#i feel like this reply is not very coherent but i agree with most of what you say anon!

[velvetvexations]

Ive seen at least two responses to your antigonism post saying that the word would be divisive because “transfems who are normal about transmascs are the norm” and I really truly do believe that’s probably the case but at the same time it personally feels a little dismissive?? I cant speak for all trans people obviously but I know A LOT of trans people, basically everyone in my life is trans- my blood sibling, all of my friends, my 2 girlfriends (im poly) I am regularly in contact with other trans people/trans communities in several cities across my state, and for me it really does not feel like its a “small vocal minority” of transfems who hold anti transmasculine and exorsexist beliefs.

I want to make it clear I absolutely love the transfems in my community, they are my dearest friends, and I deeply treasure our relationships; but absolutely every one of them that I have gotten close to has ended up saying something to me that made me feel really weird. They either mention something about how transmascs have it easier/transfems have it the worst, or they feel the need to gatekeep things from other trans people& borderline accuse other trans people/intersex people of copying transfems, or they joke and complain about “theyfabs” or justify the use of the term (both of my gfs did this- mind you I was afab and exclusively use they/them pronouns), or they invalidate feminine transmasc and afab enby people (again something both of my gfs did despite me being genderfluid and sometimes presenting feminine).

And thats just some of the things Ive experienced IRL in my own home and within my own communities! If I were to start listing my experiences online Id be here all night!! I honestly want to go on about the shit I see online but I dont have the energy for it- but when I see exorsexist or anti trans masculinity coming from transfems (and self proclaimed tmes) online, the comments/notes/whatever is always filled with sometimes hundreds of other trans people agreeing and venting their own frustrations about “tmes” and it just. Again doesnt FEEL like its a minority. You are literally one of the only TWO transfems I know who makes content actively CONSISTENTLY standing up for transmascs and pushing back against anti trans masculinity. Its not that I think its transfems job to dismantle anti trans masculinity but the ratio of transfems who complain about tmes vs ones who actively push back against that rhetoric feels so disproportionate to how often I see transmasc and afab enbies pushback against trans misogyny and the exclusion of transfems in queer spaces.

This turned into a very long winded vent and Im kinda struggling to conclude my point but i guess I wish it felt like more people cared to pushback against TIRFism. It just feels kinda dismissive to hear people say that transmascs who are hesitant to interact w trans communities just need to touch grass or whatever when in my personal experience it feels like I cannot escape anti trasmasculinity or exorsexism in every trans space I am apart of. Kinda blanking on how to end this ask i hope any of this is coherent.

I wanna emphasize again that the person I responded to specifically was really cool and my emotions in this post are not directed at them

Recently someone said it was "easy to forget most trans women are normal about trans men," and I was scolded because me not thinking that was horribly transmisogynistic was apparently a sign I'd lowered my standards as a trans woman because I'm too discourse poisoned, so now I'm even more self-conscious that people will start to see me that way no matter how much I try to insist over and over that TRFs are a vocal minority.

Meanwhile I continue to get asks calling me a pickme and comparing me to Blair White. I continue to have ten people respond to my every reply going "don't listen to Velvet she's crazy and hates trans women!!!!!".

So yeah. It is, actually, easy to forget that sometimes.

Especially since I'm stuck in a tiny southern town without even the option to make use of what meager community exists in the area because there's no one to drive me several hours to the state capital for their annual Pride stuff. I can't just go outside and be gal pals with all the vast numberless hordes of Normal trans women. I would be shocked beyond fucking belief if I saw two gay cis men in my fucking zip code. With my personal situation I can't even be social with cishet people anyway, let alone other queers, let alone all the trans women others perceive as Normal because they've knowingly been in the physical presence of another trans person a single time in their life and have the option of making that happen when they want it to.

Thank you for the support, anon.

[edenprime]

if u haven't read it a lot of liara's more action-oriented shift was told in the comics. the shadow broker DLC didn't quite capture how much effort she went thru to secure shep's body and how big feron's role. i personally welcome the change and while i like archeologist liara i think her ME1 characterization is so superficial. she's mostly just a fan girl. the shift is abrupt but it's nice that in ME2 she has her own thing going on outside shepard cos i believe the writers wrote her as the canon love interest in mind so her character often suffers from the fangirl disease. i think a lot of people in the fandom dislike how the game shove her to us so much. which is funny since another famous shepard ship is garrus, who's equally as pushed as liara and is just as much of a shep fan. it's just that he's a guy so he doesn't suffer sexist hate.

I haven't read/seen anything outside the games, no! I've been thinking of getting into that, but first I'd like to sort out all of my feelings wrt the main event - the games. I feel like if I got into the "peripheric" media, it could maybe influence how I view the games and i want to analyze those by themselves (i'm thinking i'll finish this playthrough + another one in which i might or might not play as mshep) and then see about everything else. Thank you for the rec, though! I knew there was extra stuff about tali and garrus but this is the first i'm hearing about liara <3

And well... let's be real, most of the squad is part of the Shepard fan club, even those that can't be romanced, like Grunt and Wrex. The fact that Shepard gets a breeding request in Tuchanka after completing grunt's loyalty mission is like the most Mary Sue thing ever (and I don't necessarily mean this in a bad way). The asari, sex symbols of the galaxy, are throwing themselves at them left and right (Liara, Shiala, arguably Sha'ira, Morinth...). Shepard is the main character, everyone wants a piece of them. It's one of the entertaining parts of the games (or at least I have a lot of fun with it, if maybe a little bit ironically).

I suppose people might single out Liara because she's the one whose actions are the most extreme, and thus it crosses the line from "cute" to "creepy", but she's not the only one. Legion literally wears the armor off their dead body. As I said in my post, maybe her actions and/or attitude aren't 100% justifiable, but they are understandable.

I'm not sure about the game pushing Garrus as a love interest (I think the game itself is skeptical of the player making this choice, like when Shepard says she "can't believe she finds comfort in the arms of a turian" or something like that), but I do think he's definitely meant to be one of the characters that's most influenced by Shepard, regardless of gender.

Personally, I think him being so popular a choice (at least on Tumblr, which has a mostly female userbase compared to other social media) is due to him being a man, yes, but not necessarily because of sexism (or not always), but because het ships are farrrr more popular than femslash. Also, it's very clear how much he respects Shepard in basically every aspect, and it's incredibly fucking rare to see a het relationship in such equal ground, especially with a """bad guy""" lmao. (though ME in general does quite good in that regard I think, the romances in general are not toxic™️ or unequal) (mostly... ignoring that Shepard is basically everyone's boss... lol).

I completely agree that there's a double standard in how female characters are expected to behave vs male ones, and from what i've seen Liara is 100% a victim of this (I had the very bad idea of reading some threads on reddit...yikes). I don't know the fandom enough to know how it compares in relation to Garrus in particular, though, or if there's a correlation between Shakarian fans and Liara haters.

[ot3]

hey, i only just recently finished bridge to turnabout (the final case of the aa trilogy) and wanted to go back and see your thoughts on godot since personally i have very mixed feelings on him altogether. you can just reply with a link to a post where youve already explained how you feel in more detail (i remember seeing a post where you have but tumblr search function is ass so i cant find the one i was thinking about) or use this as an opportunity to bitch about him if youd like. but i generally think that you have a knack for putting opinions i already have into words perfectly and wanted to revisit ones on him specifically with a new set of eyes now that i finally understand the context behind everything. peace and love ✌🏽

ohhhhh man godot. a lot to unpack there. I feel like for the most part whatever thoughts i've posted about godot have been kind of piecemeal so ill try and put it into something more coherent and comprehensive here. well first of all congrats on finishing the trilogy i hope you enjoyed it!!! bridge to the turnabout is SUCH an excellent case on almost every level but. the writing centered around godot really spoils it and stops it from living up to it's full potential....

i was warned i wasnt going to like godot going in so i was really surprised that up until bttt, i actually did end up liking him! i thought he was hysterical! and i still do. but i really can't Like him because of what the writing centered around him does to the integrity of aa3's arc. I don't like what it does to mia's place in the narrative and I think it undercuts the emotional realism that makes ace attorney's slapstick ass nonsense murders manage to land right. i guess ill address each one of those points on their own?

I don't like what godot's writing does to mia's place in the narrative!

Mia's death is something that's completely within her own agency; it is her own phone call with her own sister, talking about evidence for the case she herself has spent years building, that gets her killed. None of this has anything to do with phoenix. She is no strings attached presented as his mentor figure and I think this dynamic is what prevents Mia's death from feeling like fridging despite it technically being something that has to happen to allow phoenix to take center stage in the upcoming events of the game.

then godot comes in and the narrative he imposes on her death feels like it retroactively turns it into Fridging! I mean 'is this character death the Fridging Trope or the Death of the Mentor Trope' is kind of milquetoast tvropes brained level media critique here but im really using these concepts as a shorthand for the level of agency a female character is allowed to have in her own death, and the degree to which that death is used as a tool for men's emotional development. but anyway the point being that the fact that godot views mia death as phoenix's responsibility is an inherently misogynistic bit of character writing. their power dynamic is such that mia was the one responsible for phoenix's wellbeing if anything, as his boss, his senior, and his mentor; the only reason godot presumes phoenix to be responsible for mia's death is because he a man who was in proximity to her! which fucking suuuucks.

Something I don't see talked about a lot is that godot also has beef with phoenix for being dahlia's stooge, which i think is a MUCH more interesting angle for his character. but that's presented as a separate thing from his feelings about mia's death

Godot: …… I never liked you. Six years ago… …you helped the woman who put me to sleep by hiding her bottle of poison. And then… While I was sleeping… …you let Mia die. But you didn't care. You just kept living your pathetic, happy-go-lucky life. You even had the nerve to follow in her footsteps as a lawyer. I could never forgive you. That's what I thought.

now to be clear i don't think the narrative frames his blaming phoenix as something we're supposed to agree with. Godot has his whole confession at the end where he admits he views himself as responsible for failing to protect her. but it does basically mean that her death stops being something that was About herself and the choices she made and her relationship to her family, and instead becomes About the effect it had on the men in her life. which i really don't like!

NUMBER TWO. I think godot's writing lessens my ability to get emotionally involved in this case

Even within ace attorney's fucking moon logic bridge to the turnabout pushes my suspension of disbelief past its breaking point. I don't care about the pendulum horseshit. I don't care about the ghost possession. I'll accept all of that. What I can't accept is: why does no one EXCEPT godot himself seem to care that this entire murder could have been avoided if maya at any point been warned about it? Misty and Iris just as guilty of this as godot is, but the biggest difference between them and godot is that 1. misty has been a deadbeat for ages and is now just Dead. Her primary established character trait is not talking to her fucking kids. 2. Iris has been working as dahlias accomplice for her entire life and so the idea that she would willingly conceal this has much more legitimacy to me.

We are supposed to accept and sympathize with the idea that protecting maya Actually Was Something He Did. I say were are expected to accept and sympathize with that because phoenix and maya sure do! I guess you could interpret this as them trying to give some comfort to a man that is clearly at the end of his rope and about to be sent to prison.

Phoenix: Y-You're wrong! You put your life on the line to save Maya! Godot: Was it really for Maya's sake...? Even I'm not really sure. [cut some lines for brevity] Godot: You were the one who made me realize my folly. You never ran away from Mia's death. Instead, you picked up where she left off, as a true defender of the people. In that one moment... I understood everything! Phoenix: Mr. Godot... Godot: I think you already know this, but if you don't... My name is... Diego Armando. Maya: M-Mr. Armando! I believe in you! I know you were trying to save me!

then, later on:

Phoenix: (So I guess it's all over... The way everything ended... Was justice really served...? The man who risked his life to save Maya is being sent to prison by my own hand...) Mia: Of course justice was served. Phoenix: M-Mia! Mia: ...I'm proud of you, Phoenix. Your defense was... truly brilliant. Phoenix: B-But I couldn't save Mr. Armando! The man who cared so deeply for you... Mia: You're wrong, Phoenix. You did save Diego. You saved him in the only way possible.

I guess technically godot did risk his life to save maya. and I do like the conclusion that basically being laid bare and brought to accountability like that is what godot needed to 'save' him. but i'm just not sure why the fact that maya was only in danger in the first place due to godot's choices doesn't factor into how phoenix feels about him 'saving' her. I just don't buy it!!!

It lacks the emotional weight that other instances of Avoidable Tragedy in the series have had. Ace attorney is at its best when the relatively grounded emotions are contrasted by the zany impossible crime antics. But i think BTTT is an instance where the emotional realism isnt taken far enough to distract me from the convoluted nature of the actual events that have just taken place. Rather than being so in touch with the characters during this case that i can tap into the Tragedy aspect of 'this didnt need to happen like it did' i just find myself frustrated by the fact that it didn't need to happen like it did. It kind of chafes the whole case for me and at the end I didn't feel any sort of cathartic victory regarding the events that had just transpired. but that was clearly the feeling they were going for

i did enjoy godots for the most part, but i think you'd need to make some serious overhauls to the storyline to have this specific case reach its full potential. it's a good case! but as the end to the entire trilogy i just can't help but resent the fact that it has the clumsiest writing out of any of the individual games' finales. and that everything i disliked about it is attributed to the actions godot took and the reactions other characters had to that.

[olderthannetfic]

Okay, I need advice: I'm in a very tiny fandom (like less than two dozen active people and everyone knows each other) and one of the women in it is kind of freaking me out.

We became mutuals because we had some good discussions on some of the characters we liked, but I soon became sort of uncomfortable with a lot of her online behavior whereas simultaneously she's DM-ing me more and more.

She's one of those people who's a hardliner on the issues she cares about (mostly feminism- and SA-related) while talking over people when it comes to issues she doesn't care about (mostly racism and related things). And I see a lot of her trying to intrusively police how other people talk/act, derailing people's posts, arguing with people online over the most stupid shit (where not even her own opinions come off as overly coherent - this week she'll argue something along the lines of "men are evil" and the next she'll argue that people are "demonizing masculinity" - I'll add for clarification that she's not a TERF and supports trans rights but boy... Does she sound like one sometimes) and then digging through people's profiles to find and publicize minor transgressions and bad takes, passive-aggressive vagueposting, and going into mental breakdowns over the most innocuous of online interactions.

TBH she scares me. As someone who suffered through toxic people getting overly attached to me, I genuinely sometimes get a physical reaction when I see her lashing out on the dash.

And she keeps initiating conversations! And sometimes I don't reply or bring the conversation to a natural closure and she keeps at it, or sends me random fics of hers to read that I don't have the heart to tell her don't interest me or whatever. And recently when she disagrees with something I reblogged she direct messages me to rant about it - with a lot of sort of indirect language because she doesn't want to offend me but I can see the intent. The last couple of times I replied politely because I cared about clearing misunderstandings on the topic but next time I'm just gonna tell her I dislike it when she does that.

I really want this person to stop interacting with me, to be honest, and all my polite hints to the effect go unnoticed. But the fandom is so small I feel awkward and uncomfortable about unfollowing or blocking her. I don't think she's too bad of a person, she just comes off as very... Mentally ill, I guess? And since I've tried to be polite so far I feel like it might come out of left field for her?

TBH I feel like something about her behavior also triggers some kind of freeze/fawn reaction inside of me that I don't often get and consequently don't know how to deal with.

So I need impartial advice because I don't see the situation clearly myself

--

To summarize, a person who is a walking red flag wants to be friends, and you can't easily ghost her because the fandom is small.

I think you have to accept that there is no low-conflict way out of this.

That's what's holding you back, right? You don't want more drama and you know it's coming. I think you already know in your heart of hearts that you need to get away from her even if it's a pain in the ass.

Step one is to stop responding to her DMs. That will probably make her reach out more, but you should keep not responding. If she escalates and attacks you over it, block her.

The more you offer reasons or try to gently hint, the more that will encourage her. I don't think that's true of everyone, but I do think it's the case here. This is both because it doesn't sound like she's good at perceiving or respecting boundaries and because she inspires a bad lack of ability to assert boundaries in you.

I agree that it's unfortunate that you can't stand up for yourself or tell her plainly when she's out of line, but since you can't and that probably won't change any time soon, you'll need to protect yourself a different way. Sometimes, we just have to avoid people who are bad for us even when it's an us problem. (And here, whoaaaa red flags, so I don't think it's just a you problem anyway.)

There are many sad, lonely, needy people in the world. Some of them are officially mentally ill in some way with a diagnosis. Some just need things they aren't currently getting. That sucks...

But it's also not your job to fix.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[diplonimbodocus]

omg i just read your aos lee spock fic and it was SO CUTE!!! if you ever have the time or interest, do you think you could do one with tos spock? maybe with some spirk there ? No pressure ofc!!!

Hello thank you so much!!! Honestly you don't know what that means to me! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! I have written you another little one featuring our wonderful tos boys, and I want to thank you for the ask because I've never written for these two before and it was a really good experience! Sorry it took so long, I just wanted to have it finished before I answered! Thank you again and love to you <3

Here it is~

"And he was so stubborn - well, you know what he's like - that I just had to do something about it. I lunged for him, and it's been the longest time, but he actually fell to the floor, laughing." Jim chuckled, as the lift slid, whirring sleekly between floors. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, he'd kill me."

"Laughing, captain?" Spock questioned with a straight face, the slightest cock to one eyebrow.

"Really, Spock. I'd bet you can hardly imagine our good doctor cracking a smile, never mind a laugh," Jim grinned, laughing more.

"Why laughing, captain?" Completely glossing over the latter remark, Spock remained curious.

Jim started as if to reply in humour before stopping short and turning to his Vulcan friend with a look of curiosity himself.

"Well - laughing, Spock. He was laughing because I tickled him, that's why."

The eyebrow came back down surprisingly fast.

"Ah yes. That most human of phenomena," Spock said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Well it's not just human, Spock - all kinds of Earth animals are prone to it. But yes, I'll give you it is a bit unusu-" and at this moment, Jim looked at his friend anew. "Are you telling me Vulcans don't have this?"

"Would you be surprised, captain?" Spock answered, eyes on the elevator floor.

"Yes, I suppose not..." Jim looked pensive, and then the doors opened.

The two men walked along the corridor, eventually coming to the captain's quarters. The doors whisked open to let them enter.

Once inside, Kirk paced near the small desk area.

"Now Spock, with regards to the last mission, I think we really need to get our reports coherent to each other before we submit to Starfleet."

"Agreed. I can give you a detailed overview-"

Jim suddenly interrupted. "I'm sorry Spock, I just - is there really no tickling on Vulcan? Not even the children?"

Spock thought for a moment before he answered. "It is... abnormal."

"A-HA! So there is ticklishness in vulcans then?"

"... somewhat, yes."

"So it's the children? And you, what - grow out of it?"

"Vulcan children are born much like human children - they have many of the same traits. However we are raised and trained very differently. We learn to process all physical sensations, logically, from a very young age. Most parents, as I'm sure will be obvious, do not indulge in the practice. It is, illogical."

Jim's face fell. But then, "most parents?" He looked up with a glint in his eye. "What about yours?"

Spock locked eyes with his captain, one eyebrow cocked in a way that gave Jim a distinct feeling that he was in some way being defied.

"I had a vulcan father, and a human mother. My parents were not 'most parents.'"

"So you have experienced it! Something in that really - well - really tickles me, I have to say!" Jim's face gleamed as he laughed.

Spock stood uncomfortably quiet, seeming to deliberate.

"Cheer up, Spock, I won't keep pestering you. At least you've grown out of it!"

Jim clapped his friend on the arm jovially, but the vulcan continued to focus thoughtfully at a point on the ground, as if thinking about something.

And then the penny dropped. Vulcans cannot lie.

"Or have you?"

Spock must have heard the change in the captain's voice, as his eyes bounced up to meet Jim's with a deep and guarded look.

"Are you ticklish, Spock?" Jim grinned.

"Decline to answer," Spock replied.

"Don't pinch me - that's an order, Mr. Spock."

"Do you intend to abuse your power as captain of this vessel, undoubtedly loosing your rank and career in Starfleet, simply to test your hypothesis, captain?"

"If that's what it takes to get you laughing, Mr. Spock."

This game of cat and mouse continued, the two taking a waltz of slow and careful steps around the room, ever just out of reach of one another.

Jim's face was enthused and predatory, a look often seen when faced with a challenge. Spock's was unreadable, his feeling unknowable, save only for the fact that he could easily have called everything off had he really wanted to.

Jim, sensing his chance, lunged. Spock, as always, had reflexes finely-trained, and jumped backwards to dodge the grasping fist, however Jim, anticipating this, went in after with a second arm. He caught a fistfull of his regulation uniform in his fingers, and yanked the taller man firmly towards himself.

Caught off guard, Spock stumbled forward, right into his captain's open-armed grasp. There was a beat in which Spock did nothing.

"We're about to find out if you really are still ticklish, Mr. Spock," Jim said, and clawed at his friend's stomach.

Immediately Spock went stiff, stood upright and then crashed backwards onto his ass, looking dazed. He curled around the fingers currently trying to tear into his soft front flesh, twisting a little this way and then that way with each wiggle of the digits.

Jim could not keep the smile from his face. Spock was squirming! He continued pinching at the first officer's stomach as well as throwing some in sporadically to the sides.

Spock had begun to shudder, his eyes clamped shut with the ghost of a smile tugging there and at his lips. Just when matters couldn't get worse, Jim suddenly used both hands to attack.

"Hahah!" Spock let slip a surprised laugh.

Everything stopped, and Jim took a moment to stare at his friend in wonder and delight, before saying carefully, "Spock?"

Spock remained unmoved from his position, eyes shut, body curled and statue-still, a half-smile still visible. He seemed unwilling to comment.

"Not got anything to say?"

Nothing.

"Oh..." Jim said, though his tone was still playful. "I guess not. Suppose you'd rather do something else instead? Like this!"

Jim dug in again with new vigour, this time pinching all along Spock's sides, and the vulcan was on the floor, turning from side to side with the widest smile imaginable, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh come on, Spock! Where's that laughter? I know you have it in you," Jim teased, grinning all the while.

Spock suddenly shook his head, the first he'd responded to any of this.

"No? You're not gonna let me hear it?" Jim took little pinches at his tummy again.

Spock shook his head again, convulsing.

"That's too bad. Guess I'll just have to continue."

By now Jim was straddling his first officer, using gentle pinches all over his upper body, but when he kneaded his fingertips into his lowest ribs, Spock practically leapt off the ground, and finally Jim found that laughter.

"C-captahahain!" He pleaded.

"Bad spot, Spock?"

"Ahah ahah hahahahaha!"

"I'm going to take that for a yes," Jim smiled triumphantly, kneading in even deeper, and Spock was beside himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spock's hands had come down to wrap firmly around Jim's wrists, but so far had done nothing else.

"Remember your orders, officer," Jim put on his captain's voice through the hilarity.

At this, Spock seemed to deflate, arms and shoulders going limp as his hands loosened their grip and fell away. 

"I'm impressed, Mr. Spock! But let's see how long you can hold out doing that."

Jim kept massaging those low ribs with his thumbs, using the other fingers to scratch at the sides, catching other ribs higher up. Spock acted as if electrocuted, his spasms unable to save him from the ticklish onslaught. His laughter had started deep but was getting higher.

Suddenly, Jims fingertips were moving down, exploring that expanse of waist that had come exposed during the struggling. His short nails scratched against the flat plain and Spock hit the roof.

"Hahaha!! N-no, captahahain!!" He bucked, only really succeeding in throwing himself further into the attack.

"Oh? Is it particularly bad here?" Jim grinned, giving it an extra good scratch, Spock pushing into it and shaking his head simultaneously.

"S-skihihin! Skihihin!!"

Jim looked down, and for the first time considered the skin-to-skin contact.

"Do you want me to stop?" He withdrew immediately, worried he might have gone too far.

Spock heaved some breaths, unable to engage right away. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked directly into Jim's gaze. He looked there for a time, unreadable, and then, unbelievably, cocked an eyebrow and said, "captain, don't presume to think you have broken me. I assure you, it would take much more than anything you could provide to do so."

Jim's mouth fell open as he grasped for a response, but he quickly recovered enough to beam back at his first officer.

"You said, "no, stop", your words!"

"A reflex reaction, and unfortunate," replied Spock, as if he hadn't just a moment ago been completely undone.

Jim stammered, dumbfounded. "And what's all this about skin? I don't understand you."

"Ah. That. I..." And finally Spock was showing some shyness. "It opens a slight telepathic connection."

Jim beamed with the dawning realisation. "Ahhh, I see... And that makes it worse?"

Spock said nothing for a moment, and Jim now noticed the slightest of greenish colouration in his cheeks.

"I'm afraid nothing could be worse than your attempts to get more than a surface-level, knee-jerk reaction from me."

"My attempts?" Jim asked delicately, whether curious or offended, it was hard to tell. "Are you telling me my tickles didn't tickle enough?"

Spock simply tilted his head as if to agree, and that said it all. "I believe the earth-phrase says, 'if the shoe fits'."

Jim snapped his mouth shut and switched to his captain face.

"Where was that spot again... Oh, here," and he locked eyes with Spock as he touched his fingers onto the bare skin. "You'll regret that, Spock, I promise you. Can you feel what I'm thinking? Can you see it?"

Spock said nothing, but the nervous look behind his eyes, the green in his cheeks and the tension like electricity radiating through his skin let Jim know the message was getting through.

"Are you ready to give me some more of those wonderful reflex reactions?"

Laughter filled the room once more as Jim got to work, undoing his vulcan.

[true-blue-sonic]

Hey Blue! Not reply related to sonic or anything but do you have any writing advice in general? You're like, the best writer I know and I'm kinda struggling to find good tips so I was wondering if ya got any.

Hello! ^-^ Thank you for the compliments!💕💕 It's a bit of a tough question; I definitely have some things, but I will readily admit that I don't always follow my own advice, Still, I hope it's useful!

Under the cut because it got long, haha!

If getting started is the main issue, I recommend setting a very tiny goal for yourself. My own is 200 words a day. Most of the time, once you have begun writing, those 200 words become over a thousand before you realise it. And if it does not work, you still have 200 new words you didn't have before! ^-^

Also, accepting that sometimes your draft just sucks and you need to wrangle the words out of the very depths of your being and you hate everything you write is also necessary. What you have can be edited later to become more in line with what you want. And it also just sucks to have a vague idea of how to continue or what you want your fic to be about, only to forget it later because you did not write it down.

What I myself like to do when writing is to go back to the beginning of a story if I find myself stuck, and already start with editing there. It helps me 'rediscover' what I've already written, cleans up the draft simultaneously, and often gives me ideas on how to continue at the part where I'm stuck. And I like to think that with a reconfirmed idea of what I have written before, I can make the story more cohesive.

I have uploaded stories before that I didn't feel 100% certain about. I think it's better until you're at a point where you do feel like 95% or more certain about it, than uploading it at 80% only for the sake of uploading stuff. I personally can strongly tell what stories I didn't feel too certain about or happy with when I reread them, no matter how long ago I published them.

Once you're in the flow, try to not get out of the flow, haha. If you forgot a word, just put it between [ ] brackets and come back to it later, don't waste time looking it up and risk running out of steam (I do it a lot with words I know in Dutch but forgot an English translation of XD). Similarly, if your flow is only lines of dialogue, write only lines of dialogue! And if it's only actions, write only actions. First drafts are for getting the idea out of you, only later can you begin editing and making full coherent paragraphs.

When editing, I like to pay attention to the way my paragraphs look. I prefer having a bit of variation in their form, so that I don't have an endless stream of -

"I'm saying something," Espio said, doing something in the meantime. "And now I'm saying something again." "Me too!" Silver agreed, while doing something as well. "And here also."

- that just constitutes most of the fic. I really like implementing variations in my paragraphs, such as beginning with a spoken sentence that ends with a dot so I do not need to indicate after it who said it in what way (responded, retorted, sighed, hummed, noted; such words. I rarely use said, now that I think about it.), or beginning with an action or description as opposed to someone speaking, etcetera. It's not always easy, but I feel like it does help enrich the story!

I know this one is more contested, but I myself can't stand endlessly using the characters' names for every single thing, so I like using synonyms there (the chameleon, the ninja, the hedgehog, the psychic, the time traveller). But I do think you should not use synonyms if they draw attention to something random about the character that the story is not about; for example, I would not describe Espio as "the taller anthro" between him and Silver unless the moment specifically describes a situation where Espio being taller is relevant.

Related to that, I try not to repeat the same word too many times. I'm a synonym gal, haha! But sometimes you have to accept there simply isn't a proper synonym for a term you're using, meaning you either need to use that term a lot or rewrite your sentences so that the term is not explicitly mentioned but you still know what is happening.

I very actively try to cut down on the adverbs I use, but it doesn't always work. A good adverb definitely can enrich the story, but in the same vein, using a stronger word instead of a weak word plus an adverb is definitely smart to do as well, lest the adverbs clutter your whole fic. But also, "weak word plus adverb" can carry a strong meaning all the same. To copy an example I vaguely recall from the internet: "smiled sadly" works as it is a contradiction, but "smiled happily" does not, because we associate smiling with being happy anyway. You are better off using something like "beamed" or "Happiness glowed on his face" for the latter.

The longest length a sentence should have is 85 words, a thesis supervisor once told me. I am very bad at keeping sentences below 85 words, alas.

Adding to that, a good sentence has a maximum of two commas, so three 'chunks' of a sentence (like this one, actually!). But for emphasis' sake, I throw that rule out of the window at times and put a lot of commas in if a paragraph 'calls' for it. With a good flow and a clear start and further progression, I feel that a sentence that is over 85 words can be properly followed and remain readable. But eventually there comes a point where splitting it up might be better, haha.

If you want to put in a gut-punch sentence, give it its very own solo paragraph! If you tuck it at the end of a longer paragraph, it loses its oomph. And also don't be afraid to switch up your paragraphs' lengths; I myself don't like having huge chunks of text after huge chunk of text to read through endlessly, but I also don't like reading stories with paragraphs that have only one or two sentences each. A 'play' between long paragraphs with much description and shorter ones (for me those often are centered around dialogue) of like two or three sentences and a few that are only one is a lot nicer to read, in my opinion.

Do not headhop!! With headhopping, I mean that you write as if you're in multiple characters' heads, instead of only one. If I write from Silver's POV, I will not write about what Espio is experiencing or thinking, and vice versa. Every thought, experience, and note about the world is firmly from the POV character's perspective.

In the same vein, I also do not like it if one paragraph has dialogue from multiple characters, as it makes it confusing to see who is talking. If another character starts talking, always begin with a new paragraph; it also helps with keeping your paragraphs differently-sized, I have found.

Most people probably don't know what the various existences of - (the dash) mean... I hope. But ; and : do have different meanings: ; is for when you have like a 'half-sentence' to attach to another sentence that would not work on its own, whereas : is for giving an example, basically. But I will readily admit I don't use ; correct either most of the time😅 If you read a sentence with ; in it and you see that you can make them two proper sentences with a dot inbetween, I recommend going for that.

For proofreading, I like popping the fic in the editor of Ao3 and make my final changes there. A different layout really can help you catch things you hadn't seen before!

And lastly, accepting that your fic will have that dumb spelling error in it that you missed sixteen times while proofreading and accepting that you simply are not a critically acclaimed writer with dozens of beta readers and the like is very important. We all do this for fun because we love a particular series or franchise, so we're allowed be make mistakes and be amateurs! The most important thing is to have fun with it and like what you are doing. Write for yourself, not for anyone else: you are supposed to enjoy it the most!

These are all I have at the moment, I hope you find them useful! Good luck with writing🍀🍀

[saucycentipede]

Armor-Clad Authority

A devious housemaid decides to tempt fate and see if the animated armor that has caught her eye feels the same way about her. Fem Reader X Masc Animated Armor

3k words

The pitter patter of rain was all you could hear as you made your way down the hallway. Only the light of the candle in your hand and the occasional flash of lightning piercing through the windows could guide you through the dreary labyrinth that was the castle you worked in. The floors and walls were immaculately cleaned as you finished yet another day of dusting, sweeping, and wiping.

The castle’s master was strict about his policy of enforcing a curfew for all residents as well as staff. No one was to be out and about at this hour or they would be reprimanded in one way or another.

That was what you were counting on.

The rumbling of the storm was interrupted by something else. One of plated metal boots making their way across the carpeted floors. The sound drew closer and closer and you could feel a sense of warmth build up in your chest. You tightened your grip on the hem of your maid’s uniform as you knew who those very boots belonged to. 

Soon enough, he rounded a corner and came into view.

To anyone else, he was just an animated suit of armor with little else aside from the arcane rune within him to indicate that he bore any sort of sentience. The torch in his hand as well as the shortsword sheathed on his back was enough to tell anyone that he existed in this space for duty, vigilance, and little else.

You had a completely separate reason for why he was here.

“Good evening, Greschel.” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper for fear of attracting anymore attention. “What brings you to these parts at this hour?”

“I was about to ask you something similar”, he replied. His voice rang with that same sort of metallic hum complimented by an air of authority. 

“Oh, I was just…” you trailed off. In your eagerness to see him again, you had yet to think much else to do once you had actually met up with him.

“Skulking around the castle again”. He drew closer. The empty helmet sitting atop his shoulders glowed with an intense orange hue that signified where his “eyes” would be. “And at such an odd time, as well. You and I both know that you should be nowhere else but in your quarters. So why are you out and about?”

You knew that you should speak up but the words failed to come to you. The more you looked deep into the light that emanated from visor, the less possible it became for you to form any coherent thought. You stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity before he spoke up once more.

“If I were a betting man, I would wager that you were up to something nefarious.” He stepped closer until his gleaming steel torso was mere inches away from your bosom. “That is… unless you were trying to catch my attention for some other reason.”

“Oh, what ever could you mean, Greschel”, you enquired. Your hand found its way upon his breastplate. The cold steel sent a chill up your spine. Your own warmth began to transfer onto his chest and wash away any and all of the icy feeling that lay upon his body.

“I think you know what I mean. Time and time again I see you waltzing up and down these hallways at the most unusual of times”. You felt his gauntlet lay itself upon the small of your back and crawl up to the nape of your neck. He scratched just beneath your hairline gently enough to not leave any sort of mark. “And each time it seems as though your routine matches up with mine. Funny how we always seem to run into one another. Wouldn’t you say?”

The candle in your hand began to lose more and more of its wick as the conversation went on. At several points you felt the hot droplets of wax fall onto your fingers and harden within seconds. “Maybe it is simply a stroke of coincidence, sir”. 

“In any other context I would agree with you”. His hand wormed its way in front of you and his index finger creeped up and behind your collar until the back of it was just barely grazing your throat. “But I do not believe in mere patterns, dear maid”, he said as he yanked on the fabric around your neck and closed the distance between your face and his. “So do tell me, what it is you want or I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

You kept silent yet again. You knew that no words would give him the answer that he wanted but you were not about to ruin what you had been anticipating for so long. You merely responded to his accusation with a coy smile as the light from your own candle finally died out.

“No defense, I see. Very well. We shall do things my way, then. He released you from his grasp before gently grabbing one of your shoulders. “Turn around and do exactly as I say”, he commanded. Anxiety and dread would have filled your mind had the order come from anyone else. You knew what sort of treatment to expect from Greschel, however. You knew that he would never let any sort of harm come to you.

Without hesitation, you spun around and faced the direction opposite to him. As you were, he had no way of seeing you biting your own lip.  

“Now, dear maid. Put your hands behind your back. Wrist-to-wrist.”

You did as ordered. Before you could question any further, you felt the distinctive feeling of silken rope run across your hands. You felt him bind your wrists to each other and tighten the knot so as to assure that you wouldn’t be getting loose any time soon. 

“Give them a test.”

“W-what?”

He again grabbed you by the collar. This time with much more force but not enough to deprive you of any air. “Test the knots. Squirm.”

You tried to move your wrists as he commanded only to find that the ropes gave little room for such a thing. Still, a part of you knew that he could do better. And you were willing to try anything to get him to do just that.

“It could be tighter. If you aren’t careful, sir, I could be out of this in no time at all.”

Silence engulfed the two of you. Only the storm gave any sort of levity to the awkward quiet that permeated within the hallway. You waited for his response only to be met with nothing but nature’s choir once more. Anxiety began to well up within you as you wondered what he could have possibly been doing behind you. Were your words hurtful to him? Did your critique wound his pride so easily? Was he just admiring your partially bound form?

Was he toying with you?

You weren’t sure why you did what you did next. Whether it was out of curiosity or just a means of ending this agonizing waiting period, you may never know. No matter the reason, you spun around to face him only to once again feel his metal grip tighten on your arm.

“If you say so. I can’t have you running loose again, now can I?”

You held still for a moment before nodding. 

You felt more ropes graze your skin. He loosened the knots around your wrists only to grab hold of them and position your forearms so that one lay atop the other. Before he continued, you noticed him go still for a while until he spoke up.

“You have been rather talkative tonight, haven’t you?”

A newfound sensation of befuddlement took root within you. “Is there something wrong with that”, you asked. 

“Normally, no. You have a lovely voice, my dear maid. But you are already in enough trouble as it is, and I would hate to see you punished further for waking anyone.”

You felt his fingers dig under one of the elbow-length gloves that was a standard piece of your uniform. He pinched a fold and slid it off with a purposefully slow pace. He gave you no time to ask anything further before he presented the balled-up fabric right in front of you.

“This should solve both problems. You won’t be able to make enough noise to awaken anyone and I still get to hear you moan.”

You gasped and the glove was stuffed into your mouth as soon as your lips parted. You knew that the single piece of fabric alone would not nearly be enough to keep you quiet. You knew that he had more planned for you and you couldn’t wait. The second glove found its way off of your arm and into the corners of your mouth until white fabric stuffing was sticking out from between your teeth. You could have easily pushed the stuffing out with your tongue but you dared not to defy him. Not when you had been waiting for this for so long.

More ropes bound your forearms to one another forming a strict box tie along your back. Greschel brought more ropes to you as two more pairs went up and around your chest. Then each rope was looped in between your breasts drawing as much attention to them as possible. You did your best to stifle a pleasured moan but to little avail. 

“Do not worry”, he chuckled. “There is plenty more where that came from.”

The frigid metal of his hands found their way to your waist. With one arm, he hoisted you into the air just enough to leave your feet dangling a few inches from the floor. He held you in place as he unbuckled your heels and carefully set them aside. You felt no rope at that point. Just his fingers delicately trailing down your legs until he grabbed ahold of your kneesock. He slid it off along with the other and maneuvered it between your teeth, sealing the gag in your mouth with no hope of removing it alone. The other was tied around your eyes, sealing you in complete blissful darkness after he set you back on your feet.

Every part of you wanted to collapse into his arms and just let him take you away. Whether to your room or some unknown dungeon hidden within the castle walls didn’t matter. As long as you were in his grasp. But you knew that such things would have to wait. You knew that he was far from finished yet.

Your lack of sight granted your hearing with much more sensitivity. The sounds of the storm became apparent once more but you could feel him inch ever closer to your head. You figured that if he were made of flesh and blood, you could feel his breath caress the side of your face.

“Kneel”, he whispered. His voice barely louder than a murmur still felt like a command that could never be ignored. You did so accordingly. The soft rug beneath you was a welcome feeling to your knees after being on your feet for the better part of the day.

You felt his hand race across your back as his fingers found purchase beneath the ropes that bound your arms together. “Dear maid”, he began. “Before I continue any further, I just need to assure something. If you find yourself uncomfortable or unable to bear your restraints, you need only to say my name. Muffled as it will be, I can still recognize it. Is that clear?”

“Grrrfffmmm”, you mewled. 

He wasted no time in removing the blindfold and gag. Before he could even do so much as touch your bindings, you fell back and let him catch you. “Greschel… Had I not wanted this, would I not have objected sooner?”

He stared agape at you. His head cocked to the side like that of a curious dog and you felt him gently lift your body up towards his face. “I’m grateful for your concern, my dear sentinel…”. You brushed your foot along the metal of his shin plate. “But I still have my legs free to use as I wish. What is to stop me from simply running away even as restrained as I am”, you purred.

His gauntlet found its way to your neck. He took your chin in his iron grasp and directed your face to look toward his own. “I will admit, I had not considered that. Thank you for calling it to my attention”. 

“My plea-MMMPPPPPFFF”

He cut you off by shoving the gag back into place and tying it back on with an even tighter knot than before. The blindfold soon followed with the same sort of effort plunging you back into complete darkness. Once more you were at his mercy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He gently laid you down on the floor face down. You could make out the smell of the familiar rug beneath you and were thankful that you had taken the time to clean it earlier in the day. More ropes found their way to your ankles. He tied them together and knotted them off with considerably more rope than he had used on your arms. 

“Hmmmfff?”

You immediately felt a pull on the back of your chest harness. Greschel lifted you up by the torso and whispered into your ear. “Your questions will have to wait. For now, just be still and try not to make my job too difficult.”

You wouldn’t be having any of that. As soon as he let you back down to the floor, you began to wriggle and writhe as though any of that would actually let you loose. He let you thrash about for a minute or so until you felt another pull. This time it was your ankles being grabbed and hoisted into the air. You felt your skirt fall revealing your undergarments.

“Very well, then…”

Greschel pinned your legs to his torso with his forearm providing him with just enough room to continue tying you up while holding you in place. He brought another length of rope right above your hips and tied it off into a sort of belt. You tried to say something only to let loose a muffled question through the rags that filled every corner of your mouth. His next move was to loop a single rope through the front of the previous one and slowly draw it between your legs until you felt it make contact with the length right above your rear. Had your face not been pressed into the carpet, he would have been able to watch it become awash in a red hue. 

You felt him pull another bit of rope along the same route but you felt no knot form. You could sense that a substantial amount of rope had actually been left over from the rear section with the loose end in his hand. Right as you were about to question his method, he said. “Maybe this will keep you entertained enough to sit still for a bit. Moan if you must but be mindful of the volume.”

“HHMMMMMmmmmphffff…”

He pulled the rope as taught as he could and you felt it dig deeply into your panties. You did your best to keep as quiet as asked but again, you disobeyed him. The gag in your mouth did little to stifle your pleasured scream.Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your breathing became more and more labored. The flickering heat that had been building up in your chest erupted into a blazing fire and soon all you could think of was the crotch rope that wouldn’t let you relax any time soon.

Any and all thoughts on what exactly Greschel was doing were impeded by the feeling between your legs. You began to hump the rope in order to further stimulate yourself. This was your first time experiencing a restraint so thorough but you knew you wanted even more.

You were so caught up in enjoying your newfound predicament that the sound of Greschel walking back to observe you and prepare for his next step barely registered with you.

More ropes were brought to your legs and soon enough, your thighs as well as your calves were tied together much the same way that your arms had been. The knots had become so tight that you found less room to move as it went on. Before you could try any further, you felt his hands make their way to where your ankles had been tied. He bent your legs as far as your knees would allow before again testing the bonds that made up the back of your chest harness. He fingered through the area and eventually pulled you up until your back was arching just enough for another chord to connect with your foot bindings. He finished another series of knots putting you into a strict hogtie. 

You lay there trussed up as you were. Unable to move save for the occasional wiggle of your fingers. Right as you were about to enquire further about your position. You felt Greschel grab hold of the ropes connecting your back harness to your ankles and hoist you into the air. The bindings all over your body dug into your skin as the sudden pull made them all the more tight.

You tested your bonds once more and found yourself swaying a bit in the air. Then you heard the soft metal clanging of Greschels boots walking. “This should keep you from mulling about at unnecessary hours. Now tell me, my dear maid. Where would you rather be taken to? Your quarters or perhaps mine?”

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

he didn't have any song in particular that he related to and that they weren't autobiographical.

Honestly I think he just said that so that fans don't freak out lol. Did you see how fans were asking him why he was looking at the actress in the music video 💀 he had to say that he was a robot just following the directors orders. Some fans are immature and crazy

I don't get why some fans never trust anything the boys say when it comes to dating or anything else fans make assumptions on - if BTS don't say what Armys expect, then they're lying... I thought Armys trusted BTS? One thing is to be asked point blank if you are dating and another is to volunteer that information. I agree that we can't really trust some of the answers BTS give in interviews because we know they can't refuse to answer but they have the right to not reveal or conceal the truth, which means they may lie, even by omission. In this case, Jungkook chose to answer a fan on Stationhead. He could have easily ignored her or answered the question from a different angle (for example, romantic love has a lot in common with other type of relationships, he could've said he wanted the kind of love portrayed in his songs, etc.). Jungkook chose to answer the fan when he didn't have to. Why would he reply only to lie when it would've been far easier not to say anything? Because he didn't want fans to freak out about the lyrics that he chose to release knowing it would trigger fans in some way? He's said in multiple interviews now that the songs don't tell his stories - duh, he didn't write them, those who did don't know him, and he only selected the songs, probably before they even had lyrics. Some fans are immature and crazy, but I trust BTS to be honest with us whenever they can. He had no reason to lie. Some fans always want to believe BTS are fucking a different person every week or in relationships. The fans who refuse to believe BTS aren't dating have a lot more in common with the fans who refuse to believe BTS are dating than they'd like to admit.

Also, the lyrics in Golden are lowkey bullshit. 3D is about hooking up with someone you met online, which isn't necessarily a universal experience. Then we have really specific songs about breakups that don't line up storytelling wise (Too Sad to Dance, Shot Glass of Tears, Hate You). Golden doesn't tell a coherent story about a relationship, with a lot of the lyrics contracting each other. It makes it hard to connect to the lyrics (and the songs) because they're all random. Imo, while some love songs are relatable, regardless of the romantic relationship you have/had, or don't have, Golden has crappy lyrics. I'd say the most relatable/impactful lyrics are Seven (Clean Ver.), SNTY, and Hate You - this coming from someone who's never been in a relationship.

About the actress, what was he supposed to answer??? You think he was thinking "Oh I want to fuck her?" or "Oh, she's so attractive I want to ask her out?" when he shot the scene?? First, that would've been a very disrespectful thing to say about the actress; secondly, he literally didn't know her; thirdly, he was surrounded by cameras, so it wasn't exactly romantic; and, fourthly, Jungkook doesn't like acting or know how to act, which is probably why his mind was "blank". The director told him to act a certain way and he did. I'm sure Jungkook's mind wasn't literally blank but he would've had no issue telling that fan he'd been trying to communicate the intensity of his feelings/tell the story of the MV, etc.. I'm sure Jungkook knows fans get jealous, but why do you assume he's trying to appease those fans? He's awkward and shy around people he doesn't know, and shooting something with strangers isn't exactly intimate, like plenty of actors have said. Jungkook answered a similar question about the female dancers in 3D. He knew the fans were jealous about him being pushed by the female dancers, but he didn't really get why because he naturally felt awkward being pushed by, and holding eye contact with, people he didn't know well.

Why can't we just accept Jungkook's words? Sometimes I feel I must be very naive to actually trust the boys and not just say "Trust BTS" and then twist almost everything they say. We know they've lied or omitted stuff from us before, to protect themselves and even us, but why assume they're lying when they say something that goes against what he believe, especially if it's something so small?

[eshithepetty]

don't feel the need to reply to this but THANK YOU so much for your ritsu meta, i always love reading when you post and even if i don't always agree 100% you have such amazing and insightful meta about mp100, especially ritsu. like ritsu as a character resonated with me SO MUCH and i could see myself in him and i actually like that he snapped because of all the pressure and loneliness he was under, because it felt so realistic to me. and i really do think that even if it's lighthearted, the fandom DOES mischaracterize him a lot and that he's not just emo or angsty or violent, and it's really depressing to see people depict ritsu as like... depressed, jealous, making stupid decisions, mean, etc ALL the time. it honestly gets super frustrating... i guess i just want to say that i really appreciate when people do take the time to analyze his character and see his good traits, and that i am really grateful to you for like, continuing to treat every mp100 character with respect

Yesss,,, you're so right anon actually. Every character in mp100 gets flanderized by the fandom from time to time, that will just happen with fandoms, and with mp100 it's an especially easy issue to fall into because... like. As that one post by scribe said, mp100's characters work on contradictions, and people aren't usually well versed in working with that. but with Ritsu, it does seem to paint him in a rather negative light, huh? Those aspects of his character do exist, but it does get frustrating when, as I've said before, they're the only ones people focus on to a surface level. I'm not gonna be the most coherent rn cause I hadn't been able to sleep all night (not related to anything, my sleep schedule's just fucked lmao), but I really feel you anon on that. I see a lot of myself and my sibling in Ritsu (and Mob), and so I guess that's why it sometimes hurts for me too - to see people dismissing him as just 'angry' and 'irrational', to see his struggles boiled down to him just being dramatic. I'm not gonna get into it, and I'm aware this is my own personal baggage to work through, but yeah.

I will say, though, I find the comments about how silly it is for Ritsu to be angsting over people 'complimenting him' especially funny 😭 bro you dont even know how much people lauding you over your sibling while you both are actually in extreme distress and can't actually communicate enough to help each other can fuck you up lmao

Anyways!!! Thank you for that last comment as well <33 I'm not a very funny person, or a very active part of the fandom, or someone who does well in forging connections and being entertaining, but I do try my best to always understand these characters and express how I feel about them. That's my way of having fun with shows ig, I really like diving deep into these things and having discussions with people and losing my mind over little funny guys (my friends on discord will be able to attest to this, based on how many inane rambles they've been subjected to. Hi Kegan and Saj if u happen to read this hdhsjhehe) So thank you for sending this ask as well, and allowing me to talk some more :)

I should be preparing for school now, though, so I'll end it here. Hope you have a good day/night anon, as well as everyone else reading this <3

[queenoftheboard]

get to know the author

name: Mari.

pronouns: she/her.

preference of communication: definitely discord for mutuals who I've chatted for a while to further plot and everything! I can use the tumblr IMs at first, but if I typically offer to switch to discord pretty early on if the other mun agrees.

most active muse: currently Eirene, with my fandomless OC Melissa (@stingslikeabee) in second, and my beloved Yakuza leggy man Akiyama (@akiiyamashun) in third.

experience / how many years: gosh, I'm a Fandom Old (tm). I've used a million platforms and I started with passing notes in school and writing on actual paper; it's 15+ years doing this on and off.

platforms you use: tumblr at the moment, but I've gone through everything (forums, AIM, discord, livejournal, MSN, skype and so on).

best experience: I had a couple of really great runs in the early 2000s on livejournal and the RPC there, then since 2020 onwards here on tumblr on Melissa, including branching out to Akiyama and Eirene. It's been a constant/stable writing exercise which has helped me a lot through irl things, too.

rp pet peeves: I think the biggest one is getting what I call 'passive' replies? I'm not sure how to describe this, but feeling like I'm carrying the thread by myself and that the replies do not offer any new elements (no questions, actions or anything to react to or move the thread forward) make me lose muse very fast. Of course, sometimes this is necessary and makes sense in context! My issue is when this is a standard thing and the storytelling aspect does not feel shared, I guess. This is what makes roleplay fun and different from fanfiction, in my mind. :)

fluff, angst, or smut: all of them! I love flip-flopping through genres although smut is something I'm only comfortable after plotting and enough ooc interaction with the other mun. I'm all for telling interesting stories, no matter how they come to be in terms of being presented.

plots or memes: plotting all the way! I'm heavily plot-based and I have a preference for plotting a general timeline where we can move as we wish for threads and memes; I struggle at keeping interactions alive without some sense of direction or objective behind it all. It's fine to have the occasional slice of life or more conversation-based threads, but I generally like to have those within a bigger context.

long or short replies: long replies, I'm afraid - I just seem to have an issue with brevity, to be frank. This is something from my personal life that bleeds onto work, school assignments, real life letters etc; I write a lot, I write fast and I write frequently. It doesn't bother or strain me and as a result I've developed a rather introspective style of roleplay where there is a lot of thoughts/feelings included in replies, so they tend to be longer than average, I feel. I am always lowkey afraid this intimidate others - because it shouldn't! And I never expect the same length in return, just something to react to, really.

best time to write: it used to be during work hours when I was at the laptop already and alternated between work stuff and replies to take breaks, but now it's more evenly distributed during the day, I guess? I'm usually not writing super early in the day or very late at night because English is required and I tend to be only half-coherent and running mostly on default software that is equipped with Portuguese only, I'm afraid. >_>;

are you like your muse(s): definitely not hahaha. Apart from a life in the corporate world, we have almost nothing in common - not even the hair color! I'm more emotional, I know just the basics of chess, I have no super powers related to partial mutation, I don't really enjoy wearing high heels everywhere and I grow attached to people way more frequently than Eirene does. I'm pretty fucking good at my job, but I'm not a business prodigy either.

[thatwasthenightthingschanged]

Hi Sarah! Merry Christmas & I hope you have a wonderful holidays 🎅 This is a super belated reply, but I've got around watching The Eras Tour movie last month - I liked the overall performance but was a bit bummed that several songs e.g. Cardigan were cut.

On 1989 TV: I really enjoyed the re-recording and was pleasantly surprised about the vault tracks! I found the bonus tracks from 1989 TV the most coherent to me - they might not be as catchy as the vault tracks from the other albums, but I think lyrically these vaults are the most solid batch to me. What are your favourite 1989 vault tracks?

Speaking of Olivia Rodrigo's albums, I also prefer Guts that it's sonically more ambitious but also flowed very well as an album! My favourites from her sophomore effort are: love is embarrassing, pretty isn't pretty, and get him back!

ooh as of Holly Humberstone's Paint My Bedroom Black, I really enjoyed the title track :D

P.S. It's been a very exciting year for music releases, the deluxe tracks from Maisie Peters' The Good Witch also came out and I really enjoyed it - whereas I used to find the standard tracklist missing something in the storytelling, I felt that the bonus tracks wrapped things up quite nicely! What are your favourite deluxe tracks from The Good Witch?

hi Jennifer! sorry as well that it took me this long to reply oof 😵‍💫 I hope you had some nice holidays as well & that the new year has been treating you well so far!!

are you then excited about the eras tour movie coming to streaming since it will include cardigan? 🤗

I totally get that & agree with you! I also feel like sound-wise they fit well within the record (though others might disagree). my favorite 1989 vault tracks are Is it over now? and Now that we don't talk! What are yours?

these are really good songs as well!! ahh funny you should mention that Holly Humberstone track because I stumbled upon it a couple of weeks ago & have been listening to it a lot since then!

also I finally started listening to the deluxe tracks on tgw! I had listened to them once when they came out but then I kind of had forgotten about them in the whirlwind that was the 1989 tv release but! since my Maisie concert is this month (!!) I finally came back to it over the holidays 😌 my favorite deluxe tracks are Holy Revival and Guy on a Horse! what are yours? ☺️

[witchofthevale]

I think there is type of people who have problems irl and they go venting and sending rude asks to people in every fandom because that is how they cope with anger. It's wrong though. I have anger issues but I am on therapy for 5 years and I learned to be part of fandom by using block button. I have specific criteria about hotd fandom. Anti Alicent blog? Block. Pro Daemon Targaryen blog? Block. Pro Viserys Targaryen? Block. Shitting on Alys and Gayle before she even appeared on screen? Block. Writing smut with tropes I don't like? Block. I am very picky, but it's impossible to try to engage with everyone esp when they like characters I hate. I know new users read every Aemond fic even though they don't enjoy them because they feel pressured to read each of them because they want to fit in. My advice is: don't read things that disturb you. Read 3 chapters of each fic writer and ask yourself Do I really enjoy it? Or it's meh for me? It's okay to dislike a fic. It's okay to block people so you'll never hear from them again. Feel no shame in blocking people. For me blocking people I don't vibe with it's like taking out the trash. It's good when they're not around.

Fun quip just because it's relative, but I started reading this right when my melatonin kicked in and I tried to figure out the tone if I was getting my first anon hate just from the paranoia of recent events jshdjshd. Sorry, too funny and actually quite sad not to share lol. I just felt discombobulated by getting this and at the random time ahaha!

Anyways, this is a lot and I wanna reply properly, have Elle's off-tangent reply thoughts because ADHD and 3am. I think I'm still coherent.

I mean for the most part, nons, I agree with your core sentiment. Block button is definitely good for sanctifying your space, in a place like fandom where you will interact with a level of unrestrained level of self expression, anything that helps you make it easier to navigate such a thing is basic form of self preservation.

For most of us, fandom is a space of comfort and when ugly shit rises, it really hits hard because your comfort is being threatened.

For another, if it's truly engaging and making friends is your goal (even if it's not, it's just how fandom as an ecosystem works)— or just the FOMO of not being a part of the fun because you've literally blocked 90% of people — sure it's difficult to really be part of it if you're blocking left and right. Which is also why I'd like to offer and employ the ignorance is bliss system.

Like you said, there are certain things you might not agree with someone you're moots with/follow but as a whole, you still want to engage with them. It's just how individuality works, and that's okay too. Just because you and another person can't agree on the one thing— character, team, whatever the fuck — you can just skip and scroll, and mind your business.

And at the same time, you can still be able to connect with the parts that you do like/have in common with the person.

Just a tip since I actually use the block button sparingly (unless you're a bot lol). But if blocking is what comforts and sanctifies your experience, have at it! I hope you're in a sweet space where you feel at your most comfort because that is what fandom is supposed to be. We're here to have fun and it's truly fucked up to see that tainted with ugliness.

On that note, I can't begin to start wondering why people send hate.

I'm a very lazy person, nons. I cannot imagine myself going through someone's Ask, toggling on the Anon button (again, as a lazy person, it is such a big step to even do this part 'cos then it asks you if you're sure and you have to click again please I cannot), and writing your pièce de résistance like you aren't going to be pitied.

Because in the end, what you look like— to me at least — is a sad, sorta masochistic coward who needs that anon button to feel safe because you know what you just sent is cruel, unwarranted, and something you would never be able to spit in a person's face, much less mumble.

I cannot begin to unravel why someone would do this. I don't want to try. I've been in fandom spaces since 2012, at the height of shipping wars, fruit NSFW tagging, and feet fetish scammers to name a few.

Whatever catharsis they feel at being able to receive a reply is only temporary cos at the end of the day, they sent that through anon for a reason. They know what they did was shameful.

And if you can't even do it with your full chest, why would I bother lol?

I'm personally a lazy person and tired from irl when I come to fandom spaces to detangle and have fun. I cannot be bothered with you.

But yeah no, I dunno. People can do whatever they want with their blogs, it's their space. Block, ignore, whatever. I like where I'm at, I enjoy my little corner of fandom. I adore so much of my moots and have fun interacting with everybody so far.

I'm glad you've curated your space though, nons! And I agree that you can wholeheartedly dislike a fic. Not everything's going to be for you and that's okay.

PS. Do people really feel pressured to read for Aemond omg? I personally never did, I got back into fanfiction because of Aemond fanfics actually ahahaha! I just lurked around before 'cos I watched HOTD late; too many months later 'cos my best friend watched it first and she's a hardcore ASOIAF girlie and she ranted ahahaha!

When I braved it, I just watched it as a separate entity and had fun 'cos the actors were really good and somehow, I jumped back in fandom space enough to write lol

[gamingavickreyauction]

Being the same as everyone else is equivalent to being alone!

I can recognise this as a coherent perspective, but I do not get it. I always feel very different from the people around me in a way that is alienating and isolating, and where I have been able to forge friendships it has generally been with the people who are most like me. I feel that in a world where people were more like me, I would have a lot more connection to those around me and a lot more opportunity for friendship. Furthermore, the Tories wouldn't keep getting elected.

Though some things you discuss just seem like differences in interpretation of the counterfactual 'if people were more like me'. E.g., I wouldn't suppose everyone has the same skill set as me—in which case obviously the economy would cease to function.

I agree with most of what you say about the value of diversity: people with very different tastes than me have introduced me to new tastes I wouldn't have considered, people with very different viewpoints than me have pointed things out that I would never have noticed on my own, and improved my own worldview and people with very different skill sets than me uhhh... make music I like music. But I still only value these things insofar as I find them beneficial, and would, in fantasy-land, have people who mostly align with my taste and only enough people who differ to provide novelty I find interesting, and only have people differ in perspective enough to fill in my blind spots, etc. So when it comes to difference in life goals I don't find any value in people differing from me, besides that it's probably good there are at least some children being born.

That being said I do hold freedom as a terminal value (which sits uncomfortably with mostly being approximately utilitarian) so I would detest any society that didn't make room for this difference, even though I dislike the (excess) difference. So I wonder if my views here are in some sense output-equivalent to yours.

You don't need to reply to this I just found it interesting to lay out my thoughts.

more to the point i think it's cool that we get to explore the infinite diversity of ways humans can have relationships and i get rather angry when people turn this into a discourse football

[wwinterwitch]

I feel in love with your Kate Bishop fics, the way you write her is so lovely. So I thought about making a request of my own since they're open :D. My idea is that the reader was helping Clint and Kate fight the Tracksuit Mafia, and at the final fight something happens and Kate thought that she had lost the reader, she panics and when they finally found each other she hugs her like her life depends on it. Fast forward a bit and in the Barton's house Kate can't sleep alone because everything that happened is still too fresh and she needs to be near the reader to know she's okay, so she goes to her and asks to sleep there or something, and during the night Kate becomes clingy and maybe sheds a tear or two and finally shares how scared she was (and maybe some feelings can be spilled too :P), so the reader holds her and assures her that she'll never leave. I know that got big I'm sorry, do only if you have time ❤️

I absolutely loved this idea😍 I hope you liked what I had in mind for this one and thank you so much for your request❤

CAN'T RISK LOSING YOU – KATE BISHOP

summary: after fighting the tracksuit mafia, kate thought she has lost you forever 

pairing: kate bishop x avenger!gn!reader

word count: 1.9K

warnings: mentions of injuries, angst, fluff at the end

a reblog would be very much appreciated!

masterlist

A loud explosion echoed across the entire street, almost shaking the floor beneath. Clint and Kate, fighting off a group of the bad guys, turned their heads almost as soon as they heard the loud bang behind them. At the end of the street, they could see a building starting to be almost entirely consumed by flames, the black smoke rapidly invading the air.

"No..." Kate muttered in complete shock, knowing very well who was probably there.

As she started to run towards the building, she could barely hear Clint shouting for her to wait for him. She didn't care about anything. Just you. Just making sure you were okay.

It was a stupid idea to agree to separate, but yet again, you were probably the most stubborn person Kate has ever met (yes, even more stubborn than Clint). You said you could handle a group all by yourself, telling her and Clint to go find the rest.

It really isn't her fault. It's not yours either. There's no way any could've predicted any of you would be in this situation, but her thoughts were screaming at her that she better finds you, she better makes sure you are okay, otherwise this will be entirely her fault.

Kate has never run this fast in her entire life. It was as if her life depended on it, and quite honestly for her it felt exactly like it. She needs to know nothing bad happened to you, otherwise...she can't even begin to imagine what would happen if you're not okay.

When she finally reached the building, it was all burning now. The flames were devouring the building and people started to run away from the scene. Sirens echoed in the distance. No matter how hard she tried, Kate couldn't find your face among the various terrified individuals around.

Before she could think of doing anything too risky, Clint was able to catch up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder as an attempt to silently warn her not to move from there. He was certain that, given the chance, Kate would ran inside the building to get you.

Desperation only grew from there. Kate felt like air was unable to enter her system properly, finding it hard to breath. Her head spins and her legs threaten to betray her any minute, struggling to keep her on her feet. Her whole body couldn't function correctly and her mind just couldn't form a coherent thought.

You. It was all about you.

Unable to allow herself to stay outside that building and not help you (in case you were still inside), she rushed towards the building– or at least tried to, since Clint quickly held her back.

"I have to go in there!" she protested.

"No, you don't," Clint replied almost immediately. "I'm sorry, but I won't let you risk your life like that."

"But what if they're in there? If they need our help?"

Clint didn't really know what to answer. He has know you for a while now, back when Tony thought recruiting that highschooler spider-kid and the college student with a Natasha Romanoff complex would be a good idea. He has grown to respect and care for you, so of course not helping you was also difficult for him.

"There's nothing we can do now."

Kate was about to argue with what Clint has said, but at that very moment they both saw you run outside the burning building, collapsing to the ground once you knew you were safe.

The two of them rushed to check if you were okay. Luckily, you were very much alive. You had a few cuts on your face from a fight and probably some bruising across your body for that very same reason, but at least you were there. Safe.

Kate finally felt like she could breath correctly, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. At that very moment, she wrapped her arms around you. She didn't care if it was too much of a gesture, she didn't care if it could be too revealing of her feelings for you. She needed to hold you.

She made sure not to crush you with her hug, as she knew you were probably in pain. You thanked her gentleness, leaning into her body for comfort. You really needed this.

Clint backed down enough to let you two have a moment, making sure that people around wouldn't get too close to the scene to keep everyone safe. He knew Kate would want some alone time with you.

He's not stupid, seeing right through Kate. It was evident she didn't see you like any other friend or work acquaintance. He could also see right though you, knowing you'd also like to spend some time with Kate.

In his mind, the furthest he got from young romance, the better. Last thing he needs is Kate asking him whether or not she should ask you out.

---

Laura helped with cleaning everyone's wounds as usual. She also made sure the three of you were well-fed and had a shower before going to sleep.

You told them everything that happened on that building. How you followed two guys from the Tracksuit Mafia thinking they were just two. How they tricked and ambushed you. How you had to fight them off by yourself. How one of them set off a bomb you didn't even see when it was installed.

Given what happened, you were lucky to be alive.

After Laura was done cleaning and patching your wounds, you went to your bedroom to finally get some rest. This has been definitely an exhausting day, and you deserved sleeping for as long as you desired.

However, before you could completely fall asleep, you heard a few knocks on your door. Shortly after you asked who it was, you saw Kate opening the door. You looked back at her, unaware the girl has been passing around on the hall for minutes now, debating whether or not she should come talk to you.

The sentiment of loss was still at the back of her mind, torturing her. She could feel it as if she was still staring at the building on fire. It was too traumatizing, enough for her to build up enough courage to knock on your door in the middle of the night, wishing she could spend the rest of it with you.

"I woke you up, didn't I?" Kate asked in a whisper, half apologetic, half embarrassed.

"No, I was just about to sleep."

"Oh..."

"Is...something you want to tell me?" you asked, wondering why she was just standing there without saying anything.

"I was just wondering...if I– if I can maybe sleep here?"

You were quite surprised to hear that. In your room there was only one bed, so you two would share it. Not like you would ever think Kate's company is anything but a gift. Yet, you never expected she would be so up front about it.

Without keeping her waiting, you moved to the side to give her enough space. Kate got the hint, entering the room and closing the door behind her. Quickly, she got under the covers with you.

At first she was very awkward, not knowing if she should lay on her back to stare at the ceiling or turn to her side to look at you. She has never shared a bed with you. Luckily you seemed okay with this.

Finally, she turned to face you entirely. "Are you feeling better?"

You were staring at the ceiling, your body still aching from the fight, making it very painful to move around. That's why you decided to maintain your position, moving only your neck to be able to look at her.

"I'm still very much in pain but yeah, being back here and getting some rest makes everything a lot better."

Kate nodded after your answer, looking at you in completely silence for a few seconds before deciding to confess what was on her mind. "I was really scared when I heard that explosion. I was worried something bad had happened to you."

"Oh, well. I think you'll need more than a gang dressed like wanna-be olympians for you to get rid of me," you said jokingly, earning a chuckle from her.

After another pause, you heard Kate's voice again. This time, in a much careful, yet hopeful tone. "Can I hug you? I know it sounds weird, I just–"

"It's not weird," you quickly cut her off. "I'd really like that, actually."

Kate moved closer to you, wrapping an arm around you as she leaned her head on your shoulder. You could still feel she was cautious about the whole gesture, so as a way to let her know you wanted to feel her hug as much as she does, you tangled one of your legs with her. That was your way of letting her know this isn't her giving you physical proof of her love– it's a moment you two are sharing. You're trying to give her the same she's giving you.

This made Kate feel much more comfortable, snuggling closer to your side, practically hiding her face on your neck. Her breath was tickling your skin in the most wonderful way.

As you caressed her arm that was wrapped around your body, you eventually started hearing a series of quiet sobs. It took you just a few seconds to realize Kate has started to cry.

Before you could ask what was going on, Kate pulled you in closer. "I was so afraid I lost you for ever."

The sound of her voice, the desperation and terror of you not being there for her, melted your heart. It sounded so genuine, and coming from her just meant a thousand times more. She means just so much to you. It almost made you feel miserable for putting her thought that, even when it wasn't really your fault.

"I'm sorry, Kate." You really meant that. "I promise I won't leave you. Ever."

Kate sobbed again, hugging onto you like you could disappear any second. "Yeah, you better keep that promise," she said. Despite she said it in a joking voice, she really wanted that promise to be kept.

"You're adorable," you commented, trying to hold back your laughter.

"I'm not!"

"That just sounded even more adorable."

Kate sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "Well, you're lucky you're insanely cute I can't be mad at you for making fun of me."

"I just called you adorable! How is that making fun of you?"

"You're saying it with that tone..."

This time, you could hold back your laugh. "What tone?"

"That one!"

"Kate, I mean it. You are, without a doubt, the most adorable person I've ever met," you insisted in a much serious tone.

Despite not being able to see her, you could tell that made her grin. "That's more like it," she says. "Now that that's settled we should get some sleep. You really need to rest after everything that happened today."

"I must admit I'm pretty tired," you replied. "Goodnight, Kate."

You got no reply, so you proceeded to close your eyes to sleep. Just a second later, you could feel Kate's lips pressing against your cheek before she snuggled back against your neck.

"Goodnight," she says.

The room was in complete silence before Kate spoke again.

"Was the kiss too much?"

"Not at all. In fact, please do that more. Do it all the time," you replied.

Kate chuckled again. "Will do."

[bubbleteaimagines]

The Babysitter

Kuroo Tetsuro Oneshot

NSFW CONTENT

Summary || After months of sexual tension, Kuroo can’t resist fucking his pretty little babysitter on the couch

Pairings || Kuroo Tetsuro x Babysitter!Reader

Warnings || Smut, fingering, blowjobs, age gap (reader is 20) light praise, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink

Authors Note || In celebration of 3k, here is some Dilf!Kuroo that we all need in our lives

It was inevitable, you supposed. The tension between you two was simply too thick, and it had been for months— ever since you had started working for him.

Kuroo was a man that was very busy, and with a two year old daughter and a mother that was absent, it was no surprise that he needed some extra help.

That’s where you came in- fresh faced and right out of college, majoring in (Y/M/N) and needing a job for the summer.

A friend of a friend had been the one to hook you up, Kuroo taking a liking to you almost instantly.

He had to admit, it was your pretty face and bright smile that draw him in at first, but truly, you were most qualified candidate for the job.

Like a ray of sunshine, a breath of fresh air if he’d ever seen one.

Not to mention how his daughter absolutely loved playing with you from the moment she met you, so in Kuroo’s mind it was a no brainer.

That’s how it started— but your story with the older man would end much, much different.

With lingering glances here and there, subtle touches and late nights where you’d both just sit down and talk, it was no surprise to either of you that ended up here— face down on his couch and completely at his mercy.

Truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. You were only supposed to have a few drinks and then head home for the night, but somehow before Kuroo could even open the wine, the tension between the two of you had reach the boiling point.

Everything between you two had been spilled in an instant, and now you were a moaning mess as Kuroo’s soft lips attached themselves to your clit, biting and sucking softly while his long fingers worked magic on your cunt.

“You like that babygirl?” Nicknames, so many of them, and they sounded so sexy coming from his lips. You damn near came right then and there as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, nibbling a little while his assault on your pussy continued.

“Y-Yes,” You found yourself squeaking out a reply, too wrapped up in pleasure to respond with anything coherent. But alas, Kuroo wasn’t satisfied. He gave you pointed look as he fingers came to a still, a whine leaving your throat at the loss of contact.

“Kuroo!”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not my name. You know better,” He said disapprovingly. It only took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up, a spark of realization flowing through you before you uttered out the correct word.

“Daddy.”

“That’s it,” Kuroo gave you a huge smirk and in no time, continued on with brining you to your high. Admittedly, the man was skilled. Despite never having explored your body before, he knew exactly where to touch you, knew exactly the right spots to make you see stars. “Let me hear you baby- let see hear you cum for me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck!” A breathless moan left your lips as you threw your head back, pleasure taking over every sense. You could barely breathe, too focused on the orgasm that came crashing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and rendering your brain useless.

You came, harder than you ever had before, all over Kuroo’s slender fingers. In fact, your little pussy made a mess all over his expensive couch but at the moment, Kuroo didn’t care.

His cock was growing harder by the minute as he watched you come undone under him, because of him.

He’s never seen anyone look so sexy, already looking fucked out even though he just started.

“You alright there babygirl?” He’s kind enough to ask, leaning down to stroke your cheeks. Wordlessly, you nod, but Kuroo can tell there’s something on your mind. Suddenly, you sit up, and there’s a hopeful look in yours as you crawl over towards him and pout.

“I wanna ride you, daddy,” You tell him, jutting out your lower lip and tugging on his belt. Fuck. How could Kuroo resist you when you looked at him like that? All needy for him, pussy throbbing at just the idea of him fucking you senseless.

“Fuck, you sure, baby?” He checks to make sure you’re serious before making his next move, and sure enough- you nod eagerly and tug at him again, a whine leaving your throat. He was moving too slow, being a gentleman, sure, but right now you wanted him to fuck you like a whore.

“Yes daddy, I’m absolutely sure,” You tell him confidently, and it doesn’t take much after that to get Kuroo to agree. Quickly, his hands replace yours at pulling at his belt, fumbling with the material and cursing himself for tying it too tight. Eventually though, he manages to get the damn thing off and throws it across the room, making a small clatter that neither of you pay attention to.

And suddenly, Kuroo’s sitting down on the couch and letting you do all the work of undressing him, chuckling at how eager you are. You grab at his clothes like your life depends on it— first his shirt, then his pants, and finally his boxers come off and Kuroo has the absolute pleasure of taking in your ‘O’ shaped mouth, jaw dropping at the size of his cock.

“D-Daddy, you’re so big,” You tell him, eyes wide. Way bigger than any of the college boys you’ve been with. Kuroo was hung and is was making your mouth water, desperate for a taste.

“Go on,” He softly encouraged you after seeing the look on your face, snaking his hands behind your head and gripping your hair. “Give it taste. Let me cum all over those pretty little lips babygirl.”

You’re all eager to fulfill his request, blinking innocently before leaning in and darting your tongue out. Kuroo groans at the action, back straining against the couch as you do it once more before finally giving him the real thing.

Your mouth is hot and tight wrapped around him, pure Heaven, Kuroo thinks, as you get to work and start sucking him like a pro.

Your head bobs up and down, taking him as much as you can and using your hands to stroke the parts you can’t reach. You open up your throat and take him deeper- so deep that you start gagging on his cock.

Kuroo moans at the vibrations and despite your teary eyes, he pulls your head further down and stuffs your mouth with his cock.

He moans again as he feels a pit in his stomach, his orgasm bubbling up the more you pleasured him.

You could feel it, too, by the way he was turning into putty under your touch and groaning every time you stroked him. Slowly, you look up to meet his eyes as you tease his tip with your tongue Kuroo suddenly lets go- sinful noises leaving his lips as thick, white ropes of his cum shoot out and down your throat.

Like the good girl you are, you swallow every last drop before finishing off with a ‘pop!’ Kuroo panting heavily as you sit back on your knees.

“Was I good, daddy?” You ask him, Kuroo frantically nods as he pulls you up, positioning you on his lap and just over his cock.

“The best, babygirl. You took me so well,” Kuroo praises you, stroking your hair before smiling. “You think you’re ready to take my cock now, pretty girl?” He asks, and you nod frantically.

“Yes, please Daddy. I want it so bad,” You tell him, gripping his shoulders, and that’s Kuroo needs to hear in order to spread your legs and lower you on his cock.

You moan as his tip begins to push past your tight walls, the breath leaving your lungs the more he fills you up. God, he’s so big, and he knows it too which is why he give you a little time to adjust to his size before slowly fucking into you.

“Fuck!” It’s so painful and delicious at the same time. The way you stretch around him, your little pussy desperately trying to take him. You throw your head back in pleasure when he bottoms out, hands coming up to steady you.

Your movements are slow at first, only rocking your hips and bouncing a little while you ease into a rhythm. However, you’re practically dripping around him and that makes it all the more easier to move, finally being to able warm up to his size.

The pace that you settle on leaves you both a moaning mess, trying to keep it down as to not disturb his daughter that’s sleeping upstairs. You have to bury yourself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck in order to mask your moans, walls clenching around his cock.

He’s so deep that it has you crying out every few seconds, wrapping your body around him to keep yourself ground. Kuroo doesn’t mind though, in fact he pulls you into a deep kiss as you continue to bounce around him, both of you moaning into the other’s mouth.

Somehow, your hands find his messy hair and you tug on it gently as you begin to feel another orgasm rising up. Kuroo can feel the way your walls are clenching around him, and decides to take the lead. Grabbing your hips, he steadies you before thrusting up and matching your pace, pounding into you while you try to hold on for dear life.

It’s no use though, pleasure clouds over you in an instant, your vision going in and out as you moan and whine against his lips. Eventually though, you’re forced to pull away for air and take deep breath, your body shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, and Kuroo knows.

He feels the way you’re squirming and whining against him, he loves the way you’re going absolutely feral for his cock. He wants nothing more than to make you cum around him, and so he snakes a hand down and rubs at your clit, teasing you just enough to send you over the edge.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You cry out as your walls clamp down on him, creaming all over Kuroo’s cock. Your eyes roll into the back your head and you hear Kuroo groaning underneath you as you squeeze him like never before. Fuck, you’re so tight that he has no choice but to cum too, a loud moan leaving his lips as the milky white substance paints your walls.

He stuff you full of it, his good little girl milking him dry before he pulls out at watches run down your thighs.

You’re breathing heavily as your eyelids slowly open, coming down from your high to see Kuroo as equally as flustered. You both need a minute to calm down before you speak, slowly moving off of his lap and collapsing on the couch next to him.

“That was...” You don’t even have the words for it. You’ve never been fucked so good before, the man making you cum twice which had never happened with any of your other hook-ups. It seems that Kuroo was feeling the same, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed as he leaned back on the couch, sweat dripping down his forehead. Even in his fucked out state though, he still looks incredibly handsome. Black hair sticking to his face, brown eyes wide with blown pupils...man, he really was beautiful.

You found yourself smiling the more you admired him, and Kuroo quickly caught onto your stare.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked jokingly, shying away from your gaze. You grinned at the light blush that crossed his cheeks.

“No, no...I just...you’re really handsome, you know that?” You found yourself saying, taking Kuroo by surprise. His brows furrowed together at your words, but he quickly recovered, a sly smirk forming on his face.

“Took you long enough to notice, didn’t it?” He teased, lightly nudging you. You giggled at the action but shook your head.

“No, I’ve always noticed. But honestly I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think I’d see you that way,” Kuroo finished knowingly. You nodded. “Huh. Well isn’t that something.”

“I just thought...well I dunno. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me. I mean after all I’m just the babysitter, kinda cliche isn’t it?” You said.

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah...I suppose it is. But this...us...it’s not just a one time thing, is it?”

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” You tell him seriously, turning to face him. “I mean...I’m willing to you know...be more, if that’s what you want.”

“You mean like a date?” Kuroo asked, shocked.

“I’m free on Friday’s,” You tell him shyly. But despite this, Kuroo finds himself smiling and slowly nodding at your proposition.

“Friday yeah? I’d say we’re doing things a little backwards, but I’d love to take you out,” He can’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face, his heart pounding a little at the shy, relived grin on your own.

“Okay...Friday it is then,” You beam, reaching for your lost clothing that’s been scattered on the floor. It was getting late, and you really should be getting home before your roommate starts to worry, but you find yourself not wanting to leave at all. Kuroo had completely intoxicated you, making you want to do nothing but stay in his arms for the rest of the night. Unfortunately though, you both froze as a cry pierced through the house and Kuroo cursed as he frantically got up, and slipped his clothes on

“I’m sorry,” He sent you an apologetic look as Kiana began to cry, having woken up from her sleep. “I hate to leave things like this but...”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, smiling a little as you gesture upstairs. “She needs you, I understand. I’ll get my time on Friday, yeah?”

“I can’t wait,” Kuroo tells you honestly, stopping momentarily to press a quick kiss on your lips before darting to the stairs. “I’ll call you later this week, okay?”

“I can’t wait,” You repeat his words, grinning at his toned figure before watching him disappear up the stairs. Even from where you were, you could hear Kuroo gently cooing and trying to soothe baby Kiana (named closely after her uncle) and it made your heart absolutely melt.

Shaking your head, you gathered the rest of your stuff and quickly slipped out of the door before you ended up in a puddle due to the cuteness. Already, you had your phone out and rang up your roommate -also your best friend- as you walked to your car, excitement bubbling through your veins.

“Hello?” They answered on the first ring.

You grinned. “Y/F/N, you will never believe what just happened to me...”