#CW: SA Mentions

[soomanymoths]

CrinklyTinfoil bs

Just a collection of receipts since krys decided to go ahead and spew such backwards bs im no longer willing to keep this to myself - i only did in the first place because crinkles spouse (nightjarteeth) asked me to keep it tucked away for a while (Night is aware of the events and supports me in the situation last i checked). Crinkle really hates the idea of their behavior backfiring & someone they hurt speaking about the experience. They will do anything to discredit people, doesnt matter if they caused the sitch in the 1st place. Its all about appearances, distorting events and grasping at straws for them. If you're their reader and you choose to believe them - remember they were comfortable pulling wool over the eyes of their spouse and someone they called a "dear friend". Ask yourself why anyone else would be exempt from this. I might update this when i have more time on my hands.

[fellshish]

it is what it is and there are more important things at play here. i can live with the one 90 minute episode ending if it means more women are safe. if it means it’s not a complete cancellation. i’ll take it

[teem-boo]

Too busy looking at the bigger picture.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I keep rereading the overprotective poly marauders fic I love it sm 🫶 can I please request another one it can tie into casual dominance marauders if you want I don’t mind I just can’t get them off my mind. Thanks babe!!

Hi lovely!! So this went a bit off the rails, I had different intentions for it at first but then somehow it became very serious and the boys not so much overprotective as reasonably upset....all in all, I'm not super happy with it but I didn't want to throw it out, I'd be happy to write another overprotective one for you if you'd like!

cw: sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You walk out of your office feeling odd and off-kilter. Your mind seems addled, unable to complete one thought before jumping to the next, and something prickles just underneath your skin that feels like anger and shame and also like panic. 

Your boyfriends are waiting for you, idling at the curb. You’re supposed to go straight from here to the cinema, and you tell yourself you’ll feel better afterwards. Even if not, you have until Monday before you have to deal with this, if you deal with it at all. You may not. You’re not sure. You can’t think straight. 

“Hey, angel,” James says as you get in, and it’s immediately obvious your upset has already been noticed. Probably as soon as you walked outside, your boyfriends observing you through the car windows. Remus, in the driver’s seat, and Sirius, sitting beside you in the back, are both charily silent. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds off even to your own ears, but no one comments as Remus puts the car in drive. 

“Ready for the weekend?” James imbues his voice with a light sort of commiseration. You try to smile for him. 

No one is more surprised than you when a sob chokes you instead. You hide your face in your hands, tears already leaking out from between your lashes. 

“God, sorry.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sirius asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for you.

Remus pulls into a parking spot just by the exit and shuts off the engine, turning around in his seat.

“Baby.” Sirius wraps his arm around your shaking shoulders, squeezing tight. He sounds anxious. “Did something happen?” 

The worst of your crying passes like a summer storm, over as quickly as it started. Your emotions gone haywire. You lean into Sirius, and he clicks the buckle on your seatbelt for you, pulling you the rest of the way. 

“You’re scaring me,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. “Tell us why you’re upset, angel, please.” 

“I think,” you mumble, face and eyes burning, “my boss grabbed my butt.” 

You say it quieter than a whisper, but you know they’ve all heard. The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop. 

“What?” James asks. His throat sounds dry. 

You hear Remus sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vinyl of his seat squeaks as he shifts. “When did this happen?” 

“Just now,” you answer. 

“Right.” Sirius’ arms had gone tense around you, but now they fall away completely. He moves for his door. “I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t,” you plead. You worry he will anyway, but Remus locks the doors from the front seat. 

Sirius cuts a glare his way, truly scary with the way wrath seems to gleam in his gray irises. He unlocks his door manually, and Remus locks it again. 

“We can’t be rash,” he says, his own tone sharper than you think is intended for anyone in the car. “We have to think this through.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Sirius snaps. James reaches behind his seat, taking your hand and rubbing comfortingly. “He’s just inside!” 

“You think I don’t want to go in there too?” Remus gives him a look that’s a short fall from incredulous. “But if we have to call the police, it won’t help if you’ve already had a go at him.” 

Your head spins. You hadn’t even thought of calling the police. You hadn’t really gotten past going to the cinema. 

“What do you mean, you think he grabbed you, sweetheart?” James' voice is pointedly kinder than the others. Remus takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“I don’t know. I just—I feel like I can’t be sure—” 

“That’s alright.” Remus' voice is slower now. Soothing. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened?” 

“I, um.” You swallow. James strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I was looking at something on his computer, because he said he wasn’t getting my emails and I thought they might be going to his spam. He was sitting behind me in his chair, and we were talking and his hand, like, squeezed—” you shudder, your brain trying to shake off the memory “—and then he just kept talking like nothing happened. It was so fast I’m not sure it even did—” 

“Baby.” 

You don’t realize you’re tripping over your words until Sirius’ voice cuts through them. You look at him, and his eyes are already on yours, fierce but solid. 

“Did you feel him touch you?” he asks. 

You rub your lips together. “Yeah,” you murmur. 

Your boyfriend’s expression pinches, but his gaze is steady. “Then he did. Trust yourself. You know what happened.” 

This provokes another wave of tears, less tempestuous than the first but somehow more painful. You wouldn't have expected any one of your boyfriends to blame you, not if you’d thought about it, but you haven’t had time to think yet and the relief that they’re so wholly on your side makes your heart feel cracked open. 

“Dove, I’m so sorry,” Remus says. He’s frowning, a well-worn line etched between his brows. You hate to put it there. “What do you want to do? Do you know if you can contact HR?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, pliable to Sirius’ ministrations as he tucks you securely under one arm and uses the other to thumb at your salty cheeks. “I feel a bit silly. It was a small thing, I don’t think it’s worth a bunch of fuss.” 

“It’s not a small thing,” says James, uncharacteristically severe. “It’s a big thing—a really fucked up thing, that he did—and it’s worth a lot of fuss. A lot.” He leans around his seatback, pressing a firm kiss to your hand. “It’s just a matter of how much fuss you’re willing to go through with, sweetheart. It’s up to you. We can go through HR, we can go to the police. There’s still the option of just going in there and roughing him up to be sure it doesn’t happen again.” He smiles wryly. It looks like it takes effort. “I’m very game for that option. We know Sirius is ready.” 

Sirius makes an affirming humph sound against the side of your head. You try to smile back at James. 

“I think maybe…HR?” Your voice is tentative. “I have a friend, Marcella, who I think would be nice about it.” You realize as it comes out of your mouth what a low bar that is, but that’s the reality of your situation. 

“Do you know if she’s still here?” Remus asks. 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “I think so…” 

Remus unlocks the doors, and James gets out. You barely manage to squeak out a “Wait” before the door shuts behind him. 

You turn to Remus. “Where’s he going?” 

“To find Marcella,” he says. “It’s better that they know when it’s just happened, dovey, but you don’t have to deal with it right now. That’s why James is going instead.” 

You nod. It makes sense, even if the reality of it all makes tears press at your throat again. 

“My sweet girl.” Sirius holds you tight, mashing a kiss into the side of your head. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby. I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him properly. He seems pleased with this development, and squeezes you ferociously. “You can’t always be with me. And it’s not your responsibility.” 

“Careful what you say.” Sirius seems to muster up some humor, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll get us one of those big shirts so the four of us can fit in it together, and then you’ll never be rid of us.” 

“It’s our job to look after you,” says Remus, firm but kind. “It’s true we can’t be with you all of the time, but I’m glad you felt comfortable telling us this. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You’re about to dismiss his thanks when James gets back in the car, this time in the back seat instead of the front. 

“Did you see him?” Sirius asks immediately, scooching the both of you over to make room. 

“No, he must’ve left right after her.” James looks unhappy, but his touch is gentle as always as he takes your waist in both hands, easing you off of Sirius’ lap and into the seat between them. Sirius sighs but doesn’t complain, likely knowing he’s had more than his fair share of your comfort. 

“Marcella was nice, though,” James says. “She arranged for you to have the morning off on Monday, and she’ll call you then to hear from you what happened. We can be with you, if you like.” 

“Monday.” You blow out a slow breath, though it doesn’t do much to keep your throat from contracting in panic. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” 

“No worries, angel.” James rubs your thigh, watching you carefully. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Your voice squeaks, and you cover your eyes with a hand. Sirius whines and kisses your shoulder. You try to laugh, but it comes out wet. “I think this might just keep happening for a while.” 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Remus coos, reaching out a hand to set on the top of your head. He scratches at your scalp with his fingernails the way he knows you like. “It makes sense to be upset. We’ll get you through this, alright? Let us look after you for a bit.” 

[abyssal-ilk]

playing as a tabris warden and especially playing as a fem tabris warden is just a constant over and over gut punch. you're getting married but then you, your cousin, and several other women from your alienage are kidnapped during your wedding by the arl's son. you slaughter your way out of it to save your cousin and the other women, but there isn't a victory in it— you know there will be retribution for killing a palace full of guards and several nobles even though you were defending yourself and your kin. you're forced to leave your home and join the grey wardens without being given even a single night to recover. you know there will be a purge. you don't know if you'll ever see your family again.

you're taken to ostagar where you are the only woman amongst the grey wardens, and not only that, you are the only elf among them. you remember nessa, the girl in your alienage who was afraid of leaving because she feared what the soldiers would do to her after going so long without seeing a woman. your status as an elf and a woman are constantly remarked upon. you have no choice but to stay. you are fed darkspawn blood by duncan; the blood kills one man while he slaughters the other in front of you. you are supposed to feel grateful to have survived this.

and even later when you seek help from the dalish, what do you learn from zathrian? the same injustices that were inflicted upon you have been repeated over and over for centuries. what do you learn when you seek help from the mages? templars lurk in every corner, always watching, driving mages to the same violence you yourself committed. what do you learn in orzammar? to be a castless woman is to be not considered a person, who's only worth is the children she can bear for the same nobles who keep the castless subjugated. to be chosen by a noble is supposed to be an honor. why does this feel familiar?

AND THEN. what do you learn from the deep roads? darkspawn in all of their corruption are no different; you learn of the broodmothers. it is the same everywhere, no matter where you look. nothing changes. even your other party members, leliana and zevran, have their own stories. and you don't have another choice but to keep pushing on.

[wolfertinger666]

tw // for abuse and mentions of SA

hey this is going to sound really damn heavy and vulnerable but, yeah I have been in a pretty abusive relationship in the past(last year) and realizing how bad it was despite not seeing the red flags is so upsetting to me. I thought it was normal but after venting to my gf about everything, she told me none of this was normal. having my self confidence be lowered, being infantilized heavily to the point where my vulnerability was appealing, having that abuser worm their way into my friend groups, being yelled at over a fucking cat oc to the point I spiraled so hard that I relapsed. Having my trauma be undermined and basically feeling beneath that person.

and worst of all, ""joking"" about sexually assaulting me on THREE separate occasions, trying to normalize that behavior because they knew I was too scared and vulnerable to say anything and basically took advantage of my kindness. they even changed my discord nickname to "rape victim" out of the blue one day. I feel embarrassed I let this happen to me but idk it's just the guilt of being a victim.

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[reachartwork]

can you guys be normal for like five seconds please

[bouquetofalliums]

wilbur soot's statement is the furthest it can be from an apology. its vague, baseless, lacks Any sort of accountability, and feels like some shit chatgpt made up. two pages, four paragraphs and... Not a single Im Sorry. and to think i expected any better of him and i REALLY DID. his response to his other mild controversies were genuine and decent at best. this just lacks Everything. i read the first two sentences and my eyes rolled to the back of my fuckin head

disregarding that the way he downplays his own abuse astounds me. because WE KNOW EVERYTHING. we've heard from the victim and there were Witnesses. you say you were snobbish, disrespectful and selfish, but aside from the biting thing; do you ever address that time you pinned her down to claim you were stronger than her although knowing shelby has gone through past sexual assault? how you weaponized her safe word? how you locked her up in your house for days? how you never cleaned up over yourself and made her do all the work? how you gaslit her and her friends and Humiliated her in front of them ????? no amount of therapy or change you've claimed to have gone through can excuse any of your vile behaviours ESPECIALLY when it comes WITHOUT an apology. you cry about how you've changed to us but you don't care at all! because it was all about fame and money to you, right? us and our words mean so little to you, right?

you could've taken more time to polish this and to come from a place of genuinity and none of us would have complained. rather you put out some flat disingenuous slop and expected us to eat it up. No! youve lost your devoted fanbase wilbur. if you didn't want your shitty actions to come out you shouldn't have been a shitty person in the first place.

whatever . i have more to say but i dont want to waste my words on him. im so so fucking disappointed in that man and i hope to never see his face on the internet ever again . to think i spent the last 3 years and more just blindly supporting and loving his music and content without thinking anything else of it .... i feel so sick . I feel so so sick

sending all the love and support to shelby, lexie, rhana, sophie, and to anyone and all who have been deeply hurt by his actions in any way whatsoever

[txjis]

there’s something so hot abt toji being violent..

cw: mention of blood, he’s beating some rando up, mention of getting groped by rando.

“what do you think pretty?” he asks, holding the dude up off the ground by the front of his shirt. the man’s face was covered in blood and tears. toji’s knuckles were stained with this man’s crimson. toji had been pummeling into him for a while now.

”think he learned his lesson?” toji looks back towards you, gauging your reaction very carefully. you said you wanted to see this random man get what he deserved, but toji also knew you hadn’t seen the things he has. even with his knuckles covered in blood and throbbing he was still making sure you were okay.

“no.” you scoff, looking down at the male that was sprawled out in an alleyway. it would never be enough, he would never learn. not until you forgot about the way his hand felt on your ass. you watched toji chuckle, something wild flashing behind his green eyes. since meeting you, he hadn’t been super violent- not wanting to put you in any danger. but there was a permanently corrupted part of him that missed it.

”whatever y’say pretty baby.” he chuckles, just before the sound of knuckled cracking against a face echoed through your ears. you watched your boyfriend beat the shit out of a man that thought he had the right to touch you. there was a satisfying feeling in your tummy when toji dropped him to the ground, chest heaving.

“c’mon mama, let’s go home.”

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Five Spider Pinned...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The team find out the worrying reality of Nat's condition, and things reach a breaking point.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3927

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) SA mentions, minor injury detail, mentions of figure, exercise desperation.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here! This snazzy divider comes from @firefly-graphics and I love it <3

<- Previous Chapter (4/72) Next Chapter (6/72) ->

My fingers trembled on the heavy bolt, knuckles scraping over the rusted metal several times before I finally managed to slam the catch home.

You’re running out of time. You’ll have to pick up the pace. You can’t be here for much longer, or they’ll never let you leave.

I nodded, dropping to the floor without complaint, lukewarm wedges of cucumber still stuck to the skin of my forearm as the protruding bones of my pelvis dug into the hardwood. I had no time to warm up slowly, but fuck it. Let the klaxon sound, if it must. The door was locked – they couldn’t stop me.

My sit-ups were rapid, driven by fury and hatred, spurred on by the look of disgust on the faces of my team members. Any guilt I had about lying had been assuaged; The Voice was right. They would never understand this.

They would never understand the profound yearning for the predictability, the rigidity, the comfort of knowing exactly what is expected of me. A place where emotions didn’t exist and heart never ruled over head.

A place where the only pain was physical – and I was adept at tolerating that, at least.

And besides… One day, they would come for me anyway, if I didn’t return on my own. But if I went back in peak condition, of my own volition… Maybe my punishments wouldn’t be too severe.

You deserve it, though. You’ve been away for far too long. You should have gone back a long time ago.

“I know,” I panted as I frantically went about my exercise, the base of my spine beginning to bruise from the repeated collisions with the floor. “I know.”

Right on cue, as my muscles began to scream and burn under my punishing motions, the klaxon wailed, accompanied by Friday’s melodic voice.

“Heart rate spike detected in the living quarters of Natasha Romanoff.”

I spat out a curse, my pace increasing further, pushing myself while I could in case they somehow managed to stop me.

Their intrusion came quicker than I expected.

The door flew from its hinges, propelled into barbed shards by a single shot from Tony’s outstretched palm, the blue ring of light still fading as my head turned.

Without the acknowledgement that they were about to get in, I hadn’t time to stop my desperate exercise, and was halfway through a crunch as their gazes found me.

I resigned myself to their pity, to their understanding of just how damaged I was, and screamed wordlessly, full of hate and rage as I continued my exercise.

There was a heartbeat hesitation while the men tried to understand the sight before them, followed by a flurry of movement. Tony bundled me in his arms, the metal suit allowing no give no matter how I thrashed and punched at it. The others spread out, poking through my things, invading my small scrap of privacy.

It was Clint who entered the bathroom, returning with a curled lip, food- and vomit-splattered clothes pinched carefully between two fingers, and a bloodied bandage from my trashcan in the other hand.

I howled hatefully, straining against the arms that restrained me, desperate to snatch my things from their gaze – to leave my sins hidden and unspoken.

“Medical lab. Now,” he informed Tony, his cold, unfeeling gaze on me. It was an expression he had directed at me only once before, when his eyes were an unnatural blue and his actions were not his own.

But this time… This time there was no puppet master. This time, the disdain was purely Clint’s.

That was how I found myself curled up on a medical bed once more, trembling with cold and rage. Bruce had offered me a blanket, but I merely met his gaze steadily, refusing to take anything from this mass of traitors.

The room had been cleared of all but the doctor and Clint himself, who stood to one side having a conversation I didn’t care enough to listen to, but for a few stray words that filtered through my disinterest.

“… weight … blood work … concerned … health … I’m not …”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, lifting my head to glare at the pair. “You don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m not your problem.”

Clint turned to me while Bruce only sighed, ducking his head as the archer approached warily. “Nat.. We’ve gotta run a couple of tests. We’re worried about your wellbeing; you’re not a problem, you’re a part of this family.”

I scowled and muttered Russian curses, turning the air blue, but Clint was immune. “What tests?” I asked eventually, reluctance heavy in my voice.

“We need to weigh you. Do a couple of blood tests.”

I smirked, assured. “And when they show you that there isn’t anything wrong with me?”

Clint’s gaze trailed my body slowly, stopping on the bony protrusions of my one visible wrist. “If you let us do the tests, and they say you’re fine, we’ll leave you alone. You can do what you like.” He raised a finger warningly. “But, only if you co-operate.”

I let out a short laugh, full of confidence. “Deal.”

Those tests will only prove one thing – that you’re a fat, lazy waste of oxygen. They’ll be appeased, and you can get back to training in peace. Perfect.

“You’ll have to wear this gown,” Bruce murmured, offering the folded object to me without meeting my eye. I glanced at Clint, panicked.

“You didn’t say anything about that,” I countered, feeling panic and anger bloom in my chest.

He shrugged helplessly, sharing a glance with the doctor. “We have to make sure that you’re not hiding anything that can affect the results,” he offered, wincing minutely, but his jaw set firm. “I’m sorry, Natasha, but you agreed to comply.”

I let out another quiet curse, unceremoniously hopping off the table and beginning to drop my sweatpants. Bruce turned away, respecting my modesty, but Clint kept his eyes on me, making my hands stutter. “Are you going to watch me change?”

He nodded once, short and sharp. “I need to make sure you don’t have anything hidden, Nat.”

I laughed coldly, rolling my eyes. “When would I have had chance to do that? You carted me down here with no warning!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched with stress. “There’s also the matter of the bloodied bandages.”

“I’m a girl, Clint. We bleed sometimes, you know?” I prompted when he remained impassive. One eyebrow arched, and I looked down with a flush.

But you don’t, and he knows that.

“Fine,” I muttered under my breath, resigned, sliding my legs from my joggers unceremoniously. When they hit the floor I raised the sweatshirt over my head, leaving me in just my bra and panties, shivering with cold and anxiety, my arms clasped around my stomach as tightly as the cast would allow.

“Shit, Nat,” he breathed, stepping closer, fingertips reaching out to brush the bandages on my bicep. I backed away with a menacing growl, and Bruce turned, hesitating as he took in my mostly-nude body.

“Natasha… What have you been doing to yourself?”

I looked down with a frown, confused by the horror in his voice. Sure, my body was a tactile roadmap of scars and burns, uniformly etched and branded into lines across my skin. But it wasn’t that bad.

“Penance,” I replied eventually, simply.

“I-I’ll have to, uh… I’ll have to check any open wounds,” Bruce stammered, his gaze still devouring my flesh with morbid fascination. Rolling my eyes petulantly, I nodded my consent, and the doctor moved closer, his skin tinged green.

“Like what you see?” I whispered, leaning closer with a wink, trying to alleviate the tension of the situation.

“It’s not the big guy,” he replied under his breath as he began to unravel the bandage from my arm. “It’s nausea.”

I recoiled at his words, resisting the urge to lash out.

See? Even the virgin doctor thinks you’re repulsive.

He gently poked at the edges of my open wounds while Clint looked on, mortified, before moving to grab some supplies. “They’ll need a couple of stitches, Nat,” he explained as he returned, delicately applying butterfly bandages to the wounds and pinching the edges closed. “You’re lucky; you only just missed the brachial artery.” His finger traced the blue line down the inside of my arm lightly, eliciting a shiver.

“I’ll aim better next time,” I quipped, making him flinch.

“What was the difference?” he mused, moving on, as he took in the rest of my scars. “You’ve clearly been doing this for a long time, with very little variation. Why was this time so… Impulsive?”

I bit the inside of my cheek hard, declining to answer, and Clint scoffed under his breath. “It’s because we caught her.”

“No… I don’t think that’s it,” Bruce mused after a moment, watching me carefully, and I looked up in surprise.

“I… Felt guilty. For… What I did,” I added meaningfully, meeting his gaze. He recoiled visibly, guilt and grief warring across his face.

“Nat…” he breathed, his fingers finding mine, squeezing lightly. “I would never, ever have wanted you to do this. You know that, right?” I shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. He’d probably have rather punished you himself. “I didn’t love what happened. But I never wanted you to be hurt.”

“What happened?” Clint repeated curiously, his eyes flicking between the two of us, the ghost of suspicion behind his gaze. Bruce looked at me for clarification, and I shook my head fiercely. Clint can’t know. He would never forgive me for doing that to Bruce.

“It’s… It was nothing, really. Why don’t you put the gown on now, Natasha, and we can get started?” Bruce offered, mercifully diverting the conversation. I obliged gratefully, eager to move on and get back to my life without them breathing down my neck.

I was sat at the lab table, the pair seated opposite muttering and pointing at facts and figures on my chart.

“Natasha,” Bruce started slowly, raising his eyes to find mine. “I won’t give you any figures – I’m sure you already know them anyway, but that stops now. It goes without saying that you are severely underweight and malnourished. Almost all vitamins and compounds that should be seen in your bloods are either incredibly low or non-existent. You’re also dehydrated and showing worrying signs of permanent damage to several internal organs.”

I laughed sharply, cruelly, and shook my head. “You can’t tell me about these things without the evidence to back them up.”

Which they don’t have, because it’s not true.

Clint rolled his jaw, dropping the clipboard in front of me. “See for yourself.”

My eyes devoured the numbers, skipping over the parts I didn’t understand, focusing on one key number in particular.

BMI: 16.9.

“That’s barely underweight!” I protested angrily, shoving the papers back across the table. “I’ve always been slender, anyway. It- It’s my build, is all. Plus, I’m a woman – we have less muscle mass, and muscle weighs more than fat.”

“You have very little of either,” Bruce countered, and I snorted, tugging up the waist of my sweatshirt and grabbing a handful of flesh.

“Oh yeah? That what is that?”

Clint stood, rounding the table, putting his own hands around my back. I blinked in surprise as his outstretched thumbs came within a few inches of one another by navel. “It’s skin, Natasha. There’s nothing to you. You are dangerously underweight, and I need you to see that. Please. I’m begging you to see it.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and I met his watery gaze, startled. “I…” My eyes found his hands once more, feeling the warmth of his touch on my frozen skin.

Is it true?

Of course not, The Voice snarled, snapping viciously against my dawning clarity. You know it’s not. They’re just trying to trick you.

“Tell me what’s happening to you,” Clint whispered raggedly, resting his forehead against mine. “I need to understand so I can help.”

“You can’t understand this.” My words were rough, full of repressed tears, and I felt my body tremble under his touch. “You could never understand this.”

“Let us try,” Bruce interjected, moving closer. “I - we – don’t want to force you into an ultimatum. But if you can’t talk to us, we can’t even try to help you. You’ll have to go somewhere else, Natasha; it’ll be somewhere far less personal, with people who don’t love you like we do.”

“I… I want to go back. I have to go back. I understood my life there. And they’ll be coming for me anyway, so… So it’s better to just go back on my own. To go back perfect,” I added, my words barely audible.

“Nat… They will never get you. I’d die before I let that happen,” Clint enthused, his voice full of venom and pain. “We all would.”

“They only loved me when I was perfect,” I continued, oblivious to my partner’s words; now I had started speaking, I didn’t seem able to stop. “I was punished for every sin, every imperfection, and every crime committed. If they came for me – if they learnt how badly I’d been keeping up with my training… The punishment would be…” I trailed off with a shrug, wincing at the very thought.

“What did they do to you, Natasha?”

I looked up into my partner’s aquamarine eyes,  remembering the stark blue, and shivered.

“Everything.”

He swallowed and glanced away, teeth visibly clenching. “And me? You said… You said that you know I remember. What am I supposed to remember?”

I hesitated, then shook my head sharply. “It doesn’t matter.”

He let out a soft sob, turning away as his shoulders shook. “Loki?”

“Yes,” I answered softly. “But it wasn’t you.”

“What did I do?” he repeated, still unable to face me.

“It doesn’t-”

“Please, Nat,” his soft voice interjected, quiet and emotional. “I need to know.”

My jaw worked wordlessly, and I glanced at Bruce, who simply shrugged helplessly, unable to make this choice for me. “I… Similar things. Nothing I haven’t had happen countless times. It’s no big deal.”

Clint laughed shortly, a hand running through his hair, sticking it up at odd angles as he looked to me with an unreadable expression. “No big deal?”

“Clint-”

“How am I supposed to help you, to comfort you-”

“Clint, please-”

“-with the knowledge that I-”

“Stop! I… I can’t, I don’t want you to-”

“-with the knowledge that I held you down, that I forced you to that floor, and had my way with you? That I am exactly the same as those men in the Red Room?”

He was panting as he met my eye, while I was dumbfounded into silence. “You do remember,” I whispered eventually. He half-nodded his assent, chewing on a thumbnail.

“How could I ever forget? I just thought… Hoped… That it was a dream. A nightmare,” he amended quickly, wincing as his hand dropped. “I couldn’t face the idea that it might have been real. That I could ever…”

“But you didn’t,” I interrupted quickly, moving to take his hands in mine, my cast-bound fingers feeling fat and useless in his. “You never would. You didn’t have a choice – it wasn’t you.”

Barton sighed and winced, shifting to press his forehead to mine. “Either way, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Whether you already forgive me or not,” he added as I opened my mouth to interrupt.

“I’m going to make up a plan of action. A diet plan, strict instructions and limitations.” Bruce was typing as he spoke, half glancing to where I sat curled on Clint’s lap, cheek resting on his chest. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my partner truly knew me, and that gave me the strength to fight this.

For now. But I’m not done with you yet, not by a long shot.

I clamped my lips shut tightly, fighting the urge to sob.  Will I ever be able to escape you?

Don’t be a child, The Voice quipped in annoyance. I am you. I’m the part of you that knows that your return to the Red Room is inevitable, and that doing so on your own terms is the best way. You’ll never be rid of me, because you know that I am right.

I shook my head roughly, and Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”

“Huh?” I glanced between the two, flushing lightly. “I… I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

Bruce smiled sympathetically, and nodded. “That’s understandable. It’s been a long day. How about I print everything off, and you can peruse it at your leisure?” I nodded my agreement, deeply grateful. “Is she okay to stay with you tonight? I’d be uncomfortable knowing she was alone.” The last remark was addressed to Clint, and I felt myself stiffen inadvertently. He looked down, his oceanic eyes locked on mine.

“Only if that’s okay with you, Little Spider,” he pressed softly, holding me infinitesimally tighter. I nodded again, but he saw the hesitation and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s okay with me,” I assured him, nuzzling closer. “I… I don’t want to be alone, either.”

Clint’s living quarters were perfunctory, and it was a space I wished I’d spent more time in, wreathed as it was in the inevitable scent of bowstring and him.

He placed my trembling body lightly on the edge of the bed, reaching across to snag a pillow as he straightened. “I’ll just set up my nest for the night, and then we can think about a movie or something, if you’d like? But if you want to be alone, that’s fine, too.”

“Thanks, Clint,” I murmured, picking at the fraying cotton peeking from under my cast, and he offered me a tender smile before ducking from the room.

I bet he finds an excuse to share the bed with you.

Clint wouldn’t do that, I argued weakly, tugging my sleeves over the heels of my hands. He’s not like that.

He remembered what he did to you, didn’t he? If he was truly under Loki’s control, he’d have no memory. Maybe Loki planted the suggestion… But the behaviour was all him.

That’s not true, I countered, but the words sounded false even to me.

We’ll see, The Voice answered smugly, self-assured and confident, as Clint re-entered the room, his hands now free of bedding.

“So? What do you think, Little Spider? Movie night, or time alone?”

I shrugged one shoulder, unable to meet his gaze as The Voice continued to pour venom into my ear. “A movie sounds good, I guess.”

Clint extended his hand theatrically, and I chuckled fondly as he helped me to my feet. “You get comfortable, and I’ll get the popcorn. Half-and-half, yeah?” My face fell a fraction of a second before his own, and he winced guiltily. “I-”

“Popcorn sounds great,” I interrupted loudly, aiming to drown out the hissing in my brain. “Half-and-half. You got it.”

I felt Clint’s eyes on me as I brushed past him, keeping my back straight until I was out of sight, a ragged breath hitching past my lips. You’re not even trying any more, are you? You’re such a disappointment.

“Please… Please just leave me alone,” I whispered, running my hands through my hair as I made my way to the sofa, hesitating at the blanket folded up along the back and the pillow wedged against one armrest.

It's fine. It’s just for him later. There’s nothing going on.

I dropped into my customary spot on the left side, stubbornly flicking through the channels, trying to pretend it was just another, normal day. When was the last time I actually ate popcorn with Clint, though? I used to just put it back in the bowl when he wasn’t looking…

And now at the first hint of difficulty, you’re giving up. You might have lost a little weight, but you’re still a weak piece of shit. You’ll never be good enough for the Red Room. And when they find you…

“They won’t,” I argued weakly. “Clint won’t let them take me.”

Like that sparrow could stop the Red Room, The Voice scoffed, unimpressed.

“He got me out last time,” I protested, remembering the considerate expression on his face as he had taken me in, a slip of a girl, his demure target.

We both know they wouldn’t make that mistake again though, Natalia.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” I snapped, whipping my head toward my invisible tormentor just as Clint re-entered the room, concern furrowing his brow.

“Call you… What?” he asked as he moved hesitantly closer, the bowl of popcorn slack in his distracted grip. I just shook my head, and he sat beside me, our snack abandoned on the low table. “Nat?” he prompted, one hand resting lightly on my arm.

All I wanted was to do what I had always done – to reach up and wordlessly remove his hearing aids, communicating my needs without words.

But he broke the rules last time…

He watched me curiously as I shrugged one shoulder, picking at the edge of my cast. Silently, he took a hand, guiding it up to the thin strip of plastic hidden behind his ear, head tilted curiously. I nodded – a jerky, reluctant motion – and he removed his aids immediately, dropping them casually onto the table.

Do you want to talk about it? he signed, his knee bumping mine as he shuffled nearer.

See? He’s already getting closer.

I winced and looked away, sniffing against the tears that threatened to spill once more.

I can never make it quiet.

Clint’s head cocked, innocently inquisitive, before he gestured at his hearing aids. You… Want to be Deaf?

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head, then paused, wriggling my hand indeterminately. Deaf… On the inside. I wish I could take out my brain’s hearing aids, sometimes.

Comprehension dawned, and he touched his forehead lightly to mine. Bad thoughts?

A voice, I admitted, my motions muted and uncertain – whispering in ASL. All the time.

What does it say?

His fingers twitched, wanting to entwine with mine, but he settled instead for a gentle hand on my knee, leaving me free to speak. It… Taunts me. Says… Horrible things. About me. About the team, the Red Room…

And me?

I had to look away from the devastation on his face – entirely broken by the idea that anyone could poison me against him – as I nodded softly. Especially you. It… Knows that you make me feel safe. It knows that you’re the only one who poses a threat to its intentions.

What are its intentions? he asked, waiting with bated breath for my response as I hesitated.

It-

Don’t you dare-

It wants me to-

Don’t you fucking dare-

-wants me to go back-

Shut the fuck up, you useless piece of shit. You’re going to ruin everything. Can’t you do anything right?

- to the Red Room, I finished with a sob, tears flowing freely down my cheeks at the war raging in my mind. I don’t want to go, Clint.

His hands trembled as he replied, at odds with the fierce determination in his eyes. You’re never going back, Nat. I promise. No matter what, you never have to go back there. I’m going to help you out of this – whatever it takes.

[fellshish]

idk i think sometimes we can extend a little kindness and understanding like people will grieve good omens if season 3 gets cancelled and that’s very human it doesn’t mean they don’t care about victims of sexual assault too — a body can hold many emotions

[wolf-saint]

"Mathematicians call them twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. Numbers like 11 and 13, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, just when you’re about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly."

Paolo Giordano

[catboymoments]

Hi all I’ve been wanting to make something with huntlow and re: trauma processing for a while now, they mean a lot to me in terms of how I relate to them and how sweet they r… however I chose not to sugarcoat the dialogue because I feel like topics like these shouldn’t be shied away from and Should be discussed, but because it’s triggering I’m putting where it starts under a readmore so!! Heed the warnings pls

cw for talk about c/sa

They make me so emotional and soft guah… thank you for supporting me and encouraging me to write about this stuff I love you all

[bohoteacher]

Navigating Betrayal: Reconciling Admiration with Disillusionment

Like many Neil Gaiman fans this month, I've been shocked and distressed by the news regarding the SA allegations. I won't go over the details, as they're readily available online. I'll start by saying that I believe the accusers, and even the most lenient interpretation of events is still troubling enough to discredit Gaiman. For a long time, I didn't know what to say. I was just shocked and, somewhat naively, felt betrayed. I don't typically idolize actors, authors, or other public figures—I'm here for the characters, they're who I love and believe in. So, how did I end up believing in this man and his rhetoric?

I only had a parasocial relationship with him, which is to say no real relationship at all. But I took his Masterclass on writing, spent hours taking notes, and learned from him. I feel betrayed by someone I saw as a beloved teacher. I know this is insignificant compared to what the women who came forward experienced, but it's a valid feeling, and I needed time to process it. My initial reaction was to throw out and discount everything he’s ever written or done—of course it was.

This isn't just about my love for Good Omens, although how can it not be? I learned so much from this man—about writing, about not being too hard on myself, about the creative process. I read his books to my middle school classes, and we all learned how to be better people from them. Today, I saw and bought Instructions, a children’s book by Neil Gaiman illustrated by Charles Vess, from the used bookstore where I volunteer. It was a used copy, so no royalties will go to him. It’s a beautifully illustrated book where the main character walks through a land that clearly symbolizes life, learning lessons like saying please and "if any creature cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain." How could someone write this and then do what he did? I asked myself. "What an evil hypocrite," was my first thought. But then I recalled a line from another author, Stephen King. In The Stand, a character is described as "awake at the lectern, but asleep at the switch," meaning they know the right thing to do and can talk about it, but in the moment of choice, they act without integrity.

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I think it’s too easy to label Gaiman as simply evil, as if he intentionally manipulated us by saying the right things just to make us read or watch his creations. The reality is likely far more complicated. Within this man is the amazing, thought-provoking, life-affirming wisdom that many of us have tried to live by, but also the hard, thoughtless, selfish cruelty that led him to abuse young, vulnerable women. The wisdom does not justify the abuse, and the abuse does not nullify the wisdom.

I think it's too simplistic to say Gaiman is despicable and always has been, hiding it from us all along. This doesn't acknowledge the complexity of human nature—that there is potential for both good and bad within us all. As it’s said, possibly by Terry Pratchett or possibly by Neil Gaiman, “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Gaiman is a man who has done some fundamentally good things and some fundamentally bad things. I can’t forget either one.

This is just my opinion. I know some people want to cancel him, while others want to exonerate him. You do you. As for me, I will continue to love Aziraphale and Crowley. I will continue to read and create fan-fiction. I will continue to find comfort and wisdom in books that have meant so much to me over the years. But I will also remember that they were created by a very flawed man whom I can no longer trust.

I understand that opinions on this matter vary widely. I know some people might feel that not discarding everything associated with him is wrong, but this is where I stand. I’m not looking to debate this or be told how I should react. I just needed to process my thoughts in writing and move forward in the way that feels right for me.

[ginger-canary]

Hey D20 fans here's a heads up about what's happened with Gabe Hicks (message from Jeremy Cobb, Three Black Halflings)