#i don’t want to paint with a broad brush and suggest that ghosts don’t support their fellow woman

[cartoonscientist]

really surprised that so many ghosts of murdered first wives in horror fiction try to kill the new wife or drive her insane instead of being like “girl I need to tell you some shit about your man and then you need to help me kill him”

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag week Day 6: Romance

Summary: Who says BDSM can't be fluffy? (No smut, the clue is in the title.) Oneshot. For Sesskag Week Day 6 - Romance.

Rated M but not for outright smut, just implied

1,500 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

AN: Sooo media sure likes painting BDSM as something that goes hand in hand with abuse, hm? Hate that. Have this instead.

Aftercare

Lying atop rich, silky furs, Kagome stared ahead sightlessly, panting. Her body hummed alive, muscles burning like she'd run a marathon as she lay on her stomach, tufts of fur acting as bedding brushing against her sensitive chest. Twitching thighs sweetly ached, combined juices clinging to slick flesh. Her ass remained slightly perked even now, and she shivered with the sting. No doubt he'd left slight red handprints just like last time.

Everything felt flushed, sweat clinging to her torso, lips feeling bruised from the force of their kisses, heartbeat thrumming wildly yet starting to calm after her pent up pleasure had been released so exquisitely.

She shifted her bound wrists resting on her spine, connected in a series of ties to her ankles, legs drawn up behind her. A snapping noise filled her ears, abruptly feeling the binds loosen, severed rope sliding free. He'd set her free.

Squeaking, Kagome felt herself be turned over, the blindfold hitched up over her eyes and removed. Blinking up at the ceiling, dazed eyes adjusted to the light. She touched the cool wetness on her bottom lip, feeling some forgotten drool lingering there and blushing.

Clawed hands rested on her knees, the Daiyoukai's chin resting in the crook of his elbow as he caught his breath, body trembling slightly. He remained sitting upright, broad shoulders hunched forward, indicative of his exhaustion.

Silver hair obscured his face, hanging limp and cascading around her on the floor. Kagome weakly lifted a palm, brushing damp bangs aside. Sesshoumaru lifted his head- red eyes slowly dying back into liquid gold.

The miko offered a tired smile.

"Hi."

He returned it, pressing a chaste kiss to her palm that almost made her laugh. How at odds with the mood from mere minutes ago.

"Hello."

Sesshoumaru leaned back and unsteadily straightened, licking some blood away from his chin. The fresh bite mark on her shoulder thrummed from the action.

A whine escaped Kagome when he drew away, lips pursing. If her arms didn't ache so much she'd have reached out to beckon him closer again.

The smoke of a smile ghosted across his mouth before Sesshoumaru dragged a robe loosely around him and briefly stepped out of their room to demand a trayful of things be sent to the desired room. He then knelt to scoop her up into his arms.

Carrying his mate to their private springs and finding beverages and food waiting for them, the Daiyoukai sank into heavenly waters. They each hissed and shuddered, the temperature unforgiving on certain sensitive areas.

Placing Kagome on his lap, Sesshoumaru supported her back, gliding thin lips over her neck. Her tired limbs slung around him in an attempt to return his embrace, before he pulled back, lifting her wrist to inspect it.

"Were the binds too tight? You should have told me."

"I didn't feel it at the time," she murmured. Or rather, she had, but the drag of the rope had only served to heighten her arousal.

Humming, a wet tongue drew out, grazing over the faint red lines left behind from the binds. Sesshoumaru licked at nuzzled at her flesh, a rumbling noise escaping his throat. He looked rumpled and decadent, steam from the springs curling around his visage. Despite how effortlessly violent he could be with enemies, Sesshoumaru's palms as they moved and caressed her body dragged with a gentleness that one would not expect.

"Do you wish for water or sustenance?"

Her lips quirked. "Sure, I'll take something to drink, please. Maybe a pain killer too."

Dehydration was a very real thing, what with the amount of sweat they'd worked up. A cup was gently urged to her lips and Kagome curled shaking fingers around it, taking a long drink and coming down from their session slowly.

She then smoothed a soothing hand through silky silver hair, stroking his ear. "Are you alright?" she inquired gently.

Sub drops were expected but Doms could also experience them. A stereotype was that they didn't need aftercare. If she could just get her damn jelly limbs under control she'd have pampered him a little too. Sesshoumaru hummed, lowering her arm and wrapping her tighter in a warm embrace instead, their skin plastering together from the heat.

"I really do think we should come up with a fun safe word," Kagome sighed, lulling in exhaustion against him. Throbbing limbs relaxed, body unwinding beneath his soft touch. "Just a plain ole 'stop' or 'no' doesn't feel too special, does it?"

"This one does not see much point. You hardly ever tell me 'no' and if you do it is only to adjust our positions," he snorted, grabbing a cloth and starting to wash her body. "And for another; I do not find the prospect of hearing you begging me to stop arousing. Therefore we do not need a 'special' safeword. If you wish to stop, it is simple enough to say."

"Fiiine," Kagome huffed, running a hand over his bicep. Blunt teeth marks marked his flesh. She smiled a little.

Dragging the cloth over her back, Sesshoumaru absentmindedly kissed what welts and marks were available to his lips. Lifting her to sit on the side of the pool, he grabbed a lotion from her era and started to lather it over them for good measure. Kagome draped her legs on either side of his waist, heels grazing magenta stripes hugging his hips. Sesshoumaru shot her a warning look. Kagome flashed a weary smirk.

"You have surely had enough. Do not tempt me, miko."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she winked, closing blue eyes and resting a cheek against his shoulder, sighing with satisfaction. After being mated for five months, Kagome had decided to suggest a few things in the bedroom. They'd introduced cuffs at first, then blindfolds, and things had spiralled from there. Luckily Sesshoumaru already had a taste for dominance and took to things like a duck to water. He was now quite the expert at using toys and vibrators that she'd awkwardly lugged through the well. Trying to conceal sex toys within the depths of her backpack proved to be a terrifying gamble. Inuyasha and Shippo had started bugging her for ramen and sweets, assuming her pack must be filled with presents for her friends.

'They're gifts from me, for me!' she'd hissed until Sesshoumaru had mercifully stepped in and helped conceal her secret.

Now the couple had progressed and were comfortable enough to pull off different ties. The hog-tie was an unspoken favourite. Her poor, overstimulated sex twitched, core tightening with just the memory of it.

Calloused palms dragged over sun-kissed skin. "What am I going to do with you?" he sighed, grazing his cheek against hers in demonic affection. If someone glimpsed their sex lives, they'd shallowly assume the black-hearted, cold and cruel youkai had been the bad influence on the pure and pretty miko. That he was the one who spanked, marked and fucked her for his own enjoyment and nothing more.

Kagome lifted her head, kissing the underside of his jaw and teasing her mouth there. "I can give you a few ideas," she purred, showing the truth of their relationship. Pure and pretty miko's could have kinks too, and every time Inuyasha eyed her with pity and glared at Sesshoumaru like he'd 'tarnished' her, it only became more apparent that her curiosities and zest for exploration in the bedroom would've been stifled in other, more clumsy hands. It didn't matter how much she tried to explain or defend Sesshoumaru, some just willfully misunderstood.

Her mate, however, kindly dipped two blunt nails down. His other claws remained long and sharp, but the index and middle fingers had been tailored to meet her needs. Kagome gasped and sighed as they brushed her slick sex.

"You honestly desire more?" he asked in a velvety voice. "Despite the fact that you can barely move?"

Kagome glided greedy hands up his firm abdomen and chest to cradle his face, stroking soft thumbs over striped cheeks to elicit a shiver.

"I can still speak, can't I?" blue eyes danced. "That means you didn't do a good enough job- ah!" she jolted as lithe digits pushed in without warning, scooping the remnants of their lovemaking out of her. They'd need to make room, after all.

"Indeed," Sesshoumaru grunted in her ear, starting to rub her all over again. "Be thankful for the day we crossed paths, miko. No human could ever keep up your needs-" his free hand curled around her neck, "-and no other would endeavour to pleasure you as thoroughly as only I can."

"That's fine," Kagome murmured, rutting her hips against wicked fingers and becoming a vocal, breathy instrument in his talented hands. She gripped his shoulder and squeezed when he moved too quickly, and Sesshoumaru eased up, their silent cues only curling her toes with pleasure and making her head tip back to accept his hungry mouth on her neck.

"Because I don't want anyone else."

End

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

A/N: Hello! I decided to participate in @cake-writes 3.5k followers writing challenge. I decided to torture myself and rip my own heart out writing this Night Before War Bucky x Reader fic. Thank’s cake! Find the whole challenge here. 

“Tomorrow?” You questioned flatly, voice steeling itself in an attempt at toughness. It was futile, but still you tried. 

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Bucky affirmed, still standing in the doorway of your mother’s kitchen. Feet planed to linoleum tile, unmoving. He fidgeted with his new uniform, hands running over the brass belt buckle around his waist. Fingers fiddling with the pocket flaps. 

“But you just got back.” You whispered into the open space, apron still tied neatly around your waist. Pineapple upside down cake forgotten. You stared at your red lacquered nails, looked at the sparkling engagement ring Bucky had placed on your fourth finger, left hand, six months ago. Before he went to Camp McCoy all the way in Wisconsin, while you stayed in New York. Having moved back home to help your mother to offset the loss of your brother joining the Pacific War. 

You heard the sound of Bucky’s footsteps walk across the kitchen tile, his army grade shoes making him seem ever the Sergeant he was now. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and you could see his fingers lace themselves together over your floral apron. You stared at his tan covered arms, equal parts anger and grief flooding your senses, along with the smell of spiced rum and sandalwood, the smell of Bucky. He pressed a kiss to your temple and you could feel yourself shaking, trying to hold back unshed tears, trying to be strong. For him. 

“Shhh, baby doll it’s okay, let it out. I’m here.” He cooed, pressing loving kisses into your hair and pressing his front further into your back. You let yourself wrack with sob after sob, his comment lingering in your mind. ‘I’m here’, your quiet reply lay dormant in the back of your mind, ‘but not for much longer’. 

“How ‘bout we do somethin’ tonight? Hm? Make it special.” Bucky suggested, turning you around in his arms. You gasped as you saw his full uniform for the first time. Broad shoulders fit snugly inside a tan jacket, shirt lapels pressed and straight, cream colored tie perfectly tucked into his jacket, golden buttons shined with care, and his hat. Cocked perfectly on his head, hiding his beautifully slicked back hair. You ran your hands up and down his chest, appreciating his new Army muscles. Your hands wound their way around his waist, and you took in a deep breath, tilting your head up to meet his sparkling blue eyes. The same ones that you fell in love with. You knew you could do this, had to, for him. 

“What did you have in mind soldier?” You questioned shyly, tugging your victory red bottom lip between pearly white teeth. Batting your painted black eyelashes at him. His lips curled up in a mischievous smile.  

“Nothin’ honest if you keep that up sugar.” He teased, brushing his fingertips against your head as a brushed a finger curled piece of hair out of your eye, you shuddered. It was the most contact you had with your fiance in six months. He toyed with your hair more, loving the soft feel between his fingers, “I was thinkin’ we could go see that Stark Expo tonight. Just you, me, and Stevie, for old times sake.” 

You could feel tears sting the corner of your eyes again at the mention of old times. The thought of you, Bucky, and Steve wandering Brooklyn on a hot summer day, ice cream cones in hand, came to mind. Your chocolate cone had long since gone but remnants lingered on the corners of your mouth. Bucky had swiped them with his thumb and then pressed a kiss to your lips. Filling your mouth with the sweet taste of strawberry. If you concentrated hard enough you could still feel the sun in your hair, hear the sounds of the city. But that was before the war came. Before the events of Pearl Harbor had plunged your life into chaos.  

“I’d like that.” You whispered, shaking the memory from your mind. 

“Pick you up at six?” Bucky questioned, gentle hands cupping your face, like you would shatter if he weren’t gentle. He didn’t need to worry about that. You shattered the second your brother left for Japan, and again when Bucky left for Wisconsin, and finally, you would soon shatter once more, when you kissed Bucky goodbye on the docks. 

“It’s a date.” You responded, suddenly feeling much too small next to his frame. He kissed you atop your head before quietly retreating out of your kitchen, leaving you with an unopened jar of canned pineapple and the ghost of his body pressed against yours. 

----

You fussed with the white flowers that sat on the top of your bun. Fastened them into your updo, near the nape of your neck. Was it too much? Not enough? 

“Stop fussin’ sweet pea, he’ll love it.” Your mother called, walking into the room with a tube of lipstick in her hand. She handed you the little brass tube of Maybelline and you worked on painting your lips with the ruby color. You could feel your eyes turning glassy, watery. 

“I can’t do this mama.” You whispered to her reflection in the mirror. Catching your face in your hands. You felt her hand rub soft patterns on your back, coaxing you into a calm state. 

“Honey, look at me.” She commanded, softly but sternly nonetheless. You turned in your chair to see her kneeling next to you. Her graying hair was pulled back into a navy blue bandana and her work slacks grazed the floor. The workforce looked good on her, you thought to yourself. “Do you love him?” 

You felt your hands grasp for hers, like they did when you were little. She gave them a reassuring squeeze, signifying that it was okay to speak your mind. 

“I love him so much.” You breathed, choking on your words. 

“Then you have to do this, for him. He’s leaving tomorrow and he wants one last night with you. He deserves that much. He’s gonna be gone for a long while, fightin’ a war that ain’t his to fight. While he’s gone, he’s gonna think of you. Of comin’ home to you. Now you gotta do your job so he can do his job, can you do that?” Her steely question cut through your grief and rang in your ears. You sat up, ramrod straight and faced the mirror again. James Buchanan Barnes was counting on you and you would be damned if you let him down. 

“I can do that mama.” You said, finishing up your lipstick and pressing it back into her palm. You stood up and put your stocking clad feet into a pair of black pumps. You looked in the mirror and pressed down the red polka-dotted frock again, smoothing out the crinkles in the fabric. You wore this for him, to show support, to be patriotic. You grabbed your black purse when the doorbell rang out through the hallway. 

“I’ll get that.” Your mom announced, bounding down the hallway and giving you one last slice of alone time. You heard the front door open and greetings passed around as your mother welcomed Steve and Bucky into your house. Flashbulb memories came to mind clear as day, the boys banging on your door at all hours, not caring who they woke up, just to see you. The three of you going to art classes together, or making a Saturday of going to the movies. Your breath caught in your throat at the thought of those days being over. You knew things could never go back to how they were. You were broken from your reviere by Steve walking into your room. 

“Hey Stevie.” You said, plastering on your perfect fake smile and walking towards him, giving him a hug. 

“Ya know, you don’t have to pretend around me. It’s okay.” Steve comforted. You slumped against his body and let yourself be held by him for a moment. After today it would just be the two of you, you were all each other had. 

“I’m scared Steve.” You whispered, afraid saying it too loud would shatter the illusion you worked so hard to craft for Bucky’s sake. 

“I know, me too.” Steve replied, gentle hands rubbing your back. 

“Woah, Steve I haven’t even left yet and you’re tryina make a pass at my girl.” Bucky joked from his spot in the doorway. At the sound of his voice you broke out of Steve’s arms, feeling guilty. This was something you should be confiding in Bucky about, but you couldn’t. Couldn’t bring yourself to put that on him, when he was already going through so much. 

“Hi Buck.” You greeted. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Bucky responded warmly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his body, “you ready?” 

---

The Stark Expo was more than you expected. Howard Stark showed up in the flesh and he was almost as handsome as his pictures made him out to be. Bucky caught you sneaking glances at him from under your eyelashes. His arm around your shoulders gave you a squeeze as he brought his lips down to your ear. 

“You see somethin’ you like?” His Brooklyn drawl teased, hot breath tickling your ear. 

“No sir.” You teased back, “Only got eyes for you.” You said as you rested a hand on his chest and searched for his tie. You grinned when you found it, winding your fingers around the fabric and yanking it so that Bucky’s lips were in line with your own. You pressed a heated kiss to his lips, showing him just how serious you were. Bucky let out something that was a mixture of a chuckle and a groan from the back of his throat and it was intoxicating. Your hands wound their way around his neck and his found purchase around your hips, using the red fabric of your dress to bring you closer still. From behind your closed eyelids you could make out a warm glowing light hitting you. 

“If you two lovebirds are rather done with one another, I would like to get on with the demonstration.” Howard Stark’s voice came over the microphone. You gasped as your lips hastily detached themselves from Bucky’s. You bit your lip coyly as Stark’s gaze lingered on you two. “You can show the soldier a good time later.” He jested to the crowd, “Anyway…” 

After that kerfuffle the three of you made your way to the back of the expo, following Steve towards another exhibit. When you reached your destination your heart caught in your throat, breath hitched. Staring you in the face were facts all about the war. The brave men being shipped overseas to fight the good fight. You felt tears well in your eyes and you excused yourself from Bucky’s warm embrace, knowing you would have to go without it soon enough. 

“Shit,” you heard Bucky mutter under his breath, “Darlin’ I’m sorry, I’m comin’” He shouted after you. You walked around until you found a bench and perched yourself down on it. From your small black purse you produced a handkerchief and dabbed furiously at the tears which were now flowing freely from your eyes. You heard Bucky calling your name, his shouts getting more desperate the more he searched for you. You raised your ring hand and waved the kerchief in the air, hoping he would recognize the glint of your diamond in the artificial light of the lamps. You saw Bucky kneel down in front of you, could make out the shape of his hat when he took your hands in his, your eyes never leaving your lap. 

“Baby I’m sorry.” He apologized softly, “look at me.” You looked up and his crystal blue eyes searched yours. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you my sweet girl. Been waitin’ all night.” 

“What is it?” You let out between gasps, forcing air back into your burning lungs. 

“If it told, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He chided, winking at you and flashing you his million dollar smile. No wonder you were hopelessly in love with him, how could you not be? When he looked at you like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered. 

---

Under the haze of a streetlight, somewhere close to your neighborhood, Bucky and Steve stopped dead in their tracks. 

“Steve, if you wouldn’t mind.” Bucky stated calmly, with a smile ghosting his lips. From Steve’s pocket he pulled out a yellow bandana. He smiled at you before handing the fabric to Bucky. 

“Steve, Bucky, what’s happening?” You questioned, placing your hands on your hips. The fabric of your dress feeling a little warm from your moist palms. 

“All part of the surprise doll.” Bucky admonished lightly as he walked around behind you and placed the blindfold on your eyes. With deft fingers he tied it in a sure knot behind your head, making sure not to disturb your flowers. 

“James Barnes if you don’t tell me wh-” You started to demand before Bucky cut you off with a finger pressed gently against your lips. 

“Just follow my lead, I promise you’re in good hands.” He reassured as he grabbed both of your hands in his. He let his thumb run over the rock on your fourth finger and you shivered at the contact. You let yourself breathe a deep sigh, trusting Bucky completely. For what you assumed to be the next two blocks the only sounds were the soft clacking of feet and the occasional car rumbling past. 

Bucky broke the silence when he spoke, “Now you’re comin’ up on some steps so be careful.” He warned as you felt your foot hit the first step. You cautiously stepped up with Bucky as he praised you with words of encouragement. You could hear Steve open a door, squeaking by the hinges. Your heeled shoes changed sounds as you walked inside. No longer the dull click of cement but now the sharp echo of marble was under your feet. The area smelled clean, like lemons and bleach. Your heels rang out in what you assumed to be an empty hallway. You heard Bucky quietly ask Steve to open the next door. Bucky walked you through the threshold. 

“See you in a minute.” He whispered into your ear before he gave your hand a squeeze and left your side. You felt cool air replace Bucky’s warmth and missed him instantly. You could feel Steve guide you to a certain spot before his fingers untied the knot and your blindfold came off. 

You felt yourself take in a gasp of air as you looked at your surroundings. You were in a courthouse, you knew that much. At the end of the hallway was a man in a dark black robe. A judge maybe? But it didn’t make sense. Standing next to him, beaming at you like you were the sun itself, was Bucky. What in the world was going on? You craned your head when you felt something being placed into your hands. It was a simple white bouquet. Flowers? What? You heard a giggle from the other side of the room and whipped your head to see your mother standing in her Sunday best. 

“Mama?” You questioned, “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Why don’t you ask the groom?” She replied, smile plastered on her face. Wait, did she just say groom? You turned back to look at Bucky once again. 

“How could I leave without making it official? Will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes tonight? Before I leave?” He whispered the last part like it was a sin, like saying it would break the spell. You felt soft tears roll down your face, but these weren’t the ones you had been shedding since this morning. No, these ones were happy. 

“Yes.” You whispered, clutching the bouquet tighter to your chest. “Steve?” You questioned, looking around for the blond. 

“Yeah?” He whispered back, appearing at your side in an instant. 

“Would you, ya know...give me away?” You asked sheepishly. 

“It would be my honor.” He replied, proudly offering you his arm. You walked down the proverbial isle where Steve left you with a kiss on the cheek. Your eyes met Bucky’s and you could see them shimmer, tears threatening to spill over. Looking at you like you’d hung the moon, when really, that would always be him. 

The ceremony was short and your mom decided to stay at the Steve’s that night so you and Bucky could have some alone time. You giggled as he carried you over the threshold, your first act together as husband and wife. You let your lips press against his lazily, loving the feel of your husbands mouth on your own. Husband. Bucky Barnes was your husband. And tomorrow you would have to watch as your husband was shipped off like some damn zoo animal to war. War. You couldn’t stop the salty tears that mingled with your kisses, couldn’t stop the sobs that shook your body as Bucky held you close, finally allowing the dam to collapse. 

He gently placed you down on your feet and wrapped his arms around you, comforting you the best he could. 

“What’s on your mind doll, tell me.” He pleaded softly, rocking you in his arms. 

“To-tomorrow y-you leave. What if, what if you don’t co-come back to me.” You sobbed out, mind running a million miles a minute as hot tears invaded your post-marital bliss. This isn’t how you pictured your wedding night. You pictured a suite at a nice hotel, champagne sliding down your throat and a warm glow of lovemaking surrounding you. Instead all you felt was cold, and sad, and utterly alone, despite Bucky’s arms wrapped around you. 

He left your side for a moment, to put a record on. He let the needle scratch across the surface and let the opening notes of a familiar melody bathe the room in sound before he reached an outstreched hand to you. 

“I will always come back to you sweetheart, I promise.” He endeared, as you placed your hand in his and let him sweep you into his arms. “You know, we never did get to have our first dance.” He commented, rubbing his hand against the small of your back. 

“Mm-mhm” You agreed, shaking your head into his broad chest. Sure your tears were dampening his uniform. That probably wasn’t Army appropriate. 

Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore trees. Dream a little dream of me.

You let Bucky lead you in this swan song of a dance around your living room. Not bothering to turn on any lights, afraid of what they might reveal. Your tears, his sorrow, longing, regret, sadness, duty. Emotions too much to face right now, when you both seemed so fragile. 

Say night-ie night and kiss me

You slowly unwound yourself from Bucky’s arms and with tentative hands took his uniform hat off, gently placing it on the coffee table. You ran your fingers through his slicked back hair and he sighed at your touch, purring like a kitten. Your bright red lips smiled before your raised yourself on your toes to kiss him. Hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. He sighed into your mouth as his arms wound around your waist. You felt his hot tongue plunge into your mouth, pouring everything he had in you. He was sorry, he would miss you, he loved you, he longed for you. Your tongue responded to each of his thoughts, it was okay, you would miss him more, you loved him so much, you longed for his return. 

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me 

His hands found the front tie of your frock and hastily undid it. Your fingers worked their magic trying to unbutton his jacket and push it off his shoulders. Your dress pooled around your ankles and the cool breeze that hit your girdle made you gasp. Bucky’s mouth worked a hot trail on your jawline as his fingers deftly worked on the silver clasps of your undergarments. Kiss bruised lips reached your ear and huskily whispered one command, jump. You wrapped your legs around his strong torso as you tried your best to undo his tie. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice crooned sweetly into your ear, Louis Armstrong’s trumpet was your sirens song as Bucky and you make love for the first time as man and wife. 

Star’s fading but I linger on, dear. Still craving your kiss I’m longing to linger ‘till dawn dear.

You lay with your head on Bucky’s chest. Hearing his steady heartbeat thrum under your ear, it’s the best lullaby you could ask for. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair, pressing kisses there, worshiping you. Needy hands caress your sensitive skin, setting your senses on fire. You kiss until your head is fuzzy and your body is spent. He holds you close as the two of you drift. 

Sweet dreams ‘till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.

“I love you Bucky Barnes.” You whisper into the darkness, unsure if he’s awake or not. 

“I love you too.” He responds thickly, voice hoarse. You both know what tomorrow will bring, both of you too scared to let go of tonight. You watch as pink light tickles your windows and makes way for glorious golden sunbeams. You don’t want tonight to end. 

Sweet dreams ‘till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.

[fluffy-angry-liberal]

If all nationalism is bad, was Ireland's separation from the UK bad? I'm genuinely not trying to pick a fight, just painting all separatism with the same brush you can end up being overly broad in your conclusions. The Irish Passport podcast on nationalism. It's legitimately a good discussion of nationalism

This’ll be a longun and I haven’t slept much and can’t access my academic resources since I’ve graduated so a lot of this is from memory.

I’ll try and explain my thoughts as best I can but I can’t promise it’ll make sense.

Nationalism today is very different from the world even 70 years ago. Especially European nationalism.

Ireland breaking from the UK was brought upon by what can only be described as awful treatment by the British Government at an institutional level. Much the same can be said for India - Bengal Famine, anyone? - at the time.

Modern day nationalism seems instictively regressive in the world we live in, especially in the West. My experiences of studying and dealing with nationalists at university and in direct politics has most of it be much akin to the politics of Brexiteers who rely on a sense of “other” to blame for all issues.

My first girlfriend was Irish, and I visited Ireland and studied the Easter Rising and the subsequent conflict(s) that saw independence and civil war. It was an entertaining moment when a red blooded Irish man at one of the locations I visited challenged me on my view as an “English lad”, and I stunned him by saying that the Irish had every right to fight for their freedom given what they went through. It’s an interesting point that the Easter Rising didn’t have *that* much popular support until the public saw how the British treated the captives afterwards.

As the executions went on, the Irish public grew increasingly hostile towards the British and sympathetic to the rebels. After the first three executions, John Redmond, leader of the moderate Irish Parliamentary Party, said in the British Parliament that the rising "happily, seems to be over. It has been dealt with with firmness, which was not only right, but it was the duty of the Government to so deal with it".[136] However, he urged the Government "not to show undue hardship or severity to the great masses of those who are implicated".[136] As the executions continued, Redmond pleaded with Prime Minister H. H. Asquith to stop them, warning that "if more executions take place in Ireland, the position will become impossible for any constitutional party".[137] Ulster Unionist Party leader Edward Carson expressed similar views.[136][138] Redmond's deputy, John Dillon, made an impassioned speech in parliament, saying "thousands of people […] who ten days ago were bitterly opposed to the whole of the Sinn Fein movement and to the rebellion, are now becoming infuriated against the Government on account of these executions". He said "it is not murderers who are being executed; it is insurgents who have fought a clean fight, a brave fight, however misguided". Dillon was heckled by English MPs.[139] The British Government itself had also become concerned at the reaction to the executions, and at the way the courts-martial were being carried out. Asquith had warned Maxwell that "a large number of executions would […] sow the seeds of lasting trouble in Ireland".[140] After Connolly's execution, Maxwell bowed to pressure and had the other death sentences commuted to penal servitude.[141] - Wikipedia, Easter Rising

In the modern day no member of the UK see’s such brutal crack downs. We have a democracy and what’s more we have devolution. I want a Federal United Kingdom where there’s even more power to the devolved nations and ESPECIALLY the Welsh, who have a worse deal than Scotland because the Scottish Govt has done a better job getting money off Westminster.

When I speak of Nationalism I refer to it in the modern 21st century Western pressence. Nationalism in regions and unrecognised states like Tibet you can argue is an entirely different ballgame.

Scottish Nationalism especially annoys me as there is a great trend of “blame gaming” where even things that are completely under Scottish control is blamed on Westminster, partly because it’s the Tories. It feels reactionary rather than based on any true principle. Also I fundementally believe in the modern united and global world we have, more borders are a bad idea. Northern Ireland is a tricky case because obviously the right to self-determination is a thing but the hardcore “unionists” of Northern Ireland are arguably fueled by nationalism to a degree I cannot stand. It’s a strange case of “seperatism” in a “unionist” sense, even though I know plenty of Northern Irish who have no love for the English but are aggressively against the Republicans - you can imagine how much fun I had studying war studies with some of THAT lot. I lean in favour of a unified Ireland partly because geographically it makes sense, and politically Northern Ireland is a tricky case within the United Kingdom. Westminster keeps being put in control of it due to it’s Parliament not being able to form a stable government and so it becomes tricky to see it as a true part of the UK in a stable sense.

From a historical standpoint Scotland HAS had some vile treatment but not in recent years. Sure the Conservatives don’t treat them well but the Tories frankly don’t treat anyone well. I know people who were aides to Lib Dems during coaltion and you would not believe the arguments that went on behind closed doors. The Tories are very southern centric but that’s no reason to make a politics of seperation based on one groups bad politics, the North of England (define that how you will) has many gripes it can pick up with that. When I studied in Hull it was easier and faster for me to get home just outside of London than my friends to go half the distance by rail across routes not focused towards London. That’s not a nationalist issue that’s an issue for any Scottish, Welsh, North East, North West, Borders, Cornish, Northern Irish politican to try and take on.

Seperatism is a blunt instrument and in a world with devolution I don’t believe it’s necessary and in an ideal Federal world it’s not at all necessary. Especially if we manage to sort out this fucking Brexit bollocks. Scotland and the rest of the UK share a common culture, mostly the same land mass and putting up a border in the modern world seems stupid. Indeed a lot of what the Aye side argued would be the case made it feel more like technicalities than any real difference. A case of “stuff the Tories” rather than anything.

Civic Nationalism is a game of “otherness” and blaming on others beyond all else. “We don’t want that and so we need rid of them” is exactly the same argument every stupid thrice damned Brexiteer argues for, it’s civic nationalism to the extreme. Sadly having graduated I can’t access the things I used to but there was a wonderful article I wish I’d saved on our Library system that noted just how much Scottish Nationalist arguments for Independence crossed over with Brexiteer arguments for Brexit (ignoring the left-wing Brexiteers who had other gripes to pick).

To blanket suggest that civic nationalism was “progressive” seems entirely based around “Well I like this thing but not that thing”. 

Nationalism made sense in a world where the modern ideals of being a State mattered, or when your identity was being so brutally oppressed or put down often with armed force (Ireland early 20th century, potentially Tibet today). When it comes to states that have been somewhat forcibly made there are many arguments around re-drawing borders or the like, as seen in the Balkans and the middle east post-first world war - “Nothing more dangerous than a white guy with a map and a pencil, and he’s practically deadly if he has a ruler”. However all too easily “nationalist” forces get out of hand due to the very nature of their reliance on “otherness”. In a Western Democracy we have the priviledge and liberty to discuss these things and try and resolve it more simply, and in Europe we have a culture of crossing borders now in the post-war enviroment. The UK has existed for something like 300 years as it is, and Scotland isn’t so very different from England in any way other than which political party is currently dominant. Nationalism isn’t what’s needed anymore, nor is it healthy. And what is especially required is not to let the ghosts of the past dictate the politics of the future. Crimes must be owned up to, apologised for and the people educated on them, efforts made to fix it if necessary/possible/feasible. But people of my generation in Ireland who actively hate the English for our crimes there are no better than the 40 year old twats on telly here who rant about the Germans as if they’re still goose-stepping around in jack boots because they watched too many war films when they were kids. It’s all just civic nationalism and breeds otherness, dislike and nothing healthy in the modern world we have.

And that’s just nationalism. Don’t let me even get started on the economics of Scottish Independence even before Brexit was a thing. Or the fact that the SNP are hardly my favourite people as a group, regardless what their supporters dismiss.

This has been long and probably not very coherant, I last wrote an essay on this little sleep in finals but at least then I had Hull University Library to throw figures and facts whilst I argued about the differences between East-West Germany in the modern world.

And boy was that a fun topic to be had.