#also first time for you to have Covid? that sucks I'm sorry!

[tenebrius-excellium]

I hope it's ok for me to comment on this Niki...because

HARD AGREE on almost every point of this review. Agree that Astrid works, beautifully stated. Her girlboss personality is also a clear flaw and that's why she works.

Agree on the second movie being 'weakest', as well. It was epic, it was cool, it was creative, it was heartfelt, it had stakes - so what was the problem? I believe that it was because there was no logical justification of the plot beyond the first flying scene. You can literally pinpoint the moment where the plot halts, and it's where Hiccup asks Toothless to "Just keep going?" - "Nooooo." Everything that came afterwards had to be new and fresh, but it wasn't properly tied into the old plot. It wasn't an innate consequence of Hiccup's character, it had to be made up to externally produce plot. See my takes on backend vs. frontend motivation here and here, if you're interested.

I'm surprised but happy that you LIKE THW! Agreed! I also agree that Grimmel mirrors Hiccup in some fantastic ways. However, I'm equally surprised that you are able to overlook his childish stupidity which imo destroys his credibility as a villain (see W-W-W-West & co).

Textures, soundtrack, everything is just yassssss! Well said!

I also agree that Httyd was about loss from the start. I had just personally hoped that it would be more about moving on from that loss and not about losing even more in the end. (But you know how that's tied into our private conversations.)

Also AGREE that the poor Light Fury received way too much hate. It's not her fault that she was given a slightly unusual character design and no actual plot, context, or personality. She could have been amazing, had we been able to get to know her a little better. I too love that she is sparkly!

Ya girl's been SICK this week (my first time getting Covid, yaaaay), which sucked, but it did mean I finally had the time to properly binge the How to Train Your Dragon movies for the first time since The Hidden World released. I've never actually sat down and watched all three films back-to-back before, even though this was THE film franchise of my teenage years. But having finally done so, I have Thoughts™.

First movie is still arguably the best of the three, if only because it's an entirely self-contained narrative. The script is really tight and focused, and the whole thing is really well-paced. The animation actually looks way better than I remembered, but that might just be because this was my first time watching it on Blu-Ray instead of digital.

First movie also still has the best soundtrack of the three (which is saying a lot, considering John Powell was absolutely COOKING with all three movies). "Test Drive" is just too iconic to be outdone.

I really like Astrid's character arc in the first movie. I normally don't like tough-as-nails girlboss characters because they're so often one-dimensional and boring, but she works really well for me because her girboss-ness is as much a flaw as it is a strength. While she is athletic and competitive in her own nature, she's also under a lot of pressure to be a tough warrior, since that's what her society values. I love the way Hiccup brings out her softer side, how he shows her through Toothless that it's ok to be gentle, that compassion is a strength in its own right. I love the way she in turn becomes his pillar of support and comfort. Somehow I'd forgotten just how good Hiccstrid really is.

It's weird re-watching the second film as an adult, because I can still clearly remember a time when it was just the coolest thing ever. The second film was really what sold me on the series as a whole, to be honest. Like, don't get me wrong, I always loved the first one, but the second is where I really started getting into the worldbuilding and characters.

So it's weird to come back to it now and find out it's....actually the weakest of the three films (in my opinion, anyways). I can't quite put my finger on why, but the second film feels like it "drifts along" more than the other two. Like things "just happen" without as much input from the characters. Again, I'm not sure why it feels like that, because it's not like the characters aren't proactive and shaping the way the story unfolds.

None of that is to say that the second movie is bad by any stretch of the imagination. It introduces a bunch of really cool new concepts that do a great job of expanding the world and characters. It just had that weird drifty feeling to it that the other two lacked. Does anyone even know what I'm talking about here, or am I just crazy??

It's nuts how much of a touchstone "For the Dancing and the Dreaming" became in fandom culture. Ten years later, and I still see this song popping up in fics from every fandom under the sun. I think that's a testament to how beautiful Stoic and Valka's reunion was.

Unfortunately, Drago Bludvist is....not a very good villain, imo. He kinda just screams a lot, and that's it. His whole thing of imitating dragons in order to subdue them is cool, but it really needed to be backed up by a stronger personality. But it's not too much of an issue since really, his Bewilderbeast is the real obstacle for the heroes to overcome.

Now, The Hidden World is a weirdly controversial movie within the fandom. I still see people whose hatred for this film rivals that of the Tales of Arcadia fandom's hatred for Rise of the Titans. Which...I gotta admit, doesn't make a ton of sense to me. Like, I can understand not liking the bittersweet ending, but it's not as though THW went out of its way to ruin the entire series.

Looking at the series as a whole, I'd say THW feels like the most logical and organic conclusion to the series. Especially if you've read the books or seen the tie-in tv shows. I knew going into this movie that it would end with the dragons leaving--DeBlois even told us as much in an interview leading up to the film's release. And I'm okay with that.

The first movie touches on the theme of loss with Hiccup's leg. The second movie digs into that theme a bit more, with the loss of his parents (first Valka, who thankfully is found again, then Stoic). The Hidden World dives headfirst into the idea. Loss is no longer a mere consequence of the story's events, but the thematic backbone of the whole movie. And it's here that I realized the series has always been about loss, because the series has always been about growing up. You can't mature without losing something, whether it's a place, a person, or your childhood naivete.

HTTYD uses its fantastic premise to explore a painful reality of our own world, and it does so in a way that's entertaining, sincere, and encouraging. Hiccup has lost so much on his journey to adulthood, but he's also grown strong enough to be able to rise above it. He'll be okay. Toothless will be okay. And we'll all be okay too. Idk, maybe I'm reading too much into it, but that's my takeaway from the series, and it's definitely something that I've needed to hear more than once as I've grown up.

Grimmel is definitely a huge step up from Drago for me. He's essentially who Hiccup would have become if he'd lacked that compassion that caused him to spare Toothless in the first film. I also love his overall demeanor and presence. He's not a force of nature, or a feral war-lord. He's just a Guy who is very, very good at his job and knows it. Plus, F. Murray Abraham just has a really cool voice.

Unfortunately, as much as I like Grimmel as a villain, he's still outclassed by Viggo Grimborn from Race to the Edge.

I can't get over how insanely good the visuals are in this series. Especially the textures. Like, there's times in the first movie where the textures look so good that the actual models almost can't keep up. I can see what Toothless's scales feel like, the scratchy weave of Hiccup's tunic, the coarse fur of Stoic's cloak. HTTYD is the only series I can think of that seamlessly pulls off a "realistic" look with animation. The world feels real, without taking away from the suspension of disbelief that makes animation such a freeing medium. It's as if they came to the edge of the uncanny valley, then got into a hot air balloon and floated across without ever touching it.

Looking back, I think this was just the perfect series to be a teenager with. It's just the right blend of action, adventure, and emotion, all wrapped up in a wholesome and often heart-rending tale of a boy and his dragon growing up together. I really wish we could have more series like this.

(Edit) Also the Light Fury is my favorite dragon species in the entire series, no I will not take that back, she's super pretty and sparkly and I just want to pat her on her cute nubby head.

[vaspider]

First of all, super pro-vaccine. Secondly, I just had the privilege of paying $189 for this years COVID vaccine, so I never want to hear anyone complain about people being unvaccinated again, holy hell. Unmasked, sure, yell at them, but... This pandemic is never going to end.

First of all, that fucking sucks.

Second of all, that sounds like a good thing to bitch at your Congresshuman about.

Third... Nope, I'm still gonna complain, bc most of the people who are so loudly against vaccines have insurance, which will cover it and thus no $$ excuse. And like... if ppl NEVER got vaccinated, even when it was free, I'm gonna complain about them putting us in this position in the first place.

I hear you but also I haven't been to synagogue regularly in almost 4 years, and every time I do an event to keep my business afloat, I'm taking my life in my hands bc ppl won't put a mask over their face holes and get vaccinated. I'm not gonna stop complaining about basically being left behind by the rest of the world. It fucking sucks all around and saying you don't want to hear people complain about vaccination rates is not gonna sit great with those of us who basically can't live our lives bc of risk levels.

I'm sorry it sucks for you. It sucks for me, too, and we both get to bitch about it.

Thanks for shelling out for your booster. I have to physically go into my doctor's office across the damn river to get Medicaid to pay for mine, which fucking blows and is basically going to eat an entire day.

[unholyhelbig]

Can we have the last chapter of oversight??

Title: The Oversight [Part 7/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7200

Warnings: Blood, (a lot of blood) Gun violence, childhood trauma, a shoot out, murder, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: This is it!! I wanted to thank everyone so beyond much for sticking with this story. I do suck at endings, so I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations (I'm also writing this after the worst case of covid I've ever had). I'm more than happy to continue reader and Nat's story in some oneshots if you want to request some!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Sheets of warm spring rain soaked into your clothes. Despite its tepid temperature, you were chilled to the bone. By the time you had taken Ronnie from her car seat in the back and coaxed a drowsy Darcy from the front seat, there was no dry part of you. A light wind had picked up and you were positive that your skin was pale, cold. Your lips are blue and shaking. It felt right to knock.

It was Yelena who answered the door, and she did so sparingly. It was just a crack at first, letting out a stream of golden light that caught the storm in its clutches. Then it was flung open entirely, and you had to squint against the brightness.

Darcy had a good grip on Ronnie’s hand, blinking away the last of her exhaustion as she started into the massive foyer and the house that was built around it. Yelena wore a bubblegum pink robe that was fuzzy. It looked warm. Her collarbone was littered in a smattering of blue and purple bruises. She dragged the two ends together to cover her skin.

“Y/n, it’s late.”

You were well aware of what time it was. This was Yelena’s odd way of asking if you were okay. She stepped to the side and allowed the three of you to enter, sopping wet. That was a good sign. Despite her abrasiveness, Natasha’s sister had more than one soft spot. One was for Kate, another for you, and even a small one for Clint.

“Holy shit…” Darcy whispered.

“It’s impressive, no?”

Yelena frowned, glancing up to the second level. The hall light flicked on, and you knew that Natasha had stirred. You’d awoken the dragon, not something that you were against doing. It felt stupid to have the worry of Ronnie being here in the back of your mind. This was an emergency situation.

Your heart started to pound faster and you shivered into yourself when she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was worry in her fern-colored stare. Why were you there? Why was your misfit family with you? It was late.

None of those questions came with Natasha, however. Instead, she wrapped you in her warm embrace. Your skin was frigid against her own, damp with the brutal attention of the storm. She had no objections to letting you sink into her embrace, wetting her pajamas.

“Dorogaya, chto sluchilos'?”

You pulled back, her fingers still digging into your waist. Yelena had been teaching you Russian, though you only picked up on a few words a time, you understood exactly the tone of her voice. “Carol… she was waiting for me at home.”

A hardness returned to her stare as she glanced at Ronnie who was overly interested in the tile pattern of the floor, and Darcy who was trying to work the pressure from her head with small touches to her nose.

“Did she hurt you?” her voice was a low growl “any of you?”

You shook your head. “Drugged Darcy, but it seems to be wearing off. Ronnie is alright. Carol said she was a friend and shit, Nat, I taught her about stranger danger, but she came straight to the door. I didn’t prepare her for anything like that.”

Yelena had wandered in her silent, cat-like way. She seemed to spawn back into the foyer with warm towels that felt like heaven against your skin. Your fingers were numb along with your emotions. Carol had entered your home. She entered your home.

This fact seemed to sink into Natasha’s bones. While she still held a strong grip on your shoulders there was a certain type of anger that edged through her from top to bottom. A storm brewed behind her eyes and threatened to shatter her cool confidence.

“Lena,” the word broke against her tongue “Will you please take Ronnie and Darcy to a guest room upstairs. I’m sure they’re exhausted.”

There was no objection from any party. You were once again left alone with Natasha, a charged feeling in the air that pulled the two of you together. She pressed her forehead against yours, breath warm on your collarbone.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Nat,”

“I am. I don’t have another choice. There are clear lines that can’t be crossed and she just cut every single one of them.” Natasha hurriedly pushed strands of wet hair behind your ears, clearing your eyes. “She did this as a statement.”

“And if it’s a trap?”

“It most certainly is, darling, but that won’t stop us from walking into it.”

Very carefully, you thought about your next words, your next actions. It was easy to throw Natasha off, despite her resolute standing when she made a final decision. You felt her body pressed against yours, innate in its comfort and warmth. It would make you ache if she pulled away.

The words came out as a whisper “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

She attempted to step back, but your hands were tight against the silk of her robe. You held her there and she didn’t resist the tension. It was the first time you had really studied your own hands. They were different, entirely so, from those that serviced strangers at the diner.

There were soft bubblegum pink scars on your palms, and harder, darker ones on your knuckles from the countless hours you’d leaned into the pain of each punch. Natasha’s shoulder against the sand-filled bag as she stood against the strength you mustered.

A bruise from the last time you’d entered the shooting range bubbled under the surface of your palm, and it was this that Natasha stared at the hardest as you gripped her with an intensity she had yet to see.

“Did I ever tell you about my second foster father?” You asked, having released your hold, but keeping your hand splayed on her chest. You weren’t sure if you were holding her steady, or yourself. She shook her head. “Deputy Sheriff Edwards. He was a high school quarterback in Minnesota before he blew out his knee and would never let you forget it.

“And mostly… mostly he was a good guy. But, he worked long hours and had a mean streak that would show itself after a beer or two. If he had more, it was worse. He’d stumble in and find one of us kids to go out for shooting practice in the acreage behind the house.”

Natasha swallowed thickly and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She hadn’t asked you about your familiarity with a gun and considered it a small blessing that you didn’t’ shy away from the weapon. Not only that, but you were quite nearly an expert shot once you got over the nervous familiarization.

“Locking the bedroom door, it worked sometimes, but not always. I had to pick and choose the nights when I wasn’t up for it. Usually in the winter. Minnesota gets cold, below freezing when the sun goes down behind the horizon. So cold that it burns your lungs to breathe, and you have to force your eyes open.

“Deputy Sheriff Edwards, when he couldn’t have me, he would go for my foster brother Andrew. I could hear the pistol going off, over and over again for hours. There was a distinct change in sound when the bullet actually hit the tin cans and it was… that night it was scarce. When you missed- when you missed, he got angrier.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath and pressed her forehead against yours. She was impossibly comforting, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her and bury your nose in the small of her neck to stave off the cold. But you had to make her understand that you could handle this.

“That night, Andrew missed one too many cans and each shot was pockmarked by a hit to the temple. It was right outside my bedroom window, and the snow, the snow makes everything so much louder.” It was you that pulled in a desperate breath this time, greedy and hungry “a boy can only take so much before he aims the gun at something other than a can and pulls the trigger.”

She had reached up and used her thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t know you shed, spreading it against your cheek. “Malysh, I can’t bare to put you through more pain.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you whispered back, reaching up and wrapping your fingers gently around her wrist. “Whether you like it or not, Nat, you’ve spent the last six months training me to be the protector that you’ve needed. It would be a crime not to have me by your side through this, after she came into my home and threatened my family. This anger, this rage, will do nothing but serve us.”

Natasha let out a watery chuckle, “alright, Summer Sentient, stay on my six.”

There was a shed at the edge of Natasha’s large property that you rarely entered. There were too many memories attached to the location. The first time you had opened the door and clocked the coloring of the floor and the coolness of the structure, you knew that it wasn’t a place you wanted to return often.

When you had first stirred months ago with your arms tied behind your back, your mouth fuzzy and tasting of blood- it was here that they had taken you. Through your exhaustive haze, you figured it was a larger place, a storage unit or even an airplane hanger at the edge of a runway. Instead, it was a simple one-room shed that was kept ice cold and made to look infinite through mental manipulation and large intense lights.

Kate Bishop seemed to sense your simple unease and moved to help your fumbling fingers with the gun holster that was secured around your chest. Like always, Natasha organized a united front and a pep talk before going into a situation that none of you could truly prepare for.

“It’s going to be okay, you know” Kate murmured after she fastened the buckle, clapping you on the shoulder. Her eyes lingered on Natasha, on Yelena as the two of them spoke in hushed voices near a small counter that you hadn’t realized was there in the dark.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Like an open book. It’s obvious how much you care for one another, and nothing is obvious with this family.” Kate moved to the other side of you, you tracked her with your eyes. Clint, in turn, watched the two of you interact from his perched spot near the far wall. “It took two years for Yelena to show any type of affection towards me.”

“Jesus Christ, I know she’s stoic, but shit.”

“Shit is right. I was head over heels for her within the first week. Mind you, I was suffering severe trauma and thrown into something much beyond myself. But I chipped away at her overtime, wore her down until she was comfortable enough telling me what she feels. But with the Romanoff’s, it’s not just about what they feel. It’s how they feel.”

You lifted both of your eyebrows at her. Kate handed you the jacket that was draped over a nearby chair, you toyed with it in your hands, moved your fingers over the brass buttons. It was much too warm in here to put on yet.

“Natasha is one of the scariest people I have ever met and It’s not because of her dripping ledger. It has everything to do with how much she cares. And she cares about you, y/n. It’s why she’s so reluctant to bring you along to something like this. To the end.”

“Thank you, Kate. For leading me through all of this.”

“Anytime, y/n. Can’t have you dying on us, can we?”

The plan was simple; there was no plan. A deal was supposed to met in a quick and clean way. Much like the restaurant, Natasha just needed you to simply be there to back her up. There was neutral ground at the edge of the shipyard that was far away enough from the unassuming population. Carol had agreed to meet there; tentatively.

There was something so civil and political about a business that was saturated in black sticky blood. You had a jarring feeling that tonight would be it for you, the moment of no return. Once you entered in a united front behind Natasha, your life would never be the same.

You didn’t want it to be.

Natasha Romanoff drove you absolutely wild, but had a way of calming that storm all the same. Though she’d never allow it, you would take bullets for her. But, you’d also take bullets for the little girl that you struggled to confront now.

The leather binding against your chest suddenly felt too stuffy. You’d often hid it behind the guise of a jacket or slid it into your glovebox before you trudged up the rickety stairs to your apartment. Now it was hugged as tightly as Kate could get it, pinching the fabric of your shirt.

Ronnie had looked up from the book she’d curled up with at the end of the sofa. She stared at it with quiet eyes. Everything she did was quiet but this time it felt more judge mental than usual. Natasha sidled up behind you, one ringed hand pressing calmly into the small of your back.

“Remember what I told you on the Ferris Wheel?” Natasha asked.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“Mm,” Natasha gave you a soft kiss behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I know that look. She wants to talk.”

The mafia boss gave you a little shove forward before making herself comfortable leaning against the doorframe that you had just vacated. She was begrudgingly right. Veronica had scooted over deliberately and given you room next to her.

Ronnie allowed you to get comfortable next to her, running her small fingers over the leather of the holster. You stopped her before she could reach the sheathed weapon, gently lowering both of your hands to your lap.

“Natasha?”

The woman stood up straighter, looking into the expectant eyes of your daughter. She patted the empty seat on the other side of her and you watched as your girlfriend struggled not to flounder under the weight of the request. Eventually she joined the two of you on the couch, nervously twisting the closest ring around her finger.

“I’m not stupid” Ronnie said.

You frowned “No one said you were stupid, baby.”

Your daughter was glowering at you. It took years to read her facial expressions, but the one that was on her features now was loud and clear. “You can’t come home with bruises like that and expect me not to notice.”

You blinked at her dumbly. Yes, kids were perceptive, Ronnie more than others. But no part of you wanted to expose you to the life you’d been thrown in. Guilt was weighing down Natasha’s shoulders, she glanced at you sheepishly.

“You weren’t supposed to join the mob. I know why you did it, though.”

Good god, she was smart. Smarter than you’d ever give her credit for. Everyone wants to believe that their child is special but there was a certain pride in your chest that rivaled your fear. She pulled her little hand from yours and placed it on the spine of the book.

She seemed to lose interest in you altogether and turned her attention to Natasha. “Don’t let her get hurt.”

“I…Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“I don’t know what that means, just make sure my mom’s okay.”

Natasha swallowed the dryness in her mouth, it was nearly audible. “You don’t have to worry about that, kid. I promise.”

There was an innate fear coiled in the center of your stomach, and the cacophony of footfalls against weathered docks did nothing to ease your pitfall of feelings. Clint towered over you in height, walking with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets to ward off the chill of the summer wind.

Kate and Yelena stalked behind you both, their shoulders hunched, their conversation a hushed whisper. Six docks altogether led into one hexagon platform, that at one point, must have held a fair much like the one you attended in the early summer.

From the other stretch of docking came five others. Their silhouettes were fuzzy, black against the night sky. Carol held herself with a confidence that rivaled Natasha’s. You could make out Monica amongst the crowd, a man that you’d seen around town that you were sure went by the name Fury; particular to his deeply embedded rage.

A circle of wood in the center of the land stood between the two groups like a buffer. Hands were on guns, puffs of air streaming into the lone portlights drilled into soft wood. The scent of the sea itself seemed to assuage you into flexing your fingers, the salt in the air made everything feel filmy and frigid.

It was Carol who spoke first. Her voice was carried by the wind. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to call a meeting like this.”

“You violate my trust as if it’s nothing Miss Danvers. It’s clear you wanted to invoke something other than a slap on the wrist.”

“Well, there’s been talk around town that you’ve become smitten with your little pet project. Forgive me for wanting to test the theory myself. If the big bad Romanoff sisters are going soft, don’t you think I should know about it?”

Yelena shifted behind you and in turn, so did Monica. No one reached for their weapon, though you itched from the inside out. Natasha even lift an eyebrow at the statement.

“You wanted to discuss the Maroni property. I’m willing to sell, but only with the proper conditions.”

Clint had sat you down a few weeks after your first excursion. The two of you sat at the end of the very diner that you had quit. You never really tried the food but could stomach the fries- even admit to yourself that they were the best in town for their price point. The Maroni property was nothing more than a vacant lot, but it held more than that. It would make Carol the owner of 60% of the town instead of the meager 50% that split everything equally.

If there was any objection to her offer, no one would show it. Peace of mind would not be worth giving up her hold, but you were. Yelena could kick her frustrations out at home later, Clint and Kate were none the wiser to do anything but trust blindly; and you were right there with them.

“And what conditions are those?”

“The same conditions our parents have abided by all these years. There’s an honor in what we do and what we control and when you start crossing lines like the ones you did last night, you pour gasoline on an already raging fire.”

Carol tasked and took a step forward. This time the handle of your gun was in your palm. You held your stance. “So poetic, Natasha. You have been since grade school. I’ll take the land, but you’re mistaken if you think I’ll pay full price.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her eyes darting to the rolling darkness of the sea. The waves were crashing violently against the wooden support beams. There were whitecaps miles from the shore and a storm was brewing that you could almost taste.

“Seventy-five. I won’t go any lower.”

“Alright, Seventy-five.”

Carol stuck her hand out over the circular center of the docks. It was a show of good faith, but your palm grew slick with sweat. You watched her with more care than you ever have before. Clint was rigid with tension, and you could practically hear Kate breathe nervously behind you.

Eventually, Natasha took the woman’s hand. She held it for a moment before leaning closer, whispering something that you couldn’t’ hear over the screeching of the waves. You could, however, see Carols face shaded by the port lights. The golden yellow color enveloped the stark coldness in her stare, the anger that flashed behind hazel irises.

When the gunshot sounded, Natasha’s back was to Carol and those who flanked her sides. It was such a quiet and muted sound that made your ears ring, but it was also a familiar sound. One that flashed back to that snowy night in Minnesota, the spray of pulpy blood on the startlingly white snow.

When Andrew had pulled the trigger, he looked Sheriff Deputy Edwards in the eyes and you had always wondered if the fear cut through the haze of alcohol that night. The split second where the bullet left the chamber, was there penance to be made? He’d dropped to his knees and let out a choking sound that you heard through the paned glass windows.        

There wasn’t a wall of insulation, and wood, and glass to garble the sound of the gunshot that rang out tonight. The waves seemed to swallow up your own scream and the commotion that stretched into being.

Carol had waited until Natasha broke the handshake and turned away before she fired her weapon. Something so strong and ever-present was dropped to the sun-bleached wood in a matter of moments. Natasha didn’t make a sound.

“Get down!” Clint yelled next to you.

You caught the anger in Monica’s stare, the way that Carol had moved her target from Natasha, directly to you. At this specific point, with Natasha crumpled at your feet and the woman who had pulled the trigger sneering at you, was when something snapped within you.

A good shot, you had always been a good shot. Not only that, but you’d been efficient too. Clint had given up trying to drag you away and instead made quick work of those that were backing Carol. Kate and Yelena were gone; in the throws of darkness, into hand to hand combat. It left you alone with the woman that made everyone cower in fear.

Natasha’s blood had sopped onto your shoes. Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. She wasn’t breathing. You couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She had curled into herself and hidden her face from you and while you wanted to pull her into your arms at this very moment; that wasn’t possible.

An ongoing war was raging around you. Gunfire and screaming, and oddly enough, the pungent scent of fire. Carol watched, confident in her protection. She smiled at you, a wolfish and inhuman grin.

“Now, you can’t tell me this hasn’t changed your perspective.” She said, sweeping her arms out as if this were her kingdom- as if this chaos, this reign of gunfire and screams amongst the people you loved, was what she wanted all along.

“It has,” you raised your gun, pointing it directly to her chest. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I just watched you shoot a woman in the back. What’s noble about that?”

She cackled “Noble? That’s the problem with you Romanoff’s, there is nothing noble about this business. To win, you have to play dirty. To win you can’t be afraid to take what you want, and I can’t exactly do that through handshakes and good will. Can I?”

“I suppose not, but how are they supposed to trust you, hm? All of those you’ve promised the world to, the ones fighting for your wellbeing as we speak?”

“I would never betray them.”

“Oh, now, I don’t believe that.”

She frowned at you and readjusted her hold on her gun. In any other world, she would have fired her gun by now, but there was something deep within Carol that had been curious about you. About how Natasha seemed to soften around your presence. Still, she didn’t understand, but she wanted it all the same.

Her finger adjusted on the trigger. You watched every movement she made. There was another, calmer, war in her mind. She could kill you right here if she wanted to, but you couldn’t tell if she did or not.

Natasha let out a wounded noise at your feet; a wet choking sound as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Carol lifted both eyebrows and glanced down at her. “You can save her or kill me. I don’t think you’re quick enough to do both.”

Kate let out a guttural scream from further down the dock that was followed by two more blows and flashes from a gun. Most of Carols lackeys had been incapacitated in one way or another. You clocked Clint’s trembling form as he kneeled between two dark masses. You couldn’t see Yelena, couldn’t’ even hear her, but she leaned into her silence, her rage.

By the time your eyes had met with Carol’s once more, she had made her choice. She pressed further down on the trigger, and in your blind edge of confidence you fired first. Both bullets were aimed at her stomach, and both hit their mark before her single shot found it’s way to your shoulder.

The pain shot through your arm, down the numbness of your fingers. A deep sound escaped the back of your throat. The force of the blast nearly brought you to your knees. Nearly. You’d felt the heat of the bullet rip through the gore of your shoulder- enter and exit in a clean way that would hiss in pain later, but it was no match for the adrenaline.

Carol let out a groan, one that bubbled with pain. You kicked her weapon away from her, letting it slide against the wooden dock. She blinked up at you dumbly, her hands pressing against the slowly growing crimson spot in the center of her stomach.

The color dripped from the wound on your shoulder, over the silver of the casing. A singular drop of red succumbed to the pull of gravity and landed against the smooth expanse of Carol’s collarbone. When she grinned, her teeth were stained with rust.

“Tell me, Carol, what do you see?” You pulled back the hammer, ignoring her sloppy chuckles and the frothy blood that foamed past her lips. “A broken waitress, or a trained killer?”

“Now you’re getting it…” she swallowed thickly, trying to quell the pain “It’s all about perspective.”

You pulled the trigger for a third, and final time that night. You were so trusting in your aim that you refused to look when you administered the final blow. Her head dropped to the side, the bullet finding it’s way right between her eyes.

Silence seemed to fall over the docks. You could hear the crashing of the waves and the seagulls that circled above at the scent of shed blood. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the gun you wielded was dropped to the dock.

She’d been killed so easily. This big, hulking demon that loomed over the town, and over your life. It took nothing but a rage-filled trigger pull to end it all. Your heart was in your throat, blood rushing past your ears.

And then there was Natasha.

Natasha had shifted onto her back, her hand outstretched in your direction. You could hear the painful wheeze in each breath. Her skin was pale, a bloom of red at the corner of her lip. You wanted to kiss it away, to pull her as close as possible, but you were afraid to move her.

Your knees dug into the coarse wood, your palm finding purchase on her cheek. “Nat, baby, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“The stars, you can see them so well out here.”

You frowned, glancing up at the velvety blue sky. The constellations were bright, making little pictures of lions, and archers, and long stretches of water. It was hard to see them with the perpetual glow of the city. But out here, just like the mansion, they made a map.

“Yeah, baby, you can.” You reached blindly for her hand. It was cold. “You can’t go to sleep. Just keep looking at the stars, for me. Clint! Lena!”

Your voice broke on the second call. Your face was damp with tears as you kept track of Natasha’s stunted breathing, and the tight grip she still held you with. She refused to let you go, and you did the same, pressing the warmth of your lips to her white knuckles.

Yelena was by your side. She was pale and shaking herself. There was a gash above her eye, dripping blood and drying against her cheek. There was a split in her lip, a forming bruise under her chin and against the length of her neck.

“ne ostavlyay menya, sestra. Ty sil'neye etogo. Drat'sya.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“No, no hospital.” Yelena shook her head “we do this on our own, just like we always have.”

Your fingers were caked in blood, a dried brown color that was ugly against the beauty of your shared bedroom with Natasha. You wanted to scrub them clean, watch as the water was tinted a toxic orange before it circled the drain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

A glass of water was set on the small table next to you, and you fought back the urge to startle. You hadn’t heard anyone enter. There was a familiar spiced scent to Darcy that you picked up on before registering her presence. She nudged the glass closer to you and lowered herself into the other chair.

“You should really let Yelena look at that shoulder.” She said.

“It’s fine.”

You picked up the glass and considered swallowing down some of the room temperature water, but thought better of it. You held onto it because you could. It grounded you, the cloudy glass stained with coppery fingerprints.

“The news… they’re saying that a wealthy businesswoman snapped. Allegedly, she lured her employees down to the docks and killed them all before turning the gun on herself.”

“Tragic.” This time you did take a swallow of the water before setting it on the table.

Darcy watched you carefully. She wasn’t being judgmental, or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. Her eyes were still darkened with exhaustion but filled with a deep kind of worry. She hesitated, moving to put her hand on your knee, but thinking better of it.

Instead, she directed her attention to Natasha’s unconscious form on the bed. Yelena had called in a private doctor, stubborn in her efforts. He worked mostly alone, and had hushed conversation with those in the room that could comprehend better than you could in your fuzzy state.

Kate had attempted to patch you up, but you pulled away with enough intensity for her to focus on licking her own wounds. Natasha was stable, she was alive. They weren’t sure if she would make it through the night- but you’d remain by her side until they were sure.

“I can’t lose her,”

The admission was whispered and shattered. You didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of Natasha not pulling through. She was the first person you’d met in years that not only accepted you, but pushed you to be a better version of yourself. She had a softness for Ronnie, a commanding nature to her presence.

 Darcy cracked a small smile, “leave it to you to fall in love with a loan shark that has a pension for bullets. Something tells me that’s she’s more stubborn than even you. And if that’s the case, then she’ll make it.”

You reached out and grasped Darcy’s hand, allowing her to ground you. Pain ripped through your shoulder, the bandage that you had allowed Kate to apply was dotted with the wounds efforts to gush. Still, you squeezed as hard as you could manage, listening to the heart monitor that hummed in time with the grandfather clock in the corner.

She stayed with you while you fought to stave off sleep. At one point, Clint came in with a tray of food that lay mostly untouched on the dresser. Your eyes burned as you stared at the simple rise and fall of her chest, both feet planted on the floor.

Sixteen hours had passed. You’d paced the room, and at one point, finally allowed someone to address your wounds. It throbbed in time with your heart, which in-turn, mirrored Natasha’s. It was hour twenty when you saw any sign of life, and you nearly missed it, the fluttering of her eyes as they adjusted to the sun streaming into the room.

You’d rolled your head back, trying to quell the stiffness of your neck, the hushed growl escaped your lips. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

To hell with your aching body. Natasha’s voice was so meek that you’d nearly missed it altogether. You were treated with a startling blast of green color. She stared at you inquisitively, trying to prop herself up on her elbows. You were quicker than her in this state, using your palm against her chest to gently force her back onto the mattress.

“Don’t try to move,”

“I don’t do well with orders, y/n.”

“God damn it, I know.”

She gave you a small smile at this, but allowed you to coax her back into a laying position. She let out a protest of pain as you placed your ear flush against her chest, assuring that this was real, that her heart was beating strong and consistently. And it was, it really was.

Natasha chuckled, and worked her hand through your hair. “It’s okay, Zaychik. I’m alright.”

“Nat, you were shot in the back twice. It’s going to be a long road to recovery. You’re lucky that it didn’t shatter your spine, hell you could have lost the ability to walk altogether-“

She cut you off, grabbing your chin and leading your lips to hers. She tasted of blood, of the slightest bit of antiseptic and artificial cherries. She tasted like home. You fretted to pull away, knowing that she had kissed you to ultimately shut you up, but really, did that matter?

Natasha frowned into the kiss and pulled away, her fingers had found the bandage on your shoulder, running across the cross section where your skin met gauze. “You’re hurt. She hurt you.”

“She got a good shot in but had terrible aim. Nothing but a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wounds can be dangerous, Malysh.”

“Mm, so they can.” A few moments passed, your forehead pressed against hers, happy to be in her presence. “What did you say to Carol… right before she…”

Natasha let out a deep sigh and winced at the exhalation. She laid her head on the pillow and glowered at the painted ceiling above you both. You remembered staring up at it after Natasha had exhausted you on more than one occasion. Right now, she was trying to find the words, just like you had tried so desperately to find your solace.

“I threatened her family the way she threatened mine. I thought better of her, I suppose, than to shoot a woman in the back. Though, I would have done the same with the threats I laid out. I just needed to be sure that she wouldn’t… couldn’t hurt you… Ronnie.”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Maybe not the Danvers family, but there are more just lurking in the shadows waiting for their chance to swoop in. They’re scared now, I’m sure. But fear only goes so far.”

“I’m in this for the long haul, if you’ll have me, of course.” You tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, careful of her wounds. “I don’t care if it’s the Russo’s, or the Sarkissian’s, or any other psycho family that tries to take your power away from you. They’ll have to go through me.”

Natasha chuckled, “Alright, quickdraw, don’t get too cocky. We’ll lay low for a little bit. Heal. Then we can talk about the future.”

Somehow, that was enough for you. Natasha waking up, speaking and smiling, and laughing would always be enough for you.

“Drop the gun,” Kate’s voice was shaking, her hands outstretching in front of her in the ultimate sign of surrender. She looked vulnerable, the sun beating down on her shoulders and her stormy eyes catching the reflection of the water. “I’m unarmed, this isn’t cool, man.”

Her protests didn’t’ seem to matter one bit. Cooper pumped the front end of his gun and aimed the ice cold water directly at Kate’s stomach. His action was a silent call to the brigade of children that ascended on her; some carrying water guns like Coop, and others nailing her with neon colored balloons.

“Ah, the inhumanity!” She fell to the grass, scooping Ronnie up in the process. “Shield me, kid!”

You watched the girl with fondness, fighting back until the end. Clint chuckled behind you, flipping the burgers that had browned evenly on one side. The scent was intoxicating, and though you wouldn’t’ admit your hunger outright; your mouth was watering.

Yelena had ascended on the situation, taking a super soaker and dousing the clan that was attacking, and winning, Kate. She tucked Ronnie under her arm like a football and started to dash away towards the fence, out of earshot.

Clint’s wife, Laura, was pouring a glass of lemonade for Darcy. The two of them watched the scene from poolside chairs with as much amusement as you carried. They spoke with smiles on their faces, cheeks flushed from the heat of the day.

Warm arms wrapped around your midsection, a chin resting on your shoulder. The scent of sunscreen filled your lungs. You had always felt innate safety in Natasha’s embrace. She kissed behind your ear once, and then the side of your neck.

“She’s good with them.” Natasha purred.

“I think it’s because she’s a kid at heart.”

“And you let her protect your assets?” Clint tsked as he loaded the burgers onto a nearby plate. “Seriously, without Yelena training her I never would have taken the safety off her gun.”

“I can hear you!” Kate called back, shifting Ronnie to her other hip. “They are being so rude. I’m more than capable of being a degenerate.”

“Degenerate,” Yelena scoffed “Kate Bishop, you’ve invented the word.”

You shook your head, turning in Natasha’s arms before you draped your own over her shoulders. She wore that same black bikini that she had on when she proclaimed your new rank in her little empire. It seemed so long ago- and she was certainly marred with new markings to prove this. Your fingers tracing gently over the healed scars on her stomach.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against hers, “Thank you for this.”

“Mm,” She hummed into the embrace “For what, detka?”

You deepened the embrace, whispering against her “resolution.”  

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[fuwaprince]

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

[horce-divorce]

something something about the power imbalance inherent to being an unhoused person, how similar it is to the dependency that abusers intentionally foster in their relationships to keep victims from leaving. but if you're homeless and someone is putting you up, especially if it's for free/some kind of exchange other than rent, you're basically expected to put up with whatever indignity they can imagine for you and still just be grateful. And if you set a boundary or speak up for yourself in any kind of way, that's Taking Advantage of this poor kind person who's doing SO much for you already, how could you?

sorry its 2am and I'm trying to write a better draft about this for later too but its like. being homeless is a huge, huge vulnerability. ppl people will look to exploit that, intentionally or not. and doubly so if you're homeless because you're disabled.

also something the ableism involved... about how I know so many fellow disabled people who have struggled with homelessness, and we all have similar stories about people we trusted, friends or loved ones who seemed all too happy to help and take us in, and how we repeatedly impressed upon them the nature of our health and the situation, and they swore up and down that they understood and that we were on the same page about boundaries and expectations... only to have them blow up and kick us out at the absolute first sign of conflict or miscommunication, or because we didn't get jobs fast enough, or because we didn't contribute financially even after being told that wasn't expected, and so on.

and how, I know so many housed people who have never been through this, who all have very similar stories about how they tried to help a friend in need once, and they were SO lazy and horrible and took SO long to get their shit together that they clearly were just a freeloader taking advantage who should've never been trusted, just like all homeless people, and that's why we give them socks and canned beans instead of money.

I was never allowed to complain about ableist expectations or abled people ignoring my boundaries in my parents' home. Especially not after I became a disabled adult who still needed help with housing. And that's been true of most of the couch-hopping I've done since then, too.

Currently we have a fairly nice situation... we live with a trusted and pleasant friend. It's a whole house, not an apartment. Not even in the city. We have our own entire room. We don't have to pay rent or anything. It's temporary even aside from our discomfort, it's just been a nice place to land for the cold months.

However. Friends parents are not so chill. Their dad is the most disgusting man alive and has repeatedly gotten us sick bc he's always got something, bleeds all over and never cleans it up, never washes his hands, leaves his dentures on countertops and tables with food still stuck on them, coughs all over our stuff and never masks, is actively making the mouse infestation worse with all the food he leaves out, and puts our health at risk in SO many ways.

he used to work in Healthcare btw. His wife still does. They know we're here bc we're homeless; they know we're both disabled and immunocompromised; neither of them will wear a mask. Both of them are constantly coughing everywhere and not even covering their mouths. We've tried to politely bring this to their attention multiple times and nothing changes. They just ignore us.

We could literally die from this. We could get lifelong health complications even worse than what we have now. Bel lost his sense of taste today and now we're terrified that it's gonna be long covid or something else that sucks what little joy is left from our daily lives.

You lose everything, and then you're supposed to just say nothing and accept your lot, no matter how much danger you're in, because beggars can't be choosers. If you're disabled and poor you'd better just be fine with people abusing you and putting your health and safety at risk indefinitely, because you're lucky they're even helping you at all instead of JUST abusing you.

You dont get to have a home. You dont get to collect things, or keep sentimental things, or have a whole, adequate wardrobe. You get what you can carry with you and what won't get stolen or destroyed by others, or by the nature of moving so much. You dont get to have safety and stability and roots and community. You dont get the dignity of boundaries or your own space. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. And be happy and say "thank you" if people are merely ignoring you instead of actively silencing you. And if the people "helping" you actually give you the thing that kills you, at least you didn't die of exposure, I guess? Or something?

Its just. Every single thing you do as both a homeless & disabled person reminds you how utterly worthless you are to the """normal""" people around you. Every day. It's so demoralizing.

[the-great-ladyg]

So, I watched the James Somerton second apology video so you don't have to, this are my highlights, feel free to add more if I missed something important:

He monetized the video to donate to HBG's team and Wikipedia, apparently, he said also he has reached some of the people who he plagiarized but still, if he did he would have explicitly said "I'm donating to them"

Did he really said "well, I'm a white cis gay man, I don't have the same experiences as others in the community" as an excuse on plagiarizing others' works? And the "I thought I might be able to won over some people" sounds like some white savior shit

He still throws Nick under the bus, it really shows that James doesn't regret any other times he did that and it sounds like he hired Nick as a shield for criticism and not to have a more diverse work team

He apologizes to Jessie Gender and many others, but doesn't explicitly addresses why he might have offended them on first place (except for the police incident), yeah, he says he was reactionary, but he has been on many occassions. I'm not expecting a full detailed explanation, but at least he could have said "for the Nebula drama" or something like that

James says that at one point, due to covid economic consequences, he and Nick became poor and that led him to plagiarize more since they had to upload more videos, and look, I suck at organizing my time, I tend to do everything with little time before the date, and I wrote most of my thesis on the last minute with one or two days of investigating and I still didn't plagiarize, I could cite all of my sources the correct way, if my early 20s procrastinating ass could wrote a 70 page thesis on my own without plagiarizing, he could write a script with a second person without stealing but he prefered to do it anyway

Also the alegedly head injury, I'm not going to say that's a lie, but knowing how this guy uses any card on his favor, this might be something he pulled from his ass to justify himself

I don't know why but some of this Telos drama explanatiom sounds again like he didn't even know how to do all of this, and I get what is to start a project having little to no idea on how to start or continue, but he tried to do so much with so little without asking for any help when he clearly needed some help other than Nick, and also sounds like another excuse to justify plagiarizing

"Misinformation made its way into our past videos", no, my friend, it doesn't make its way when you investigate or check a site other than the first one you see, James loves to say he likes to investigate but still says things like this. "It wasn't malicious", (seriously, the audacity of this bitch), oh yeah, there's nothing malicious coming from the mysogynist biphobic and transphobic dude who misgenders trans people and erases a woman's bisexuality, specially when this lady told you she wasn't a straight woman as you said and this was a known fact for a few years

The ADHD thing feels like some ableist shit, like "don't blame me, I have ADHD uwu", James has offended many groups and communities through his youtube career and in his apology video he still finds the way to insult another group that suffers from many harmful stereotypes

As I said on a post addressing his first apology video, James can't create a space for everyone if he's transphobic, mysogynist, acephobe and racist, and he pretends he's convinced he was creating an "inclusive space"

Just as many people have said before, he didn't address anything of the things he's been accused of except plagiarism, he only says "I'm sorry to everyone who I have offended", no dude, you don't address mysogyny, racism or transphobia this way, James is a piece of shit and a coward.

And this idiot has put on public display some of his videos, specially the ones that show his racism (yeah, the Killing Stalking and Painter of the Night videos), I'm not clicking on them but I'm pretty sure he didn't cut his racist mysogynist rants, because they might not be plagiarized (if James is to be trusted) but they show the worst parts of him when he's trying to be original, and putting this shit videos on public shows he regrets nothing on being a piece of shit.

[imperator-titus]

Kinktober Day 6. Over the Desk

Bloodweave (Astarion/Gale), Light Domming-from-the-Top Gale, ~1k Words

Rating: Explicit

Notes from the Ao3 chapter:

I feel bad. I really bit off more than I could chew with trying to do a kinktober lol I was still recovering from covid when it started (read: was constantly tired and coughing all the time didn't help) and then my partner was away and when he came back we left for a fishing trip =_= So, yeah, I gave up on trying to keep up with the prompts BUT!!! I really like some of them and I'd like an excuse to explore more explicit stuff, characters, and pairings, so I will try to do them from time-to-time. I'm still open to doing requests, not just kinktober but in general too, but I'll be slow. Please refer to the notes of the first chapter or my Tumblr for more info on that. (Tumblr Edit: my tumblr post about requests) Anyway, have some Bloodweave smut! It incorporates a few minor themes of other prompts/kinks. Also, I'm sorry for any formatting errors I miss. Rich text keeps adding spaces around italicized words because of how <"em"> works differently from <"i">, I guess? And I don't always catch it. Hope you enjoy!

Story below cut:

With a playful little smirk on his lips, Astarion slipped into Gale’s office. 

“My office hours start in an hour,” Gale called out pointedly, not bothering to take his eyes off his work. 

Pressing his back to the heavy oak, Astarion closed the door.

Gale looked up over the rim of his reading glasses to see if his guest was actually so rude as to not apologize for intruding before leaving.

“I promise, I’ll be quick.” Astarion gave him a wicked little grin as his delicate fingers twisted the lock, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“I have never found that to be the case.” 

Gale ignored him as he sauntered over. He didn’t even look up when Astarion sat on the edge of his desk, just slid his pen holder into a more stable position.

“I need a private lesson, Professor Dekarios,” Astarion purred, leaning forward, getting so close to Gale that his breath disturbed the wispy stray hairs along his hairline.

“You’re in my light.”

Astarion knocked over the pen holder, sending its contents clattering all over the floor.

“Oops.” Gale glowered at him. Astarion gave him a coy little smirk as he got off the desk. “Let me just… clean that up.”

Unnecessarily, he got on his hands and knees. He took his time, picking up each pen and dropping it into the cup holder with a plunk.

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk plunk.

Astarion reached for another when Gale’s foot came down on his hand, gently enough to not hurt him, but firm enough that it would hurt to break free.

Gale’s dark voice washed over him, sending a shiver up his spine. “This is what you really came here for, isn’t it?”

Red eyes traveled up Gale’s long legs, culminating in the most glorious sight.

Slowly stroked by his hand, Gale’s cock proudly jutted out of the open fly of his trousers.

And from above, Gale’s dark brown eyes drilled right into Astarion. His serious blank expression shifted into a confident smirk.

“Well? What are you waiting for? It’s not going to suck itself.”

Gale lifted his foot, allowing Astarion to finally escape. Still on his knees, he lifted his head until it was in-line with his next meal. Greedily, Astarion opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Gale moved his cock away out of reach. He gave it one more pass with his ink-stained hands and, on the up-stroke, let it go so that it fell on Astarion’s awaiting tongue with a meaty thwack.

With a delighted moan, Astarion took it into his mouth, coating it with his saliva. He savored the taste and feel of skin on his tongue.

Placing his hand on the back of Astarion’s head, sparing no care for the man’s perfect curls, Gale pressed his hips forward until the head of his cock was welcomed by Astarion’s throat.

“I am short on time, my love,” he growled through his pleasure.

For a few minutes, Gale used Astarion’s mouth like a toy. Astarion huffed and groaned as always pleased his lover. When he let a glob of frothy spit drool out of his mouth and drip onto the rug, Gale tugged his face off of his cock despite whiny protestations.

“Tch. Always making messes…” Gale chided, gently tugging Astarion up by the hair. Astarion happily complied.

Still holding him by the hair, Gale kissed Astarion roughly, his beard coming away sticky with saliva.

“You want a private lesson, hm? You have a lot to learn.”

With that, Gale shoved Astarion against his desk. It was gentle, most of the impact coming from Astarion throwing himself forward.

Wearing high-heeled boots just for this occasion, Astarion’s ass fit perfectly against Gale’s hips without any kneeling or standing on tiptoe. He had to consider the poor man’s knees.

Astarion also chose his clothing carefully. Keeping in mind time and ease, his pants untied at the back and had enough stretch so that Gale could easily pull them down over his ass.

Gale teased him, bucking his cock over his waiting hole, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh on either side.

But he didn’t have a lot of time and Astarion knew to come ready, so the teasing ended early. With a hand on Astarion’s hip, Gale slid his cock in to the sound of Astarion’s muffled moan. 

The desk kept Astarion from shifting too far away, but Gale still took hold of his waist with both hands and pulled his lover back as he thrust forward. In any other place, he could go like this for hours. By denying himself just a little bit of pleasure through sheer force of will, he could ward off his own orgasm until Astarion was utterly spent.

This time, he let every crumb of stimulation wash over him. He could feel Astarion quiver underneath him with every stroke, probably ruining the papers scattered across the desk with the drool leaking out of his mouth.

Astarion was in heaven, receiving exactly what he came for. Gale knew how to treat him right, all of the things that drove him crazy. Most importantly, he trusted the man raining down blissful punishment on him to stop when asked.

Trapped in his half-removed trousers, his cock strained, begging to be set free, to be touched. The friction only made Astarion moan into his hand more. 

“Please,” he breathed out between his fingers, panting with every motion of Gale’s hips.

“Speak up,” Gale commanded calmly, despite how ready he was to come undone.

“Please,” Astarion whined a little more loudly. “Please, Gale, fill me with your cum.”

Astarion didn’t need to beg twice. Already playing with fire, Astarion’s sweet filthy words were all it took for Gale to instantly fulfill the request. Leaning forward to brace himself with one hand on the desk, Gale groaned in Astarion’s ear as he gave one last thrust. Hand firmly placed on Astarion’s hip, he locked them together. They felt every pulse of his cock as he gave Astarion wave after wave of hot cum.

Spent, Gale pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s neck. In his ear, he whispered, “Thank you, my love. I needed that.”

“Me too,” Astarion whispered back breathlessly, not wanting to lift his head from the nice cool surface of the desk.

But by now, eager bright-eyed students were waiting outside the door and Gale could not keep his adoring public waiting.

[teawiththegods]

Hi, Jessie! I have a question. Do you ever get angry with the gods because they can't interfere with people's lives directly and save you from bad things? If so, how do you deal with that? I'm trying not to get angry at mine and I know it's not their fault, but it just sucks when you go through lots of traumatizing things you know? Sorry, I probably sound like an instigator ^^; Have a nice night! :)

Hey, hon!

I absolutely get angry with them! I remember when I got Covid I went OFF on Apollo and said some really mean things to him. And unfortunately that was not the first time I had reacted like that especially to Apollo.

What’s helped me a lot is reframing how I see the gods and their role in my life. I don’t see them as fairy godmothers or guardian angels who can magically make all the bad things disappear. Instead, they are there to help me overcome, heal, and thrive. It’s more about guidance, mentoring, support, and comfort than anything else.

I think it also helps to remember that they also struggle with having their hands tied in certain situations. And this is actually historically based because if you look at the mythology (especially the Iliad) you will see the gods crying and lamenting over the fact that they can’t rescue certain mortals.

I also recommend talking to them about it and be honest. All that listed here has come from me having genuine conversations with Apollo. Not only did he give me new perspectives but he also validated my feelings. He told me that it was understandable for me to feel angry and that despite trying to not react that way in the future it’s likely I will still get mad.

Strangely, I think the gods understand the struggles of being human more so than us actual humans lol! They have far more patience for us than we do with ourselves and each other. But I guess that’s part of what makes them divine.

Anyway, I hope there’s something helpful in my rambling! 💖

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph. How are you? First of all, happy birthday again! Hope you had a fantastic day.

I hate to be that person. But can we please talk about loneliness in life and in fandoms?

I've been struggling with loneliness since I was a kid. When I firstly discovered fandom spaces, I was so excited to get new friends. When I was younger I actually formed a bond with some of them but growing up...I don't know. I feel like I'm not made for being anyone's friend. Just saying this makes me feel like the biggest of the losers but it's just how it is. I feel transparent, I feel like I have nothing to give. The few times I've tried to interact with people here I didn't even get an answer. You know, I chose not to have a love life ages ago, and platonic friends were all I was asking for. I am a bit terrified of dying alone to be honest. I got used to doing things by myself and I'm really comfortable with that. But sometimes I wish for something more, someone actually caring about me. Sigh.

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

First off, I want to validate you on your feelings; I too have been and am a very lonely person, but in my case it's more self imposed than lack of trying. My poor self esteem tends to drive people away, and in turn keeps me staying isolated in my own bubble.

That said, it's something I'm working STUPIDLY hard on in therapy, and it SUCKS but is also rewarding. My therapist tells me that my perception of reality is skewed because of past "trauma that I didn't know was trauma" which in turn lead to my poor self esteem.

One thing you need to know, Nonny, is that the loneliness you feel online has NOTHING to do with you as a person. Certainly, some choices in your life may have added to it (like with me, I chose a career over relationships), but, especially in this post-COVID world, loneliness was brought on by a long period of isolation, and social media only exacerbated it. I can tell you this from experience: people were nicer before social media. People wanted to go out and do things. People generally didn't use each other for clout and likes.

Call me a boomer or whatever, but social media and "hustle culture" has only produced a generation of selfish people. So no, it's not you imagining things... It IS generally harder nowadays to make new friends without there being some sort of cost-benefit to the other party.

THAT ALL SAID, I relate to you a lot, I really do. Therapy has helped me immensely with my overwhelming loneliness as well. I think also being an introvert who LOVES being alone on the best of days helps a lot too, but I know that my solitary lifestyle isn't for everyone.

Honestly Nonny, I don't have a good answer for you other than to be an ear for you to talk to. As I said, I generally don't have a lot of really close friends I see regularly, and that's okay by me. Join discords, comment on posts, and keep messaging people, but don't let that discourage you if you don't hear back. A lot of people need to feel a sense of trust before engaging in another conversation, and other times we're all just a bunch of shy, neurodivergent nerds who simultaneously want to talk to everyone and keep to themselves.

And if you're able to, Nonny, please do talk with a counsellor or therapist, your words worry me to my heart 💜

And for what it's worth, if I don't reply right away, it's because I actually need to be in a good headspace to answer asks like this, and not feel REALLY lazy as I have been. And you aren't alone, I promise. Many of the Lovelies and Lurkers feel the same, and we're all here just enjoying fandom.

I'm sorry I'm not much help, Nonny, and I'm sorry I kept going on a lot of tangents. I just want you to know that I am thinking about you 💜

[jangofettjamz]

Where I've been... (depression sucks)

Hello, to my followers and readers I just wanna say I'm so so so terribly sorry for not informing you of my whereabouts.

I'm gonna be blunt, I've been fucking miserable over the last year. My depression has kicked in full force and I'm so annoyed that all the progress I've made to get better seems to have gone down the drain. This has been due to multitude of reasons; college has been an absolute nightmare to deal with, my I feel like I'm failing at everything I do despite the work I produce. Working on multiple I.T projects at once is literal pain.

A close friend of mine also passed away which devastated naturally. We had the same first name and has been piller in my life, encouraging me to follow my passion and navigate through a world I had no understanding of due to being so closed off. He pushed my autistic ass to do things I would've never dreamed of, and some heart condition he wasn't even aware of killed him on his sleep. Life is so fucking unfair.

Which brings me to my third reason, I miss my mom. She passed away from COVID-19 nearly three years ago, caught it while working in a COVID-19 ward as a nurse for the NHS. She always rooted for me to do what I loved and was my biggest supporter in life and it irritates me that some virus cut her life so short. I partly blame the UK gorvernment for that. As much as I love my step mom, she can never replace her. I've tried so hard to get over her death, but I just can't...

So long story short, life has gotten really really harsh and I couldn't find the motivation to post anymore, but that doesn't mean I won't post ever again. You readers are so lovely to interact with and I hope to post more content for you to enjoy in the future to come.

I wanna thank the writers who have created some amazing stories for me to read during this REALLY shitty time in my life, you guys have talent that I could only aspire to reach someday. Here's just a few examples: @void-wolfie @lesbianpepsi @ajortga @cobaltperun @kaisacobra and many other writers.

And to the people who are only just finding out about me, welcome. I hope you stick around and read some of my content.

Feel free to message me or ask me stuff, I still wanna interact with you guys even if I'm not posting.

I dunno when I'll be back, but I will be. But right now, I've gotta go to therapy. Take care you lot. ❤️

[j2zara]

oooo what are aelwyn's feelings on the rest of the clones?? im picturing her finding j2 incredibly tragic & j3 a bit of a bimbo but idk

OK if we're doing this i think i'm just gonna have it be we're buying into a universe where Aelwyn would find out about the clones and not just think they're all jace. To be fair I do have other characters who in my heart absolutely know about the clones and can distinguish all of them or at least some of them (Zara can tell the difference, Eugenia can tell the difference, Lucilla can sometimes tell the difference if i'm feeling shippy).

I do think she would think J4 his honestly kinda girlfail if she got to know her for real for real and a part of the reason aelwyn has a crush on her is that she's this weird object of mystery but also she's like a goth femdom who once said she liked Aelwyn's haircut in a way that was like SO offhand and in passing that aelwyn had to be lay down like I think i hauve covid. She can make excuses for J4 that she can't make for jace tho. She's like oh j4 thinks wizards are stinky? Well. Pobody's nerfect

There's a llne in Ballad of Songbirds that describes Tigris as. Like. I think it was "having a soft nature that invited abuse" (yuck! Snow pov! Evil!) and i think that's a little bit how Aelwyn sees J2. But like. That's how a lot of people see j2. Like at least jace can kinda keep up with her on a back and forth barb level and not that J2 can't but usually he won't. And I do think she sees a lot of her relationship to her own parents in the picture of what is going on with J2's Deal so she's a little pricklier with him that she ought to be as deflection b/c. I'm in this picture and i don't fucking like it. They're the first, they're the ones that have to be perfect.

If she knew him she would maybe affectionately tease him but in that way that she teases literally everyone else in her life in that she has no idea what is the level of acceptable so she's like way too mean with it and hurts his feelings. His nail polish always chipped and he wears cardigans with snags in them and slides with socks no matter the occasion. What! We're playing! You know that's not right!

J3 i could see as her thinking he is. Incredibly fun and funny but also incredibly cunty in a way that she either gels with or completely bounces off. The thing is that. Aelwyn does think of J3 as a bimbo esp at first but just like. How Aelwyn knows that Adaine is incredibly talented and never underestimated her. The thing is that J3 is kinda flighty and understimulated and noncommittal but I also think he would do well if he was given any reason to rise to some sort of occasion. He does want to prove himself, but he also is living a cursed half life and has made it his mission to suck as much dick as possible so you're expecting him to use his spare time to do what, read??? In my mind J3 is probably the funniest clone and his flirtationship with Porter was actually almost... intellectual? Before they started hooking up. The problem with J3 is that he is incredibly like "i'm so sorry I just don't get this math problem i'm so stupid can you help me? wow you're sooooo smart maybe you could tutor me in a private lesson" coded while privately seething that like half of the problems are wrong. You know him. He's Cool Girl.

Anyway. I got off track. Aelwyn. I do think she finds him amusing but ultimately kinda tiresome. But he could be kinda fun. He's more tiresome than jace in large doses but she might like him more than jaceprime anyway. But at least he can keep up with her unlike poor J2 who is very "if we're just nice to the weird mean girl who is mean to us then maybe she will be nice to us". And initially she's like oh this guy is incredibly stupid he is not a threat but is like hm. I will not make that mistake again. I also think she sees a bit of Adaine's deal wit him as the one that is neglected one to her golden child but you didn't hear it from me. Which means she ALSO would probably mock him for essentially being the brutish "team muscle" even tho he's also a spindly little sorcerer.

He also thinks her story about hitting on jawbone is extremely funny but he will deny thus it’s bc he finds it relatable. The one where he’s like “we all hurt from time to time” and she says “I’m moving”

[freeuselandonorris]

As you mentioned fic prompts: I'm not sure this is unhinged enough (although it's André so there's always that possibility) but if you were up for it I'd love to read a James/André shibari fic. Or alternately just them fucking about in Tokyo in general and having a filthy old time.

Also I hope your week improves!

wahh i'm sorry this took me so long! life, and then covid brain fog, got in the way.

anyway, i hope you like this! i had fun revisiting the slutty old tokyo days 🥲

thanks for the prompt and for all the gdocs hype as always! 😘

André puts his feet up on James’s coffee table, dislodging a stack of arty-looking books with his heel. They’ve been drinking steadily for a few hours now; he’s not drunk, just buzzed. 

“Careful,” James says mildly. He’s got the glazed, happy look he gets after a few beers. He’d won at Suzuka two days ago and has been celebrating, in one fashion or another, since. 

André straightens the stack up enough to stop it from toppling completely, then runs his fingers down the spines. James is into all these coffee table books, full of artistic black-and-white nudes and severe-looking women in sculptural clothes. Not really André’s thing, but he has to admit they lend an air of class to James’s otherwise extremely bland Tokyo apartment. The decoration in his own extends about as far as a framed Senna poster in the hallway and his helmet swap collection lined up across the top of the bookcase in the sitting room.

One of the books, halfway down the pile, catches his eye—yellow text on a red background, the title reads ‘ARAKI by ARAKI’. André slips the book out from the pile. The front cover shows a Japanese man holding a banana, kinda punk-looking. Not James’s usual thing at all. 

Curious, André flips it open. At first glance, he can see why James likes it. It’s the Tokyo they know: dive bars and groups of salarymen with loosened ties sitting around their half-discarded otsumami, lines of washing strung between alleyways. 

“This is cool,” he says, flicking through the pages. James, who had been fiddling with the aux cord plugged into his iPhone, trying to get it to connect to the speaker without much luck, looks up.

“Oh, yeah.” He takes a closer look at the page André’s come to a stop on, showing a group of women sitting around a table, deep in conversation, and grins. “You’re not at the good stuff yet, though.”

André raises his eyebrows and takes a swig of beer, flipping through the pages faster. Quickly, it becomes apparent that James was right, when he comes across a section dedicated almost entirely to—well, it’s porn, really. Naked girls, girls touching themselves, sucking cock, spreading their legs for the camera.

“You dirty man,” André says, amused. He can feel his cheeks burning up. “And I thought you were so classy, with your art books.”

James smirks and points the neck of his bottle at the open book. “Tell me that’s not art.”

André looks at the book. It’s a double-page spread, full colour, of a Japanese girl tied in ropes, one white-socked foot barely brushing the tatami mat and the other leg hoisted high. Her eyes are closed, lips parted in pleasure. Her top half is fully clothed in a kimono and obi, but from the waist down the ropes have totally exposed her.

He swallows. It is, undeniably, art. He doesn’t feel like saying that to James though. “Too much bush for my taste,” he jokes instead, pointing at the girl’s extremely well-covered crotch. James snickers and André relaxes slightly. 

Something compels him to keep flicking through, even though it would be far more sensible to put the stupid book back and keep drinking and maybe see if James wants to watch a movie. 

There are a lot more photos of women tied up. The rope is artistically tied in flattering shapes around their bodies, and most of them are suspended from the ceiling or thick posts. André takes a swig of his beer, trying to distract himself from the blush he can feel across his cheeks.

“Took a course on that once,” James says conversationally, having finally got the speaker connected and, unfortunately, now able to pay full attention to André’s journey of discovery.

“What?” André says, momentarily confused.

“Shibari,” says James, and then, at André’s blank look: “The ropes.”

“What?” André repeats stupidly, and mentally shakes himself. He sounds like an idiot.

James looks supremely unfazed. “Yeah, not long after I first got here. I was seeing a girl who was into it, so for her birthday I got us both tickets to a ‘couple’s workshop’.” He leers a bit as he says it, and André’s traitorous cock twitches. 

“Huh,” André says, and swallows. “You should teach me.”

He holds his breath after he says it, expecting James to burst into laughter or recoil in disgust, but James just shrugs and says, “Yeah, alright. I’ve still got the ropes in my room somewhere, hang on.”

He’s up and out of the room before André can backtrack or say he didn’t mean right now or any of the other excuses that leap to the tip of his tongue. André finishes his beer and tries to quell the rising panic in his chest—and the way he can feel his cock fattening up in his pants. 

There’s some crashing about and the sound of drawers and cupboard doors being opened and closed, and André half-prays James can’t find the ropes after all. When James reappears a few minutes later triumphantly waving a small bundle, André tells himself the flip in his stomach isn’t relief. 

“Alright,” James says, eyeing him critically. He’s acting like this is all completely normal, which is making everything ten times worse. “Get your jacket and shoes off and sit on the floor, it’s probably easier with a bit of room.”

For some reason, André complies immediately. He feels ridiculous, sitting there in his socked feet next to the coffee table, watching James untangle a long length of rope from the pile and fold it in half.

“Right,” James comes round to kneel in front of him. “Bear with me, I’ve not done this for a bit. Hold your hands out like this.” He demonstrates, holding his hands out in front of him with the wrists pressed together. André obeys, and James wraps the rope around them twice and then wraps the short end between his wrists and around, knotting the ends. It happens in about five seconds, and André realises he’s been effectively handcuffed. 

“That was fast,” he says thickly. James is still holding the long end of the ropes, and gives it a little tug, grinning.

“Double column tie,” he says, pulling again so André tips forward and has to use his core muscles to steady himself. “Good for tying your girl’s wrists to the headboard.”

“Great,” André says, like he’s going to be able to remember and recreate any of this, like all the blood in his body isn’t rushing southwards every time James tugs on the fucking rope. 

James gives him a long glance, something unreadable in his expression that makes André look away nervously. He undoes the wrist tie and André lets his arms drop, wondering if that’s the end of the demonstration. Apparently not, though, because James shuffles on his knees to sit behind André.

“You can take your T-shirt off for this,” he says offhandedly. “If you want. It looks better that way.”

André hesitates, then pulls his shirt over his head. It would be weirder not to. If he insisted on staying fully clothed, he’d just be drawing attention to the potential awkwardness of the situation, and then James might stop entirely. 

James runs the flat of his hand across André’s shoulder blades. “Put your hands behind your back,” he says. Is it André’s imagination, or does his voice sound lower than usual, a throaty rasp to it? “Bent at the elbows. That’s it.” 

He takes André’s arms and adjusts their position to his liking, pulling his shoulders back and lining his wrists up over each other. André’s used to being manhandled—by physios, by engineers strapping him into a car—but it’s never felt like this before, an electric shock of sensation as James tugs him into place. Something aches in his chest, a desire he can’t put into words. It makes him drop his head forward, close his eyes. 

James loops the rope around his wrists, hand brushing against the small of his back as he tucks the end through and pulls it tight. There’s a bit of fumbling that André guesses is him knotting the rope, and then suddenly James is pressed up against his back, bringing the long free end around his chest. 

Before his brain can tell him not to, André leans back against James. James breathes out a chuckle against the back of his neck. His nipples are stiff beneath his T-shirt, pressed against André’s back. 

Just for a moment, James nuzzles at the curve of his neck, lips brushing over his skin. It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s close. André lets out a breath. His fingertips are already tingling, blood flow restricted by the rope. Maybe that’s why he feels lightheaded. 

“Careful,” James murmurs as he peels himself away and André’s balance falters. He presses a hand against André’s back for a second, steadying him. The skin he’d touched feels cold when he takes his hand away to concentrate on the ropes again. 

He wraps the rope around itself and pulls, the loop around André’s chest suddenly cinching tight. André gasps. 

Swiftly, James kneels up behind him, arms coming around André’s chest once again with the rope, this time tucking it up tight beneath the swell of his pecs. He pulls, hard, and André groans at the pressure, head falling back against James’ shoulder. 

“Good?” James murmurs, doing something complicated with the ropes at the back that suddenly makes everything feel stable even when he takes his hands away. He starts pushing the free end through the tiny gap in André’s armpit where his arms are squeezed against his sides, cinching the rope into a loop around his upper arm and truly pinning him in place.

“Think so,” André says belatedly, licking his dry lips. He feels slightly drunk with it, and it’s not because of the beers he’d had earlier. 

“Certainly seems like you’re enjoying it,” James says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and skims his fingertips over André’s waistband, just above his erection.

“Yeah, and you,” André says, too far gone now to care about escalating things, rocking his ass back to where he can feel James’ cock swelling against the seam of his jeans. 

James does laugh then, a breathless inhale.

They’ve forgotten to talk about their girlfriends, forgotten to keep up the charade that this is purely instructional. André gives it one last attempt, thinking about some cute girl, the one he’d been for drinks with a few weeks ago, maybe–how she’d look tied up like this. 

It’s no use. He doesn’t want to think about doing this to someone else. He wants to concentrate on James, right here, doing it to him.

As the thought occurs to him, James moves away, and André realises he’s completely bound.

He wriggles his shoulders experimentally, tries to squirm his hands out of their bonds. He can barely even open his elbows wide enough to move his wrists.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Easier than it looks, right,” James says, very close behind him again. His breath tickles the curve of André’s neck. He tilts his head to the side. To his relief, James takes the bait, bends to scrape his teeth over the tendons and then lick the reddened skin.

James’ right hand sneaks around his waist, hesitating at the button of his jeans. 

“Can I–” James starts, words trailing off uncertainly.

André instinctively tries to grab James’ hand and press it where he wants it, realises he can’t. He curses under his breath and turns his head to the side, pressing his forehead to James’ cheek.

“Yeah,” André manages to grit out, and James lets out a breath. He pushes a hand into André’s jeans. André’s so hard already, the tip wet where it’s been smearing against the inside of his boxers. He wonders whether James will say anything, whether he thinks it’s weird that André is so desperate already. But James just groans against his neck, very quietly, and presses himself against André’s back.

It’s—there’s so much sensation, the tight constriction of the ropes around his upper body mixed with the sweet pressure of James’ hand moving quick and sure over his cock, the warm weight of him from behind. André twists his torso just to feel the way the ropes dig into the meat of his muscles. 

“Yeah,” James breathes against his shoulder, “that’s it,” and then he’s kissing André’s neck again, properly now: mouth hungry and wet with just a scrape of teeth over André’s feverish skin. His hips are moving on their own now, fucking into the tight seal of James’ fist, threatening to destabilise them both where they’re kneeling. 

He shouldn’t look. Looking will make it real, and if it’s real then that means he’s going to have to deal with the aftermath at some point.

Fuck. He can’t not look.

He opens his eyes and stares down the line of his own body, at the way the ropes have bunched his pecs up, his stiff nipples, and finally James’ slender fingers wrapped around his dripping cock. 

He can’t help moaning at the sight. Can’t help it when his stomach clenches and his balls tighten. Can’t help it when he spills all over James’ eager fingers. 

James doesn’t even wait for him to stop shuddering through the aftershocks, just wraps his other arm around André’s waist—another point of restraint—and grinds himself against André’s arse. His bound hands are crushed between them, the covered head of James’ cock bumping up against the heels of his hands. 

Some part of André, the part he usually keeps buried, aches to pull free of his bindings and cover James with his hand, return the favour properly. But he doesn’t know if those are the rules of the game and anyway it’s too late. James’ breath goes short and choppy, his arm tightening around André’s stomach. He pushes his face into the curve of André’s neck. His hips are the only bit of him still moving, twitching spasmodically against André’s ass as he comes into his underwear.

André closes his eyes again, listens to the sound of their mingling harsh breaths. Eventually he has to squirm, reluctant to disturb the fragile peace but suddenly aware that his shoulders are aching where they’re pulled back. 

The motion seems to wake James up from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “You okay?” he says, voice rough, and then his hands are busy in the small of André’s back, undoing the knots he’d put there. 

André nods as James works to free his arms, the ropes falling loose around his chest. 

It’s a lot quicker for James to free him from his bindings than it was to get him into them. His shoulders relax, the muscles protesting at the sudden change in angle.

“Was that–” James starts, and then falls silent. The knots around André’s wrists loosen. His arms drop to his sides, no longer held. 

André takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Good demonstration, huh.”

James swallows audibly behind him. His fingertips brush down André’s spine. 

“There’s more I could show you,” he says. The hesitance in his voice is clear. “If you wanted.”

André closes his eyes, counts to three, and gathers his nerve. He turns to face James. 

“Yeah,” he says, and the lurch in his chest when he sees James’ face relax into a smile is as strong as any orgasm. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[that-was-anticlimactic]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by my beloved @zukkaoru & @lesmiserablol <333

tagging (with no pressure): @beachytablecloth, @fabro-de-omres, & @milf-harrington (so sorry if you've already been tagged!)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

69 which... is honestly more than i was expecting? i think it helps that my goal is to post a fic once a month mostly bc that's my motivation to keep writing even when i'm busy/stressed!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

396,183 - omg i am SO CLOSE to 400k ahhhhhhhhh

3. what fandoms do you write for?

uhhhhhhh many??? right now, it's a lot of bsd/bnha, but it's always a plethora of things, haha! my first was prolly ninjago tbh

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

hey, little songbird, give me a song

you never quite say (but i hear)

lost in love and lost in feelings

Deeper Than Words

for a new world to begin, the old one must fall

okay the #1 for that is honestly so real that is one of my absolute favorite things i've written EVER lol, same with #2! the rest are... idk #4 is AWFUL - like one of my first atla fics and also my first time writing a ts fic (i have gotten SO MUCH BETTER AT IT NOW)

*note: i started this in like nov or early dec, and #5 changed! it was the zukka goose fic but now it's actually one of my favorites iugytfyhujiko

5. do you respond to comments

i used to be good at it. then i got stressed bc of school. and then i was suddenly like "uhhhh idk How to respond???" i think the thing that got me was i didn't know how to reply to the distressed comments on my sokka falling fic so i just. accidentally stopped.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh here in the garden (let's play a game) 100% rip to sokka sorry babes ilysm hate to do it to ya, love the angst tho <333 rip to everyone who missed the major character death tag lol. well... that or a spring and summer song, too brief rip to geto in the +1 oops... oh shoot... it could also be take me where my soul can run... hm...

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this was hard, but imma go with i was a child and she was a child bc it's based on one of my favorite childhood memories! rip to zuko and his ice cream tho :/ but azula is VIBING the whole time oiuygfcgyhuij

8. do you get hate on fics?

not really? i did once have someone try to correct me and say that i wrote sokka with ocd instead of tourette's but it was in the bookmarks and it made me laugh lol. i also got this comment on my kubokai kaidou with ts fic: ".. the self projection is heavy in this one ... -_-" so idk if that counts lol

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

nope :)

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

uhhhh not really? i wrote ninjago equestria girls crossover oneshot in middle school but i never finished it and it SUCKED lol

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of?

12. what's the longest you've spent working on a fic? and the shortest?

uhhh i wrote a 7,600 word fic in three hours while i had covid? that's prolly the shortest? i count that as shorter than anything i may have finished faster bc i had covid lol but longest? ummmm over a year? multiple years? idkkkkkk the jay with ts fic i posted was something i wrote in 2019 and i edited it (a lot) and posted it in 2022 so??? that maybe?

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

uhhh i did with friends in middle/high school, but those never left the docs! also grace and i have. very many much so aus lol

14. what's your all-time favorite ship? from all fandoms?

RARIJACK!!! it was one of my first hardcore ships, and also was my introduction to queer ships!!! renga is a close second, but rarijack just is really important and special to me for sentimental reasons that put it above renga and others! i am also on a seroroki kick right now. it's not my all-time favorite, but the brain rot seems never ending right now lol

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

GOD SO MANY i have a folder in gdocs just for ninjago fics and there are folders within the folder for different types of wips i'll never finish - i have That many: "no substance", "baby girls", "drafts"... etc...

16. what are your writing strengths?

uhhhhhhhhhh ngl i'm in a place right now where i feel like the answer is Nothing (writer's block has been Bad recently), but i think something i'm good at in a very specific way is making readers feel the discomfort of characters? like idk i've been told that the way i write ts and tics (specifically tic attacks) makes the readers feel uncomfortable in like a "wow i didn't know it felt this way" kind of way??? i like to think i'm good at characterization??? idkkkk

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

ummm setting and scenery & connecting parts of a story, especially if they're parts that i'm stuck on/transitions are prolly my biggest ones???

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i mean go for it as long as it's respectful and like... you tried making sure it's accurate?

19. first fandom you wrote for?

uhh rainbow fairy/a-z mysteries... but that was like very briefly on paper. first time like... for Realsies was ninjago

20. favorite fic you've written?

oh 100% hey, little songbird, give me a song. it's just really special to me and writing it helped me cope with a new tic i had. but one that i wrote more recently is fantasies i'm not sure that i'm worthy of which is a ritsu-centric fic and is prolly tied as my favorite fic i wrote in 2023. the other one would be sun comes streaming through the window (& i can't sleep anymore) which is my 21k word kenji-centric fic lol but that one is like... i'm more proud of it than anything, which is what puts it up there.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hiya! I currently have covid and am just feeling blue--do you have any super fun and super hot book recs? I'm trying to cheer myself up lol

Oh no, I'm sorry! COVID sucks. I didn't get it until right after Thanksgiving last year (and haven't gotten it again since) but it fucked me up quiiiiite a bit. I hope you feel better soon.

And YES! I do have some hot books for funsies.

If you have a tolerance for angst at this time (I can never tell if people mean fun as in "funny" or "anything entertaining", because my brain is weird and I tend to just be able to take a max dose of angst 95% of the time), I will always say some of the hottest books I've ever read with The Most Fun are Sierra Simone's. New Camelot is a great starting place IF you are down for some angst (HEA guaranteed, of course).

If you're NOT in an angsty mood, why not get a head start on the holiday season with her Christmas Notch series, co-authored by Julie Murphy? This series focuses on a small town where a Hallmark-type company films Christmas movies. Shit gets ROCKED, however, when the former child star actress of the movie (in the first book—these read best chronologically though they're technically standalones) has to drop out. The man heading the production studio making the movie ALSO has a porn production studio.... so... why not sub in a porn star who wants go mainstream? Starring opposite her childhood crush/a former boybander who's a big fan of her Only Fans page?

They're super funny, they're super delightful, they're HOT and the final book is out on 9/24! Does it include the hero getting his ass fingered? Who's to say?

(I am to say. He does. It's great. More of that, authors.)

SPEEEEAKING of porn stars, you could also try Rosie Danan's The Roommate, which is about a girl whose potential roommate drops out right before she's set to move in. Her new roommate... may happen to be a famous porn star. There is a truly incredible scene where she's like "I need an orgasm" and he's like "omg buddy I got you" and eats her out through her panties. Because that keeps it... platonic...

And then, also along the lines of modern classic superhot romcoms featuring sex workers, if you haven't read Helen Hoang's The Kiss Quotient... You gotta. A woman on the spectrum hires a male escort to teach her how to date (I mean, also to fuck) essentially, because she's been told she's frigid in bed in the past and thinks something is wrong with her. Rightfully, he's like "There is nothing wrong with you, also here's an orgasm". I'd also recommend the second book in the series, The Bride Test. The Heart Principle... is a heavy book that is actually too angsty for ME. Which is saying something. Not bad. Wouldn't call it fun.

What about Tracey Livesay's American Royalty? The one about the uptight British prince who has to organize a charity concert and hires a female rapper a la Megan Thee Stallion and then they fall in love? This one has a direct sequel, so you can get extra fun. (First book does NOT end on a cliffhanger, second just continues the journey.)

Minx by Sophie Lark is a fun one. In this one, the hero is a billionaire who hires the heroine, a high end escort, to help him with specific needs... Pet play, it's pet play. He has her dress up in a cat suit (to be clear: not like a furry cat suit... she's in a sexy cat suit and wearing cat ears and a collar that says "Minx"... she drinks milk out of a bowl and then they fuck nasty... INCLUDING. when she's ON HER PERIOD. be still my heart, more pls) and she ends up getting into his heart. Also, because it must be noted when we get it in m/f romance: his ass. She gets into that as well.

If you're open to something SUPER wacky lol, Kathryn Moon's A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor is a paranormal historical erotic romance in which the heroine essentially works in a brothel for monsters...? And she falls in love with like, five or six different monsters. The swords don't cross a TON, but they do cross, at it were. She bangs like. A Jekyll and Hyde guy; and a gollem type guy; an invisible guy; a vampire, a sphinx; and there's definitely more lol

How to Marry a Marble Marquis by C.M. Nascosta. Another paranormal historical type book. The heroine is looking for a husband, and receives assistance from a gargoyle rake. Also she receives dick from a gargoyle rake. She does in fact fuck the gargoyle rake while he's sleeping. And is a stone. He's fine with it.

If you're open to mafia romance, Mila Finelli (otherwise known as Joanna Shupe) writes such fun shit with her Kings of Italy series. Best read in order (the first two books are directly connected, the next three technically stand alone but come on now) they are SUUUUPER hot and SUUUUUUUUUPER over the top and so good. TWs for a lot of murder obviously, most of the super violent shit is "offscreen". The heroine of the first book is 18 and the hero (who initially is arranging for her to marry his son) is 38. So there's that. But it's very much NOT your standard issue "sweet virgin" mafia romance.

Sara Cate's first four Salacious Player's Club books are super hot and good! I would especially recommend Give Me More (MMF, friends to lovers) and Mercy (femdom, older heroine/bratty hero). Also Mercy has pegging! I'm on a roll, truly.

Act Your Age by Eve Dangerfield, of course. The one where the heroine blows her boss by accident (it was dark, they were both confused, mistakes were made) AAAAND calls him daddy during. Which he loves. So they begin a no-strings relationship which involves, among other things, stepfather/stepdaughter roleplay. It gets emotionally out of hand. Soooo good and soooooo hot tho I will admit I am soooooooo the target audience.

If you want short and sweet, Angelina M. Lopez just released Give it To Me! which is an anthology of her short stories, most of which are on the hotter side (a couple are closed door, but one of the few that doesn't include sex has a sequel story in the collection which DOES and it's fab). You get everything from a widow asking her dead husband's best friend (who's become her best friend in the ensuing years) to help her get back in the saddle (by fucking her) to surfboard sex to a magical orgy gangbang situation. Very fun.

If you've never read Tessa Dare... lol... now's the time. A Week to Be Wicked and When a Scot Ties the Knot might be good for this moment! I also love Any Duchess Will Do, but that has a gut punch (in a sad way) moment.

Grace Callaway's historicals are very fun and very hot and silly and comedic, buuuut I will say the backstories can get pretty dark in a lot of them. If you are open, I'd say that you might want to try her Game of Dukes series or the Lady Charlotte's Society of Angels (it's Charlie's Angels but historical romance) books.

A lot of S.M. LaViolette books can be on the darker side, but her Bellamy's series is definitely on the lighter end for her. They're VERY hot if you're in a historical mood, and though there are some tragic backstories, I think it's a bit more doable than her other stuff. And you get things like "Phoebe's mom tells her she should just knock herself out on her wedding night because her future husband is like 7 feet tall and clearly hung" and "Hyacinth is pretending to be a guy and Sylvester knows she's a girl now so he's having a good time baiting her into revealing she's a girl by saying shit like 'LET'S JACK OFF TOGETHER, OL' BOY' while watching a peep show with her".

TJ Alexander's Triple Sec is sooo fun and hot if you're open to a queer book. The main POV heroine is a bartender who meets a bubbly lawyer... but the lawyer is married... But hey, they're poly! And now our main heroine is dating the lawyer while developing feelings for her frosty artist spouse... It's F/F/NB.

Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre, of course. A woman mouths off to the billionaire CEO of her company. He's super into it and offers to pay her to be his domme. Yay!

[toxycodone]

there's a reason trey and matt are like...not promoting it with their names on it lol

there's repetitive fighting gameplay where the enemies say the same 2 lines over and over, you can't save mid game (meaning if you die or quit, you FUKCING RESTART COMPELTELY), the graphics and audio mixing are actual dogshit, and im pretty sure its gonna be one of those games that only makes new content via dlcs.

i bought the game and the first 3 dlcs because, much like you, i had such high hopes only to get. well. That. LMFAO

and the dlcs are like. clothes. i haven't really checked the new ones but one was a gnome dlc and. yeah.

(im not paying for any more dlcs and REALLY i need to play it to get my moneys worth but its sooooooo...........)

- 🏝️ (I FORGOT MY INDICATOR LAST TIME I'M SORRY :((( EXPLODES)

NOOOO THAT FUCKING SUCKS HARDCORE!!!! Dude the last game gave me such HIGH expectations. It’s legimayelt mind blowinf how good of a game fractured but whole is. i have all of thr DLCS and everything (THE FUCKING CASA BONITA DLC WAS SO FUCKINF FUN and im playing thru the camp dlc rn and the new final girl category is beyonf based. i love it.)

i cpuld write a novel abour fractured but whole. like. being the new kid and befriending everyone is SO much fun (im a new kid x mysterion supremacist now. like. i love tjem so much. you have no idea.)

dude also like here’s my new kid. Is it surprising they’re a furry.

BUT HAVE AS MUCH FUN AS U CAN W SNOW DAY. Waaah I’m so sorry about the let down. Ughshehshshhd im. Angry. The South Park games have always been so good

I need to finish the stick of truth, I was too crazy and jumped right into FBW lol.

But yes unfortunately I am a South Park enjoyer. Post Covid Kyle PLEASE HIT MH LINE.

[katy-kt-katie]

Thanks for the tag @agent-troi ❤️

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

81

2. What’s your total Ao3 words count?

367,309

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Rose Petal and A Fish Tank, Couples Retreat, What Happens on Ka'ula, The Toy, Not a Widely Understood Definition

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to always respond. I truly enjoy engaging with readers; I'm also an avid commenter on fics I read.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My fics don't end angsty. They end with smut, lol. Maybe "Mulder on the witness stand" it ends more ambiguously.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely "The Wedding Party". I had Covid last year and wrote "Rose Petal and a Fish Tank" and "The Wedding Party" at the same time. When I felt angsty I wrote one, when I felt fluffy---the other.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Honestly- rarely. But I see it out there and it makes me sad. My fics are designed to be pleasing and not controversial---but I read lots of controversial fics and I can not accept how mean readers can be!

9. Do you write smut?

Always. I am a pervert. Sorry, but it's true.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, but I've written one RPF. And I think of writing more all the time. David and Gillian are quite a tease, right????

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but I've seen it and called it out! It's wild! I was blown away reading the same fic that I'd already read!!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't know? I have a lot of foreign language readers and thank God for Google Translate, I can comment back with them!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I wrote Mastermind with @tofuttim and have written several "tag" fics with my friends- See here....

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

MSR rocked my world. Never have I seen two people who so clearly COULD NOT end up with anyone else. I love them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't do WIP. Not saying that in a judgmental way, I just don't start and stop works. At least not yet.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Apparently (according to readers) I write smut well. And I have an eye for trope nonsense.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I suck at writing! I live and die by Grammarly. I'm a math/science girl who just has ideas and am not really an expert on language at all!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Sure. Thanks Google Translate!!!!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

MSR / X Files. It was a cute idea, horribly written. Tons of help from Crystal and Kisha!

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I like the spicier fics. So (See tags above) "What Happens in Ka'ula" and "The Toy". As far as less read works- "The Stranger Shaman"---I'm really proud of it, and it didn't get much attention because I dropped it in one day. "The Comments of F.M. Luder's Fan Fiction" is very meta. "Fused" is hot. (I know it's weird to say that about my own fics, but I have no problem reading them after a month or so, and feeling like I"m an outsider. I have a horrible memory, always have!)

***ANYONE WHO WANTS TO PLAY, JUMP IN!