#ANYWAYS SORRY. THANKS FOR COMMISERATING WITH ME.

[namisweatheria]

@talolly's tags: #yeah this is why sanji will never be one of my faves or even top five strawhats#like sanji is such a well written and fantastic character#except for this aspect and unfortunately is one that i cant look past when i thimk of him overall#and it never should have gotten this bad and he definitely should have gotten development by now#but he wont#and even if he does#i fear it will be too late to appreciate the changes#and i feel especially resentful because nami is my favorite#and i think hes at his worst when it involves her#and that stifles a lot of nami moments or stories#cause hes got to be her knight or prince charming#or she has be part of his perverted gag

YES THIS. God I keep rereading this post and feeling a little embarrassed because this is just a basic concept to be explaining to people and I'm really willingly and repeatedly spending time in a space where it needs to be said. Which is. Embarrassing.

However I love One Piece so much! I love connecting with other fans who also love Nami! So no amount of fans who are too emotionally immature to handle both loving and criticizing, or who are so desensitized to the sexism that they start defending Sanji as not sexist or even the female character designs (I have actually seen this! In a popular post!) will make me leave this fandom. But. Woof.

So glad for my other shounen lover-sufferers😭 handshake🤝

You can defend Sanji’s reasons for treating women the way he does all you want, obviously there is a clear sympathetic angle to view him from, (that I am not immune to!) but that cannot change the fact that he never consistently treats women as regular people, and that is sexist.

Being obsessed with them before knowing them based only on appearance, ignoring what they’re actually saying in favor of believing his single-minded fantasies, constantly trying to play a Prince Charming role with them, which necessarily attempts to place them in a Damsel role whether that accurately reflects their situation and personality or not, being unable to interact with them (if they’re beautiful) without flirting, attempting to invade their privacy and personal space, there’s no reason that can make any of this not sexist.

I’m also amused by how pathetic he is, I also enjoy and appreciate how he’s the butt of these jokes, I also care about the traumas that made him the way he is. I appreciate the kindness and silliness central to his character. I appreciate and enjoy his character development in one of these respects. But none of that makes his constant treatment of women not othering and grating, or compels me to defend him.

There’s this weird glamorizing of his behavior as that of a “hopeless romantic”, which is, you know, clearly true, but not an acceptable reason to treat women as differently as he does. Nor is being a traumatized misandrist who is obsessed with protecting women from the men he hates. There’s no good reason to treat an entire population as an Other the way he does. The fact that it’s a “positive” treatment doesn’t make it less sexist.

I can’t emphasis enough I’m glad there are compelling reasons that make him that way, and I often enjoy his character despite these things, but that’s not going to make me pretend he’s not sexist. I wish that people were more comfortable enjoying characters without defending them from obviously true criticism. It’s okay to love Sanji and also acknowledge he is sexist! We can do both!

[recent-rose]

yknowwww there is something... deeply uncomfortable about the way mel never speaks directly to viktor in the 'build hextech weapons' scene. she really only speaks to jayce. plenty of people have pointed this out already but like the one scene they actually share a meaningful interaction and she treats him like he's beneath her. all this after jayce has emphasized how important viktor is, that hextech is theirs, together. she unequivocally ices him out, there's no other way to interpret this scene. the way it's shot too - from viktor's perspective, looking up at her, as though to reinforce the same belief in him. like he doesn't even bother expecting respect from her - or anyone from the upper echelon of piltover. he's fully accustomed to being dehumanized by everyone around him at this point. sometimes even by jayce, despite the trust they clearly have in each other.

then of course after this scene is viktor experimenting on himself. it's pretty clear that he has internalized his own dehumanization. crazy.

[brown-little-robin]

it went fine yesterday btw :}

[cobra-creampuff]

my sister is telling my dad the story of last night and they are hard core both sidesing it. "well, you know, she doesn't take apologies well..." 1. that's her fucking problem not mine. 2. that doesn't have any fucking bearing on the two and a half hours straight of transphobic talk. 3. not taking an apology well is one thing, telling someone they're "lucky" you're not assaulting them when they say they're sorry for being a bit rude is actually a totally different thing LOL!

[moonstruckme]

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

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

cw: sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just now,” you answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dreamwatch]

Exposure

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #24 - Prompt: Behind The Scenes | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: scars, ableism, facial differences seen negatively by others (a photographer) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, photoshoots

It was inevitable, honestly.

Their first professional photoshoot, not just Matty’s brother, Brian, with the family Pentax, shooting in black and white because it’s ‘artistic.’ Usually they didn’t put photographs on the flyers, just their logo, but once they moved to Indy a couple of independent labels came for a sniff of the goods and they wanted photos. Thank you, Brian, your services to photography will be forever remembered.

Once they were signed though, the label wanted professional photographs, which was fair, because honestly Gareth’s garage didn’t make the sexiest back drop. So anyway, here they were in a studio in Indianapolis getting their photographs taken, with a real professional photographer.

He doesn’t know a lot about this kind of gig, but he knows guys on TV get their makeup done all the time on account of the lights making their faces shiny, so at first it’s like, whatever. But then they’ve got them all lined up, real Metal Hammer pose, cloudy blue and gray backdrop like some extreme high school portrait, and the photographer is eyeballing him. Like hard stares. And he’s not looking him in the eye. He’s looking at his cheek.

Then the guy’s in a huddle with the makeup artist, and she’s looking at him and the photographers looking at him, and now they’ve got the assistant there. 

“What the fuck is the hold up,” whispers Gareth, and the boys mutter but Eddie says nothing because he knows. He knows and he’s dying a little inside.

Then the huddle is broken, and they’re getting moved around and now Eddie’s facing a different direction (‘we can just flip the neg’) but that’s not working for them either, and the studio lights are getting dimmed on his side, and his heart is racing, and the makeup girl is in his face, “Sorry,” she says, and she’s being gentle, likes she’s trying to be respectful, but she’s painting this shit on his face, on his neck, and he can see the shock, the way her eyes go wide when she starts to move the collar of his shirt and she realises it goes further down and that’s it—

“Can you—“ he snaps, ducking backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” she says all sheepish and apologetic, and she probably means it but he doesn’t care, he’s done, he wants out.

The photographer wraps it up, and he’s talking but Eddie’s not listening, he’s gone, out to the Jeff’s car waiting by the door, but they’re up in the studio playing rockstars, like they’re not driving to gigs in shitty vans, and he’s had it actually, fuck this.

He walks for an hour and then stops at Molly’s and has a few beers. And it feels stupid, at this point, like he’s over reacting, it’s a scar, and they’re in the image industry, and of course they’ll try to hide it. So what? So fucking what?

It’s dark when he finally comes up for air and heads back to their dank little apartment. The guys do that thing where they’re being casual but watching him out of the corner of their eye, but he shoos them away, he’s fine, thanks, nothing to worry about. Gets himself a sandwich and then goes to his room to sleep the day off.

He’s half asleep when he hears his door click, the dip of the bed as someone sits down. He opens his eyes, checks his watch, it’s a little after two in the morning, and when he flips over in the bed Steve Harrington is sitting next to him.

“Heard you had a day.”

“Who called you?” he asks.

Steve kicks his shoes off and slides up the bed, back against the headboard. 

“Gareth. He told me what happened. It fucking sucks.”

Eddie sits up, pulls himself next to Steve. “You drove all the way here to commiserate with me on my sucky day?”

“I drove all the way here to make sure you were okay,” Steve says, like it’s nothing, like Eddie can’t feel his heart squeezing tight at the words.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, needs to process it, what to say.

“I just wasn’t expecting it you know? Which is fucking stupid, and all, but you know, when have I ever been known for my smarts?” he jokes, half assed, because none of this is funny. “It’s just… like, it was so… they looked at me like, how do we fix this? How do we make this go away? Like I was ruining the shoot with my…” he gestures to his cheek, to the jagged red scar that runs all the way down his neck.

Steve listens, because he’s good at that, doesn’t butt in even when you know he’s trying to think of ways of fixing everything.

“And like the thing is, if we make it, it’s gonna be a thing you know? It won’t be the last time.”

Eventually Steve chips in. “I know mine are easier to hide, so I don’t like, know how it is, exactly, but… but people see them and then they’ll forget about them. People look out of curiosity, you can’t stop that, but then they just, they’re not bothered, you know? Like, your fans—“

“Fans?’ Eddie scoffs.

“Yeah, fans! They’re not gonna give a fuck, man. I know that doesn’t really help, not right now, but…  I think it’ll get easier.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Eddie says under his breath. He rolls his head to the side, making eye contact for the first time.

Steve kicks his jeans off and they climb under the covers, Steve’s back against his.

“You know when you’re rich and famous, first thing you need to do is get a bigger bed. This is ridiculous.”

Eddie can’t help himself, lets the giggles take him, feels Steve’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him close. He finds himself being infinitely grateful to his friends for knowing what he needed, and infinitely grateful for Steve Harrington.

[kay-elle-cee]

Okay @sunshinemarauder and @athenasparrow, I believe you both requested silence and patience, pining in anticipation from the Taylor prompt list, so here you go!

Read here on ao3 or under the cut!

“It’s been a shit few months, that’s for sure,” Sirius commiserates, sloshing his third glass of firewhiskey.

James throws a shot back, grimacing. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Cheer up, mate.” Sam slides another shot across the table. “You’re better off. I mean…four months and she just moves onto the reserve Chaser after your injury? Fuck her.”

Lily’s quiet, nodding and agreeing with the pair of them. She could add to it…but it might be damning, so she doesn’t. It’s when Sam and Sirius leave to get a new round of drinks, levitating the empties away, that she gets pulled in.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“No I’m not.”

“Go on,” James prods, a bitter smile curling his lips. “I know you never really cared much for Amy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t—“ The liquor has been flowing too much tonight and those damn eyes of his are fully on her and she almost admits something. She clears her throat as a cover for her interruption. “I guess I just sensed it wasn’t right.”

He sighs, leaning back in chair. “It’s more of a bruise to my ego than anything “

“Oh, we can’t have that.” Her lips quirk up as she takes another sip of her drink, and with his head thrown back and attention off her, she allows herself to look at him. A pang of sadness wraps its way around her heart.

She was with Dirk by the time she realized what she wanted from James. And she had tried to push that down, truly. And when things eventually crumbled, James was…well, he was enjoying his newly minted stardom, and she couldn’t fault him for that.

Lily had told herself that she wasn’t waiting for him, but after three years of half-hearted relationships and a few one night stands, it was painfully obvious (hopefully only to her) that she was just…undoubtedly hung up on James Potter.

“I think I’m done with the whole…dating thing. For a while anyway.”

This pulls her out of her mind, his head snapping up and gaze meeting hers. She blinks. “Oh?”

“Haven’t really been quite successful, have I?”

“Four months is nothing to sneeze at,” she shrugs.

“I suppose. It’s longer than anything you’ve had.”

She offers him a soft, sad smile. It stings, but more for her unsaid feelings than for any of the men who had wandered in and out of her life.

James’ face pales as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Shit. Sorry. It’s the firewhiskey. I didn’t mean to be an arse.”

“You’re not wrong.” Downing the rest of her drink, Lily pushes the glass away only to have James grab her hand.

“Right or not, I shouldn’t have said that.” His thumb brushes against her skin, making her a little breathless, and his eyes almost implore her to hear him. “I’m sorry, Lil.” There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach, and she finds she has to look away.

“So no more dating, huh?”

“I think…” he trails, staring at somewhere near their hands, “I’ve just been attracting women who were attracted to my status, not to me, you know?”

“I mean, yeah.” James’ attention snaps to her quizzically. “Could you not…see that? Hanging over you when the press was around, anytime we were in public, but being more aloof in private? Using your name to get you into bars and clubs? And I know you made up this whole story about why you stopped bringing women by the manor—”

“Didn’t want to get mum and dad’s hopes up…” he mutters.

“It’s because of how greedily they looked at everything, and we both know it. Sirius and Remus, too,” she throws in for good measure.

“Merlin, was it that obvious?”

“Yes. Did you really not see it?”

“I mean, I must’ve. I’m—I know I’ve taken my fair share of bludgers to the head but I got seven N.E.W.T.s, I’m not a dumb bloke.”

“No one would ever call you dumb. Maybe oblivious sometimes, but not dumb.” She slides her hand out from under his with much mental protest, drumming her nails on the rim of her empty glass.

“But I don’t know…I guess I just thought I’d lean into the spotlight a bit. Maybe it’s what I thought came with the territory.” There’s a mix of sadness and bitterness in his voice. “But I guess that’s all gone to pot now, with the shoulder injury and all.”

“They’re keeping you on ‘til the end of the season though, right?”

“They’ve got to, it’s in my contract.”

“Well then you have time to figure things out,” Lily smiles. “You’ve got those seven N.E.W.T.s after all, and the family business. And the relationship thing…it’ll come. Your fame doesn’t matter; you’ll find someone who is mad about the real you. Don’t lose hope.”

“Don’t think I’m in danger of that with you around.” He flashes her a smile that’s equal parts warm and sarcastic, and fully makes her stomach flip. His eyes sweep her face for a moment before he drops his head back, face towards the ceiling with his eyes closed. “Of course you’re right. You’re always right.” He lets out a humorless laugh.

Unbidden, an image of a younger Lily flits into her mind, shouting by a lake.

“Not always.”

“Yes always. You’re not afraid to call me on my shit, Evans, and I love that about you. Even when it’s embarrassingly public.” He laughs quietly again, sliding a hand down his face, and Lily wonders how their minds immediately jumped to the same incident. “Merlin, d’you remember you once called me a toerag in front of half the bloody school before swearing off of me? I could never bring myself to be mad, though—you were right and I was being a little shit.”

“I didn’t”—she licks her lips nervously, battling a hysterical rise of laughter—“swear off of you.”

“Sure you did. Rather go out with the Giant Squid, wasn’t it?”

All the noise around them in the pub has died away. Now it’s only the two of them…and a high-pitched sort of ringing in Lily’s ears.

“That was me turning you down then. Not…forever.”

His head snaps up and their eyes meet—his nestled under a furrowed brow, swirling dark and molten, the brightness of the light honey flecks twinkling in the deep green. It’s as though the air around her has grown thinner, her lungs having to work twice as hard to breathe.

“What’re you—“

“Fucking finally!” Sirius exclaims, collapsing into his seat as Sam levitates a new tray of drinks—several shots and some tankards of butterbeer for winding down the night—onto the table.

“Bartender was making puppy eyes at a hen party and I thought this one here was going to lose his mind if it took another minute,” Sam laughs, pushing two shots over to Sirius.

Lily hears them, but doesn't really register anything. No, she and James are still caught in a magnetizing stare across the table, furrowed brow giving way to something shocked as understanding dawns. She wants to look away, wants to hide the blush of mortification that’s crawling up her neck at her clunky confession, but she can’t.

Three years of playing it mostly cool, down the drain.

But still, there’s something in those eyes that doesn’t let her heart crash and burn. There’s something there, accompanied by the subtle upward curve of his lips, that makes her stomach tremble with anticipation.

Hope.

[sirianasims]

After the main course, Paul went to the kitchen to get the dessert ready before midnight. I excused myself and said I needed some fresh air.

I had been to Del Sol Valley a few times when I was little, visiting my grandparents, but I didn’t remember much about the city itself.

The back of Paul’s mansion was the only thing not surrounded by fences, and the view was both breathtaking and terrifying. Bright lights as far as the eye could see, occasional premature fireworks going off, faint background noise from traffic that never stopped.

It felt like we were gilded birds in a cage up here, always on display yet forever out of reach.

I couldn’t imagine anything further from Copperdale and the quiet, snow-covered forests around it.

I wondered if Paul would expect me to move in with him at some point. I didn’t see how he’d be able to work from anywhere else. I could work wherever, but could I live here? Surrounded by fences and cameras and security guards in a huge, empty house?

I pushed the thought away as I heard the clacking of heels behind me.

“Julia, can I talk to you for a moment?”, Sierra asked softly. “I would really like to apologise for what I said earlier. It was never my intention to insult you.”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, but I still can’t help feeling that you don’t like me very much. Or maybe you just don’t think I’m good enough for Paul?”

Sierra bit her lip.

“I shouldn’t have brought up his exes, especially not in front of you. The thing is, they rarely lasted long enough for the media to catch on – half the time I didn’t even get to meet them before he ended things. So when Paul first told us about you, I got worried. I saw him falling harder and faster than ever before, but you’re so much younger than him and I was struggling to see how it could possibly end well.”

“Right. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m just being honest with you. I tend to be, perhaps, overly protective of Paul. He was even younger than you when we met, we shared a shitty apartment with a few other aspiring actors, all trying to break through. We cheered each other on, audition after audition, practicing lines, commiserating over rejection letters… And then he got the call for Llama Man, and I ended up as an extra in a cop series which later got me the lead in Cop & Llama, but I’ve fought hard to escape that, branch out to other roles, and Paul just… didn’t even try.”

“But he says he prefers the voice acting, though. If you’re his friend, why do you keep pushing him if he’s perfectly happy?”

“Because I’m his friend. Sure, he says he’s happy. Maybe he even believes it. But Paul was always the best of us, and he never took his talent seriously. He’s a great voice actor, but it always felt like he secretly wanted more, he’s just scared. What if he sucked? The media would have a field day, writing about how he should just stick to his cartoons. You’ve seen what they’re like, you just had your first front page. Which, by the way, must be rough. I’m sorry for adding to the stress you must be under right now. Can we maybe start over?”

“Apology accepted, I’m too much of a fangirl to be mad at you anyway. And I’m managing, but I must say, being on the cover of a magazine is a lot less fun than advertised.”

“Trust me, it depends heavily on the kind of magazine. But being hung out to dry by some gossip rag is a rite of passage in this business. You should have seen the frenzy when rumours about me and Dave started circulating. It was wild. I once walked out of an interview because they asked me if the llama costume stayed on during sex!”

“Well? Did it ever?”

Sierra grinned.

“No way – do you have any idea how heavy and warm that costume is? It’s not exactly a sexy superhero muscle suit, it’s a full size sports mascot.”

“True. Although I’m not sure I’d appreciate it if Paul kept his costume on either.”

We both laughed, and I barely registered the steps behind me before I felt Pauls arms around me, his warm hands covering my eyes.

“Guess who.”

I heard Sierra chuckle. “Actually, Paul, we were kinda busy out here, bonding over the trials of dating men in llama costumes. It’s a very exclusive club.”

“I guess Dave and I have to start our own club then. But it's almost midnight and I would like to borrow my girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine, you can have her back. I’ll just go get myself one of those fruit tarts before Lee and Dave eat them all.”

She walked back inside without waiting for a response.

She wouldn’t have gotten one anyway.

beginning / previous / next

[omegamoo]

saw your post around empires1 scotts ending and im just here to commiserate

so fucked up that he says "i guess happy endings do exist" this isnt a happy ending!!! youre dead!!!

esp alongside his 3rd life ending "this is home?" no its not! you are dead sir!

literally so fucked up that every version of him thinks that death is the only place where he can be happy. what do you meannnnn

GOOD GOD. thank you for commiserating i feel so ill and twisted over this UGHHH

WHY DOES HE. WHY. WHYYY like i know everyone always dies in the life series but OHH my god. oh my god. WHY IS HE ALWAYS. LIKE. sorry i keep interrupting myself i feel deranged. hold on. OHHHHH MY GOD

okay i know everyone always dies in the life series like Multiple Times but why is he always Sacrificing himself why is he only ever happy when dead why is death a transaction to him why is that his method of appeasement. GOOODDDD GOD. and he does it in empires too WHYYYYY

i saw a post a long time ago that was basically like “death is kind to scott” for the life of me i’ve never been able to find it but it was about like. the dream “happy endings” of empires 1 & third life. He’s fucking dead. anyways i wrote a poem about it let me see if ive posted it already i feel abnormal

[whenwewereyoung97]

Hiiii! I just finished reading Fourth Wing and Iron Flame and I'm looking for some blogs that mainly post that. Do you maybe have some recommendations?

Hiii! Welcome to the club!

I’m sorry it took this long to respond. Tbh I’m still getting used to the idea of asks, and that people value my bookish opinions enough to ask me 🥹 so thank you for that!

Anyway, these are some of my favorites (though they don’t all exclusively post FW content):

@jmoonjones has some of my favorite FW art (their Storytime With Andarna has my entire heart).

@incorrect-fourthwing, @stupidlybookish and @angstywaifu have nailed the concept of incorrect quotes.

Also a huge fan of @violencewithwings, @wingleaderriorson and @intairnwetrust.

Special shoutout to my Tumblr bestie, who is my favorite person to share theories with, rant to about toxic fans, and just get excited and commiserate with - @unyieldingwings.

[transfaguette]

I was gonna say "I hope you have a nice day", just as... you know, a little nice anon ask... use the feature how it ought to be used, but it's pretty obvious that's not where things are so I'll commiserate instead

That whole bank thing is just sick. I got a credit union, so they try and start charging fees if I don't make transactions for too long, but man yours is so much worse. That's just vile. It literally ought to be illegal. It's your money, what give anyone the right to take it just cause you aren't using it a certain way?

Also I'm real sorry about the chronic pain. I've had a few friends over the years who've had chronic pain (and maybe I do too... I can't really tell, cause... it's just how my body feels, how much pain is it? ...I don't know)

Everything they ever dealt with, from doctors, to never quite managed pain even at the best of times... it's a rough deal

I hope you have a lot of low pain days in your future, that your flare ups are minimal and infrequent

The world's a mess, we live in a broken system which makes it hard to live. So things are rough right now just cause they're legit hard, not cause of any failing on your end

I mean look at the society we've created, where people with no money have to pay large sums of money, to get access to programs to help deal with the fact they don't have any money

People like you and me... we'll do what we can to try and make it a bit better... there's probably not a lot in our power, but we do what we can... it's just a hard time to be alive, and it's probably always been a hard time to be alive, but for me at least... all you can do is try and make it less hard for the other people... try to make a dent so many some day it won't be a hard time to be alive

Anyway sorry about the weird, long ask. Like I said... I just... I wanted to say something nice to you, just a little nice message, but... it would have felt tone deaf seeing the things you've got going on

So instead I decided on weird but candid

I do hope you have a good day soon. Some way, some how, I hope things go good for you

...in the meantime though, that sucks, you're dealing with bullshit and you shouldn't have to be. I hope what can get better gets better soon, and I hope what can't drops to minimal levels

Regardless, take care

this is such a lovely ask, thank you <3 I wouldn’t have thought it was tone deaf to just wish me a nice day, but I really appreciate the thoughtfulness here. it did make my day better :)

[carlos-in-glasses]

Commiseration Monday

Thank you for the tag @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut (and the idea!), @reyesstrand @theghostofashton @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @catanisspicy @alrightbuckaroo ❤️

The rules: While Ao3 is temporarily down, share a little something from a WIP to keep us going through the downtime! Preferably something we haven’t shared before, but whatever works for you!

Please have some Owen and TK time from a WIP (that in my head is called Flashback Fic), which expands on my fic Chasers.

Owen leads TK into the kitchen and sits him at the breakfast bar. "I'm going to make you a spring smoothie, and then you're going to tell me what's up. Is it about your mom? Or did you and Carlos have a fight?"

"I wish," TK says.

"What does that mean?"

"A fight is simple. This is way more complicated." TK shakes his head. A fight would also mean make up sex later, so there are certain pros. "And what is a spring smoothie?"

"Spinach, apples, almond milk, basil, chicory, arugula, fenugreek, and bananas of course."

"Of course."

"Don't knock it until you try it." Owen smiles. "And talk to me."

TK watches his father practically dance around the kitchen, gathering ingredients – and it rocks him, because no matter what’s going on in his life, Owen is always there to make smoothies and talk. He thinks of himself coming out at fourteen. Gay bashed behind the bleachers at fifteen. An addict at seventeen. At twenty-six, relapsing after a failed marriage proposal. Overdosing on his apartment floor. But within all of it, for his whole life, love knelt by his side in the form of his mom and dad.

"Last night, I was in a bad way."

“After that call?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know. But Carlos called Cooper, and Cooper came over, and we talked it out. But when Carlos came home, I told him about, um–” Deep breaths. Deep, steady. “I admitted I almost relapsed the day after mom died.”

Owen stills, hugging two green, shiny apples in his hands like they’re precious. “Did he react badly.”

“No. I kind of freaked out. Kind of cried all over him.”

Owen smiles, sets the apples down and picks up a paring knife. “I’m familiar with your style.”

“Yeah. Well. At the risk of crying all over you and probably Buttercup right now, I keep thinking about you.”

"Me?" Owen asks, flattered but confused.

"And mom. And everything I put you through."

Owen looks at him seriously. Then he opens a drawer to retrieve a second small paring knife that matches one he already holds. He places it onto a thick wooden chopping board next to the two green apples and pushes it across the breakfast bar towards TK. "Wash your hands and help me make this," Owen says.

TK gets up, doing what he's asked without question, smiling to himself because he's a paramedic and doesn't need to be told to wash his hands before food prep, but they've gone back in time to his childhood, when Owen would tell him important things about life while engaging him in something practical. When TK was twelve, Owen came over to TK's new apartment with Gwyn on Canal Street and helped strip orange floral wallpaper from TK's room. While working away at the tired old flowers, which an elderly lady had once loved, Owen gave TK the sex talk. It was hetero in focus, but even then it was like Owen was nudging TK to tell him to stop if he wanted, if it didn't apply to him, or if he needed to discuss it in a different way.

TK shunted his wallpaper scraper up and down to remove a patch with particularly firm adhesive, taking a little plaster away with it.

"Anyway, if there's anything you need to know, or just want to know – if you're ever curious or upset or you have feelings for someone, I'll always want to talk to you about it. You don't need to be worried or shy."

"Okay," TK said, "Can I have some lemonade now?"

When TK cores the first apple, his hands begin to shake. He has to put the knife down. "Dad."

"TK."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."

Owen looks at his tearful son understandingly. He takes the apple from him, finishes slicing it, and waits for TK to carry on.

I'm late to this so I'm just going to tag @ladytessa74 because I was going to read your new fic tonight :( Otherwise this is an open tag to anyone who wants to do it - please genuinely take it as a tag and tag me back if you post!

[uroboros-if]

I once played a series of IF games (I bought them all before playing just one of them 😭) and there were a lot of like, decisions where your stats were very important. Which is fine, not really my cup of tea, bc it usually makes me feel like I can only decisions that’ll level up the “correct” stats instead of choosing the options I like.

But the romance was also stat based. So I would press a dialogue option that would be like, a bit confrontational and my progress with that character would go from 90% to 75%. Or I wouldn’t be able to help in some scenarios, bc the stat to do (which for some reason was charisma)that was too low. Which is so like, defeating. I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on a tightrope to figure out which options are “correct”.

I don’t want MC to be able to walk all over others without consequences, but I do want to be able to not be a doormat. But ig that my own frustrations with IF where there are stat checks are part of my problem.

Anon, I think I know exactly the series you're talking about, because that's the one I've had in mind all this time! 😭

I was dismayed by what you mentioned (going from a 90% to 75%) that I had to drop the story. The one I'm thinking of is a Choice of Games/Hosted Games IF. In that game, it's using Choicescript's "fairmath" where it's harder to increase your relationship the closer it is to 100%, and much easier to lose points. The opposite is true if you're closer to 0%.

Supposedly, it's so the stat doesn't go beyond 100% or below 0%, but (disclaimer: personal opinion) it shouldn't apply to relationship stats. Furthermore, I've code-dived into this game, and it's a whopping 20% decrease on one instance when you disagree with them! (That's without adjusting for fairmath, where the decrease could be higher if you have a high relationship.)

It's pretty apparent, but that game has made a pretty big impact on me! That much, at least, I appreciate it for.

Anyway, I'm sorry, everyone's probably sick of me beating this particular topic to death! I'll be answering one more ask about this issue already in my inbox, then I'll put it to rest unless there's more to it. Otherwise, feel free to DM me on Discord / Tumblr to commiserate with me, or use the replies on this post!

Thank you so much Anon💕💕💕

[yinyuedijun]

the aventurine fic hit me in places gg. idk i forgot a good chunk of my mother tongue when we moved out to a different part of my country for a while and...it just didn't make sense speaking that language when i have this to learn and get by with.

idk aven's feelings just...yeah. especially with the 'childish speech' part. and that latent embarrassment and panic over not knowing it because it's either dead or slowly dying out. those hit close. i'm appalled. goddamn you. jail to you JAIL-

omg anon ARE YOU ALSO A SPEAKER OF A DYING LANGUAGE 🤯 BECAUSE IF SO !! I am shaking your hand in commiseration 🤝🤝🤝 my family immigrated completely and on god I try my hardest to remember my mother tongue even if it's a useless language but it feels like the rest of the world is literally forgetting it faster than me 😭

anyway. I know it hurt (sorry) but I'm really happy to hear that the fic resonated with you!!! I think so many of your experiences are exactly what I wanted to capture, esp w like.... the latent panic and embarrassment bit FLSJSKA I didn't think there'd be anyone in the audience who could relate to that 😭 thank you SO SO MUCH for reading, and for sending this! it made me so happy <3 worth the jail time 😁

[josephtrohman]

Hi sorry can i come in here and just complain for a minute. Sometimes the state of Joetrick economy bums me out so bad like I can't even lie. Everyone only ever talks about Joe unrequited toward Patrick, which can be good angst. Except I'm way too emotionally weak to read angst 😭 or using Joetrick as a vehicle for P2/having some like P2 agenda behind it all. I can't even blame them bc P2 is just that compelling and those can be great ideas to explore in fic!! And I never want to tell people what they "should" write. It's just depressing bc you realize like "Oh, you not like me fr." And then I got nothing to eat for dinner you know? 😭 Anyways, yeah. Sorry I just wanted to complain. Btw to be more positive I love your writings and fic so at least we have you as president Joetrick warrior. Thanks for your contributions 💞

i really feel your pain anon, my inbox is always a safe space for just about anything so air out your grievances ALWAYS but even moreso when we bring joetrick into the equation cuz i could talk about my boys 4ever. even if it's to commiserate like this cuz this is SOOOOO real lol. and thank you for the sweet lil bit at the end there you're so kind!! im sorry it's been a while, school has been actually cracking my brain i think, but i have a few things kinda in the works rn that ive been working on slowly when i have the time/energy 💞

also originally in response to this i typed this big long reply kind of unnecessarily analyzing what ppl say/write about them and then i read it back and realized how truly insane it sounded and deleted it but just know my point was largely like what you said plus just being like 'ppl annoy me' lol. im just a girl 💘 anyways all that aside i hope i can provide some dinner again for you soon 💖

[ekingston]

oof! sorry to hear about your emergency root canal! those suckers are the fucking worst. not sure how long your commissions are gonna stay open but i used up my fun funds already for this month. will know more for next month depending on your timeline. anyway best of luck and hope you're recovering well!

thank you for the commiseration & thank you for your interest!! it all depends on how quickly they fill up; i work pretty slowly when wanting to get it right, so i don’t tend to take on a lot of work at once. but if you aren’t in too much of a rush you can always catch up with me later! i’m looking forward to hearing your ideas!