call most of the time. You talked to Steve about norms, as in just basic rules you both had to follow when you were together. It wasn't meant to be restrictive, it was meant to be smart. Neither of you wanted anything getting out before you were ready, so there were precautions you would have to take. You understood that.

     Steve was just as, if not more, nervous than you were about the whole ordeal. He was the one in charge of making sure things went right, making sure you were safe, putting everything together just to see you. He was eager to see you, but you were both full of nerves. Today, you had no time to be nervous — because you were on the way to the airport.

    As requested, you updated Steve about everything. Right now, you were in the backseat of the comfortable uber that Steve sent to you. Your nerves were on one hundred right now. You couldn't stop crossing and uncrossing your legs in the backseat of the black SUV, wiping nervous sweat off your palms.

Steve texted you back, reminding you that you'd be alone at the airport besides the staff. And you knew that hours later, at an airport in New York, he'd be waiting for you. The whole ride there, you stressed about what Steve would be like in real life- what he'd look like, how he'd greet you. You were sure he would be just as sweet as he was over the phone, if not sweeter.

    But god, did the thought of closing the distance make you nervous. You thought back to the day you and Steve first spoke, how different your life was then, and how this wasn't even something that registered to you. You didn't know Steve back then, didn't know who he really was. There wasn't even a chance that you'd even think about this. And now, here you were, about to meet the man you'd found under such strange circumstances.

    When you arrived to the airport, you almost didn't want to look out of the window. You didn't want to see what you knew was right outside — that big, private jet that you just couldn't ignore, darting your eyes towards it once from your car seat and never being able to look away.

    "Here you are," chirped the friendly driver, opening your door for you. You were frozen in your seat, hadn't even taken off your seatbelt. The driver looked at the private jet, then at you with a warm smile. "Lucky you."

You refocused, back to planet Earth, and let out a shaky breath. You hadn't even stepped on the jet and already you were going through rigor mortis.

     "Yeah," you replied with a bit of a neurotic laugh.

    You unlatched the seatbelt and wobbled out of the car— when had your legs turned to jelly? You were trying to contain yourself, trying not to act like a fool over something so material, but God, you thought. Nothing had ever been so majestically presented to you. You'd never been with anybody who had the means to do this, and that didn't matter, because you'd never been with anyone who would make these grand gestures just because. You weren't asking for a private jet, but from the way you'd been treated in your past relationships, you'd think that you were.

    "Holy shit," you murmured under your breath, and lurched forward, the driver carrying your luggage behind you. The steps to the jet were already at the floor, and all you could do was stand at the foot with wide eyes. You could see the staff were kindly waiting for you to come in, and you called up to them, awestruck. "Do I just go in?"

    "Come on up, Miss! It's all yours," a staff member encouraged you, calling you by your last name like you were some important administrator.

    This did something for you. You made a livable wage, and had some leftover for the occasional treat— like selfcare or stuff for your cam shows. But this was the life of a millionaire. And although you resisted initially, the fact that you knew Steve had arranged that you got treated with the utmost respect during your travel made it a lot harder for you to.

     You weren't on some sort of power trip, but this once again proved the kind of gentleman that Steve was. It made you feel more comfortable, knowing that you'd be treated like you belonged here, when you felt anything but. He cared about you, and you'd never really had that before. Not like this.

     You actually stepped foot inside, and when you saw what was before you, you audibly gasped, brows raising far up your forehead. You'd never seen anything like this. Sleek, modern furniture adorned the interior of the jet, which stretched so far you didn't think it'd be possible to see everything. You nearly panicked — there was no way Steve had done all this for you. No way.

    It was basically a mansion, compacted into a private jet — which sounded like the most ludicrous thing you'd ever heard of. Everything inside had a color scheme, cool neutrals and splashes of color here and there. The seats were plush and huge, leaving leg room for days. There was even a big TV screen in the middle of this particular section. Everything about this screamed luxury.

    "Welcome! First time on a private jet?" Eliza, an employee, asked, and her presence was a shock to you — you were too busy staring in awe at everything you were seeing.

     "Yeah... is it noticeable?" you joked, a hand over your chest.

     "I won't say," she grinned, and you shook your head, chuckling.

     "This is all so... amazing. I-I've never seen anything like this. It's like, you see it in movies and online but... but for someone to actually bring it to me? Just because?"

     "He must really like you," said Eliza— of course, she didn't actually know who he was.

    "Yeah," you said tearfully, trying to avoid crying and becoming even more of a mess than you already were.

Thankfully, you weren't scared— just amazed. You were sure you'd settle in at some point, but right now, you were kind of in paradise. You just had to get used to it first.

    "Please, sit anywhere! Or I can give you a tour, let you get accustomed."

    "Please," you answered immediately. Maybe after she showed you everything, you'd feel a bit less overwhelmed.

You let Eliza lead you through the jet, showing you all of its amenities and rooms. Each time you thought nothing more could surprise you, there was something new up until the end.

    For one, there was a kitchen where a team of chefs would work to serve you - some of your favorite things were on the menu, mimosas included. Steve had really been paying attention when you spoke to him about the little things. You didn't realize how much he genuinely enjoyed talking to you, how he died to hear the most trivial things about you and compartmentalized it.

    Hell, there was even a bedroom with your name encrusted on a gold plaque attached to the door - ridiculous, you thought, but so amazing. Attached to that bedroom was a full bathroom. Everything was top tier, nothing surprising considering this was Stark property, but still, it was crazy to see. By the end, while you were glad you were familiar with everything on the jet, you still couldn't help but feel floored.

   You felt like a princess - adorned with special privileges you'd never even thought of in your comfortable little life in sunny southern California. Steve was opening up a whole new world of options to you, and doing it so gracefully, and just because? It was the definition of being treated like royalty.

    You were a logical woman, and you had a good hold of your emotions. You didn't often act "childish", but you felt like you were giving into those giddy girlish feelings that only Steve evoked. But you were still young, still someone who liked to have a good time. You didn't want to be in your feelings over material things, but it was so much more than that. You were grateful you were even getting to experience this, but even more grateful for the person who had given you this experience to begin with.

Eliza could see you were getting emotional, and placed a hand on your shoulder,

    "Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. We'll let you know when we take off in a few minutes."

You let out a deep breath. It was all sinking in. Somehow, this was your reality. You took a look around, and shrugged — you might as well take full advantage of it. You slumped your shoulders, dropped all your worries. You were in luxury - you'd act like it, and enjoy it, instead of overthinking for once. You walked into one of the lounge rooms, plopping down on a reclining chair that felt like heaven just to sit down in, sighing as you sunk into the supple plush. Still in awe, you texted Steve, expressing your disbelief and excitement all at once, sending him a video of your lush surroundings.

     Steve grinned when he received the video from you, glad that you were enjoying your time. By how you reacted the other day, he was sort of afraid you might feel too overwhelmed and be unable to enjoy the experience. But all Steve really wanted was for you to have a good day, to feel like you were important. He could do that without getting you a big private jet, but if he was going to fly you out, he was going to fly you out. He didn't mind dropping a bag on you- for him it was nothing, Steve hardly touched his money. He wanted you to feel first class. Hell, this was higher than first class.

He texted you back, telling you he hoped you enjoyed and to text him if you needed anything. But honestly, you didn't think you'd need anything more.

You spent the remaining duration of the flight in the private bathroom, finishing your hair and makeup and choosing an outfit. You weren't stressing too hard over what to wear, but you wanted to look good for Steve. You settled on a white sundress with floral decals that accentuated your features just right. You stood in front of the mirror for a long time, checking yourself out. You knew you looked good, but you were just a bit nervous since you were landing in a few minutes now.

You tried to spend the time waiting for the plane to land by scrolling through your phone, but you found yourself switching mindlessly through apps, your mind blank except for one thing - Steve. Then, you heard the announcement saying that you had officially landed. You had noticed the jet getting lower, but you had been too distracted by your thoughts to notice that you were here. In New York, middle of the day, about to see him.

❁❁❁

Steve was just as nervous as you were, standing in the landing area, which again was empty and private, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his toes. He was really going to see you, and he knew you'd be everything he imagined and more. He had been waiting here for a good hour, because he didn't want to miss a thing, and now he knew he'd be seeing you in a few minutes, even a few seconds.

And when the door opened, and he saw the figure of you standing there at the entrance, he froze. Even from afar, you were beautiful. And you were real. Not that he'd had any doubts, but after the amount of time he'd spent talking to you on a screen, it seemed impossible that he would really see you in real life, even as he finalized his plans and the day came closer. It still didn't seem feasible. And now, here you were just a few feet away from him, and his heart stopped. Whatever he was expecting, you were even more, which seemed unimaginable. His mouth went dry, he was at a loss for words, and his eyes had never been more blown.

And you would've froze too, if your heart didn't tell you to run. To you, it was a clumsy, graceless run. To Steve it was cinematic, like you were the heroine running right out of the movie screen and towards him, the flash of you growing closer and closer until you were finally there, jumping up at him.

     He caught you with ease as you leaned into him, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating against his own, or feel your chest pounding from all the nerves, all the excitement, from the feeling of true fulfillment. Because in front of you was your Steve Rogers, nothing less. You were feeling the same feelings of disbelief. After months of talking, weeks of planning this out, finally it had been manifested. Finally it had happened successfully, without interruption, and you were in front of each other.

You buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent - he smelled like fresh air and clean linen, and surprisingly... like home. And in his arms, you definitely felt like you were home. You actually felt comfortable, like you could trust him, like being in his arms was right, like you weren't moving too fast.

As much as you tried to imagine it, your thoughts couldn't come close to how strong Steve actually was, how much his arms wrapped around you with ease, holding you tight and close and secure, how big and powerful his body was against you. Like no matter what, you would mold into him perfectly, and he would just wrap you up and hold you like you were the best Christmas gift.

     "Ooh, I wanna see your face," you took your face out of the crook of his neck, though you were quite comfortable there.

You pulled back to see him, your arms still around his neck, and he held onto you still, his entire face beaming while he took a good look at you as well. You let out a pleased sigh, a feeling lifting off of your chest like you'd been waiting for this and it had been hounding you - which wasn't far off from how you felt. You reached out and squeezed his cheeks in your hands, doing it without a second thought. It gave you no greater joy than to know that you could do that to him, that you were the only person who could do that to him.

     "Oh, you're so beautiful," you sighed dreamily, looking into his sparkling blue eyes. You'd always loved looking at those eyes over Facetime calls.

You didn't think his eyes could be any bluer than they already appeared on screen. It felt so surreal, being with him. And in the midst of all the surreality, you were filled with an impenetrable bliss. It wasn't shocking, it was more like a dazed feeling, dreamlike. You got what you wanted, what you deserved.

Steve couldn't get enough of you, even with you right here in front of him, legs and arms wrapped around him. If it was possible, he was even more blissful than you right now. And it was a moment of pride for the both of you. Had you continued on in fear, not trusting each other, not trusting yourselves, this would've never happened. It was a huge accomplishment for the both of you.

Steve took in all of your features, and he couldn't deny that the glow you possessed in real life was even brighter than your glow on screen, the same thing that had drawn him to you that very first night. You were glowing, smiling the way you had been before. Just to see you, it was worth the wait. And the feeling of your soft fingers squishing his cheeks had him smiling like a little boy at a toy store.

His eyes drifted down to your glossy lips, which he couldn't wait to kiss, then your bright eyes, and he uttered,

    "You're gorgeous, YN. I can't believe I'm finally seeing you. You're everything I imagined and more."

You couldn't believe the feeling that was in your heart, just from finally hearing his voice in real life. To Steve, your voice was like warm honey toast, alluring and adorable all at once. And his voice was music to your ears, that voice you dreamt of hearing. You couldn't believe anything you were feeling right now. It was nothing that you'd ever felt before, and it made tears well up in your eyes once again.

    "This is so unreal. You're... here. You're holding me. I just got off a fucking private jet to meet you!" you squealed, recounting the events of the past few hours.

Steve chuckled,

    "I'm still having trouble understanding that this is real."

    "Doesn't get any realer than this, Steve," you smirked, although you felt the same way, and his knees nearly buckled at the way you said his name.

You slowly unwrapped your legs from his waist, and he supported your hips as he lowered you gently onto the ground. Your arms were still around his neck, and your body was still pressed against his, this time standing on the ground in front of him. Your knees felt bendy from how much you were leaning into him. But you didn't want to ever be any further from him.

He pulled you closer by the hips, as if you could get any closer,

    "Mind saying my name again?"

    "Hmm, Steve?" you cocked your head to the side as if you were trying to remember his name, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at you.

Your personality was even more than he'd imagined, too.

    "That's the one," he replied. He ran his hand along your face, caressing your jaw and cheek, sending tingles down your spine that he wasn't even aware of. "God, I can't get over you."

    "Me either," your lips quirked up, and you hummed, incredibly intrigued as you noticed the light bristles of hair forming along his face. "Mmm!"

    "What's that?"

     “You're growing out your beard, huh?"

Steve absentmindedly stroked the beginnings of a beard that were growing, and you placed your hand over his own, guiding his hand against his chin and jaw. He relished the feeling of your hand over his.

    "Trying to."

    "You don't have to try. You're Steve Rogers. That beard'll grow like nobody's business," you chuckled, and he grinned at your fast remarks, blushing at the compliment.

    "Steve!" you trilled, pleased to see this in real life, your eyes glimmering as you watched pink flood his cheeks. "You're blushing."

Steve bit down, and your eyes followed the place where his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. You both wanted to kiss each other, you both could hardly control the way your eyes lingered on one another's lips for far too long. But you were waiting for the time when it felt just right — after all, you were just now meeting each other. But somehow he knew already that you were just the person he needed in his life - playful, but one of the realest people he'd ever met. You balanced each other out perfectly.

    "And you're gorgeous," Steve replied, looking you up and down unashamedly, admiring the way your simple yet pretty sundress clung to your body, highlighting your best features. "And you've been traveling for too long. Let's get you to the hotel, hmm?"

And just like that, you were settling into one another like clockwork, like this was natural despite how amazed you were by one another. He turned around, quick to put his arm over your shoulder to keep you close to him, leading you to the car. Your heart was still pounding hard and fast in your chest, your brain still scrambled even though you felt like you fit so naturally with him. He seemed so majestic up close, so much like the Captain America that everyone adored and revered. He was the walking definition of a picture perfect American Dream, a glint of hope that that dream still existed. You gained a newfound respect for him just by standing next to him, encapsulating all his undebatable glory. And in this moment, you had him all to yourself.

    Steve felt a strange buzz, just from the friction of you being so close to him. Both your feelings of excitement seemed to create a high frequency vibration that you could literally feel. You were both anticipating what was next, and loving it because you knew you'd be together.

    On the walk to the car, you couldn't help but gaze up at him the entire time in amazement, your eyes sparkling. Steve couldn't deny that he felt your eyes on him, but some part of him made him too shy to simply look down and make eye contact, because he knew he'd get lost in the moment and stare forever. He didn't want to scare you off. Still, that didn't mean that he didn't spare a few quick glances, followed by a quirk of his lip that was almost a smile, pulling you closer under his arm each time.

      Steve opened the door for you and helped you up into the passenger's seat. He really didn't have to, but who were you to deny Steve picking you up as gently as he did, then placing you softly on the seat? He got into the driver's seat and started the car.

    "Hope travel wasn't too bad," Steve offered- he was honestly trying to have natural conversation, but his nerves forced him to keep it to small talk.

Honestly, all he wanted to do was go on about how beautiful you were, how he was intimidated to even look at you too long, but he knew that would be weird.

    You on the other hand, were nervous, but not to the point where you felt like you couldn't find the right words to say. You figured he'd just need to settle in, that he liked you just as much as he did on screen, but needed to adjust. The situation was new for the both of you, and Steve was really putting himself out there. Besides, even though you clicked, you had still just met each other.

    The affection was there, but you knew it would take some prodding for Steve to really feel comfortable. You could tell he was sort of doubting himself like he often did, probably wondering if he was even fit for you. And you had no problem reminding him that he was more than fit. You laughed and shook your head, nudging Steve's arm playfully,

    "Are you seriously making small talk right now? Also, you put me on a private jet. You tell me how you think my travel was."

      Steve chuckled, a grin breaking out on his face as he began to feel more comfortable. Your playfulness, your honest sarcasm, honestly made him feel less hesitant. You joked with him like he was an old friend, and everytime you were sarcastic with him it actually uplifted him, reminded him who he was when he started to doubt himself and you had to give him reminders.

Your friendly demeanor made Steve feel more at ease. He just wanted you to like him. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he kept forgetting everything he'd learned - not to let fear get the best of him.

    "You're right, you're right," Steve nodded, and you shook your head playfully, still looking over at him. He stopped at a red light, and finally looked over at you, locking eyes with you and taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

    "What?" you teased.

    "Nothin'," Steve played along, grinning gently.

    He jerked back to realization when a car honked from behind him — the light had gone green already and he was too busy smiling at you to notice. You stifled a chuckle, leaning back into your seat and looking out at the road before you while he drove forward, but he glanced at you, smirking because you weren't hiding your smile behind your hand well enough.

    "What's so funny?" Steve chaffed, and you feigned oblivion, raising your brows and looking over at him,

    "Hmm?"

    "You heard me," Steve continued, all in good fun.

    "Oh, so this is how we're gonna do this, huh?" you couldn't help but break out into laughter, unable to keep up the act for too long.

Steve shrugged,

    "No clue what you're talking about."

    "Okay, I'll bite. I think what might be funny is the fact that you can't keep your eyes off me and that's why you just got honked at for missing the green light? I don't know, I could be wrong, but!" you threw your hands up in the air, unable to fight the smile that spread on your face.

Steve blushed — he knew you'd noticed, but being put on the spot so unashamedly for his fixation for you made him feel bashful. Although it was a relief to see that you definitely liked his attention. And you kept him on his feet. Your energy was such a breath of fresh air. He was hardly thinking of his Avenger friends now, and his worries about things going wrong seemed to dissipate with every word you spoke, every glance you spared at him.

    "You had to mention it," Steve sighed, and you giggled,

    "I was gonna spare you! But you play dirtier than I expected."

You just sat there chuckling together, feeling the positive energy seep into the space. Steve definitely felt less nervous, and the banter opened up more space for developing your relationship.

    You looked out the window, pressing your hand against it as you drove past new faces and places. You'd never been to New York before, unless a rest stop on a flight with your parents counted. But you'd never actually explored the city, big and flashy and somehow warm, inviting. Maybe it was because you were with Steve that New York felt comfortable and even homey, but you were a California girl at heart. You could stand being here for two weeks though, at least if it meant you got to be with Steve.

    The city started to become less of a blur as you began passing by even bigger, more luxurious buildings and glamorous restaurants and clubs that were just waiting to be lit up come nighttime. Your eyes widened as you marveled at the tall buildings that yet again screamed wealth, and you wanted to ask Steve where exactly this hotel was.

     "Think you could get used to New York?" Steve asked, practically reading your mind.

He knew how much you loved SoCal, and he just wanted to make sure this place wasn't too much of a culture shock for you. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as you could going from surfer paradise to concrete jungle.

     You looked at him over your shoulder, and just the sight of you like that made his chest pang with desire.

    "Oh yeah, New York's nice. You know, I used to think it was true that all New Yorkers were mean. But then I met you," you winked, and Steve nodded,

    "Brooklyn kids do it best, what can I say?"

    "So this is Manhattan," you replied, and Steve nodded again, pulling into an empty road and heading towards the back of a building which you hadn't seen in its entirety yet. But even looking at the deserted back, you could tell that the building was nice, and expensive too.

    "Yep, Manhattan it is. And here we are," Steve chirped, seeming pleased to have gotten to the destination without interruption. He rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling sheepish again. "Sorry about this, we've gotta enter through the back. Less attention."

You could tell he was sort of feeling bad about this and you frowned, your brows knitting together.

    "Steve," you said in the sternest voice you could manage. "Quit feeling bad. I literally have no complaints, as long as I'm with you. I get it, really."

    Steve nodded, looking down at his lap. He knew you'd understand, you both discussed things like this in advance. But he didn't want you thinking he was ashamed of you at all. Some things just had to be kept secret, for sanity and for safety.

    "Got it. I just want you to love it, that's all," Steve said, and his genuinity made your heart warm like it had just settled down and snuggled into a blanket in front of a crackling fireplace.

Steve got out of the car and was on the other side faster than you could even unbuckle, opening the door for you and holding his hand out for you to take.

    "You're fast," you chuckled, taking his hand and stepping out, your dress flowing in the wind, an image that Steve kept locked in his mind.

    He shrugged,

     "Super soldier things."

He took you in through the back and checked the both of you in discreetly with an employee who had been waiting for you two. It all felt so exclusive and secretive, and made you a bit antsy to see the full extent, but you had no worries. You got on the elevator with Steve while a few employees took all your stuff up to the room, watching as all the floors passed by you in the glass elevator. It wasn't until you actually got to your floor, floor 31, that you even realized the full magic of the luxury hotel.

    When you stepped out, your jaw dropped. Just the floor was the definition of luxury, and you hadn't even been inside the room yet. It was decked out in marble flooring, large windows all about for perfect lighting and an unbelievable view of the afternoon skyline. The decor was beautiful and the entire floor smelled like fragrant flowers. You weren't sure what was more impressive — this or the private jet. Steve noted how you literally stopped in your tracks, then turned around to face him with almost needy eyes, like you had to know if this was real.

    "You're serious?" was all you could say.

    "D'you like it?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

    "It's amazing! I can't believe — Steve, I feel so bad," you said, your voice growing distant as you wandered the halls, straying away from the room.

He caught up fast, chuckling to himself as he gently grabbed onto your arm and looped it between his own, leading you in the right direction. Then he paused, standing in front of you and towering over you. You felt your entire being softening when he did that, it was like he was both dominating you and comforting you in the simplest of ways. You looked up at him with unintentionally coy eyes, glancing between his pink lips and his ocean eyes.

    "Hey. Don't feel bad. I'll say it as many times as it needs to be said — I want to do this for you. It's no trouble for me," he shrugged, and usually you would've made some remark about him implying that he was rich, but the way he was standing over you right now rendered you speechless.

    You felt like you had melted into a big ice cream puddle and all you could do was nod slowly and look up at him with dopey, wide eyes and set lips.

    "Okay," you uttered, your voice faint, and before you knew it he was leaning over you and bear hugging you, throwing all of himself (not all, because he would literally crush you) into the hug and just wrapping his arms around you.

    Even though you'd been close to each other since you met, and onscreen you'd been closer than you could even imagine, this felt like the most intimate you'd been since meeting each other in real life. You felt protected and safe in this moment. You liked how Steve hadn't gotten tired of you despite having to remind you that this wasn't any trouble for him and that you shouldn't feel bad for being spoiled by someone who liked you and wanted to do it for you. You were overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth of his strong body.

    When he pulled away you felt weak with endearment, and that ice cream puddle feeling hadn't gone away. Of course, Steve hardly noticed the effect he had on you, and just took your hand in his and led you to the room. This initiation of holding hands had both your hearts pounding — any physical touch did. His hands were big and muscular, and your hand fit in just perfectly.

      "And here we are," Steve opened the door wide, leading to the unbelievable room.

It was more like an entire house, actually. A penthouse, to be specific. You were surrounded by glass windows that once again offered a view of the whole city. The suite was the perfect mix of contemporary and minimalist. It was luxurious, but not too stark, comfortable enough that you could actually sleep there and not feel like you were sleeping in in some strange utopia. You couldn't help but explore immediately, trying to see everything, like it was sand falling from between your fingers much too fast.

There was a bedroom with the biggest king sized bed you'd ever seen, a bright and airy bathroom with a freestanding white marble tub and a clear glass shower that faced a window, a kitchenette with a fully set up bar, and a huge living room with a near movie sized TV screen. There was even a balcony with stone flooring, a jacuzzi and a plethora of lounge chairs, not to mention another bar.

    Hell, you couldn't keep up with all the things you were seeing, racing around the penthouse suite and trying to wrap your mind around it. Steve had done enough to show you that you shouldn't doubt it or feel guilty about being around such opulence for a day, but you were damn amazed.

Steve just followed you as you raced around, laughing to himself at your reactions to everything and your utter disbelief. It was wholesome, and a reminder of the fact that even though you had a good head on your shoulders, at heart you were a blossoming young woman who had never experienced these things before.

    "Steve," you groaned, falling back onto the plush bed, which was perfectly made up. You felt dizzy.

    "Yeah doll?" he asked, and you smiled, suddenly feeling eager to hear the nickname again. It made such a difference to hear it in person.

    "This is amazing. I could kiss you," you said nonchalantly, then held yourself up on your forearms and looked up at him.

He was too busy being shy again, turning away slightly and kicking at the ground. He knew he looked ridiculous, but you were amused. You knew exactly the effect you had on him, you always had. But seeing it up close and personal was somehow even better. Half the time you didn't even mean to purposefully tease him. He got bashful all on his own, just a reminder of the power he knew you had over him in that sense.

    You smirked, just watching him try to get his act together again.

    "Ahh, thanks, YN. I'm glad you like it."

    You sighed, still laying back and making a snow angel with just your arms against the bedsheets.

    "You know, if you do want me to be your sugar baby..." you trailed off, clearly joking.

Steve shook his head playfully,

    "You're a handful, you know that?"

    "Of course!" you quipped, and sprung up, sitting upright on the bed, dangling your feet above the floor. "So, what do you wanna do?"

     "Well, I had a few things planned, but it's really up to you."

    "Yeah? Like what?" you chirped, and Steve grinned at your voice and how intrigued you sounded.

    "Uh, well. There's a spa on this floor as well. Private, of course. I gotta say, I'm not great at relaxing, or being touched by strangers."

    "Steve," you whined, reaching out for his hand and cupping it between both your hands. "You don't have to force yourself to do anything. But you do deserve to relax. This is as much for you as it is for me. I mean, you put this all together, I can't thank you enough. Least you could do is get a massage."

    Steve was endeared by your sentiment, and you were right. He needed to relax. He definitely was not as uptight as he was before he even knew of you, but he was still usually in a work mode. You'd only be at this hotel for one night, and it was only right that you both take full advantage of its amenities. After all, it was luxury for a reason. You were here to be pampered and be together.

    "Yeah..." Steve looked down at where your hands were cupped over his, and smiled fondly. "You're right. I'm real good at being stressed out."

    "I know," you kneaded his hands. "But I can help you relieve that stress."

You bit down on your lip, knowing that could mean so many different things, but here you really had innocent intentions, your face brightening up as you got an idea.

    "Okay. So you want to relax, but not while a stranger is touching you," you restated, and Steve nodded with a hum. "I have an idea."

| | |

    "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Steve chuckled as you flitted around him like a fairy, getting everything together.

About an hour later, once your stuff had been returned to the room and you had both settled in just a bit more, you were practically dragging Steve out of the room and to the spa area where you'd carry out your idea. Your request was simple when you'd called the spa over the phone in your suite: you wanted all the material there, but no employees. That way it'd be more personal — how hard could it be to do the same things that the staff did? It wasn't defeating the purpose if it meant you got to bond alone.

    "Uh, I mean I've never done this before but I usually know what I'm doing, so I'm gonna go with yes," you answered, probably more sure of yourself than Steve was.

    "I trust you," Steve smiled.

    "Smart choice," you smirked, looking at him from over your shoulder. "Okay, I think everything's ready. The question is - are you?"

    "I don't know, am I?" Steve cocked his head, eyeing you as you got everything ready, admiring you once again.

    "Not in that, you're not," you said, gesturing to the loose fitting t-shirt he still had on.

You said it casually, but truthfully, the pace of your heartbeat was quickening, thinking of actually seeing him take his shirt off. You had a lot more experience than Steve, so it wasn't like it was some new and strange experience, but the thought of seeing even more of Steve made you nervous.

    "Oh. Do I just-" Steve gazed up at you, raising his brows.

    "Mhm," you hummed quietly, biting down on your lip and watching him.

Steve felt nerves too for the same reason as you, but not because he was insecure with his body, so he lifted his shirt up with ease and placed it on the bed beside him. The silence felt deafening as he looked up at you and gauged your reaction. And honestly, you were just standing there looking at him, your lips pursed and your chest visibly rising up and down as you switched from automatic breathing to manual.

    You didn't have a huge preference for body type, but Steve was certainly a force to be reckoned with, big and hulking both with and without a shirt. You noticed the pleased, expectant expression on Steve's face and came back to earth, blinking away all the thoughts that flooded your mind.

    "Okay!" you practically gasped out, all the breath you were holding in leaving you at once. "You can lay back. And um, I'll just-"

Steve lay back and you approached the massage table, your breath hitching in your throat as you climbed up quickly and got on top of him, placing your legs on either side of him so you were straddling him. And don't get it wrong, you were confident. You put your body out there almost every night for hundreds of strangers, and that definitely boosted your sexuality in real time. It wasn't hard for you to perform suggestive acts or use your sensuality, but actually touching Steve felt so sacred — like you both wanted every touch to be precise. You had the chemistry online, it was just a matter of how the chemistry progressed face to face, sinking into the reality that felt so surreal.

Steve put his hands on your hips to steady you and your body twitched just slightly, Steve looking up at you with innocent, inexperienced eyes.

It was quiet now, and you focused on the task at hand, Steve's hands dropping to his sides while you diligently went to work. You spread oil on your hands and reached down to touch Steve's face, a small smile on your concentrated face. You were paying more attention to your hands, but Steve was looking right up at you, admiration full in his eyes, a small smile on his face. He was letting you do the work, lightly massaging oil onto Steve's face, keeping your fingers gentle and your pace slow and relaxing.

You were focused, but certainly, you couldn't help but be hyper aware of the fact that you were literally on top of Steve while he had no shirt on (and looked damn good without it). The innocuous yet obvious sensuality of the moment stirred the both of you. But rather than act upon it, you let it stay innocent. Steve cherished the feeling of your fingers lightly tapping and massaging against his face. You may not have been a licensed massage therapist, but you knew what you were doing.

    "You sure you haven't done this before?" Steve uttered, his words almost slurred from how relaxed he was.

    "One hundred percent," you offered a tiny smile, your face hovering just over Steve's, locking eyes with him. Your voice was gentle and soft. "Close your eyes for me."

Steve was entranced, fully into this experience, and honestly probably because it was you doing it. Had it been anyone else, he probably would've been squirming around, because he didn't know how to relax. But you were his oasis. A smile cracked out onto your lips at the sight of Steve underneath you with his eyes closed, totally relaxed. You'd hoped this would be the result. And you couldn't help but knead your fingers a little extra when you got down to his chest, still mind boggled by his muscles.

    "Just let me know if it feels alright," you said, your voice just above a whisper as you placed hot stones carefully on Steve's face and massaged his skin with them. "That okay?"

    "Hmm," Steve hummed affirmatively in response.

You watched as his chest rose and fell at a steady, relaxed rate, completely at ease. Every once in a while, he let out a sigh or a quiet groan that made your breath hitch in your throat. But again, you let it stay innocent. It was just Steve's luck that you didn't notice, or feel the tent that was growing in his pants just from the touch of your hands against his face. It was just that good.

When you were done, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was over. He seemed to have no complaints though, although he knew he could stay like this for much longer. His hands gripped your wrists, then he slid his fingers in between yours, cupping your hands together by his sides. You beamed down at him, amused at the way his eyes seemed glazed over and totally blissed out.

    "How was it!" you exclaimed, excited to see how pleased he was.

    "YN," he massaged his thumb into the nook of your hand. "I think you're actually good at everything you do."

You shook your head and Steve rolled his eyes.

    "You're being modest," he said with a wave of his hand. "Now, what can I do for you? Because that was incredible."

    "Steve, no way. You're not doing a thing for me. You've done... more than enough."

    "I appreciate that, doll, but you do know this is mutual. If you hadn't already gotten your nails done," Steve flopped your hand up playfully, and you giggled, "I would try. I guess it's best that you've already got them done, though. Don't know how accurate my nail painting would be. But I could give you a massage, or try my hand at a facial."

You hopped off of Steve and the massage table, bouncing up and down slightly on the floor,

    "Steve, as much as I adore that idea, I'm solely focused on making you feel relaxed right now. Though, if you really want to do something for me, you could... get in the pool?"

You skipped backwards, and pulled off the loungewear you'd changed into for the spa, clad in a bra and underwear beneath. You simply winked while Steve sat upright, eyes widening at the sight of you half naked in front of him. Sure, it was technically the same as a bikini, but just seeing you like that unexpectedly made him start. You couldn't be anymore coquettish right now, flaunting your body with a twirl before you jumped into the pool.

You disappeared for a few moments, then swam back up to the top, pushing back the water that speckled your face with your hands. Steve found his mouth going dry - you were so beautiful and alluring without even trying to be. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool, glaring down at you while you gazed up at him with playful, inviting eyes.

    "You're gorgeous," was all Steve could manage to utter out, kneeling slightly so he was more at level with you.

You bit down on your lip and gestured for Steve to come closer, enticing him with your beguiling eyes. You placed your hand on his face, wet hand against his firm jaw, and pulled his head closer as if—

Then, a loud splashing sound and the feeling of being submerged in water as Steve fell in. He swam back up to the top easily, pushing his hair back and wiping water away from his eyes as he regained his bearings. The accomplished grin on your face told him all he needed to know, and he lunged forward, grabbing you in his arms with ease and lifting you up, your back against his chest.

    "You're gonna pay for this, you know that?" he scolded you playfully, and you laughed giddily, your vision blurred as Steve spun you around against him in the water, unable to withhold your delirium.

    "I knew you wouldn't get in unless I forced you in! You think I don't know you by now?" you cackled, trying and failing to free from his grasp.

He let you go, but that didn't mean he wasn't right up on you, looming over you in the pool and pressing up against you, your bodies flush with one another. You were still laughing, but that feeling was coming back again, that feeling that you were melting once more.

     "I'm not gonna forget this," Steve warned, pursing his lips in a triumphant smirk.

     "If I could dunk you, I would," you narrowed your eyes at him, pressing your finger into his chest.

    "Oh my god, would you look at that?" Steve questioned sarcastically, picking you up by the waist without trouble and placing your legs around his neck, falling back deep into the water as if you had actually dunked on him.

You managed to open your eyes under the pool water, blinking excessively but catching a long glimpse at Steve, who was pressed beneath you. You grinned and swam up to the surface, Steve following short after.

    "Why, I never!" you pressed your hand against your chest, gasping dramatically. "Steve, you slick debonair. Did you just use that as an excuse to have my legs around your neck?"

Steve, who had thought nothing of it, was now wide-eyed and gulping, his mind traveling to a sinful place — particularly, the place between your thighs.

He handled it with grace though, raising a brow and cocking his head,

    "Don't think I'll need an excuse."

This time it was your turn to react, your mouth dropping open into a small o shape. Steve had even shocked himself. But you were really getting comfortable with one another, and he was just catching up to your pace.

    "I..." you didn't even know what to say, because just like Steve you were lost in thought as well, blinking and smiling blankly. You glared at him in a lighthearted manner. "You win that one. But you're a bad man."

    "Am I?" Steve chuckled, his voice deep and playful.

     "You're a bad man who puts me on a private jet and takes me to a very bougie hotel. Honestly, you're horrible," you joked.

    "You're right. They should take away my shield."

     You spent at least an hour in the pool, fucking around and just having fun, Steve placing you on his shoulders and swimming as fast as he could from one end of the pool to the other. You continuously tried to dunk and or splash each other, and you kept getting closer than any of you two could handle, then not actually doing anything about it.

You were beginning to prune up though, so each of you quickly rinsed off using the shower at the spa, then walked back to the room, wrapped up in towels. But you realized that you hadn't seen anyone else, not even in passing. When you asked Steve about it, he very nonchalantly mentioned that he had the whole floor blocked off for them specifically to guarantee maximum privacy and comfort. Yet another thing he did that was so mind blowing to you.

    "You hungry?" Steve asked. "I ordered room service for dinner."

It was getting darker outside, you had noticed, and nightfall was quickly approaching. Your mind wandered to thoughts of a romantic, private dinner with Steve, and you sighed in ecstasy. This day was literally perfect. You were more rejuvenated than you had ever been, and back at home rejuvenation and selfcare was a mighty big investment of yours. The fact that Steve could top that just by being him, was astounding.

    "I could eat," you grinned, sitting down on the bed at peace. You had changed back into your loungewear, and Steve still stood in front of you without a shirt on.

He felt your eyes on him and his cheeks flushed, his jaw ticking.

    "I'll go put on some clothes," he decided, and you sprawled out on the bed, starfishing.

    "Oh, you don't have to," you joked lazily, closing your eyes.

    "Ha-ha," Steve bleated, changing into a shirt anyway.

By the time Steve changed, room service was knocking at the door. You watched as Steve led them outside and set up himself. Although you insisted that you help, he practically commanded that you stay inside. And when he used that voice, he didn't have to tell you twice. You pulled out your vanity mirror, checking your appearance while you waited for Steve, and you frowned because you hadn't thought to change into nice clothes and put on some makeup for dinner. You figured it was principal, and you always wanted to look your best around him anyway.

Steve came back inside and caught you frowning at yourself in the vanity mirror. Without even thinking he commented,

    "You look amazing."

You raised a doubtful brow and looked over at him,

    "I think I still smell like chlorine."

Steve shook his head, a smile appearing on his lips. As confident as you were, you were being so critical of yourself right now. He didn't care what you were wearing - as long as he got to be with you, he didn't mind.

    "Chlorine just happens to be my favorite fragrance. Come on," he nodded towards the doors that opened up to the balcony where he set up the dinner for you.

You got up out of bed, tugging down your loose cotton shorts, and walked over to Steve, who immediately put his hand around your waist and guided you to the dinner table. You glanced up at him, pleasantly surprised yet again. The set up was simple, the table decorated with small candles and a vase of roses as the centerpiece, a bucket full of ice and a bottle of Moet at the edge of the table. And of course, a plate of your favorite food on your side. Jazzy music played softly in the background.

You turned up to face Steve, snuggling up to his body and placing your hand on his chest.

    "Steve, this is so beautiful," you cooed, then glanced back at the table — he could've easily had this all set up by staff, but all he did was have them bring the food, the rest he set up for himself.

    "You like it?" he asked, his heart beaming all because you were happy with it. Steve may not have been the kind of guy to go all out very often, but when he did, he did it right. This had just the personal touch that it needed.

    "I love it," you broke free from his grasp and skipped over to the roses, your fingers softly grazing over the petals.

You had been close to crying a couple of times today, but now you were dangerously close, and you couldn't help the tears that fell from your eyes this time around. This gesture was probably the simplest that Steve had shown this whole day, but it touched your heart the most. The private jet and the nice hotel were definitely nice touches, but they didn't mean anything if there weren't any feelings there. And Steve was doing everything in his power to show how much he cared for you, something that you weren't used to most people even bothering to do.

Steve saw that you were crying and rushed over to you immediately, frowning,

    "Is everything okay?"

You laughed tearfully, wiping away your tears with the back of your hands,

    "No one's ever done anything this nice for me, that's all. It feels really... special."

Steve smiled sadly. Your reactions were so wholesome, yet from a place of so much hurt, and it showed the elements of your past that you had recounted to him. Steve wasn't trying to make you forget about your past or make up for it, but he wanted to put the work in to show that you deserved so much more. It was just who he was.

    "First time for everything, huh?"

    "Yeah," you crooned, sniffling.

Steve gave you a pat on the back and put his arm around your hip as he led you to your side of the table, pushing out the chair for you and letting you sit down. He sat down too, and you almost instantly grabbed the champagne bottle, Steve smirking at your eagerness.

You giggled, biting down on your lip,

    "I have to do something for you."

    "Wrong, but I won't complain," Steve laughed, shaking his head playfully.

You opened the champagne bottle with a pop, and let the fizz pour out into your glass before you carefully poured a glass for the both of you, reaching carefully across the table. You sucked gently at the side of your finger, and placed the bottle back inside the bucket.

Both you and Steve raised your glasses, and you made a toast as you clinked them together,

    "To us!"

    "To us," Steve repeated softly, gazing at your face, shining in the candlelight.

You took a sip and started eating, the both of you quiet for a few moments before Steve spoke up.

    "It's still so unbelievable that this is all happening," he blinked, wanting to lean back and just get a good look at you.

    "In a good way, right?" you smirked, taking another sip of your drink.

    "Oh, the best way possible. It's indescribable, the feeling I got from seeing you. It's still there," Steve huffed, and you cocked your head at him, your lips turning up into a gentle smile.

    "I know. Me too," your eyes scanned his face, strong and handsome and illuminated by the candles lit in front of him.

    "I know it's been hard for me to open up... to you, especially. I was just so hesitant because I've never really felt the things that you made me feel, and I was afraid because we didn't know each other, you know? You were just a girl on a screen in the beginning, yet I thought of you all the time. I was thinking, Steve, you can't let this happen. I thought it was unbecoming of me, starting to feel things for a stranger."

You listened, glad to hear Steve finally opening up, but you joked,

    "Yeah. It doesn't quite fit your job description."

Steve laughed, rubbing his temples as he leaned back,

    "Yeah, not quite. It was sort of a shock for me. I was scared of the possibilities. And it was hard for me to understand my own feelings, you know? I shut down when things felt too serious. And I know I was stupid for it looking back, but... in the moment I was just overwhelmed. Opening up to someone I didn't know like that, getting into that territory, it... scared me. And the feelings I started having for you, jeez. I hadn't had those feelings in a while. And I'd only ever had them for one person. It was so hard for me to wrap my head around."

    You listened to Steve, taking in his every word. Even as you got closer, Steve didn't open up as much as you did, and you hadn't minded that because he was always listening to you and talked with you about anything. So to hear this was eye opening and helped you understand more why he operated the way he did. So you just listened, leaning in and nodding, your cheek against your palm.

    "Ahh, I'm just old," Steve shook his head, and you perked up, your brows knit together.

    "No! Well, technically speaking, yes. But no! You are not 'just old.' Your feelings are valid. And I understand, because I felt the same way, almost. It was weird opening up to you, and I got those weird feelings too, but I didn't give in because... I had to stay safe, you know? I can't be falling for my clients. But when I realized who you were, even though it was a shock, it... things came together. It made sense. Suddenly, you weren't just some random, you were you. If it were anybody else, nothing would've come of it. That's why I let it happen. I decided to try my hand at trusting you, and so did you. And I mean, it's a good thing we did, right?"

    "Otherwise, none of this would've happened," Steve nodded, and you both grinned at each other.

    "Yeah. So don't be so hard on yourself," you wagged your finger at him, and Steve chuckled, shaking his head- you weren't going to let him pass with anything, and he liked that about you. "We all have a long ways to go with our growth, but it's happening. You just have to let it."

    "You're right. It feels hard to fit in, you know? I've been here about a decade now, and it's still so... I guess I'm still finding my way around. Don't know if that makes any sense, but I'm trying to fit in," Steve replied, his voice deep and almost sorrowful.

You pouted slightly, reaching your hand out and cupping it over Steve's,

    "It makes sense."

    You truly felt for him. You knew his story, everyone did. But they didn't know the intimate, personal details of it. They didn't know how Steve felt being a walking experiment in this modern world. Maybe if they did, the world might be a lot less harsh to him. You didn't want to fix him, but you wanted to be there for him - make the sharp edges of new life softer, dim down the starkness of modernity.

    You talked about a multitude of topics over the course of the dinner, things that made you emotional, things that made you both burst out into laughter, menial things and profound discussions. But anything you talked about, anything you had to say to each other, just filled you both up to the brim with gleeful warmth. You were just truly soaking in the moment with each other, enjoying being alone together. The evening was filled with lingering eye contact, brushes against the other's hand, and laughter.

    By the time Steve had gotten behind the bar, trying his hand at making drinks like it was nothing, you found yourself feeling like you were ready to wind down. You were warm from wine and other alcoholic drinks Steve had mixed, and jet lag was catching up to you. Though you wanted to stay up all night, you wanted to be refreshed the next morning.

    You retired inside to go take a shower, feeling only slightly tired because the beautiful night with Steve kept you exhilarated. The bathroom was spacious and expensive, you could spend hours in there just sitting on the sink and thinking. You got undressed and got into the shower, the warm water running along your body, washing away the travels of the day, the hot pulsating jets of water relaxing your muscles. It was much bigger and fancier than your shower back at home, that was for sure.

    As you let the water rush over your body, you started to reflect on the entire day. This day had been full of first times for you, first feelings, first experiences. You were in awe, but it evoked deep feelings that seemed to be getting coaxed out of your stomach. This deep feeling that there was still more to be uncovered, that there would always be more. It wrecked you — gave you anxiety and nerves like nobody's business. But it also calmed you, knowing that you were with the right person for there to be more. You wouldn't be snatching for more at the bottom of an empty, loveless hole in the ground with no one or nothing to water you. And the best part of it was that the feeling didn't come with the kind of fear that made you want to stop. You wanted to keep going. Everything was beautiful so far. Although you knew it wouldn't always be one hundred percent perfect if you kept going indefinitely, you were enjoying the moment now. The present.

    Meanwhile, Steve was sitting on his side of the bed, looking down at the floor and kneading his palm with his other hand. He was thinking deeply, all good thoughts, and all about you. He just wanted to keep making everything perfect for you, for the both of you. And he was coming to the realization that perfectness wasn't realistic, that it would actually be worse than authenticity. But like you, he was enjoying the paradise you were sharing with each other. He was trying to keep himself in the present, which was so difficult for Steve, whose job was to solve problems and think of the future. But when it came to you, he would take that chance willingly.

    You also thought of Aaliyah in the shower, thinking of how happy she'd be if she knew what was going on. You thought you should tell her soon, but you also knew no matter how much you wanted to, you had to take it slow. As you stepped out of the shower and dried off, you had nothing but positive thoughts in your mind — there was no one in your life who you held ill bearings for, not even your parents. It seemed that once you took that initiative to focusing on yourself, everything and everybody else seemed to fall into place.

You used a towel, then wrapped a plush white robe around yourself, tying it at your waist. When you came out of the bathroom, you were still slightly damp, and drops of water sprinkled your bare, dewy skin. You knew you probably looked pretty raw, but not because you were bare-faced, more because you were fresh out of the shower.

You were dabbing at your face with the corner of the robe as you stood against the doorway that connected the bathroom to the bedroom.

    "Steve, can you pass me my clothes?" you asked, nodding over to your fresh change of clothes on the bed.

    "Sure," he said, thinking nothing of it and reaching behind himself to get your clothes.

But when he turned back, something on his face had changed, as if he were stumped by the sight in front of him. His mouth had dropped open slightly and he sort of goggled at you in amazement. He didn't bother to get your clothes, because there was only one thing on his mind as he stood up, looking very determined.

You were slightly confused, but couldn't find the words to ask him what was going on, because there he was towering over you again, without any desire to intimidate you but succeeding in doing so anyway. Only, it wasn't a bad kind of intimidation. You looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, tilting your head slightly upwards to him. As you realized what was happening, you couldn't help the way your eyes flickered from his lips to his own eyes, inviting him in. You were almost daring him, egging on the feeling of burning desire that flooded the dimly lit hotel room.

    The mere sight of you amazed him all the time, but in this moment, Steve had been thrown off guard. It was perplex to him, how you could appear so beautiful to him without even trying to. Your beauty was not subtle, it was loud even when you were fresh out the shower, no makeup on, completely stripped down. It drove Steve crazy, seeing you standing there with wet hair, and a face that had drops of water still running down your cheeks to the inside of your robe where your naked body was concealed.

It was so silent, and Steve was so close to you, you swore you could hear your heart beating. And then, he did what he had been waiting the whole day to do, what you had been wanting to do the entire day, and leaned down, kissing you.

    And when your lips finally met, it was like nothing you'd felt before. Even if you weren't so close, you were so sure that the electrifying feeling that surged through your entire body would've emanated off of you. It was like your body heat was combined in this moment, like you were molded into each other like a perfect ceramic sculpture. As if time decided to slow down just for you two, leaving space for only the two of you to exist together in this moment. And nothing else mattered, nothing except the feeling of Steve's lips against yours, parted and warm, like they belonged against you.

    The kiss was soft, but passionate and full of burning desire. You fell into the kiss naturally, closing your eyes instantly. You weren't sure if this was just a fever dream of yours, if maybe you'd been asleep for a very long time and dreamed up the past few months, all building up to this moment when you'd finally wake up. Or maybe you'd passed out in the hot shower and you were just dreaming this. But you didn't wake up. Your eyes remained gently closed as you kept on kissing him. Steve couldn't fathom the feelings he got from finally feeling your lips against his own.

    The desire to kiss you had been building up the whole day, but when he saw you just now, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. You hadn't kissed each other the whole day although you wanted to, because it didn't feel right just yet. You wanted the moment to be right. And even though it was sudden for the both of you, it just fit. It was spontaneous and a touch born out of yearning.

    You overpowered his senses. Even after your shower, every breath he took smelled like California sunshine and the salty spritz of ocean waves, and that natural ambrosial scent that you seemed to achieve without perfume. Every touch he felt was you, his hands digging into your waist, your plump lips, your hands exploring his shoulders and the nape of his neck. The taste of your wet lips. Everything was you.

    He could've lasted longer, but you needed to take a breath, though you wished you could stay like this forever. You just kissed Steve Rogers. And it was nothing like you imagined, because nothing you imagined could compare to this. You took in a deep breath, feeling your entire body warm up just from the buzzing aftermath sensation of the kiss and the art that was looking into his eyes, which seemed to be an even deeper blue than before.

    Steve looked you up and down, then couldn't help but smile, breaking out of the very serious air he had just entered upon seeing you. He laughed, a deep chuckle that sent shivers running down your very body. You laughed too, and you nudged Steve playfully. He brought those nerves out of you that nobody else could. You had plenty of experience, but Steve made you feel so much.

    "I wasn't expecting that, sir," you quipped, and he grinned down at you,

    "But did you like it?"

    "You're a doofus," you shook your head, pushing him gently. Your voice became a whisper and you reached up, pulling him close by the collar of his t-shirt, your eyes boring into his. "I loved it."

You kissed him again, hard and sweet but short, then practically pushed him away, sauntering away into the bed before you, and getting your clothes, teasing him about how he just wanted to get you naked before you changed in the bathroom. You then emerged, climbing beneath the bedsheets and propping your head up against a pillow. It was then that you really thought of the fact that you'd be sharing a bed with Steve, but at this point, it seemed expected.

Steve was still recovering from the second kiss, then practically twirled around on his feet to face you, a dazed grin on his face, getting into the bed himself.

    "Let's watch a movie, hmm?" you suggested, looking up at him. "Till we fall asleep."

    "Sounds good to me."

    You sighed in pleasure, scooting closer to Steve and snuggling into the crook of his outstretched arm as he turned on the TV and put on a random movie for you two to watch, one that wasn't too hard for you to follow. You were stealing glances at him the whole time anyway, and he was too. The movie was the last thing on your minds, but it just filled up the time until one of you fell asleep, and made for distracted conversation about the plot, one of you making comments followed by a hum from the other. You on the other hand, barely lasted ten minutes, falling asleep almost immediately. Steve turned off the TV and the light beside him, glancing over at you as your eyes fluttered closed. You were such a sleeping beauty, all he could do was look at you. You fell asleep and turned absentmindedly on your side, posted up like the little spoon, cuddling into him.

    Steve turned on his side too, your back against his front. He let you snuggle into him, but was unsure of what to do himself. He had never shared his bed, and the way you cuddled into him made him swallow hard. How did he follow suit? Would you want him to?

    But after a good look at you, unable he slowly put his arm around you, hesitantly placing his hand at your waist, letting it tumble over onto your stomach. In your sleep you put your hand over his, snuggled closer and held onto his arm. Reassured, he settled into the position with ease, falling asleep faster than he ever had in years.

Dreaming of you.

eeep did y’all love it?!?!?! share ur thoughts ~! ily <3

adding tags in a few mins ♡ 

[nonbinary-renfri]

inspired by this post by @elliestormfound

It’s Lambert’s turn to cook dinner tonight for the witchers wintering in the keep and he’s feeling rather inspired, after Geralt and Eskel went ice fishing and came back with four lovely large trout. Going down to the root cellar while the other two witchers were taking care of the gutting and cleaning and de-scaling of the fish out in the yard, Lambert picked out some onions and some potatoes and some garlic. He also took a container of the goat milk butter they’d started making after Eskel had insisted on getting the keep its own mini goat herd. The animals themselves were stinky, ungrateful bastards, but even Lambert would admit having the fresh milk was nice. Once they finally figured out this goat cheese thing, it’d be even nicer.

But for now Lambert’s heading back upstairs with a basket full of potatoes and onions and garlic and is greeted by some absolutely beautiful fish fillets laid out on the kitchen counter. A lesser man- such as many high-class chefs with their fancy restaurants in the cities- might shed a tear at the sight of such divine knife work. Lambert is so glad Eskel let Geralt do the filleting this time.

He dices onions and garlic and preps the potatoes, washing them and piercing them in several places with a knife. The wood-stove is already lit, doing its best to spread fingers of warmth through Kaer Morhen’s cold stones. Opening up two of the burners, Lambert plunks down a pair of heavy iron saucepans onto the stove. He makes two batches of an onion-butter sauce, one with garlic and one without. While that’s simmering, he seasons the fish with rock salt that he’s fairly certain Vesemir collects and grinds himself, and then divides the fillets out evenly between two baking pans. Lambert pours the sauce over the fish before sliding them, along with the potatoes, into the large oven to slow cook.

With some time to kill, he washes the dishes he’s created so far and then starts poking around in the kitchen cabinets. He finds things he knew were there, like shelves filled with jars of different spices and a section dedicated to baking supplies, and things he didn’t, like glass bottles of apple cider in a bottom cupboard. Lambert uncorks one and sniffs it, and, yep, that is apple cider and it’s still fairly fresh too, probably squeezed and bottled by Vesemir this past autumn. He doesn’t think the old man will mind awfully if Lambert commandeers some of it; it’s for a good cause, and it’s not like Vesemir won’t also get a share of it.

Putting a larger pot on the stove top, Lambert mixes up a hot drink made with apple cider, a splash of squeezed fruit juice, and spices. Sticks of cinnamon and dried orange and lemon slices float in bubbling amber liquid as it simmers on the burner. Dinner will be done before the wassail is, but that’s alright; they can have it as a nice follow-up afterwards.

Lambert glances up from stirring the drink as Vesemir enters the kitchen. The old witcher is carrying a basket with fresh broccoli from the winter garden, tiny bits of ice glimmering on green buds from being washed outdoors in the cold. Taking a deep breath in, he smiles appreciatively. “It smells delicious.” Yellow irises find the bottles of apple cider out on the countertop. “Ah. I see you got into my juice stores.”

“For a good cause, old man.”

Vesemir’s nostrils flare as he leans towards the pot. “Yes, indeed. An after-dinner treat?”

How does he always know these things. “Yeah,” Lambert admits.

“Would you be willing to trust me to watch over your handiwork for a bit? I thought I would add broccoli to the menu tonight, but the table in the hall could really use a wipe down before we sit down to eat.”

“Sure, I can go do that. Stir the pot on the stove occasionally and don’t fucking burn my food, okay?”

Vesemir acquiesces with a nod and waves the younger witcher out the door.

The table is rather dusty and bread crumb-covered from a multitude of meals, so Lambert wipes it down with a dry cloth and then a wet one. He also takes the opportunity to set the table, putting out plates and silverware for all the witchers, though not in the pompous, shitty way a noble household would. Just a fork and a knife, thank you very much. The butter dish and the ceramic howling wolf salt and pepper shakers Eskel had brought back one winter go on the table too. Vesemir keeps his eyes on the broccoli he has searing on the stove as Lambert comes in and out of the kitchen, pretending not to notice as the younger snags napkins for the table that he knows will be neatly folded beside their plates. And he thinks they don’t know that he cares.

Eventually all the food is done cooking and the old witcher lets Lambert take care of the plating of things, helping him carry the platters of roast potatoes and fish and broccoli into the hall. The smells must reach the other witchers in the keep as Geralt and Eskel quickly appear at the door, dressed in clean clothes with cheeks pink-flushed and the slightly spicy-sweet scent from the witch hazel soap they keep in the hot springs wafting off of them.

“Wow, that smells good,” Eskel comments. Geralt’s nostrils flare in agreement and the two are quick to take their usual seats at the table, eagerly eyeing the spread in front of them.

As soon as Vesemir fills his plate, the rest of them are free to dig in as well. Scenting the air, mouth partway open, Geralt gravitates towards the fish without garlic and scoops a good chunk onto his plate. Eskel takes a smaller piece from the same pan and a similar one from the other as well. Like Vesemir, Lambert takes a big serving of the fish with garlic. They all take potatoes and cut them open, steam wafting into the air from the well-cooked soft white insides. Goat butter melts quickly from the heat and they sprinkle rock salt on top of potatoes now drenched in gold. Broccoli joins the rest of the food on their plates and they eat in silence for a while, too hungry from the day’s work and grateful for a good meal to have the wherewithal to interrupt it with conversation.

Eventually though, as Vesemir and Geralt go back for second servings of their preferred fish and Eskel takes more broccoli, they find themselves able to take their concentration enough off the food to talk.

“Thank you for making dinner, Lambert,” Geralt says, because sometimes he can be a polite bastard. Lambert suspects it has something to do with all that time the white-haired man spends around a certain uppity sorceress.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eskel parrots, talking through a mouthful of potato because he doesn’t have a questionable influence in his life to teach him courtly manners. “’S delicious.”

Vesemir nods in agreement. “Quite.”

Resisting the urge to shrug off the praise, Lambert pretends the tips of his ears aren’t turning red. “Mhmm. Yeah. Uh. You’re welcome, I guess.” He remembers the wassail he has simmering in the kitchen still, and takes the excuse to flee the room. “Hot drinks, for after dinner. Should be done, so I’ll, uh, go get them.” Getting up and walking away, he waits until he’s completely out of eyesight of the others, because Vesemir would somehow fucking know if he didn’t, before he lets the bubbling warm feeling in his chest spill onto his face. He smiles the entire walk back to the kitchen.

Returning with a big wooden pitcher full of hot wassail that drifts the sweet scents of apples, citrus, and spices into the air with curls of steam, he pours it into the mugs gathered at the far end of the table, placing one in front of each witcher.

Vesemir, the madman, doesn’t even blow on his before gulping down a large mouthful. He swallows and immediately goes back for a second, humming his approval.

Slightly more cautious, Eskel blows on the surface of his drink before trying it. His face changes to a contemplative look and then he nods, seemingly in approval.

Geralt takes a sip from his mug with an unreadable expression. Lambert watches him carefully, knowing the other witcher can’t stand to drink apple cider on its own. Taking another sip, Geralt lets out a quiet grunt.

Lambert’s voice gets ahead of his head. “So? Is it good?” Shit shit shit way too pushy, what, do you need validation or something-

Shrugging, Geralt says, like he’s simply stating a fact, “Everything you make is good.”

There is a pleased yet embarrassed heat rising in Lambert’s cheeks, because Geralt doesn't say nice things when he doesn't mean them. “Fuck you.” Dammit, why can’t he be the kind of person who just goes speechless in moments like this.

Geralt doesn’t reply, but he’s smiling in that tiny way he thinks is unnoticeable, with the very corners of his lips and the tilt of his eyebrows, or something. The white-haired witcher doesn’t go back for seconds of the hot drink like Eskel does, or fourths like Vesemir, but he finishes the mug that Lambert poured for him, which is compliment enough in the younger’s opinion.

It’s a good night, he thinks, as they finish their drinks and Geralt and Eskel take the dishes back to the kitchen to scrub them clean. Even better as they all pile into the study, with it’s warm wooden walls and bearskin rugs a ballast against the winter’s chill. They quickly have a fire burning bright in the hearth, and the room becomes cozy and comfortable. Vesemir settles into his armchair with the old bestiary he’s currently annotating and the three younger witchers tangle together in a pile on the fur splayed before the fire. They wrestle lazily for a bit before sprawling out drowsily, serene and drifting somewhere close to sleep.

In the early hours of the next morning the armchair is empty, bestiary shut neatly on the accent table beside it, and the fire has reduced itself to cold ashes. Lambert wakes up to white hair tickling his nose and his feet tangled with Eskel’s, the other man’s calves laying on top of Geralt’s knees. Soft fur brushes his chin from the bearskin that had been spread over the three of them sometime in the night, keeping them warm beneath it with their combined body heat long after the fire had died out. There’s no window in this room but Lambert has a feeling it’s still not late enough for them to need to get up, so he lies there with his eyes closed, simply enjoying the weight and warmth of his brothers beside him.

[diamondjackdaw]

How about Logan?

Buckle up, friends, this one got a little long. (Thank you @impossiblysporadiccreation​ for the ask! Always happy for an excuse to talk about Logan, lol.)

+ FIRST IMPRESSION: Gosh, it’s been so long since I started watching the series; I honestly don’t remember my first impression? Probably something to the tune of “This man is very smart and he wears a necktie; good for him.”

+ IMPRESSION NOW: The one John Mulaney gif that’s just “I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day, I’ll die.”

If you keep up with my blog, it’s probably no shock that Logan is my favorite character in Sanders Sides. I relate to his difficulty with feelings, as well as his high expectations for himself and his fear of not being taken seriously. I love how flawed and human he is as a character; I love the glimpses of vulnerability underneath all the self-assured confidence and (sometimes) arrogance about his own abilities.

tl;dr I love Logan very much, both for his strengths and his flaws, and I’m very excited to see him grow as a character in future episodes. (I have a meta piece that discusses this in more depth if anyone is interested; I wrote it a while ago but I’m still proud of it.)

+ FAVORITE MOMENT: Too many to choose from, but I’ll always love his “That! Is! Why! I! Say! It!” in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts; he sounds so vindicated and I’m so proud of him.

In the angst category, I’m a sucker for the look of absolute horror on his face after he lashes out at Roman in Learning New Things About Ourselves. It’s one of the few times in the show where we’ve seen him genuinely frightened, and he’s frightened of himself, and I’m not okay.

+ IDEA FOR A STORY: *stares at my mountain of in-progress Google Docs* Okay, so I may need you to be a bit more specific...? /hj

*reaches into the stack and pulls one out at random* Can I interest you in uhhhhhhh a canonverse fic where Janus and Remus invite Logan and Patton over after the events of Putting Others First, but everyone has wildly different motives for being there? Patton wants to prove he can be nice to the “dark sides” (particularly Remus), Logan wants to clear the figurative air and get Thomas’s mental health back on track, Remus just wants chaos, and Janus... well, he’s got an ethically dubious strategy for getting everyone’s issues out in the open. Step One? A friendly icebreaker, with a not-quite-so-friendly twist:

“Janus made his own snakey truth serum!” Remus exclaimed, grin stretching (very literally and very uncomfortably) from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Remus. I definitely wasn’t building toward my own dramatic reveal, so I appreciate you blurting it out with your usual lack of self-restraint.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Actually, ‘truth serum,’ at least as it is commonly represented in fictional media, does not exist,” Logan said. “While there are psychoactive drugs which can lower inhibitions and interfere with cognitive functions, none of them have been demonstrated to consistently produce accurate and honest responses in an interrogation setting.”

“That may be true,” Janus said, “but fortunately for us, we are not constrained by silly little things like scientific accuracy, as evidenced by the fact that Logan is unkillable, I’m part snake, and Remus has a moustache even though Thomas has never in his life been able to successfully grow facial hair.”

“Oh, this?” Remus tugged at the tip of his moustache. “I actually super-glued this to my face when Thomas was in middle school. It’s made of my own —”

“Regardlessss,” Janus hissed, “here in the world of Thomas’s Hollywood-inundated imagination, the synthesis of a so-called ‘truth serum’ is hardly beyond my abilities. So can we stop debating the plausibility of my very elegantly styled plot device, and —”

Abruptly, Remus snatched the fancy cup out of Janus’s hand. “Jan’s right! Enough chit-chat; it’s time for some enhanced interrogation techniques in the name of...” He giggled, high-pitched and screechy in a way that made Patton’s skin crawl. “...friendship.”

+ UNPOPULAR OPINION: Hot take, Logan’s biggest obstacle right now isn’t that the others don’t listen to him, or that they don’t take him seriously; it’s that he’s staked his sense of self on being The One Who Has The Answers and Never Makes Mistakes.

Logan needs people to take him seriously, yes, but he also needs to know that he can be taken seriously without always needing to be serious. He needs to be listened to, but he also needs to know that he’s still loved and valued even when he’s not fixing problems and providing crucial information. Just like Roman, Logan needs the security of unconditional positive regard, so he doesn’t feel like he always has to perform to a certain standard in order to earn appreciation and respect.

(Disclaimer, all of this is my personal opinion, and certainly not the only valid interpretation! This is just my take based on what we’ve seen of his character throughout the series.)

+ FAVORITE RELATIONSHIP: I don’t think I have a favorite, per se, so I’m just gonna do a list of the main Logan ships/dynamics and what I enjoy about them.

Logince: The sheer romance of enemies to lovers. Two incredibly intelligent, passionate people who know exactly how to tear each other apart, but ultimately come to a place where they choose to be gentle, because they understand each other’s fears and insecurities on a fundamental level.

Logicality: Lifelong best friend energy. Like, the epitome of an old married couple, but in a platonic way. (I’m not opposed to shipping them, by any means, but platonic Logicality is my figurative bread and butter.)

Analogical: Introverts who are just? Really comfortable with each other? Not necessarily a super emotive relationship, but it doesn’t have to be, because the cornerstone of their friendship is an unspoken bedrock of trust.

Loceit: Rivals to friends to (maybe?) lovers. Long, heated arguments about philosophy; there’s a lot of posturing and taunting but privately they both love having someone smart enough to debate them in an area of shared interest. Everything about their dynamic screams “my esteemed rival” and I love it.

Intrulogical: Mad science power couple. Enough said.

+ FAVORITE HEADCANON: With regard to memory, Logan seems to be responsible for Thomas’s factual recall, while Patton (as we see in Moving On) handles emotional connections to memories. I like the idea that Logan doesn’t experience those same emotional associations when looking back on the past, which is part of why the whole concept of nostalgia is so foreign to him, and why he struggles with identifying and naming his feelings.

Original Ask Game Here (Send Me A Character!)

[imaginaryhuman]

Insecurities, Fortitude and the Unfortunate Phenomenon of Gatekeeping

Note:

1. I'm trying to not be afraid of my own opinions (this will probably get a different word wall)

2. This isn't a hot take or a "permanent opinion". It's just...current. I think opinions fit a dynamic mold. Or I think it should since circumstances change and experiences can change thought processes.

3. My initial draft for this was a lot more aggressive and angry. When I started writing, I thought I would only tackle the one thing I was very familiar with (insecurities), then I read an article that miffed me a bit because of the gatekeeping vibes, and for a while, I was angry about it but then I realized how common it was. I've heard it from my brothers, I've experienced it with fandoms, with books, with cooking, and with running. There's even a subreddit for it! 👀

It's not like I'd wake up one day and it will be gone. Still, it does push me a few steps back when it comes to conquering slight misanthropy. But it matters to me to say this cause I grew up seeing myself as some last draw.

_____________________________________________________________

"I feel most responsible for myself when I'm insecure" I've wanted to expound on this for a while so here goes:

I've grown to have an intimate (and rather painful) relationship with insecurities. I was a sickly child so I would be in and out of hospitals so frequently that establishing young friendships didn't come easy. Some kids didn't take kindly to impermanence too and it's not anyone's fault. It just happened to be that way. Growing up, I came to realize that I wasn't exactly great at anything. Had I not been exposed to extraordinary minds, maybe I would have come to terms with it much kindly except I wasn't. I always thought that people around me were brilliant, smart, and talented (until now). To the point where I felt the need to alienate myself from it all so I could remain in the forefront of my own mind.

Comparisons come naturally but having them weigh on you is a different ball game altogether. Learning ways out of it is always challenging because insecurities aren't just a singular form of monster-- Sometimes it's about the future, sometimes it's body image, sometimes it's the gripping idea of not being enough for anything you love and it's all so cursed and horrible.

There was that time when more things were piled up on the mental shelving. I was talking shit about someone. Sure, people do it all the time but I think that time I was... viciously and purposelessly nitpicking. Everything I could say about that person, I said it. Totally not proud of that moment and a friend thought so too! First, they told me to shut the fuck up. Just like that, really. Next is they pointed it out. As in told me "V, you have a problem and it's really fine being a total hater but you're not usually like this with other things you dislike. What's wrong?" and then we EXPLORED. Doing this can be so cringe a lot of times but hey, we face the music in this club! I was happy to not be thinking about it alone and the experience made me learn a new way of confronting things and issues that make me feel insecure.

We talked about the whats, whys, and hows of being one hell of a hater and how even if certain reasons are justified. Like, okay, someone did something bad to you and you hate them for it? That's totally valid. Do you find certain traits a bit off your tastes? that's valid too! But even if they are valid feelings, most of the time it's not enough to justify certain actions. The thing is, we don't really have the right to be so up in someone's business about every little thing they do. It's frustrating and I feel like a hypocrite saying this sometimes because I have the obsessive compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length but I feel like there's a parameter where peoples' businesses either become something welcome or becomes a blip on a radar that I'd aggressively shoot down. Although I know that my radar can get too wide and that I need some willpower to hold back snark and suspicion. What can I say, I'm weak to any notions of ill-intent (a byproduct of assault).

But fortitude would sometimes come from borrowed words:

"Don't deny yourself what you think but don't do yourself a disservice by not figuring out what it really is about"

I was told then. To be truthful but exercise tact (I'm neither tactful, clever nor silent hence the trouble that follows) and to be mindful of the undercurrents of my thoughts. I think it's important to take a step back and at least ask yourself the most honest and genuine whys.

Insecurity has a bad rep and is too often used derogatorily for something so common and rather natural. But I feel that ultimately, insecurity stems from an understanding of what you don't have and the frustration of having aspirations. Having aspirations being a good thing but the frustration makes us people act up in so many different ways. For me, insecurities have primarily manifested themselves through the urge to just hide everything that makes me happy because I couldn't (and it's still hard to) stand digs at the things I do to keep me sane. Plus I've always thought them (happy things) few and temporary so that's that. Younger me was weird about it omg.

The rule in this house now though is to express what makes me happy and I think I've saved up a bit of grit to not allow myself to be gatekept (by others and by myself**) from those happy things! I love a lot of things (baking, running, reading, pets, anime & manga, drawing...) and the gatekeeping going on with all those? Surprisingly plenty! A totally different word block (that I won't write because I think this has to be put to rest here), really, and also a total nightmare. But how it applies in the realm of insecurities is... Oh, boi. Ignore it-- it's just bad news as it is strong fuel to a fire you don't want to keep going. If you love doing what you do and you're not hurting anyone then just keep going. I know for a fact that the things I love doing are loved by many others too because running? Creating things? Reading? These are things worth loving without it having to be a competitive chore (If you wanna challenge goals though then hey! Good on you! YOU CAN DO IT!)

Draw your lines, plan your layering in a way that fits your style. Use the tools that work for you. Put on your shoes and get going. I'm only particular with speed because I want to get better (and lol I am not fast) but just being out there and moving? That's already running. Fail some recipes or nail em, whatever happens, just try. Fangirl over what you wanna fangirl about! Post it on your IG and all your other socials. A rather horrifying realization is that no matter what you do, someone's gonna take a dunk at ya. Worse, you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily. It's okay (not really but... if it happens, it happens ). Even if you're used to it, it will still get to you but maybe less and less through time. When the voice of apprehension guides you to retaliate in the most painful way you know, just keep the fear at bay and be strong to not let that urge take over your words and actions. Be frustrated! It's fine! And I really don't support self-harm so please don't misunderstand when I say that when it comes to fear and insecurity, there's a lot you have to take on yourself so you don't hurt others. A lot to unpack between you and your brain. There are people who can love you without patronizing you and those you can trust to reign you in when you lose better judgment. Be honest and let them in.

Have that conversation.

//

Extras:

- AH! But I got to say this cause I also saw a post that said "if you haven't ran 50 to 100 miles, you don't know what a hard run is" wow. Fuck that guy. Actually, don't. He's probably not a fun date.

- this: "you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily" is from experience. An extra worse thing is to be vilified for retaliating. Like...was I just supposed to sit there and take it?

- I used to not like motivational quotes! I mean, I'm alright with them now for sure! We were talking about them and I was asked "What's wrong with properly credited borrowed words? You use them all the time since you like referencing songs." and it was like a tunnel of light appeared before me! Sorry for those whose post I've frowned at! I had an angst phase! I am very genuinely sorry 🙏🏻