#anyway i just feel like some people need to be reminded that ao3 authors are people too lmao

[iridescentgleam]

broooo i just checked the bookmarks on a fic i wrote like a year ago and one of the comments under the bookmark said "could be better, but nice" and like, hellllll nah

Like yes, it could ALWAYS be better, nothing is perfect, and you are absolutely allowed to dislike a fic of mine, but publicly bookmarking a work with a comment like that is wild ass behavior. I don't care that much about it but like please remember that there is a person behind the fic you just read who is writing this FOR FREE, like i am not a paid author or even a content creator, man.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Poor Unfortunate Soul Reprise” octopus hybrid!Scaramouche x reader nsfw

A/N: picture for reference of Cecaelia the actual term for the myth being (male reference). Sorry this took so long it was collecting dust in my folder for a while due to cliche AO3 author shit but I hope you enjoy!

You couldn’t tell how much time has passed but what you do know is you’re sore like you’ve been hit by a truck, stirring awake enough to feel someone cradling you in their arms and tiny waves of water lapping at your shins. The cool temperature of the water shook your sleep logged mind enough to register that you were still naked and tried to sink deeper into your sleeping companions body warmth.

It was very dark but a small dark red light illuminated the cavern softly, allowing you to see you were in Scaramouche’s more private habitat where no one could see him unless a diver swam into it. Which rarely happened since the last person who tried it ended up with a broken arm and a 4 week recovery period, a silent message from the Cecaelia. “Keep out pathetic weaklings.”

Scaramouche had pale as snow skin like he’d rarely been in the sun for longer than a couple minutes and mix of blues and purples coloring his ear that took on a more webbed fin like appearance. Bits of vibrantly sparkly lavender scales scattering his body from the waist up, giving more of a divine appearance compared to his sharjjp fowl mouth. His tentacles were twitching ever so slightly and almost blending into dark waters, their mass made up of entirely muscles reminding you of their power. A face so gorgeous looking like it was sculpted by the gods or some heavenly being designed to lure people into a sense of calm. Short silky smooth dark violet blue hair with messy cut bangs framing his youthful face and thin but longer hair falling down this back swaying on the surface of the water. Speak of the devil or sea witch rather.

Cecaelia. A term your superiors had found after scouring the library and internet for answers. Happening upon the very name for a being that had the upper of half of a human and the lower half (usually at the waist or hips) of an octopus. They apparently have others unknown abilities being to said to take ‘a form of mermaid or sea demon’ and most often ‘combining the head, arms and torso of a woman (more rarely a man)’.

He could feel you squirming as you woke and chose to leave you to your devices, only worming his tentacles around you for a better grasp and settling his pet into a more comfortable position as you both came to. “Good morning, pet. I can see you had a nice nap.” Scaramouche chuckled to himself as his eyes flicked over every mark adorning your body and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.” Kissing gently on your lips and hoping you weren’t too cold or the effects of his blood hadn’t faded.

You hummed in satisfaction and fully relaxed, murmuring a “thank you” before succumbing to the fatigue pulling at your eyelids and leaning into your dear companion. A talk about what your relationship was could be had at a later time. Dreams slowly passed your mind and occupied your attention, provoking thoughts gaining your attention; such as how were you supposed to go back to your job after this happened? Did he like you more than just a one night stand? Well, the way he spoke didn’t seem like he planned on giving you up nor like things would go back to normal. ‘I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.’ Hm.

The stress from all your questions wouldn’t allow you to sleep soundly and ended up waking up anyway, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stretching. Your head turned to Scara and nudged your head under his chin to wake him up. “Scara I need to talk to you about what the fuck is going to happen after this….thing.” Laughter filled the small cave and bounced off the walls, his arms moved you so you faced him. “And what would you like to talk about, love?” You sucked in a breath and rethought what you wanted to say, “First what are we in terms of our relationship? Second, what plans do you have for me? Three-”

You remember reading some of the documents given to the staff of the mythology and one of the sections was about reproduction or theorized romantic relationships. It was said that cecaelias are likely to mate for life or until one of them reaches death and are loyal to the end when the find the one they love. That couldn’t be what he felt for you right? He did seem seriously about his feelings, not to mention the clear favoritism he held for you as you both grew to become familiar with another.

A feeler covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence and wouldn’t move when you tried pulling it away, glaring at the person responsible. “Don’t look at me. You were the one who was talking too fast for me to understand… hahaha but alright. To answer your first question, I thought I made myself clear. You’re mine now and until I decide so, pet. For the second question, you’re going to help me out of this damn prison and back to your house.” To say you were stunned was an understatement, starting to spew worries about your job and him getting hurt but it was of course muffled by one of his arms gagging your mouth.

“I know, I know. ugh, you humans and your meaningless worries. I assume your anxious about getting fired or in trouble.” His hand stroked your hair soothingly in an attempt to calm you and removed his tentacle so you could speak. You nodded and chose to say nothing about the worry of him getting hurt since all it would do is inflate his ego. “Alright thank you for clarifying but how the fuck am I supposed sneak you out. You’re enormous and I don’t think you can survive on land for long periods of time.”

The violet haired being rolled his eyes and told you you had nothing to worry about, just rely on him and after hours cut the power entirely. Help get Scaramouche get out to your car and then turn it back on so the other animals would be okay but it would seem as if it was simply a power outage. You hesitated but agreed after he told you if you did get caught then he’d take the entire blame and punishment, insisting that it wouldn’t come to that. “Alright, but what time is it?” One of his purple slimy arms pulled a watch from a small crack in the wall next to the light and examined it. “6am. As much as I would love to keep you here, you have work and I have breakfast to eat.”

Right. Work. You hoped it was a relatively low maintenance day and saw your still dampened clothes being handed to you, thanking your now boyfriend and standing on the dryer platform to put your clothes back on. “I just remembered that I have to swim back up to to surface which means my work clothes will get wet. Well, I suppose it was worth it-” A feeler curled its way around your ankle tightly and squeezed, “You suppose?! Ugh, it looks like I didn’t fuck you hard enough did I? Or maybe you’re daring me to test my own stamina like the brat you are.” You scoffed and finished buttoning up your shirt, getting back into the water. Slapping the arm still stuck to your ankle lightly and kissed his cheek, enjoying the light pink flush filling his cheeks and grinning at your small success of making him flustered.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll have to find out. Now, if you want to leave with me tonight then help me get out of here because I don’t know if any security is patrolling this area.” Scaramouche shook his head to get focused again and slipped under the water to check, quickly coming back up to let you know it was all clear. You took a deep breath and sunk underneath the water. The trip to the top of the tank was fast, much faster than if you swam on your own. Fresh air filling your lungs and pulling yourself onto the platform for the trainers, climbing up the ladder and reaching for a towel by a bench with supplies.

Hearing him cough for attention, you went over to fridge and pulled out a sizable part of bass that was already prepared. “Don’t think I forgot about you, discount ursula.” Throwing it to the hybrid and ignoring the glare he sent your way for the insulting nickname, muttering something about being better than whoever this ursula person was. “I must’ve done something right to receive more food than usual. Seems like should keep testing your limits.” He smirked as you muttered curses in anger at him and walked off to change clothes, admiring the visible marks he had left last night and swimming down to enjoy the alone he had before the building opened.

You wandered into the employees only section where the uniforms were kept whenever volunteers would sign up and pulled out your size, changing into them and using your towel to dry your hair. It was still early and you hadn’t had anything to eat so you went to the cafeteria usually meant for customers. Checking the schedule to see which area you’d be covering today and were shocked to see you’d be in charge of Scaramouche’s tank with another person since it was a two person job. “Oh guess I won’t have to stray far from him. Wait this means he won’t bother to hide much since he’ll probably want to torment me more and that means a bigger crowd.”

Grabbing a scone and coffee quickly before heading back up to grab your phone, headphones, and employee badge. You texted your coworker that you had come early and that you were both on cecaelia duty, laughing at the comment Alex made about work being cut out for you both. Well, they weren’t wrong but for you it was for different reasons and went to space in front of his tank to tell him the news. The gate to the employees area unclipped as you got behind the metal railing and pressed a button that was connected so a waterproof speak in the water.

“Scaramouche. I’m going to be working with you today.” Keeping the call button on so he could hear the outside and struggling to keep your chuckling visible when you saw the hybrid swim down so quickly, scaring off a bunch of fish and receiving a hiss from a algae green large moray eel. A small but noticeable smile spread across his face before it disappeared as soon as it appeared most likely to keep up his ‘I don’t care and I hate you all’ act. “Oh! And Alex is working with me too.” He looked visibly displeased and went to swim away before you spoke again. “Wait, regardless I’m going to stay with you. Would you rather me work in another part of the building cause I can make that happen?” You didn’t know if you could but the threat was clear and he gave you an angry look, not saying anything but not disagree either. “That’s what I thought.”

He pressed a hand against the thick glass and only looked at you, what you wouldn’t give to see what was going on in his mind. Pressing your own hand against the glass and smiling, asking him through the intercom if he had a way to get out of the tank. Scaramouche nodded and continued to “talk” with you, on occasion making rude gestures whenever you teased him or caught his soft emotional looks (even if it only happened once in a blue moon). “Name! Hey- Oh Woah! The spitfire legend is out!” Alex jogged over to you and got behind the gate as well, admiring him closely since it was rare to see him out in the open and this close to the glass on his own free will.

“Wow! He’s more beautiful than I thought. What did you do to get him out?” You laughed at their fixed gaze on Scaramouche who clearly was not pleased with the attention solely on him and feigned ignorance. “I don’t know, I just got hear and made my rounds only to see him out.” They laughed and pushed your playfully, “Yeah right. Everyone knows he like you more than anyone here, not to mention you explicitly tell others how not to piss him off. Do you know how many accidents you’ve prevented?” As if to spite you, your lover turned to face you and crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow. Your coworker pointing it out “See even he agrees!” The three of you talked (your beloved nodding or making gestures) as the morning went on slowly, dreading the rush hours and helping people out with directions if they needed it.

Everything was going great and shockingly calm until a swarm of people flooded into the room.

About 25 or 30 people ran up to the metal railing, sending the octopus reeling back in shock and swimming to hide behind a bolder nearby. You and Alex answered the questions you got about the tank’s inhabitant and occasionally checking in on Scaramouche to make sure he was okay. This went well until I very angry mother stormed up you specifically and started screaming at you. “Make him come out!” You flinched at the volume and backed up “Excuse me?”

“Get that thing out so my kid can see him! He’s not doing anything so get him out into the open!” You turned to Alex who gave you a look if you needed help but you shook your head, focusing your attention back on the karen. “I’m sorry but Scaramouche is a cecaelia, not a thing, and second he isn’t fond of crowds so I’m forcing him to out.” What you said only seemed to anger her more and she got face to face with you. “I’ve seen others use cattle prods on him to get him out but you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?!”

You nod firmly and stand your ground. In no way were you going to hurt Scaramouche even before you knew him or got into a relationship. You would never hurt an animal or any creature. “No, ma’am-” “MA’AM” Interrupting her again you continued, “I refuse to use those things. Now, do I need to call security?” The room was quiet before a loud slap could be heard and you felt her palm hit your face, an audible gasp fall over the crowd and they all stood in silence for a slip second before movement could be heard behind you. Scaramouche who’d been watching (and hearing) the whole ordeal closely and already pissed at this vile woman for yelling at you didn’t bother to control himself when he acted automatically upon seeing you get slapped.

Swimming as fast as possible behind you and flaring his lower half to make himself look bigger than he already was, his tentacles spread out and pressed against the glass. The hybrid would’ve beaten your assaulter had the glass not been in his way and inches thick. His fist banged on the glass to get her attention and gave her a death stare, surely given off how infuriated she’d made him. The woman was to scared to speak, fear overtaking her expression and shaking where she stood. Good. She knew she made a grave mistake and he sharpened his glare, baring his teeth and slamming his fist against the glass. “Run.” Even if he couldn’t be heard, the message was clear. The disgusting trash took of running, her child who apologised profusely to you yelling insults at their mother.

Scaramouche’s eyes remained on yours as he watched and heard several things happen. Alex called security and told them what happened (also to ban the woman specifically from the aquarium and not her kid). Concerned parents and kids asking if you were alright, something his heart warmed at. ‘Maybe not all humans were cruel’ He thought, you and two others from his past were evidence it was true. Finally gaining your attention and hearing you whisper into the radio. “I’m alright, Scara. It doesn’t hurt much, just stings.” Reluctantly, he nodded and stayed at the front of the glass in case something else happened, using his scary and fierce reactions to his advantage if any issues occured.

You could see the concern on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t retreat back to the bolder, not that you expected to after that. He could indeed be terrifying when he wanted to be, seeing the speed he moved at from the corner of your eye and how intimidatingly big he made himself seem in response. A response your heart couldn’t help but leap at the protection he gave you even from the other side of a thick transparent wall. “Thank you.” Alex had checked back and examined your cheek after coming back from dealing with the woman. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question- you just got slapped. She’s gone and not coming back ever.” Their gaze flickered over to the guarded cecaelia still right behind their coworker.

“Thank you, Scaramouche. You’re getting a special dinner for that.” He nodded and glared off to where the woman left, seemingly still peeved at her. “Hey, she’s not coming back she’s banned. You did a good job scaring her off.” These words were all it took for him to calm down at least visibly and turn his attention back to you, lifting a tendril to the glass next to you. Things calmed down and the crowd spoke their apologies incase they had help instigate altercation. A small voice made themselves known as they politely asked others to move aside and stepped up to the railing so they were standing on the lowest rung. “Excuse me? I hope you’re okay! That woman is a nasty meanie. Klee drew this for mister Scaramouche since he reminds me of a prince.”

A small girl maybe 7 or 8 years old with blond hair pulled into pigtails and fiery ruby red eyes handed you a paper depicting a kid’s drawing of the mythical being. He was frowning but wearing a simply drawn crown standing in front of a castle under the ocean, it was clear she took pride in it. You smiled at her and turned partially to show the muse of her art. “Hey, Scara. Klee drew this for you, you like it?” Scaramouche skeptically looked at the drawing and nodded whilst mumbling something that you could guess was a half hearted compliment. You could see the flustered expression on his face as he tried to not show how much he liked it and turned back to Klee to give her art back to her. “Oh. I want him to keep it. I have tons of drawing at home just like that. Thank you Mx Name!”

She waved goodbye to you and Scaramouche who also waved back with a smirk now realizing how many people probably thought the same (not like they could compete with his new favorite kid). “Mommy! The pretty octopus boy liked my picture! I can’t wait to tell big brother Albedo!” “I saw, mama’s so proud. I got a picture you can show him.” You watched as the blond pair walked off to another room, one practically bouncing off the walls and the other calmly intertwining her hands. The day went on significantly more smoothly and nothing else major happened, your lover hadn’t left your side for one second as the day eventually ended and your coworker said goodbye as their shift ended.

It was around closing time when you were preparing dinner for Scaramouche and chatting while he was lounging on the sunken platform. “I’m telling you the plan will go smoothly so stop worrying about. I see your stupid mind whirling away like diver lost in an underwater cave.” You continued to cut the slices of different fish onto a plate with some greens and freshly washed vegetables, taking what he said to heart and hoping it would all go according to plan. “Are you sure you want to leave? I don’t know if you’ll be able to go outside what with people knowing what you look like-”

“After what happened today?! You only got hurt because of me and the crowd I was drawing so that should answer your question. It isn’t the first worthless humans treated you rudely either. Why would I want to go out when you’re all I need?” You reminded him that you’ll still need to work and probably more hours since you’d now be providing for two people to which he countered that he’d get a job after retrieving his identification files. “You’re what now?!” He looked at you like you had two heads and laughed. “What do you think I don’t exist? I have a birth certificate and everything…granted they’re mostly fake but they do work.”

Clearly you were stunned and had several questions but guessed you wouldn’t get an answer out him. “You gonna tell me?” Scaramouche shook his head and grinned smugly, resting his head against his palm. “In time, but firstly dinner then get another set of clothes around your size. After pull your car around the closest back exit and turn off the power. No one should be here anyone since it’s sunday and everyone went home early.” Agreeing you set his dinner down before getting a extra pair of clothes (for who? you couldn’t figure out) and grabbed your bag and keys, heading out to your car. You pulled into the back entrance where the animals usually get transported into the facility and began to lock up all the door, going off your mental checklist when you normally closed.

Heading the main power switch, you took a hold of it and turned it off. Switching on your phone light and running towards Scaramouche, you skipped steps to get to the top faster and went to call out to him only to stop short. There before you was your lover dressed in the employee clothes you left him with but on two legs instead of his octopus half with all eight tentacles. “How-” He ran or rather tried to but ended up wobbling towards you and nearly falling to the ground. “There’s no time to explain. Help me, I haven’t been in this form for a long time.” You did as you were told and slung an arm over your shoulder, carefully walking down the steps and helping him stand like you would with someone relearning how to walk after an accident. Even after turning the power on you’d have a around 15 minutes before they were active again and that was all you needed.

“Turn the power back on. It’s the big green button at the top. I would do it but I’m holding you.” Scaramouche pushed it and the light flickered back on, trying his best to walk after years of not using his legs. You finally got to your car after a minute of reaching the transport bay and got him into the passenger's seat, closing the door and running over to the drivers side. The car turned on and you swiftly drove out of there, telling siri to set a reminder to text your boss that you’d be taking a few days off because of a sudden family emergency and the incident that happened today. The sound of the radio and running engine filling your ears, looking briefly over to your companion who seemed enamored with the sights passing your car.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the outside. Thank you, Name.” The light ahead of you turned red and you stopped which gave you time to turn your attention back to him. “Scara. Explaination. Now!” He rolled his eyes and continued to look out the window, speaking after a couple seconds seemingly in thought. “I’ve always had the ability to grow legs but as you can see some of my scales remain visible. They could just be attributed to makeup or a tattoo but they’re still there.” His head turned so you could see the lavender scales like marks on the corner of his cheeks and collar bones when he unbutton the top of his shirt. They did look like he could pass them off as not being real. “But if you could escape before. Why did you wait that long? You had plenty of chances before.”

He took in a breath carefully and kept his gaze on the now passing environment as you started driving again, look at you. “I met you. I was going to leave, I had a plan and everything but then you wormed your way into my heart and made me care. So, I stayed and put up with it all, waiting for the chance to maybe get out with you.” Scaramouche’s small speech left you stunned in silence and honored that you’d left such an impression, muttering a grateful response and remaining silent as you returned home. You lived in a relatively small area but not in the middle of nowhere and only 20 minutes from the aquarium just at the entrance to a small wooded area but off the coast near the ocean.

A large river that connected to the ocean flowed next your cottage down the hill which you figured could be a good place if Scaramouche ever wanted to relax in his octopus form or swim with you in the warmer days. It was roughly 25 feet deep and was mainly saltwater with little freshwater home to some birds and small sea life. The trees surrounding your home kept you sheltered from major storms while still allowing a great view for lightning over the sea. You pulled into the driveway and got out with your bag, moving to help the now humanish cecaelia who you guessed had been flexing his muscles as he was now roughly standing with his on your car. “Let’s get inside, I can cook dinner while you can into more comfortable clothes.”

Your home was more comfy than Scaramouche would’ve guessed with fluffy blankets covering part of a leather brown couch and brick fireplace neatly cleaned of ash. Pictures decorated the wall of your friends and family he surmised and rustic decor could be found all around your living room, following you to your bedroom after he wiped his feet and being handed some soft loungewear. “Here you can change into that and I’ll cook some dinner. Feel free to wander about.” Leaving him to change, you grabbed a set of sweatpants and sweatshirt to change into in the bathroom. You mulled over your thoughts after everything that had happened today, how your life had changed significantly and hopefully for the better.

The warm cotton fabric acted as a comforting shield from the cold air seeping in through the window and tickling your ear as if to whisper your unconscious thoughts to you even if you couldn’t understand them. DING! A notification from your phone brought you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the present, slipping your hand into your fleece pocket to retrieve your phone. It was the reminder you set when you both were in the car to text your boss and coworker, heading out of the bathroom and to the kitchen to make some quick dinner. You texted your boss and coworker the same thing, how you would be taking a few days off because of “family emergencies” and your mental health. Which wasn’t entirely false but a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“It’d take too long to fully cook something and ordering take is expensive so it looks like I’ll just throw a frozen pizza in the oven for tonight. I can go shopping tomorrow,” Opening the freezer drawn and grabbing a recently bought frozen flatbread with your favorite toppings. It was supposed to be a treat for a self care night but this could count as such too. You set the oven to the correct temperature and put the pizza in so it would cook as the machine preheated. “Hey Siri, set a timer for 15 minutes.” The AI did as it was told and you went to call out to your new roommate and lover only to see he was leaning on the jamb of the doorway. In his hands was the rest of his long hair and scissors, where the ponytail began now roughly cut off so it formed almost a wolf cut.

Scaramouche walked over and put the scissors down, “Like my new look? I figure it’d be easier to take care of and I’ve been wanting to cut for a while. Where is your trash?” You pointed to your garbage can camouflaged like all the other drawers and continued to stare. “Are you sure? I mean you look great but-” The short haired man nodded and tossed the length of hair in the trash shutting the lid before falling into your embrace. Nuzzling his head into your neck and placing small kisses, taking your hands in his and leading them up to the sides of his face. You wove your fingers through the violet hair, untangling any knots and sighing deeply to rid of your anxious worries.

“What’s wrong?” It was obvious something was bothering you and he couldn’t blame you. Your life had changed so much in the past 24 hours and you had still yet to adjust to it; he’d do his best to be a constant variable. “I- I’m just worried about everything. What if you get caught? What if this is only temporary?” Silence hung in the air as you both waited for an answer, the fear of their unknown future looming over you like a remind of the big decision you’d made. His grip on your got tighter and he rested his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly. “If this is temporary then I’ll enjoy it till the moment it’s over. I won’t get caught, I’ve been wandering alone for a while before they caught me. I have experience on my side.”

That was a promise. He’d never let anyone take him from you, not after his friend was killed because of him and not after the little boy died in his arms. You were his new hope. A ball of light untouched by his past mistakes and he intended to keep it safe. Keep you safe. “Don’t worry, Name. This will all work out.” Unfurling himself from the hug and rubbing comforting circles with his thumb on your cheek, whispering affirmations and promises that no measly human could tear either of you apart. You felt better and relaxed, it was new territory which was always scary but you had Scaramouche with you. RING! RING! The timer on your phone went off and made you jump at the sudden noise, catching a small flinch from your significant other as well. “I made pizza for dinner. You can have some even though you already ate, Scara.”

The hybrid looked pleased and nodded, searching through all of your cabinets and drawers until he at last found the plates. Taking two out and grabbing a slice after you’d cut it, you could hear his quiet curses when he grabbed the hot pizza. “Be careful. It just came out, I don’t want to bandage you so soon.” You felt like you were reminding a child the basics of living and safety, assuming that it was probably years since he was last in a house with working appliances and you’d have to remind him until it became a habit for him. The hot marinara sauce hit your tongue as you bit into the pizza and perfectly cooked cheese pulling apart messily, using your finger to tug the long string of cheddar apart so it didn’t become a piece of spaghetti. At long last being able to eat something solid and filling felt like heaven after the exhausting hours of work, secretly eyeing Scaramouche to see if he liked it.

A satisfied hum came from him and he was focused on eating something that must’ve been a lot better after eating nothing but raw fish for meals. Plans had started forming in your mind for other delicious meals for him to enjoy and restaurants you could go on dates to. Once things settled down and you both could back to work, finding a job for Scaramouche and you going back to work, you both could enjoy the more fun things in life like going on dates and waking up together. You should take a bath after the stress of today and working among sea life would cause you to smell a bit salty or fishy, “I’m going to take a bath after this. It should only take-” “Can I join you?”

You swallowed the piece of food in your mouth and turned to him, “What!?” He shrugged and returned back to eating, continuing the talk to you, “I want to wash my hair and body after being in a saltwater tank for a few years. Can you blame me? Wait- are you embarrassed?” The flustered expression you was the only answer he needed and laughed at the sudden silence coming from you. “Fuck you totally are. What, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked or do I need to remind you how good I made you feel?” You stood up and washed your plate, deeming that you were full from dinner and putting the rest of the pizza into the over so it would stay warm. The hybrid’s laughter could be heard even after you went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on to your jacuzzi tub, something you’d spent a decent amount of money on because of nice it was to use.

“Damn fucking asshole. He’s too attractive for his own good and he knows it.” He knew how to push your buttons so you’d react accordingly and remain entertained based on your reactions, happily watching you squirm under his gaze. Grabbing some soap to make bubbles and testing the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. You looked back to the door that was slightly ajar and undressed, putting your clothes on the counter and sighing joyously when you sunk into the warm water. “So much better.” Muttering to yourself and slipping underneath the surface to soak your hair. The door creaked open and your lover strolled casually in, blatantly admiring your figure through the light sheen of bubbles. “Shit. You really do things to me, beloved. I’m going to join you.”

You went to argue when he countered you never said no to him and allowed him to undress, averting your eyes with a light blush on your cheeks and gaining a response from the other. “Aw, you’re still so shy. Look at me. Look at me, Name.” Holding your face and moving so you had no choice but to see him bare before you. Unable to stop yourself from staring at his toned muscles and light scarring all over his body, your eyes traveling down to his v-line and hard erect cock. “Good baby. Hm, I can’t wait to fuck you so hard you only remember my name.” He got into the tub and relaxed his body, seemingly concentrating on something before you saw his lower half shifting and changing color. Below his waist his skin turned a dark violet and scales became more pronounced, an ink like dark cloud covered the water and nine tentacles formed where his legs used to be.

Some of them spilled over the tub and others lay floating on the surface, “Ah~ so much better. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I had a hot bath.” He eyed you up and down, extending his arms opening and made a “come ’ere” motion. Soft cool tendrils circled your thighs and moved you to his lap, curling themselves around you. You hands made their way to the back of his hair and gripped it, playing with the messy cut strands and frowning a bit. “I miss your long hair, it looked pretty and I could’ve used it to pull you back into a kiss. Too bad it’s short know.” Absentmindedly playing with his hair until his hand was against yours, “You can still pull it see?”

His eyes daring you to pull at it and your fingers tightened around his roots, pulling lightly and getting an delightful moan. “Well maybe I should do that again.” You did it again and received the same reaction, his head was tilted back and mouth ajar with arms closing tighter and tighter around you. His tendrils crept towards your clit and breasts, all too eager to mark you up for all to see and know you’re his. “I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fuck you so much that you’ll be the parent to our kids. What do you say, huh?” Nodding slowly you kissed him and gasped when cold tentacles circled your clit and sucks teasing your most sensitive areas. Wetting your nipples and further fondling your pussy.

He broke the kiss and nipped your neck, licking the bruises he left and aiming to make more. Scaramouche wouldn’t be satisfied until your entire body was littered in hickeys and marks from his suckers. “Fuck me. Scara please fuck me.” You just wanted him to bury his cock inside your cunt and pounding away at your cervix. Anything besides the lack of friction being given to you right now. You’d beg. What you would give to be on your knees sucking his dick and being overstimulated till your knees gave out. “Since you asked so nicely pet. I won’t make you beg even though it’s very arousing and only strengthens my desire to make you cum your brains out.”

He lifted you up above his face and smirked, licking a stripe up your pussy and blew cool air against it. “Hm, maybe I should overstimulate you till you can’t orgasm. How about that?” Returning to kissing your wet cunt and thumbing off your arousal fluid, pressing the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip. You tongue poked out and tasting yourself in your mouth. Two of his tendrils snaked their way up your body and wrapped around your waist, the other one prodding your gaped puffy lips and pushing it way inside. “Mhm~” Going to move your arms but failing to and feeling two other tentacles binding your hand together, making you subject to your boyfriend’s will.

The tentacle occupying you mouth steadily moved back and forth, reaching the back of your throat and causing you to gag. You suppressed the urge to gag again and moaned when you felt him put pressure on your clit again. Rolling your hips to get more friction, crying out when you felt waves of pleasure wash over you and moaning with his tentacles in your mouth. Scaramouche groaned and laughed a bit, “Hm, you always do such a good job sucking on my cock. Fuck- Keep going, kitten~” Hollowing out your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside it and sucking the tip, briefly being interrupted by harsh thrusts of his tongue against your walls and unable to stop your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm was close and kept bobbing your head up and down.

The knot in your abdomen tightening and tightening, your lewd noises getting louder and louder with the hybrid extending his tongue to reach the sweetest spots in your pussy. “Come on. Cum on my tongue and I might just fuck you till the morning sun shines through the window.” Diving back in and fitting his whole mouth around your sopping cunt, wishing that he could’ve done this much sooner had he known you tasted better than his favorite meal. He felt your walls squeeze around his tongue and knew you were getting close to orgasming, something he didn’t get to taste when he was in that “cage”. His finger dipped knuckle deep to furth egg you on and trigger your climax, countless dirty fantasies going through his minds.

“I should have fucked you on my cock right in front of the glass so everyone could see who you belong too. ngh~” That very idea aroused you, clenching the muscles in your legs and desperately trying to push yourself onto his tongue more. “Oh~ You like that? Maybe I should sit you on my dick whenever we go the beach and hide away in the shallow pools. Make to much noise and someone would see.” Muttering praises against your inner thighs and tightening his hold on your thighs, holding them so your couldn’t try to close them even if he head wasn’t in between them and gripping the plush fat of your ass. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you my slutty pet.”

You were sucking his cock so well and feeling him twitch in your mouth, struggling against the arms holding your wrists and thighs together. “Mhm- nghn-” Nodding as best you could while you gave him a blowjob and hearing his smugly laugh, moving at a faster pace. Both of you were close and you felt the knot snap when he bent his fingers, hitting your cervix and harshly sucking your clit. “Ahh~ Scara- ‘m gonna cum” You told him and loudly mewled, the vibrations from your moans lighting the cecaelia’s nerves on fire as it increased the euphoria his cock was getting. “Hm- I- ngh. So am I-” Working you through your orgasm and sinking his fingers into your pussy as you helped him through his own.

Hot white ropes of cum shot out from a slit you had been teasing on his tip and coated your tongue, swallowing it and panting heavily as it dribbled down your tongue. Your moans being heard louder as you became overstimulated and flexing your hands still bound. You looked down and saw Scaramouche lapping up your cum, slick covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. Shuttering when his thumb wiped the excess of his face and licked it up, humming in satisfaction. “Gods you taste divine. Was that fun kitten?” Very tired from your orgasm you shook your head and were lowered back onto his lap, guiding your head into the crook of his next and unbinding your hands so you could hug him. Affectionately pressing kisses on your shoulders and embracing his beloved lovingly, your arms wrapped around his neck and lazily pecking his neck.

Scaramouche pulled back and used two of his fingers to swipe up a bit of you cum from your labia, causing you to whimper slightly from the overstimulation still present and moaning softly. Spreading his fingers to show you the semi transparent fluid and resting them against your bottom lip. “Open up, beloved.” You let your mouth go slack and sucked him clean, tasting yourself as you curled your tongue around his slender pale fingers. A string of saliva connected his fingertips to your lips and broke when he kissed you sweetly, full of love and loyalty just like he’d promised you. His attention turned to you, curling his tendrils around your waist and smiled. “Can you make it one more round, pet? I’d love to feel my cock in your tight wet pussy but if you’re too spent I could always cuddle you into slumber-”

You eagerly responded yes and weakly leaned into him, pressing kisses up his neck and nipping in hopes to mark him so others wouldn’t steal him away from you. “No, I wanna feel your cock inside me. I want people to know that you’re mine but I’m so tired. You’re mine as I’m yours, love. Take me~” Continuing to press open mouthed smooches on his skin and feeling your boyfriend shift under you. The extra tentacles started to retract from below his hips and formed back into his two legs in his human form. Scaramouche taking your chin and tilting your head down to see his more human like dick, the pale girthy shaft with small veins leading up to his rosy mushroom tip twitching and desperate to be touched.

It was already leaking pre-cum and red from the overstimulating blow job you’d given him, “Are you just going to sit there slack jawed or do I have to do all the work myself?” His hand guided yours to his cock and you fingers curled around it, stroking it slowly and coating it in his pre-cum. “Don’t start getting arrogant now. I’ve haven’t touched you and you’re still sensitive~” He glared before smirking at you and rolled his cock against your slit. Kissing his chest and trailing up until you met his lips, rooting your other hand in his smooth violet hair. You lifted yourself with his help and sunk onto his cock. “Fuck. I should’ve done this a lot sooner. You feel so good clenching me- ngh-”

Slowly you rhymically moving up and down, breathing heavily and moaning whenever he bottomed out. Your slick making a white ring around the base of his cock and biting his neck. Feverishly kissing his jawline and rocking your hips in time with his thrusts. “Ah~ Just like that- Keep fucking yourself on my cock! I-” Scaramouche was interrupted when you grabbed his hand and brought it to your next, squeezing his hand in your own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he tightened his grip and chuckled mockingly. “Well well, what a kinky little slut you are. Ngh-”

His dick kissed your cervix as he harshly pounded into your cunt and cut off your air supply. Checking in with you to make sure he wasn’t going to far and pecking your cheek softly when you signal you were alright. “Scara- aHah keep going! I’m close-” “Shit! Me too! ngh~ Guess you riled me up, beloved!” A breathy moan left your mouth and fell against his chest, scratching his back with your nails when the pace got even faster. Pistoning his cock deep into your pussy and feeling like it was splitting you in two. A second later his unoccupied hand crept down to your clit and pinched it sending painful overwhelming pleasure through you.

Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks and made your legs spasm, trembling thighs tensing and crying out in joy. “Cumming!” The hybrid felt your cunt contract around his cock and groaned loudly. “Cumming too!” Feeling warm spurts of his cum fill you and faltering when you both road out your high, collapsed against the rim of the tub. The water mellowed out and stopped splashing about as you panted to regain the lost energy. “Let’s actually get clean because we just dirtied the water” Scaramouche weakly laughed and hugged your closer, “I wouldn’t mind going for a round 3-”

He was cut off by your glare and quickly scooped you into his arms albeit stumbling a bit before getting out, putting you on the cool tile to refill the tub. “I’d say I marked you up quite well, now others will know who you belong to.” Lifting you so you could see your reflection and the countless hickeys and bite marks all over your body. You smiled and nodded, shakily tapping his arm to put you down and using the counter to keep yourself standing. Towels on your nearby shelf were used to dry yourself off and tossed one to Scaramouche He thanked you and wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing your body and bringing closer to him once again. “Now let’s go to sleep because in morning you’re not leaving my side and I have to thank you for breaking me out~”

“Hm, sounds good.” My bedroom is-” Already out the door and on the way before you realized he knew where it was since you had shown it to him when you both came in. Leaning your head against his bare chest and stretching out when you’re laid down on the soft pale green comforter. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into the soft pillow, letting your muscles go soft and practically fusing yourself to the hybrid’s body. “You comfortable there?” You nonverbally hummed ‘yes’ and tried to embrace him, happy that he wrapped his arms around you. “Now go to sleep, beloved. I’ll be here in the morning.” “Goodnight.” Closing yours eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms, the warmth under the covers mixed with his body heat.

Your dreams consisted of memories from the day and fantasies of days yet to come, swimming deeper and deeper into the sea of your unconscious before the bright rays of the morning sun peaked in through the curtains. A soft groan came from the person beside you and pulled you closer, messily tangling the sheets around your legs which was already intertwined. RING! RING! You shot up briefly at the sudden loud noise coming from your phone and blindly reached your hand at your bedside table until you finally had the vibrating cell phone in your hand. Pressing the answer button and slowly bringing it to your ear, a loud automated voice quickly giving you a message from your workplace.

“Hello… Name. This is the Deepwater Cove Aquarium calling it’s employees to let them know they will have the following week off with paid leave due to a high security inhabitant breaking out and having gone missing. Tell no one about this and keep it within company staff to avoid a mass panic. If you have any questions or concerns please contact head of Human Resources Teresa Merrii. Thank you and goodbye.” ….well that answered the question in the back of your head and you guessed they didn’t have a clue you were behind it.

“Scara.” Shaking his shoulder and attempting to wake him up, only to receive a mumble and pulling at your torso for you to cuddle with him more. “Scaramouche! They know you escaped-” He opened his eyes just a tad and raised an eyebrow, “It was bound to happen eventually and besides they don’t think it’s you so come back to sleep with me.” The cecaelia had a point, you were also on paid leave which you hadn’t expected and might as well make the best of it. Checking your notifications for any major or important messages you should respond to while you were up and saw a text from your coworker telling you ‘I hope you and your family are alright! Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and we need to talk about the week off from work because what if it’s Scaramouche?!’.

You’d have to give them your thanks, turning your phone off and getting back underneath the blankets, feeling the smooth bits of scales littering his chest and heat radiating off of him. It felt like you were sleeping next to a fire on a cold winter morning and you pulled the covers over your head. “Well, even if they try to find me, they can’t cause I’m free of that prison and at home with my mate-” THAT’S WHAT YOU BOTH WERE?! “We’re just dating scara-” His finger was pressed against your lips. “Yes, my mate. That’s what most cryptids, as you all like to call us, call our significant others and almost all of us mate for life.”

A second passed. You were fairly sure that he was going to live longer than you which didn’t bode well since he seemed very clingy and insistent on you being with him till death. “How long do you live?” Scaramouche pondered and hummed to himself, recalling all the years he’s been alive. “About 36, but “special” beings who are half immortal live about 150 years. Cecaelia fully mature at about 20 years.” Further explaining about how his kind usually took a mate at 30 or so and pinching you playfully when you laughed, commenting on how it fit that he was 6 years “late” on finding a soulmate. “I’m sorry but with your bitchy personality I can see why no one wanted to date you-” He interrupted you with a pinch on your cheek and scowled at your mockery. His arms wrapping even tighter around your torso and guiding you hand to touch a patch of scales on his cheekbone.

“Oh please, that incompetent mermanta ray Childe couldn’t find a partner and he probably hasn’t knowing him and his battle obsession.” Eyes flicked to the window that looked out onto the sea, seemingly where is (possibly?) friend lived and trying to imagine what kind of hybrid he could possibly be by yourself. The curiosity in you spilling over the edge of your mind and asking yourself if the fairytales you heard of mythical being was true. If half octopus people existed did that mean nagas, mermaids, fae, and kitsunes were real too. “What other mythical beings exist that you know of?” Scara rubbed comforting circles on your tummy as he thought back, “A fair amount of people but many of them are miserable to be around, but as far as the ocean goes I know a couple mermaids and selkies. Two of them are tolerable to be around and offer good conversations last I remember, their names are Kaveh and Kokomi I think.”

“Kaveh always bitches about his annoying merman of a roommate which is always amusing to hear. Of course there are other cecaelia but I haven’t met many others so I assume they live in deeper parts of the ocean.” Laughing to himself as he remembered the insults he’d hear from the selkie about how emotionless and arrogant Alhaitham was to live with. You scooched up so you were laying against his chest and pulled up a soft throw blanket over both of you, “Are mythics only in the ocean?” Lifting his hands from your body and playing with his fingers as he talked. “Haha don’t be silly. They’re all over the world. Some live in the skies and mountains like harpies, dracotaurs, and butterfly people. I know before your boss captured me there was news about a dracotaur named Zhongli and a harpy named Xiao who watched over a city near here almost like a guardian angel.”

The sun shone brighter and the wind picked up, whistling and causing branches to tap against the glass. Birds looked for worms in the ground to bring to their young and chittering to each other. “Hm, I wonder what he’s like?” His hand broke from your grasp and turned your chin so you looked at him, “I thought I was the only supernatural being that interested you?” You laughed and nodded, confirming he was. “You are but that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious. And butterfly people? Aren’t those just fairies?” Apparently not and you shouldn’t say that to a fae’s face because it could piss them off. You had heard stories from your grandparents about people who angered the fae. How travelers would knock on trees when going through the woods to check if the fae were hiding in trees and offer small gifts of flowers or shiny objects for safety when hiking in their territory, with the promise of being respectful.

In your younger years you had believed it, often giving small gifts of your own at the edge of the woods near your house and leaving notes with messages to them. You knew not to tell them your name or else bad things would happen to you and the possibilities of you getting dragged into the forest to never been seen from again only increased. “No, fae are very mischievous and playful. Most of the stories about tricks and fairy circles you’ve heard are true. Butterfly people are similar to fae but have butterfly wings and are much kinder, often helping out creatures of all kind including humans if anyone is in trouble or in need of a helping hand.” Letting your mind drift off into what you thought some of them would look like and your inner child hoping you could meet one one day.

“Just before I got kidnapped, I was washed up by a mangrove near some abandoned but fruitful orchards looking for help since a bad storm had caused me to sprain my wrist. What I thought was a butterfly at first turned out to be a tiny person who called herself Nahida and helped me with my injury.” He explained that butterfly person was the protector of the small kaleidoscope that was home to the ethereally lit forest and her official name was Kusanali. “She helped me identify what fruits were safe and ripe to eat and what herbs could be used for healing or nutrition. Nahida told me what she knew of the fae and that a certain fae prince was becoming quite well known for his artistry and experiments.” Scaramouche kissed your lips and nuzzled his nose against yours, revelling in the comfort and affection you were giving him.

Of course there were other supernatural creatures of the land like nagas and lamias, attractive people with the lower half of a snake with more serpent like features such as scales or forked tongues. Who often are sneaky and stereotyped as sadistic thanks to generalizations from Christianity’s view of snakes when in actuality a lot of them are well versed in healing and medicinal treatments for travelers or other mythics. One type of supernatural you were not so please to find out about were the driders, people with the lower half of a spider and actually very dangerous. “They’re just as cruel and sadistic as the tales say they are or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t intend to find out and I’m hope you don’t either. Remember my home turf is water not land.” You laughed and shook your head, shivering at the thought of running from a being with eight legs and liquidated to be eaten.

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem pleasant to run into but if those are the only dangers in the forest then it seems fine-” He interrupted you and then chuckled, carding his fingers through your hair to work out the tangles that had gotten more apparent over night. You looked up and saw him still looking out the window but away from the sea front view. “Ever heard of werewolves? You’ve probably walked passed by more of them than you think thanks to their ability to remain human looking except during a full or new moon. They are very territorial and possessive of who or what they hold close to them which my kind are also prone to-” You cut him off with some laughter and lightly hit his chest, raising your eyebrow at him and reminding him of the incident involving the ‘Karen’ yesterday.

“Scara you nearly had to be held back when I was hit and any time another employee tries to make a mood on me within your sight even before you dragged me beneath the water-” A bright blush covered his cheeks and he averted his gaze from you, clearly trying to pretend like he didn’t remember it despite you reminding him. “I- It’s not my fault that you attract everyone else’s attention and I have to show them that you’re mine. At least I’m not as bad as the kitsunes! Gods…Those vixens are downright malicious if someone offends them or someone dear to them. My mother’s wife is a nasty example and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been stopped many times from striking me with lightning by my mother.”

This was the first you were hearing of his past in general and his mother, no one who found him could get any answer as to who his parents were or where his home was. “I’m plenty happy that you’re possessive and I appreciate you not killing people just for flirting with me.” Laughing towards the end of your sentence and carefully thinking through your words to find out more about his life. “I’m going to need you to be more tolerant now that you don’t have 4 inch glass separating you from the public whenever we’re outside. But you’ve never mentioned your mother before, what was your life before all of this,” You gestured vaguely to your house and around you both, “happened.

The cecaelia’s eyebrows furrowed and his mood got noticeably somber. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about then I understand but I’m here. I know what it’s like to not like your past.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed comforting circles on his chest, letting him think it over and seeing him shake his head out of a deep thought. “No, it’s alright. I just have… mixed feelings toward my mother and it’s not a pretty story.” Scaramouche shifted so you were sitting up and side by side, his hand intertwining with yours and gratefully looking at you. The dark pools of pale purple overflowing with inner turmoil and deep seated unspoken emotions laying just beneath the surface.

“Well not only am I not human but my mother is a goddess, specifically a goddess of storms and lightning.” Eyeing you for a reaction to which you were stunned and gaped at your non-mortal lover, nodding slowly to let him continue. “My mother had a relationship with a human which resulted in me but I don’t know my father and I haven’t seen my mother since she abandoned me.” This was heartbreaking to hear. Why would any mother ever abandon their child? He was still, silence enveloped the room as he kept his eyes locked on the comforter balled up in his fists. Outside you could see the sky darkening, dark grey clouds gathered strangely with your knowledge that there wasn’t supposed to be rain this.

“That makes me a demigod in addition to my weird ass octopus half. I don’t think I have any abilities like my mother but my human emotions are linked to stormy weather which might explain the thunderstorm coming together outside.” Both of you were now focused on the growing anomaly, you looked to Scara and unwrapped his tightly wound fists. The muscles in his fingers still tense and slowly being relaxed thanks to your hand sliding its way into his. “I’m right here with you. I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through that but how did you manage living on your own at such a young age?”

A fond but sad expression painted over his face and he leaned his head on your shoulder, “I didn’t. I was found on a beach by a man named Niwa, someone who I considered my friend…my family. He was the one who showed me how to live and grow up while trying his best to find answers for both of us as why what I was.” Apparently, when he was a child, Niwa took them both to the library to search as to who Scara’s parents were but were stunned to find his mother’s name belonged to a local goddess. While he told the story, a flurry of emotions crossed his mind upon digging into memories he thought he had put away permanently.

“At first we thought it must have been a mistake but Niwa spotted a symbol marked on my skin behind my neck,” Turning his back to you and lifting his hair to let you view a black triple right tomoe. Black ink filled the shape and bent when you ran your fingers over it, noticing the shiver your lover tried to suppress. It looked like a tattoo freshly healed but there was something not natural about it like the scales that littered his skin. “along with the scales, it was clear that I wasn’t human….but he didn’t look at me differently. He wasn’t disgusted or fearful that he was living with a demigod and helped me discover more about who I was but…”

Tears pricked his eyes and threatened to fall, indicating hesitation and what you could tell was a emotionally traumatizing moment back then. You wished you could have done more but the best you could do is be by his side and comfort him the best way possible. “but there- there was one question he couldn’t answer even though he tried. Why did my mother abandoned me? Clearly she knew about my existence since she put me to sleep on a beach but-” The damn broke as streaks of tears fell down his cheeks, quiet sobs loudened as he tried to muffle them and latched onto you when you brought him into your arms. The tight grip Scaramouche had hurt your heart, no one deserved to go through this and you had some choice words in your head for his mother.

There were several better ways to set him free without the lack of communication or possibility of harm. You were glad that someone like Niwa was there for him while all this self discovery was going on, you’d have to thank him if he ever introduced you two. “Scara-” “Kuni. My name is Kunikuzushi. You- you deserve to know.” With the look he was giving you, you had no doubt that this meant a great deal to him and clearly had gained his trust with your help and kindness. Tears still streamed down his face but they had stopped a bit thanks to your comfort. “Kuni. I’m so glad you had Niwa with you. How come he didn’t help you when you got captured?”

There was silence for a couple minutes then he started quietly crying harder burying his head into your neck and mumbled words you couldn’t understand. Carding your hand through his hair and cooing softly, “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re with me safe and sound.” After gathering himself he kissed your lips and brokenly smiled. “T-thank you. Niwa-” Kuni stuttered and took a deep breath while thunder shook the house. “Niwa was killed by a self proclaimed doctor called Dottore who hunts the supernatural and dissect them. He used Niwa to get to me after seeing bits of my scales You would have gotten along, he was kind and determined like you.” He paused briefly between words to sniffle and then embraced you again, seeing lightning shatter the sky which reminded him to take a breath.

“He helped me with these pathetic human emotions that plagued me. I thought my mother tossed aside because of my disgusting human half and tried to get rid of my mortal part…. to no success.” To say you were stunned was an understatement. To think in addition to all the torture he’d endured at the aquarium he had tried to kill himself in order to get to his mom. You didn’t notice tears that fell from your eyes and landed on his warm bare chest. His thumb brushed your cheek and wiped them away, whispering apologies that he didn’t need to say at all. “I know, I’m not going to say I regret it because I don’t but you and Niwa changed my mind about humans.”

You sadly laughed and kissed him, “I’m glad you’re here. You made my life brighter and I love you dearly. However, how did you come to live in the ocean?” He wiped his eyes and dried his tears, looking down at the lavender scales decorating his skin. “When I tried to drown myself, something different happened my legs split into 8 and my pale purple scales darkened from my waist down.”

“My ears grew webbed and more fish like, entirely below my waist I looked like an octopus from the hips down but I could move through the water faster than I ever could before-” He stopped and look to you, winds calming down and a genuine happy expression took over his face. “I was free. Free to do what I wanted and be free from the pain of loss…so I shut out the world until I met you.” He whispered, almost in disbelief and awe upon reflecting into his past. Time seemed to stop as he moved closer and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately.

Kuni slowly kissed your lips and slowly pulled away for air begrudgingly, still resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence fell between you two. So many emotions poured out and no doubt you could sleep for another couples of hours given it was only 9 in the morning. You kissed his lips sweetly before pulling your boyfriend back under the covers and slurring your words out of fatigue. “I love kissin’ you but sleep is a definite tie. Come cuddle me, Kuni~”

There was little hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and tangled his legs with yours, taking the small spoon position. Sleep tugged at the corners of your mind but before you succumbed to it you whispered something you’d been holding in for a bit. “You and ursula would get along very well.” You practically felt the annoyed tick mark appear on his face with even having to see it and struggled to hold in your laughter. “Who the fuck is this Ursula bitch?!”

Genshin cryptids

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter. Until one day, it doesn't. Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact. A "round robin" style fanfiction with different authors. This work is meant to be read from beginning to end, but each chapter is written by a different author with their own spin on the time loop prompt.

Part of the @feysand-hivemind

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Murder, (Temporary) Character Death

Surprise! Bet you didn't think you'd see me as a part of this project (except you probably did because I haven't been nearly that subtle these past few months)! Anyway, please enjoy this (very short!) silly little palette cleanser of a chapter before I hand you back off for our regularly scheduled angst.

Tumblr Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Chapter Five: The Mermaid (Loop 26)

“What the-?”

Arielle blinked her eyes open in confusion at the waves and ripples that had disturbed her slumber. She had just settled down for the night, in her bed of waterweed and algae, when- 

There, towards the little shore of her pond, she spied a pair of feet wading through the water followed by the sound of drunken laughter. Were they…? Oh Cauldron, they were!

The mermaid grimaced in disgust. 

Did the high fae not teach their children any manners? Honestly!

Clearly some people still needed a reminder not to encroach upon the homes of others. 

While river mermaids were somewhat different from their sea dwelling cousins (primarily in that they were lazier and more prone to napping in the sun rather than luring sailors to their deaths) they more than made up for their lack of blood thirstiness with pettiness and a zero tolerance policy regarding home invaders. 

Especially if said invaders were trying to get frisky right on her front doorstep. 

“Excuse me!” She said tersely as she swam towards the intruders. “Don’t you know this is private property-”

And that was right about when one of them decided to step on her hair. 

Arielle shrieked, jerking back in pain and shock and knocking the perpetrator clear off their feet. She felt them crash into the water with a cacophonous splash while their companion seemed stunned into stillness at discovering that this pond was, in fact, home to something other than a few frogs. 

“First you invade my pond without permission and then you attack me in my own home?!” The mermaid screeched furiously as she grabbed ahold of the figure trying to scramble back to their feet and pulled them back underwater. 

They toppled into the water and while they were still disorientated, the mermaid wrapped her fingers around the figure’s skinny little neck and squeezed. Their hair floated prettily around them like gold thread as the fae thrashed instinctively before their neck…snapped.

Arielle blinked. 

Surely fae were sturdier than that? She’d pulled several down into her pond in the past for one reason or another and they always managed to fight her off easily enough. So why did this fae have such a breakable little neck?

Wait…no. Not fae. 

Human. 

The mermaid stared down at the intruder, puzzled, noticing rounded ears and tasting the whiff of mortality that hung around the creature like a cloud. 

What was a human doing in her pond?

They were Arielle’s last thoughts before a different set of hands grabbed ahold of her and tore her out of the water. 

She thrashed. 

Until she came face to face with the High Lord of Spring himself. 

And he was furious. 

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!!”

“Do you realize how rude it is to invade someone’s home?!” The mermaid couldn’t help but snap. High Lord or no, it was terribly rude to gallivant through her pond without so much as a by-the-by. 

“She was our only chance of breaking the curse! You’ve ruined us!”

For a moment it felt like the High Lord was speaking in riddles. Curse? What curse? But then…

“…Oh. Well that’s not good.”

The High Lord didn’t answer, only exploded in a flurry of fur and claws and Arielle’s pond soon ran red with her own blood. 

In the shadows of the trees, Rhysand banged his head against a tree and moaned in agony and frustration. 

“How the fuck did I not know there was mermaid in there?!”

[autumnapricot]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞 because I love your fics <333

ohh, thank you 🥰🫶🏼

(warning: major yapping incoming. no seriously.)

[1] will o‘ the wisps

quite obviously, lol! this story just has a special place in my heart, for the fact that i‘ve had the ground idea for so long, all the details that went into it that for most part probably even went unnoticed to the readers but were so important for me personally, the planning of things, the way i had like a list of the details and easter eggs and everything. also, the name (not to toot my own horn) but i truly had the biggest *oooohhh!!!* moment when i found this title for the story and it just fit so so perfectly. the vibe when i wrote it. yeah, just a lot of love. also it‘s my most „hit“ fic i‘ve ever written and wow, i would have never ever imagined to get this reaction to my writing, ever. like i saw the fics from other brilliant amazing writers in the fandom that‘d get 1-3k kudos and i was like what the hell, that‘s crazy much. and then wotw hit +1k kudos and i was (still am) mindblown by that because imagine 1k people irl telling you they love what you wrote? insane. and all your guys comments and asks and i‘ve gotten some of the greatest comments eeeveron this fic, like, just wow. i write for myself because i just have these ideas and words and stories in my head that i need to get out and one day decided to upload because i thought maybe a few people would perhaps like it, have a little joy with it, but of course validation is always amazing and nice, so this reception is mindblowing for me. also i now kind of wish i could rewrite some parts of the story, do some plots more or different or just write differently, but i always hate kinda hate my fics after a while and think i could have done better. but still, so much love for this fic <3

[2] friday night; i‘m in love

just for the vibe of this fic, it‘s my second fave :)) i remember i had such a good time writing this—it was the first time i went to a park to write and i stayed in that park for hours and just…wrote. this fic. and the song makes up the whole vibe of that time of that summer when i wrote this, so. just vibey. reminds me of good times but also somehow bad times. i got a comment that said „so this is what loneliness feels like“ and for someone reason that has stuck with me a hell of a lot.

[3] shores of forgiveness

this is not f1 but motogp, which is a rather little fandom on ao3 and at times idk what possessed me to write this, but, for some reason i do like it? idek. i don‘t even ‚ship‘ rosquez because oh my god, what a fucking mess that „relationship“ or well, that whole..thing..is. but that‘s somehow exactly what i love about them because fuck me that shit hurts and i lived through the split of worlds!! 2015 sepang. the press conference before? marc’s face? i wanna crumple like a leaf in the wind and to be carried away by them so fast that not even any fleeting emotions would ever graze me again. the coldness of 2016. 2018 argentina?? bro what a time to be alive (not!!). you need to know the whole rosquez lore to understand because my god. it hurts too good. literally as of this week’s events…imagine your childhood idol and absolute hero and later friend and now arch-nemesis still going on podcasts t.e.n. years later and still shit-talking you into the ground about how you’re the worst person to have ever lived and the worst thing to happen to this sport and entire nations hate you and and and!! well, ANYWAY, back to it: i don‘t remember the whole thing anymore actually. but still third! byee (fun fact: i have a rosquez playlist that literally consists of songs to scream in the car in anger and heartbreak, and it‘s my kinda therapy oops. as you can see, i am very invested in them still)

[4] but if it ain‘t you (it‘s a lie)

idk. sometimes i forget about this fic oops. but i do like it, i like me some soft besotted absolutely gone in-love alpha charles and cutie-patootie omega max. i don‘t even like the smut of this. actually why am putting this on fourth?🤣 buuttt i also remember the car rides where i listened to the song and then just randomly sat down, wrote this in one sitting, done. i think i wrote this at work even. well well well

[5] now, i am become death

listen. liiisten. i don‘t even remember writing this whole thing. literally two weeks ago i randomly looked through my works, saw this, halted, and was like—who wrote this? me?? when, where??? when did these words ever spook my mind? i reread it and yk what, it‘s fifth. no clue what‘s going on but hey. swords and blood!

anyway waaay too many thoughts, i’m so sorry, thank you! 🩵🤍

[vids-rdr2-artblog]

Saving Mary-Beth

I wanted to write a little fic where Kieran shows off that he’s not really a coward and saves Mary-Beth after she’s been kidnapped. I might write a second part that’s just pure fluff. 

Pairing: Kieran and Mary-Beth

Trigger Warnings: Violence against women, Murder, Abuse, Time period sexism. 

(Please do not read if you are sensitive on these topics!)

7,203 words

Thank you @glenechoslasher for beta reading for me <3

Read it on AO3

***

Mary-Beth ventured into Rhodes with Mr. Pearson, having volunteered for the task for many different reasons—she loved to check and see if there were new books or authors listed in the newspaper and to simply get away from Miss Grimshaw. There was this relief that prickled the back of her neck when she knew that the woman wasn’t right there, breathing down her neck in the back of the wagon, and there was a sense of freedom seeing the open roads rather than their crowded camp. 

Pearson talked the entire way, so Mary-Beth didn’t bring a book, as much as she’d rather drown herself in words rather than his nonsense. This man probably had his lungs stored in his stomach or had a second pair because Mary swore she never saw him take a breath between his sentences. But she listened to him anyway, glad the trip between Rhodes and Clemens Points wasn’t long. 

“I’m glad you like to listen to me, Miss Mary!” Pearson said, sounding genuinely excited, which did make her feel good in some way, “Sometimes the others don’t like to listen to my stories, but you’re a good girl, Mary-Beth. When people say someone doesn’t have a mean bone in their body, you’re who I think of. I should take you on trips more often!” He laughed.

Mary-Beth became flustered and nodded, not wanting to say anything to bring down the mood of the jovial man, “Of course, Pearson. I think I read something in a book once about a brave navy man who sorta reminds me of you.”

Pearson perked up. “Oh? What book?”

Mary-Beth thought of a quick lie, a finger to her chin, “I don’t remember because it was so long ago, but if I find or remember it, I’ll tell you immediately!”

“Thanks, Mary. I’m not sure if I’d read it or not, but it’s great to see when great men are recognized.”

Pearson’s smile grew as he flicked the reins of the horse a bit more vigorously, and eventually, they reached Rhodes. It was sometime around 1pm, not too early and not too late into the afternoon. Thanks to Arthur being deputized here in Rhodes, she didn’t fear the lawmen as much as she did in Valentine and didn’t worry that they would be watching her every move. The folks here were a lot calmer and some of the women actually waved to her as she passed by. Welcoming, really. But man did she hope that the people of Rhodes didn’t think that she and Pearson were man and wife. A feller could get the wrong idea seeing them arriving on the cart together. She supposed however that if they had to hide their identities that way, then she would have to go through it even if she didn’t like it. Though her inner reader was curious and she had wondered how a romance between a couple with the likeness of them would interact. The girl did have a wild imagination, after all. 

Pearson parked the wagon next to the general store and the two climbed down, meeting at the back of the wagon. It seemed that they came at the right time because the train had just reached the station, its whistle blowing in the air. The man put his hands on his back and stretched his body, Mary hearing a few pops as she did so. He whistled at the store, “I’d love to have one of these puppies sometime. I think it would be exciting to run a shop like this!” he said excitedly before turning toward their empty wagon. He took out pieces of parchment from his pocket and handed one to her but kept the other for himself. “Alright then, I’ll have you get the stuff that we need from the general store and then I’ll go over to the butcher for some real meat. Arthur’s been good at gettin’ money for us, but he ruins a lot of the meat he brings to us, skinnin’ them himself…Plus I want something other than venison once in a while…” He grumbled mostly to himself then resumed, “You got all that?”

Mary-Beth nodded excitedly and held the note to her chest, “I got it, Pearson. When I’m done, I’m going to go find the newspaper boy, OK? I want to see if there’s been any new releases or authors.”

“Sure, sure.” Pearson nodded then took money from his pocket, “Here’s the money from the box. Buy ONLY what’s on the list or else Dutch will have our heads. You shouldn’t have to pay the men to put everything in the wagon, so let me know if they try to trick you.” He pointed a finger. “I’ll meet you back in an hour, Mary-Beth. An hour.”

“An hour, yes. Will do, Pearson.” Mary-Beth smiled and glanced over the list. Most of what he had put was canned vegetables and fruits, bread, and luxuries such as tea, cigarettes, and chewing tobacco. She was surprised to not see ammo on the list but some of the other gang members probably took care of that separately from a simple grocery trip. 

Taking the list to the man behind the counter, “Hello, I have a pretty big order to put in, can I get some men to help load some crates and put them on my wagon?” “Sure can.” The clerk pushed the catalog to her and she pointed out everything she needed and read off the number that was on the list. Reading it to him also gave her the comfort that she wouldn’t be scammed because she was a woman. Most men assumed that women couldn’t read, so she made sure to show that she could. “When do you think you could take it out to the wagon?”

The man answered as he rang her up on the cash register, “Oh, you’ll be able to load it immediately. We’re actually well-staffed, and my young men will be able to help ya. Maybe about fifteen minutes.” He smiled and told her the amount she needed to pay. 

Mary counted the bills and handed them to the man. She double checked the change before pocketing it. There would always be a side of her that believed anyone was capable of scamming her only because she was the type of person to do the scamming herself. She leaned against the counter with her hands, “It’s the wagon parked out next to the store. My companion is over at the butcher’s and he might come back in time to help out too. Do you need me to wait here, or could I go on another quick errand?”

“My boys will start putting your order together now and start loading on yer wagon. They’re fine boys too, I ain’t never had to swat them once. So you can stay and watch or come back when we’re done.”

Mary-Beth smiled and nodded, pushing off the counter, “Thanks sir, I won’t be too long. I just want to grab a newspaper. Do you know where it’s at?”

“Oh, the boy likes to move around town, but I think I spotted him toward the saloon, if you know where that is.”

“Uh huh, I do sir. Thank you!” Mary-Beth pocketed everything and left the general store. After taking a quick glance over to the butcher’s and seeing that Pearson was still busy haggling with the butcher, Mary-Beth headed toward the saloon with a chipper smile on her face, comfortable walking around the town by herself since it didn’t feel dangerous at all. 

As she headed up the road and toward the saloon, she kept her ears open for a newspaper boy, announcing the next paper but heard nothing. Maybe he sold out that day…Damn…Maybe the saloon had a copy that she could borrow for a couple of minutes.

Mary-Beth placed her hand on the door to the building but it didn’t budge. Damnit. Locked. Were they closed or was she just at the wrong entrance?

Making her way along the side of the saloon, she kept her eyes on the windows, trying to spot anyone inside. There wasn’t, and from the little that she saw of the bar, she noticed that even the bartender was out. It was strange to see the saloon closed at such a weird hour of the day, but maybe all towns acted differently than each other, and maybe not everyone here was a stupid drunk. 

Mary-Beth came around the back end of the saloon and just as she did, she heard voices. She instantly hid along the edge of the house. Two Irish-speaking men had a man wearing an apron held against the wall, a gun at his abdomen. Down at their feet was the body of a younger man. Dead. Mary-Beth looked behind her and realized that she had been so busy looking into the windows that she hadn’t noticed the blood trail right under her shoes. She had walked into a murder scene in the making. 

Mary-Beth’s instincts told her to flee. Just seconds after she saw the scene, she turned to leave, her jaw clenched shut. But someone was there now. She met the stale breath and before her stood a man. Then, there was a blinding pain above her left eye, right on her temple, his arm casting a shadow over her. Blood poured out from the gash on her head immediately. She hadn’t been knocked out immediately, but she fell back enough that the men behind the saloon noticed and dropped the man in the apron. She tried to crawl away but there was pressure in her lower back as her attacker pressed his heel and spur there. “What do we have here?” The one who had held a gun to the man in the apron approached, using the butt of his gun to lift Mary-Beth’s chin, causing a searing pain slice through her forehead. He swatted her hand away when she instinctively went to touch it. She could barely think of words to say.

“A witness. I saw her peeking around the corner at the two of you.”

“Tsk. Tsk. I hate to kill such a pretty thing, but I did tell the dead feller over there that there would be no witnesses. I’d be a bad man if I didn’t keep my promises.”

Mary-Beth flinched when his thumb pulled back the hammer of his cattleman, cocking it. 

The third man pulled his shoulder back enough that he stopped the man from shooting Mary-Beth. It took the woman a few seconds to realize that her brains hadn’t been splattered along the ground and that she was alive. 

“Wait a second there, I think I recognized her. I think I saw this woman in that livestock town with that shitty Arthur Morgan once. She might be a part of the Van Der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s blood ran cold. Were these Irishmen O’Driscolls? She was in trouble…

The man with a gun whistled and looked down at Mary-Beth with hungry eyes. “Well, will ya lookie here. A simple armed robbery is turning into a gang heist. I won’t even ask you if you’re a part of the gang. If you are, then they’ll come save you. If you aren’t or if they’re dumb enough to save such an insignificant whore like yourself, then we’ll just kill ya. We won’t be wasting any of our supplies because we won’t feed ya. How does that sound, bitch?” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that she would have answered him in the first place, “Tie her up.”

“No—!” But before Mary-Beth could scream, her attacker kneeled right on her back where her lungs were, knocking the air from them. He shoved a nasty-tasting cloth in her mouth before tying her up with a lasso, pulling her arms behind her back. 

The O’Driscoll, with the gun, holstered it before he kneeled in front of her, sticking his finger into her blood, making the pain in her head significantly worse. She didn’t know what he was using her blood for but he kept pressing his thumb in the same spot before he finished whatever he was doing. “Take her to the horses, use the train to not be seen. And you…” He turned to the man with the apron, pointing his gun at him now, “Not another word of what happened here, yeah? We know where you work and where you live, so even if you blab about what happened here after we’ve left, we’ll come back and kill your family then force feed you their guts. Got that?” 

The man in the apron nodded, quickly disappearing inside, glad that his life had been spared, even if it cost this woman he didn’t know.

The last thing Mary-Beth remembered was being carried by the two men, one at her legs and one at her shoulders. With the throbbing headache she had, she was hardly able to squirm, and unable to scream. They carried her across the train and to their horses hidden on the other side. 

Who would save Mary-Beth?

Pearson returned the wagon and didn’t find Mary-Beth there. It wasn’t strange, considering she said he was going to track down the paperboy. Plus, it hadn’t been an hour exactly. So, he placed the carefully packaged meats and placed them on a crate that had already been loaded by the shop. He saw the boys bringing out a few more crates. 

One greeted him with a smile, “There’s just four more inside, sir.”

“Bring 'em’ out here and leave them on the stairs. I can get the rest of it from here.” Pearson took out two dollars from his own pocket and gave them each one for their hard work. They thanked him before bringing the rest of the gang’s provisions out and setting them at the top of the chairs. Pearson expected Mary-Beth to be back by the time he loaded up the last of the crates and strapped them down, but she wasn’t. 

She’s probably just talking to a local. She’s a good, chatty girl. We can’t go anywhere with the train being there anyway.

And so Pearson waited. And waited. The longer he waited, however, the worse he began to feel, especially when he heard the whistle of the train before it slowly left the station. There wasn’t quite anything right about this. Mary-Beth wouldn’t have told him one thing and then done another. Something must be wrong. 

“Mary-Beth?” he asked and looked down the alleyways around the general store and even the buildings surrounding it. Nothing. Wait, she did talk to the general store man, maybe he knows something. So, Pearson stepped into the building and walked straight up to the man, “Excuse me sir, my womanly…companion came up to you earlier to pay for the stuff that’s in the wagon next to your store. I can’t seem to find her though, did you happen to see where she went?”

The clerk cocked his head. “Oh yes, I did. She was looking for the newspaper, so I pointed her in the direction of the saloon.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.”

“No problem, thank you for your purchase, and have a good day.”

“You too.”

If Mary-Beth went to the saloon for a drink then it would make sense as to why she hadn’t returned yet. If she were a man. Mary-Beth was so…feminine and it didn’t seem to be like her to wander off for a beer or two. If it had been Karen with him instead, then there would be no doubt about it that she went out for drinks, but Mary-Beth didn’t do that sort of thing. Not to his knowledge, at least. 

Pearson made a quick trip to the saloon. He wasn’t sure if it had been busy beforehand but there were a couple men who looked more sober than the bartender themselves, so they must have just gotten there. 

“S’cuse me, you see a woman around here?” Pearson approached the bar and tried to ignore the hungry look in the men’s eyes when he said the word woman. 

The bartender looked drunk and dissociated from his job as he cleaned an already cleaned glass, only smudging it more. There was a nasty bruise on his eye, leading down to his jaw. Pearson wondered what happened to him. He probably shouldn’t have asked in the first place and just searched around the place himself. He only didn’t want to seem like a creep or worse, a thief. 

“Nope. Not around here.” 

“Alright, thank you kindly,” Pearson said without revealing much more to the conversation so the men who were drinking didn’t get any funny ideas. 

Pearson snuck around the side of the saloon before his stomach dropped. There on the ground was a drop of blood, leading to around the back of the saloon, accompanied by larger dried splotches of blood. His immediate thought was of Mary-Beth. Oh god, she’s dead! Mary-Beth is dead and I let her die! However, when he looked closer at the blood, he noticed that it wasn’t fresh and more dried up. He wasn’t an expert at human blood, but after skinning dead animals for as long as he had…He could tell when blood was new and old. It couldn’t have been more than an hour. This wasn’t Mary-Beth’s blood. However, it didn’t mean that there couldn’t be anything waiting for him around the corner. 

Following the blood, he stepped around the corner and found a mutilated body. 

There was a young man. Probably late teens or early twenties. Probably around the same age of the men who helped load his cart. His eyes were gone and lacerations around his body explained the blood that soaked the ground. It already had a decomposing smell of it, tangling with the smell of vomit and alcohol. While he didn’t like murder like this—it was overkill—he was secretly glad that he didn’t encounter the body of Mary-Beth torn to shreds. 

Pearson stepped closer and noticed a piece of wood with a knife in it laid out on the palm of the dead man’s hand. The closer he got, the more he realized that there was blood on the wood too, but it was fresher, drawn out methodically on the wood. He had to kneel to read the blood writings, which sent a chill down his spine. 

AM

DVL

3 DAY

COLM

And then there was a drawn picture of a location with a noose on it. 

There, lying next to the dead man’s hand was a cut lock of Mary-Beth’s hair and a torn piece of cloth that matched the same color and texture of the dress she had been wearing. The blood on the board was Mary-Beth’s. It was fresher compared to the dead male’s, making the man want to vomit.

Pearson’s mouth dried when he concluded what had happened. The O’Driscolls had kidnapped Mary-Beth and left a message for Dutch and Arthur about where to meet them. The O’Drisicolls had them by the balls and were steering them in the direction that they wanted them to go. 

Pearson tore the knife from the board and hid it on his belt, unsure if it was what ended this man’s life or was just left to accentuate their message. After hiding the lock of hair and cloth that would link Mary to this man, he grabbed the wood and rushed away from the scene as fast as possible, not wanting to be caught. Good thing the time meant that most men were working, though he wondered if they had gone at a different time if this would have even happened at all. Mary-Beth would be back at camp with her nose buried in one of her books. 

As much as he wanted to go to the sheriff, he knew he couldn’t. It involved his gang and the O’Driscolls! That wasn’t a good combination. 

Getting back to his wagon as fast as he could, Pearson raced back to his camp, constantly looking over his shoulder, not wanting to be ambushed on the way back, or followed back to camp. At some point along the ride, he considered abandoning the wagon and riding the horse back to camp, but he would still risk being followed and at the additional loss of money and supplies. 

“Who’s there?” Came John’s rough voice when he came close enough.

“It’s Pearson!” Pearson raced on by, doing his best to not tip the wagon by how fast he was rolling into camp. The horses whined the whole way, having been spent racing back to the camp, sweating and desperate for water. When they came to a halt, the young O’Driscoll approached to untether them. Seeing Kieran made Pearson’s blood boil and face turn red, but it hadn’t been Kieran’s fault this happened, just the gang he used to run with so he did his best to not direct his anger toward him.

Pearson rushed directly toward Dutch’s tent, catching everyone’s attention from the fast pace he clearly wasn’t used to doing. Dutch sat in the chair outside his tent, a book in one hand and a cigar in the other. Arthur was thankfully in camp, just in his own tent.

“Dutch! Arthur! We have a BIG issue right now!” 

Arthur perked up upon hearing his name and slowly sauntered his way over to Pearson and Dutch, his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah? What’s that? You eat all our groceries on the way back from Rhodes?”

“Now is not the time for jokes Arthur.” Pearson took the wood out, some of the blood smeared on his fingers but thankfully not enough to make the writing illegible. He also took the knife from his belt loop. Dutch and Arthur stared at the knife, intrigued, Arthur, stood up a bit straighter when he saw how serious Pearson was acting. It was unusual for him. 

“Well, then spit it out already!” Arthur tore the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground. “What the hell happened?”

Since he had stopped running, there was an unsettled feeling in Pearson’s stomach. He felt like he was about to throw up. 

“Dutch…Arthur…Mary-Beth was taken by the O’Driscolls… They left us this note with her blood.” 

The moment O’Driscolls was brought up, Dutch’s face became red. “WHAT?! What did you see, Pearson?!”

“NUTHIN!” Pearson gasped, “She wandered off when I was at the butcher’s and they kidnapped her when she was behind the saloon. There was also a dead body behind there. The bartender had this ugly bruise on his face, so I have a feeling he saw something, but if we try to talk to him, it might link the gang to the O’Driscolls,” he explained, the words flying out of his mouth, “They left this with Colom’s name and a lock of Mary-Beth’s hair. They’ve got her fer sure now….” He handed the wood over. Arthur leaned over Dutch’s shoulder to read what the blood was, his eyebrows furrowing. 

By then the rest of the gang were gathering around, particularly the girls. Tilly held a hand over her mouth, “Mary-Beth…She was taken? Oh, Pearson…” Tears were in her eyes. 

Pearson could hardly look at them all, all their faces that of a grieving person in mourning. He felt a lot of shame for letting this happen to such a vulnerable woman. But Mary-Beth wasn’t dead, or at least he hoped that she wasn’t. He couldn’t live with the thought of getting an innocent woman killed. 

Kieran found himself on the edge of the conversation, but not close enough to hear the conversation. He had been so busy taking the horses off the wagon that he nearly missed it entirely. He brought each horse to the water trough, which they drank greedily before he joined the congregating crowd. What’s going on here? He wanted to ask but kept his mouth shut when the eyes of this gang had fallen on him. Had he done something wrong?

Well, if they were staring at him, then it had something to do with the…

“O’Driscoll, what did you do?!” Karen abruptly snapped at Kieran. Everyone seemed shocked at her outburst, seeing how kindly she treated Kieran at camp. There weren’t any tears in her eyes, but her face was worse than a raging bull’s. 

“W-What do you mean?” Kieran asked, stuttering but not showing any lack of confidence. He kept his composure. “I ain’t done nothin’ other than take care of the damn horses lately,” he added defensively. 

“Your O’Driscolls KIDNAPPED MARY-BETH!”

Usually, Kieran would have fought them on this. Would have yelled that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll! But ‘Mary-Beth’ and ‘kidnapped’ mentioned in the same sentence was something he didn’t like to hear. He couldn’t argue with them this time. 

“They took Mary-Beth…?” he gasped and looked over toward Arthur, “We have to go save her! They’ll do awful things to her.”

Arthur squinted his eyes at the man as if observing them for anything suspicious, and Kieran hated the feeling that it left in his stomach. “You mean you had nothing to do with this?”

“Of course not!” Kieran spat out, flaring at Arthur’s accusatory tone, “I like Mary-Beth and I hate the O’Driscolls. You should know that by now 'cause I tell it to you every day!” He hissed. “We can’t spend time here, just wasting, we have to go and track her…Who knows what they will do to her.”

“Leave that to me,” Charles said, ready to jump on his horse that second.

“Wait just a minute!” Arthur said, holding his hand out, stopping everyone from doing anything stupid, “There’s a date written here, and they’re goin’ to expect us to meet them there at that time, or else. Charles, you can go, but you have to be extra careful. One wrong move on ANY of us is goin’ to end Mary-Beth’s life.” He pointed his finger at everyone as he spoke to them.

From the looks of the entire camp right now, everyone was willing to pick up their guns right now and hunt down their sick rivals. Some like Grimshaw and Lenny already had their guns out and ready. 

“And the note was addressed to only Dutch and me. We’ll have to be the ones to go. If they see more than us, it won’t be pretty for us and Mary-Beth.”

“But you’re gonna be outnumbered by those idiots…” Bill argued, his hands clutching at his sides, not because he particularly liked Mary-Beth but because he hated how the O’Driscolls could easily try to blackmail them. “You never know how many people they’re gonna bring, Arthur. You need more than two men…”

“If they lay a hand on Mary-Beth, I’ll fucking tear their balls off…” Sadie gritted her teeth. Not another woman whose life was on the line thanks to this gang…

“If you should take anyone extra, then it should be me,” Kieran volunteered, stepping forward. “I don’t think they would be intimidated if they saw me.”

Bill laughed. “Yeah! Might be able to trade him for the girl. Take him with ya.” He shoved Kieran forward by his shoulder. 

“Not a bad idea.” Arthur rubbed his chin.

If it came to that, then so be it, Kieran thought to himself. Mary-Beth had been the first one in the gang to be kind to him, to show Kieran the proper respect he deserved as a person by giving him that small glass of water. It had meant so much to him. There was no way in hell he would allow people like the O’Driscolls to hurt someone as gentle as her. If it meant that he had to trade his life for her, then maybe he could do something good and prove himself, even if he didn’t make it out alive.

“Oh, Mary-Beth…Please be okay…” Tilly kept a hand to her mouth, then spoke softly to Kieran, “Please get her back for us.”

Kieran spoke softly to her, “I promise that we’ll get her back, Tilly. Arthur and I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to her, we promise…”

“You better.”

Mary-Beth tried to imagine herself in a whole new world, completely separate from the reality of hell she was currently facing. She was a princess and her prince charming sat across from her on the blanket, feeding her strawberries and telling her how much he would marry her and care for her. The bitter yet sweet taste in her tongue was imaginary but it was helping her free herself from the flames threatening to engulf her. She dissociated, forgetting anything that the O’Driscoll men did to her the moment they happened. 

She didn’t know when her own gang planned to get her, if they were even coming for her at all. Her hands were tied behind her back, connected to her ankles, making it impossible for her to move unless she twisted her body around, and even then it was far too painful for her to do that. She would be too exhausted before she could break the ropes.

If Mary-Beth had been listening, she would know that she had two days before the O’Driscolls were going to lay her out for bait, two days before she would learn if she lived or died. The gang planned to use her as bait, to lure the two strongest members of the Van Der Linde gang. 

One of the O’Driscolls approached her. She saw his boots right in front of her face and smelled the shit he had stepped in earlier. Her nose wrinkled and she refused to meet his eyes. “Oh, what a squirmin’ bitch ya are,” he laughed and spat on her face, making Mary-Beth flinch and swallowing a whimper climbing its way up her throat. She was surprised that he didn’t kick her before he stormed off, laughing and drinking with his friends—having an early celebration of the fall of the Van Der Linde gang.

Just remember your prince charming. Hell, you’d accept Sean as your prince charming at this point, she spoke mostly to herself, in her head and attempted to put herself back into the world of the last book she had read, imagining herself as the main character and Kieran as her prince charming. 

Wait.

Kieran…?

Why did she think of Kieran?

Sure, the two had been flirty with each other before, but she had never seen him in such a romantic light, or even imagined…kissing him…

But the memory soothed the aching in her heart, so her mind played the same scene over and over again as the days passed.

Kieran and Mary were in the meadows, sitting on a blanket softer than anything she had ever felt before. Wait, was it a cloud? There was a whole buffet of food laid out in front of her, and no matter how many bites she took, it never emptied. Behind them were two horses grazing and snoozing together. And whenever she looked at Kieran’s face, she felt the happiest she had ever been in a long time… 

Sometimes her brain had convinced herself this was reality. She wanted it to be. 

Mary-Beth was half asleep when a man grabbed her arm and cut the bindings, made her legs release, making them cramp, and her muscles scream in pain. Her hands were still tied as he pulled her to her feet, yelling at her as her legs wobbled and she would have buckled had the men not held her up. 

“Where…Where…” she mumbled before she was interrupted. 

“Shut up, you bitch.” 

A cloth was shoved into her mouth, forcing her to be quiet. 

“Put the woman on the back of the horse.”

Mary-Beth’s stomach lurched as she was lifted by her waist. She grunted as she was laid on the back of a chestnut colored horse, her stomach feeling the pressure as she was laid on her stomach. Never in all her life had she been hogtied and put on the back of the horse. She whined but shut up quickly to avoid them yelling at her any further. 

A man climbed on the back of the horse, kicking its sides with sharp spurs that were close to her face. Mary-Beth, with her eyes constantly on the ground, couldn’t tell where they were going. All she could do was count the seconds. It took them approximately seventeen minutes to pull to a full stop, the men whispering around her. 

“Quick, get the girl ready. They could be watching us and pop out at any moment.”

Mary-Beth saw the shoes of one of the O’Driscolls before they lifted her up. Instead of taking her off the horse, they shifted her into the saddle. All she could do was watch in horror as the men threw a rope over the branch of the tree they were under, a noose hanging at the end of it. She began to strain and pull on the restraints on her wrists but someone held her still as another pair of hands grabbed the noose and pulled it over her head. She felt tears as the noose pressed against her throat, tightening enough that it wouldn’t slide off her and only tighten when she fell off the side of the horse. They were going to hang her. Holy shit, they were going to fucking hang her! After that, she fell absolutely still, no matter how badly her body screamed at her to move.

“Two hours…If they’re not here in two hours just slap the horse and let it run.” Mary-Beth couldn’t see them, but an O’Driscoll stood behind her, a hand on the rear of the horse, who luckily remained calm for now. She relied on that calmness. But the woman wondered if the horse would feel her anxiety and become agitated before running off.

“Then leave her body. Maybe they’ll come back later and find her hanging and learn their lesson…We don’t spare the innocent.”

Please, Arthur. Sean. Charles. Kieran. She whispered the names like they were saints, praying they would come to rescue her. 

Time passed, but Mary-Beth wasn’t counting this time. Every second felt like an agonizing hour.

“How long has it been?”

“About an hour…”

And so they waited even longer. Mary-Beth’s thighs were aching from how tight she was squeezing on the horse’s saddle. 

An arrow sliced through the air, hitting the man behind Mary-Beth. The action was so abrupt that there was a moment of stunned silence. The horse shifted but luckily didn’t run off. Mary-Beth looked up, seeing the trees across the horizon, but saw no one in sight. Were her saviors still out there? “They’re he—” Another arrow whizzed through the air, shooting the man in front of her. 

“DAMNIT!” Mary-Beth looked in horror as one of the O’Driscolls raised a gun in the air. No, no, no!  Mary-Beth cried out in her mind, screaming and crying, wishing she could keep the horse in place. 

A gun fired, and then hellfire began. At first, it was arrows, and then it was gunshots.

Mary-Beth stared in terror as the horse’s ears flicked back. It freaked out before running forward, Mary-Beth hardly able to stop the rope from tightening around her neck. Just as the horse ran out from under her legs, arms wrapped around her body, desperately holding her around the waist and legs in a way to keep herself up. 

Even as the gunshots were heavy in the air, Mary-Beth was able to stare down at the person holding her. It was Kieran. KIERAN More tears formed in her eyes as she saw the man struggling to keep her up, to keep her from hanging right there. 

“SHOOT THE ROPE, SHOOT THE ROPE!” Kieran called out. 

Mary-Beth did her best to sit as still as possible, but everything was aching and she could hardly keep herself up as her body was crumbling quickly and she was hardly able to control what limb twitched. A choked cry escaped her throat and tears were impossible to hold back. 

An O’Driscoll stormed up to the two of them, his gun raised, ready to shoot Kieran between the eyes. Right as he pulled the hammer back on his revolver, there was a rifle shot, and blood splattered on Kieran’s face and on Mary-Beth’s dress. Then there was a second shot, and the rope around Mary-Beth’s throat became very loose. Mary-Beth fell on top of Kieran, taking the two of them to the ground. Kieran was on his feet a second later and grabbed Mary-beth by the shoulders. Even though she would have not wanted to be dragged anymore, there was a mutual and silent agreement that safety was more important as Kieran dragged Mary-Beth into the forest and brush, hiding them from the gunfight. Kieran sat back on the ground and pulled Mary-Beth flush against his chest. As quietly as he could, he took the cloth from her mouth and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bindings from her wrists, freeing her completely.

Mary-Beth’s mouth was open, tears in her eyes when she realized it ached more to shut her mouth from how long the cloth was stuck in her mouth. Kieran was about to pull away from the woman, to give her space, but Mary-Beth grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her body—feeling safe and protected like in the dreams she had hidden in the past few days. She closed her eyes and cried silent tears. 

Kieran hesitated but could tell that she just needed to be held for now. He kept her close to his chest as the gunshots thinned and the voices of the small group of O’Driscolls died out completely. They were all dead. But he remained quiet until he knew for sure that it was safe to come out.

“Mary-Beth? Kieran?” Came Arthur’s voice. 

Mary-Beth couldn’t speak. 

“We’re in here—!” Kieran stuttered and pulled himself and Mary-Beth up, taking the two of them out of the brush. 

When Mary-Beth saw Arthur, she practically fell into the arms of the man. “Oh Arthur…! You call came for me!” she sobbed.

Arthur awkwardly wrapped his arms around Mary-Beth. “Course we did. You’re a part of the family. We wouldn’t have left that to ya, all alone.”

“Are they all dead?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

Arthur nodded. “Dutch has one of them tied up right now and is talking to them. Otherwise, yeah. They’re all dead. Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled her back, looking her up and down, seeing the bruises and tatters on her. “Oh, Mary-Beth…You need to get back to camp. You think you can take her, Kieran? I’m gonna stay back and help Dutch get information out of this damn maggot.”

“Yes, please, I want to go back now. Is Pearson OK?” Mary-Beth asked.

“Don’t worry, Mary-Beth, he’s alright. Just get her to camp, Kieran.” Arthur walked away.

Kieran nodded and put his hand on Mary-Beth’s elbow, guiding her all the way to Branwen. When they were at the horse, he gently touched her arm. “Mary-Beth, I am SO sorry fer what happened to ya. Are ya okay?”

“I…I think so. I just want to get back to camp.” She approached Branwen from the side and turned her back to the horse, facing Kieran. “Can you help me onto the horse, please?” she asked, her arms slightly raised. “Everything hurts too much.”

“I sure can…” Kieran nodded and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her onto the back of his horse, feeling even more guilty as she winced in pain. The last thing he wanted was to cause her even more pain. After that, he climbed into the saddle in front of her, then raced off back to camp. His heart pounded with the leftover adrenaline from the gunfight, but it soared higher when Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around his waist and she leaned her cheek against his back. She…Wanted comfort from him? Him, of all people? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was glad that she could trust him.

Kieran knew that there would be a group gathering when they returned to camp, so he made sure to approach quietly and calmly, hitching his horse at one of their posts. He got down and held his arms out naturally to take Mary-Beth off the horse. By the time he turned around, he saw the group gathering—just as he thought. 

“Oh, Mary-Beth!” Tilly cried out and ran before anyone else could. She ran to her best friend and hugged her, keeping her close. Mary-Beth broke down into tears as she hugged Tilly back. Kieran backed off and gave the woman some space, his hand on Branwen’s neck. However, he watched from afar. He watched as Mary-Beth was given new clothes, and how John gave her his tent so she could have privacy for a while. Karen, Grimshaw, and Tilly came in and out of the tent often, checking in on Mary-Beth. Sometimes he heard her crying, and it broke his heart. 

Sometime later in the evening, when it was darker than it was light, Kieran approached the flap of the tent and whispered, “Mary-Beth, is it okay if I came in?” he asked and waited for her answer. 

There was a small sniffle. “Oh, yeah, it’s okay…”

Kieran came in, carrying a tin plate of stew. “Have ya ate yet?” he asked. 

Mary-Beth sat on John’s cot, wearing one of her other outfits. The old clothes had been burned as no one, especially her, would want to attempt to stitch such clothing back together.

“Oh, no…I ain’t…I just haven’t had the appetite for it, but I probably should soon.”

“I got something for ya. Eat what you feel like ya can.” Kieran came in and moved across the tent and sat down next to her with the stew, handing it to her. Mary-Beth smiled fondly and sipped some of the broth. At least her stomach could handle that. 

“Mary-Beth…Yer awfully brave. Most don’t have the confidence when in the presence of an O’Driscoll.”

“Oh Kieran…” she whispered, “It was awful. I thought I was going to die…I thought they were gonna hang me. Had you not caught me, who knows whether I would have suffocated or if the rope would have snapped my neck right away. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“I’m glad I was there, Mary-Beth. I don’t know how you survived that…” Kieran’s hand touched hers, but then he hesitated. She noticed and immediately brought his hand back when he tried to take it away. 

“I just…I just imagined myself inside one of my books. I guess escapin’ into my own head was something that helped me…” Mary-Beth admitted Kieran, squeezing his hand. “It kept me alive until you saved me, Kieran. You’re a real hero. Thank you so much…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held the man, who she sort of related to in some way now. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Kieran that she imagined that he was her imaginary hero. She didn’t have to though—Kieran was her real hero now. 

[honeyhotteoks]

i'm just...... going to rant under the cut for a minute because people have been on my last nerve today BUT for all of you lovely readers of TNT who are kind and wonderful, i want you to know i wrote basically all day today and i'm making progress on more!!

anyways ranting under the cut...

tw - discussion about homophobia/rude comments etc.

so i received a pretty aggressive anon message earlier about the sanhwa scene in TNT... and i already deleted it because honestly i found it fairly offensive, but to that anon if you're reading this.... not cool. i understand that not all people are into m/m fic... but telling me it was ruining the fic and that i should have been clearer about tagging and warnings? it's genuinely been bothering me all day and kind of offending me. i write m/m pairings as part of my work all the time - you can see it in aurora, and definitely in my husbands series (fucking obviously).... and it's going to keep happening.

while i would never assume the real members sexualities (it's obviously none of our business), these are fictional characters and representations. they can be whatever i want them to be IN FICTION. if that offends you or troubles you or isn't sending the plot in the way you want, go find something else to read.

i also should not have to mark an m/m relationship in a fic with the same severity as a trigger warning. it isn't triggering, it's a relationship pairing. if you prefer other pairings, go elsewhere, but don't expect me to bend over backwards in my work on my blog to make queerness palatable for you.

this combined with some frankly rude messages on ao3 are just doing me in today. i understand that not everyone wanted to go down the woosanhwa road, but i wrote this fic for me and that's what i wanted. their relationship is meant as an intentional foil for yungi, the heats are supposed to be starkly different to help the MC understand herself and her feelings. y/n isn't perfect nor are any of the other characters and that's the fun of it. if you just want smut, find one-shots to read.

i just want to remind people that if you're writing comments on ao3, putting comments in your tumblr reblogs, etc., the author is going to read them!! be kind. if you don't like something, stop reading. your constructive criticism / helpful suggestions aren't necessary, they're rude. i'm not a published author, i'm a random on the internet posting fic for free, i don't want or need your negativity or your supposed help. you need to get a hobby or try writing something yourself.

anyways that's it. i'm kind of shocked at how negative a few of y'all have been given how overwhelmingly kind and positive everyone else has been. but i'm beyond shocked at the thinly veiled homophobia in my ask box earlier. what you said you said to a queer person and it hurt, and very quietly i'd like to ask you to do better and to not message me like that ever again.

i'm going to go back to writing now. and if there's a wild gay makeout session later in this fic, it's fucking dedicated to you.

[scoops404]

Casual reminder that to know the true amount of reviews an author get on ao3 you need to !

Divide the number of comments by the number of chapters (ex : 24 reviews for a 8/8 chapters story is 3 reviews)

Divide that number by 2 for the author's answers (so 1-2 reviews by chapters)

Big numbers are often just inflated, in particular for big stories ! There are never too much comments

(I know you know as a writer but your public is the more susceptible to care about leaving reviews. Also, would anyone be interested about a guide on how to write a review bc I know it's something people get stuck on)

Hi!

There's a few things I want to talk about in this ask, and I realize that you absolutely mean well, but trying to do breakdowns of comments or even kudos vs hits or anything like that is kind of... against the spirit of fanfiction? I think that's the best way to phrase it.

Comments don't get divided up evenly between chapters. Not necessarily. As a story picks up momentum, more people discover it and comment. Sometimes an author will drop all three chapters at once and people will only comment on the last one, etc. Some authors don't respond to comments, or are perpetually behind on them, so diving by two doesn't really work there. There's many reasons this doesn't shake out entirely.

But, moreover, I really want to encourage readers (and nonwriters I guess, more accurately) to realize that it doesn't matter how many comments a fic does or doesn't have. If you liked it and you feel led, then you should leave a comment. Obviously it's not necessary (and there are days where I'm brain-dead and I don't have the mental capacity), but comments on a fic are better than gold to writers.

There's not a magic number that means you have to leave a comment, or on the flip side, this fic has *enough* comments so I don't need to leave one. The spirit of fanfiction is that it's a fan service someone takes time to craft to share with the fandom, and you can encourage them to do it more by writing some nice words about their story.

Imagine spending hours and hours of your time working on something, thinking about it in the shower, talking to your friends about how to make it better, researching things online to make it better, editing down words, and when you go to share that--silence.

Comments are the lifeblood of fanfiction writers, it's how we know we're doing something that people like. Fanfiction is what keeps fandoms going when the source material dries up or goes on hiatus.

It's so so important to let writers know you like what they're putting out, or one day they might just stop. There is a point when we as writers get little to no feedback and start thinking, "What's the point? No one is reading this anyway." (This happened to me in the Dan and Phil fandom years ago). Now, I have a healthy view of my stories and I write for myself and my close friends (which is why i have such batty stories), but if my close friends didn't even want to read what I was writing, I'd just stop.

I've been very very blessed with a comment section in my time here in the DNF fandom. I've made friends through my comments, including a new IRL friend -- hi @czargasm.

Sorry, I'm not trying to be so preachy or single you out or anything. I think a comment guide would be really really lovely and something that could help a lot of people who would be willing to leave more comments if they had an idea of what to say.

As a writer, my favorite kind of comments to get are 1) in depth analysis, but of course that's a lot so, equally loved are 2) the "i was doing X thing when I saw you dropped a chapter so I ran here" and 3) "I made myself a treat to read this update" comment - extra points if you tell me what the treat was 4) A line you particularly liked or a story it reminds you of, etc.

Thank you for giving me a vehicle to apparently preach about comments. I guess I had a lot to say. Oops.

From the bottom of my heart, writers love comments. Nothing will make us write faster or better than knowing people are into out stories.

[gleedyke]

Here comes my two cents on anti-Neil Gaiman posting that I hope comes across civilly and that if you choose to interact with you are also polite about.

Everyone has the right to like/dislike a creator and to separately like/dislike their work. I happen to like this particular creator quite a bit, and I do notice that not everyone GOmens posting does, which again, of course, is fine. Disagree with choices made, that's healthy, but the way I keep seeing "us (fandom) vs him" mentality on any type of post feels bad. This isn't a defense of him; I don't fucking know him, nor does he need that. I'm actually quite happy when I hear folks say they simply don't follow/interact with him if they dislike him. That's great energy, but the rest of us seeing it all over is less great. Thought some reminders posted into the void would help lighten up the energy around here, or at least get it off my chest lol.

1. I've been properly queerbaited by media. This is not fucking that. Take a deep breath and heal with me.

2. A lot of vitriol towards Neil, and frankly Michael and David too, seems to be about being straight men creating this. Have we still not learned to mind our business on this front. You don't know them, we don't know them, but everything we've ever seen from them proves they're on our side. You wanna be mad at a straight man for actually fumbling the bag Steven Moffat is right th- sorry I forgot this isn't about him I tried not to bring up Sherlock in point 1 I really did. ANYWAY. I'm not implying anything, but I have learned to mind your business a little when telling someone why they can't create something queer. That's all.

3. This is his story, and it's not over. It took so long for him to get an adaptation made that he actually wanted to do, and he's doing it. I point y'all to Percy Jackson (I know there's some overlap in demographics here) and how much better the new series is just because Rick Riordan is more involved in adapting it. Having an author of the original work handling the adaptation this thoroughly is a gift regardless of how you feel about him. Additionally, he's writing the rest of the story that he and Terry Pratchett didn't tell. In Terry's honor. For himself. For all the people with beat up original copies. For all the people who have just joined because they realized there is something magical here. But above all it's still his. Take a deep breath and remember this is a love story, and if you still are not content in the end there's always AO3 my friends.

TL;DR vent away on your Tumblr if you don't like Neil Gaiman, nobody is gonna like everyone and certainly nobody's perfect. But before spreading negativity against him on every corner of the GOmens tags, I encourage you to remember how essential he is to the work regardless of your opinion. And remember that those who do like him and his work are also doing so with the best of intentions. Aren't we all. Peace and love this new year. Wait and see. Etc.

[rimouskis]

every time someone talks about/links to fic (ANY fic, not just RPF!) in non-fandom spaces, I think about TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel, who deleted all 380 of their fics on AO3 because people won't stop linking to them from GoodReads. despite many entreaties over the years to not do so! but people still did it! and it makes me so mad because it's so easy to NOT post about fic and discuss fic on GoodReads, but NO, they HAD to use that platform and not, say, Tumblr or discord, or whatever. some people really don't know, or care to know, why it's a good idea to not discuss fic outside of fannish spaces actually 😤

eons ago I found some deleted pens fics recced on goodreads, with download links even though the author had clearly wanted to wipe their fics off the face of the earth. it's disheartening, and also ... strange ... to put fics on goodreads, of all places.

(I blame wattpad [I always blame wattpad] because it appears wattpad readers call fics "books," which is confusing to me! apparently some of the works on wattpad are original fiction, but nonetheless: a fic is not a book, and goodreads is for books, not fics)

my issue w/ the tiktoks abt HRPF is that it's exposing our #niche #fandom #interest to people outside of said niche fandom interest and blurs way too many lines.

we already have romance novel readers commenting "😍 BOOKTOK NEEDS TO FIND THIS!" under videos on the kraken's official account, where they're literally begging in public TO the organization that they want fictionalized smut about these players (as face-grabs or stand-ins for romance novel characters), which is (imo) crass !!

we do not need Everyday Random People (some of which are hockey fans, as the algorithm is feeding them content they like, and this nominally counts as hockey content) being introduced to HRPF, especially by a person who—while familiar with fandom—is not familiar with HRPF's struggles with the fourth wall over the years [READ THE FANLORE ARTICLE ON IT].

and man... we aren't a big fandom. we seriously aren't. like yes, we're the largest sports fandom [even though men's football RPF is coming in CLOSE with 30,061 fics and F1 is gaining on us with 22,504 fics] but look at us compared to actually big fandoms on ao3:

star wars: 230,985 fics sherlock: 147,728 fics marvel: 628,295 fics kpop: 584,096 fics spn: 277,618 fics minecraft: 106, 521 fics

in hockey we have a humble 32,180 fics.

we're not even cracking six digits! we're not even HALFWAY to six digits! I feel we punch above our weight when it comes to fic quality by-and-large, but we are not a big fandom. when we get 26,300+ people seeing a tiktok about it... it's weird. it feels exposing! I sure as fuck don't want my fics plastered over the roulette of the internet.

also the original poster of the tiktok said this, which is just... ok, pal.

anyways go be kind to people! since some people need the reminder

[onwriting-hrarby]

some updates

hello everyone! i hope you're fine and enjoying the last month of spring. as for us, this may-june reminds me of the pandemic, in which it rained until mid-june. it's nice, though, since we're in a very dry season with water restrictions. i had missed rain, somehow.

twitter/fandom

some of you have noticed that i'm not on twitter anymore. i tried it again, but i don't think it was worth it. although i'm convinced my harasser(s) is subscribed to me on ao3 and checks my tumblr regularly (for i hadn't announced "for you" on twitter when i received hate comments) twitter was, again, giving me anxiety. also, when i decided not to be on fandom, i had begun finding twitter boring, because i didn't want to interact there a lot. it's strange to craft a tl anew, again, and overall, i reiterate, i think i'm happier just writing my own headcanons with no influence of fandom. i should have told 2021 hera this, as she was convinced that being in twitter was "the move" to do.

anyways, i'm fine. i love experiencing fandom as a little guilty pleasure, something more private and fun. it makes me less afraid, too: i had been wanting to write "for you" since i first began liking aot, but i was always afraid of what the fandom would say. such a lot of time lost, and now i'm writing it knowing that the aot haze is somehow passing by.

liquid confidence

i am feeling a little bit discouraged with this story. i didn't like some of the comments i received, and it made me doubt whereas i was doing a good job. somehow, since i was very stressed and didn't have time to write, all the scenes and dialogue and sentences i had in my head dissipated before i could even write them. on monday, i decided to come back at it again, but as for now, i'm slowly, slowly making progress (that means, i haven't written since monday). not being in twitter/having lots of fandom experiences doesn't make me rush, either. i'm not particularly worried that it's been a month since i updated. i want to do a good job, and i'm just not in the mood, right now. maybe i need to watch a romantic movie, or listen to taylor swift non-stop.

i thank all of you who had commented and liked the story (i will always be surprised, though, at the ratio kudos-hits) and i hope i can upload soon.

for you

damn, this was a bittersweet feeling. the most comments i received were from anon haters (and they kept on pushing that the fic was a failure). i'm not writing rivamika for numbers, so i don't really care, and i also think this fandom is very committed to their ship in ways that i'm not committed to ships anymore, so i trust that when people read the first chapter (which is fully levi/mikasa) they will like the story more. i have also resigned myself to receive anon hate whatever i do, so i don't particularly care about it anymore: that's why i have opened the comments to guests, too (always moderated). i'm sorry that people might see the hate comments, but i have to accept them in order to report them to ao3 for abuse.

i think i found two of the harassers in twitter, though. i'm not sure. they can rot in hell, and i know they will follow and comment everything i do. if that's the way they want to pass on time... they are sad people.

that being said, for you is progressing slowly, too. i'm sorry, because i really like writing it.

own writing

i've owned that if i want to be a published author i need to get rid of insecurity. i've slowly been doing this since the year started ("not giving a fuck"), yet sometimes the self-pressure takes over me.

i am turning "instead they said" in an original story, so this is taking quite a lot of time. i am also writing my new novel. i also revised the other novel i had in my drawer, and i think i want it to send it somewhere.

i hope we can read each other soon.

hera signing off.

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi all! Welcome back to this story and thanks so much for the kudos! I'm glad to see everyone is enjoying my little story! This chapter is a little bit heavier in some places. But it does have it's lighter moments too. In the form of Autumn (you'll understand when you read the chapter) and we finally get to meet a character I mentioned in the first story of this universe, Tucker!So I hope you all enjoy this chapter and happy reading! P.S. If you want to set the mood of this chapter I recommend: Flares by The Script, Sympathy, and Iris both by the Goo Goo Dolls.Remember kudos and comments are good sources of protein for the author

Rating: Mature

Summary: Her eyes squeezed shut before she dropped her head. Borrowed time. It was meant to be her…It was meant to be-

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Inaccurate medical procedures, and implied/references a canonical character death and in depth survivors’ guilt  

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist | Fic Playlist but Less Shippy  | Chapter 1 | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

Bottled Up Feelings are Silently Screaming (You Were Breaking Down) 

 Ch. 2

“Claire, please. I know I need to sign those forms for the store. Just hold off Dad for a day or maybe two? But today at the very least. And I'll be there by the end of the day tomorrow.” Connor said into his cell phone, glancing at the closed bathroom door, where Sarah was getting dressed.

“I know you and Dad have your issues, but why can’t you just stop by after your shift? You wouldn’t even have to see him.” Claire asked before he heard her direct someone to ‘put that dress on a mannequin for the window display.’

Connor glanced at the bathroom door again, before he lowered his voice so Sarah wouldn’t hear him as he explained the situation to his sister.

“Claire, I’m not on shift today. I took the whole week off because something happened and Sarah was hurt.”

“Hurt?” His sister repeated the word and it sounded like a question coming out of her mouth. Concern seeped into her voice. “Hurt how?”

“Sarah and her brother were both shot the day after you and I had dinner with Robin and her husband.”

“Oh god.” Claire breathed, “Is Sarah okay? I mean you just said she’s not okay, but…”

His little sister trailed off, but Connor understood his sister’s question. He exhaled slowly, “She was discharged a few days ago, but her doctor didn’t want to do that. She wanted to keep her for observation. But Sarah wasn’t going to miss her brother’s funeral today.”

“…Which is why you can’t come to sign the forms because you’re going to the service with her,” Claire said slowly. Connor nodded even though his sister couldn’t see him before he told her carefully, “Sarah would have her family and I know that. But she’s grieving. She’s fragile right now and pushing everyone away. I want to be there for her. Today especially.”

“I’ll hold Dad off,” Claire reassured him, “And I’ll keep a good thought for Sarah and her family. That today goes as well as it can.”

“Thank you,” Connor said as his sister told someone else to ‘please put out those new vases we just got and price them.’

There was a crash in the background then and he heard Claire sigh, “I’ve got to go. Got a situation to handle.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. We’ve got to leave soon anyway.” It turned out the siblings hung up just in time because the door to the bathroom opened up a moment later.

“I still think I should go with the other dress. It covers more.” She said, coming to stand in front of the mirror as she rubbed at her wrists. Her wrists were now scabbed over and in the process of healing. But they were still agitated and red and added that to the white bandage over her neck. Sarah was worried about people staring. About the pity in people’s eyes. She didn’t want people to focus on her today. Not at her best friend’s funeral.

“Sarah, it’s going to be in the upper eighties today. You’ll overheat in the other dress.” He reminded her, thinking of the black sweater dress she was referring to. Though it was technically autumn, it was still the beginning of the season. This meant summer was fighting for its last legs in Chicago right now and that produced unusual warm weather like today.

When she remained quiet, staring at her reflection, Connor stood and moved so he was behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her head.

“How did this happen, Connor? Why did this happen? Why did I get shot? Why am I getting ready to go bury my best friend?” Sarah asked in a weak, brittle voice. Connor frowned because he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one that made sense at least.

So he told her that. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t have any answer that makes sense and I’m so sorry for that and that this even happened in the first place.”

It shouldn’t have gone unspoken. The brunette in his arms released a shuddering breath that could’ve been a sob as she turned in his arms and cried.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” The surgeon had been saying those words since she woke up in that hospital room just days ago. And though he meant them every single time he said them, with every fiber of his being he meant those words; the words had started to feel hollow even to himself.  He couldn’t imagine how they felt to her.

She said something, but he couldn’t understand her through her tears or her voice being muffled by his suit jacket. It was probably a good thing he didn’t. It would’ve just broken his heart that much more.

“Everyone leaves me at some point. Everyone.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Does someone need to go get Sarah? She shouldn’t be driving right now, should she?” Tucker asked, coming to stand by Olive, Erin, and Teddy. While Olive had her arms full with Baby Danny,  Autumn’s hand was tucked into her father’s and she pressed her face into his leg when more people arrived. At least until she tugged on Hank's pant leg and asked to be picked up.

“Autumn Kimberly, leave Grandpa Hank alone right now. He can play with you later.” Tucker scolded his daughter softly in that Texas accent that he never lost when he and his parents moved from Dallas to Chicago. The accent he got teased for in school that made Camille Voight introduce him to her son. The reason he and Justin were best friends and had been since that day in sixth grade.

Hank waved a hand to show that Autumn was fine and bent down to pick up his pseudo-granddaughter. When the little girl was settled on his hip, she patted his cheek. “Daddy and Aunt Olive says Uncle Justin was hurted very bad.”

“He was,” Hank told her in a solemn soft voice. Autumn nodded in the way that all children seemed to do when mulling over information.

“Daddy also said he’s in a better place, a place where he can’t be hurted anymore. That he’s with my mommy and his mommy.”

Hank nodded, “He is. I promise. He’s not hurting anymore.”

Autumn nodded again before she patted Hank’s cheek again. “Does that make you sad? That’s even though he’s not hurted anymore, he’s not here?”

Hank mulled over his answer. He never wanted Justin to suffer but…“Yeah, yeah it makes me sad, baby.”

The small girl looked over at her pseudo-aunt holding her cousin. “Aunt Olive? Are you sad too?”

Like Sarah, the young widow had been crying on and off for the last few days and she knew her niece was four-years-old. She wasn’t asking these questions to be cruel. She was just trying to make sense of everything, of Justin being here one day and gone the next. But that didn’t lessen the ache, the hole in her heart growing wider with every beat of her heart because her husband was gone.

The sob bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop it causing both children to look up at her. Danny grabbed at her chin. “Mama?”

“Auntie Olive, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you start crying.” Now Autumn looked like she was about to cry.

“I know you didn’t little autumn leaf, but Aunt Olive just cries easy these days because I miss your Uncle Justin.”

“Me too. Daddy says it's okay to be sad though.” The little girl told the room in a soft tone. Hank gave her the best attempt at a comforting smile.

“Your Dad is a smart man.”

Autumn fell silent then, laying her head on Hank’s shoulder. Until she saw a familiar mop of brown curls.

“Aunt Sarah,” she said softly, wiggling out of Hank’s grasp and darting across the room to get to her pseudo-aunt.

“Autumn Kimberly,” Tucker narrowly avoided colliding with a man in a Marine uniform and scooped up his four-year-old daughter before she got to Justin’s baby sister. When he turned her in his grip, he saw the frown she wore and her tiny arms were folded.

“What conversation did we have about your Aunt Sarah?” He asked her patiently after she stopped whining and squirming. Instead choosing to glare at her father. The child huffed, blowing a stray piece of dark hair out of her eyes. But Tucker just stared at her, waiting. Finally, his daughter huffed again before uttering.

“Aunt Sarah was hurted like Uncle Justin. But not as bad, but that doesn’t mean you can go climbing and jumping on her like your person-al junglely gym.”

She repeated his words back to him with enough sass of a teenager. Four going on fourteen. Tucker sighed and hugged his daughter. Then he set her back down, but not before he cautioned her, “Gentle little leaf.”

His daughter didn’t disappoint. Slowly, the little girl approached her pseudo-aunt, who bent down with a half-hearted smile. Then she crashed into the brunette.

“Missed you,” Autumn’s voice was muffled by Sarah’s shoulder.

“I missed you too, Autumn Breeze,” the woman said softly. Brown eyes peered up at her then. Not quite filled with suspicion, but certainly on their way there.

“Then why didn’t you let us visit you? When you were in the hospital for your ouchies?” Sarah licked her lips, unsure how to approach her answer.

How could the brunette explain to a child that she blamed herself for what happened to Justin? That she didn’t deserve comfort? That she wanted to keep everyone away because the guilt was eating her alive? Because it was meant to be her…Borrowed time…It was meant to be-

“Autumn,” Tucker said softly, not quite admonishing his daughter. But stepping in to save his best friend from having to answer the complicated question.

“Aunt Sarah just hasn’t been feeling her best. And you know the hospital can be a pretty scary place. I just didn’t want you or your Dad to be scared.”

Then using a stage whisper, loud enough for her best friend to hear Sarah told her pseudo-niece, “You know your Daddy scares easy.”

Tucker snorted but covered it up with a cough before his daughter could hear him.

“Oh,” the little girl nodded before she peered up at Connor. Now the suspicion was clear in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Autumn Breeze,” Both Sarah and Tucker admonished the little girl softly as her father reached down and picked up his daughter, settling her on his hip. “Be nice.”

But Connor chuckled slightly, not the slightest bit deterred. “I’m a friend of your Aunt Sarah.”  

The little girl nodded but her brown eyes still stared at Connor with a borderline glare in them before she noticed Travis and Annie arriving. She looked at her dad and the glare was gone. “Can I go say hi to Travis and Annie?”  

Tucker set Autumn back down with the warning, “Stay where I can see you little leaf,”

His daughter nodded once before she darted across the room again. Tucker watched her hug Annie’s son before he turned his gaze back to Sarah.

Their trio was a duo now.

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tucker said to her, reaching out to wrap her in a one-armed hug. Sarah sighed as Justin materialized in the corner of her eye. He narrowed his eyes at her with a look. One that meant he was annoyed with her.

“He doesn’t mean that like you’re taking it and you know that.” He said as Sarah sighed and grimaced at the ghost’s best friend as she returned the hug. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know that. I just meant that you wouldn’t let Annie or me visit you while you were in the hospital. Your siblings and Olive seem to think you’re pushing everyone away because you are under the delusion that what happened was your fault.”

Because it was her fault. It was meant to be her. Because it was always her that lived on borrowed time. Not Justin. Not when he had just married a really good woman and had a baby. Not when his life had just gotten on track.

Still, the brunette gave Tucker a wooden smile and said in a hollow voice, “Wonder why that is. It’s not like I’m here and he’s not, Tuck-Tuck.”

(“It wasn't your fault, Sarah,” Justin repeated his words from earlier that morning. Just like before, the brunette ignored him.) Despite Tucker repeating his best friend’s words with a heavy sigh. Connor remained silent but grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly in hers. The movement seemed to make her best friend remember their duo wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Tucker said with a shake of his head. Sarah saw the opening and took the opportunity to duck away from the conversation before it could get turned back on her, about it not being her fault when it so clearly was.

(“I wish you would stop saying that.” Justin’s ghost told her, “Because it’s not true.”)

Ignoring the transparent version of her pseudo-brother, she squeezed Connor’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go say hi to Dad, Olive, Erin, and Teddy.”

When her lover nodded, Sarah’s hand slipped from his grasp as she walked away, giving Justin’s best friend since middle school her best attempt at a tight smile. Both men watched her go, then Tucker turned back to face Connor. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself in his southern drawl.

“I’m Tucker Carvin. Justin’s and Sarah’s best friend. And I’m sorry my daughter. She’s been trying to make sense of everything with Justin being here one day and then gone the next. This is her first real experience with something like this and it’s manifesting into stranger danger.”

“Stranger danger isn’t always a bad thing, but it’s okay. I’d be wary of a new person too, if I was in her situation. I’m Connor Rhodes. Sarah’s boyfriend.” Just like days earlier with Teddy, the title rolled off of his lips easily as he took Tucker’s hand. Shaking it.

“Yeah, I heard about you. Didn’t know Sarah was really seeing anyone till she was in the hospital though,” the man commented and Connor winced, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. “That's my fault really. We’ve had some miscommunication about what we are. But I’m working to remedy that.”

Tucker nodded then he nodded to Sarah, talking with Annie.

“How’s she doing? I’ve asked Erin, Olive, and Teddy but they say they don’t know because she’s not talking to them. Not really by giving them vague answers. I didn’t want to ask sergeant Voight because I didn’t want to add salt to an open wound.  And she refused to let me visit when she was in the hospital and she hasn't answered any of my calls. The only thing she’s been responding to is text and even those are one-word answers.” Tucker sighed sadly as the worry for his friend grew.

“She’s…” Connor sighed once more as he struggled to talk about his lover and how her grief and survivor’s guilt were getting to her. “I want to say she’s managing, but that would be a lie. She’s all over the place because it’s almost as if her misplaced guilt and her grief are warring within her. She’s actually keeping a better handle on it then you would think. But it still spills over and she can’t handle it without breaking down. I’m trying to be there for her. But I don’t know if it’s working as well as I hoped because I don’t want to smother her, but I also don’t want her to feel like she has to deal with this by herself.”

“Olive said she shouldn’t have been released as early as she was.”

“She shouldn’t have. Typically with gunshot wounds, Med keeps you for two to three days afterward and Sarah was a doctor there. So maybe she was being a little over-cautious but her doctor wanted to keep her observation. Sarah was determined to be here today though. She was going to leave against medical advice if she had to.” The double-certified surgeon explained.

“Heard you stopped a fight there too.” The man from Texas drawled slowly. Connor shook his head as Sarah started to make her way back over to them, “I just tried to offer a solution that would help everyone.”

“Dad said Justin wanted both of us to speak?” She asked Justin’s best friend as she leaned her uninjured side against Connor’s shoulder. His lover had been doing that a lot lately, clinging to him. (And calling Hank, Dad but that wasn’t Connor’s to touch.) Connor didn’t mind. She needed the support right now and in all actuality, she wasn’t being clingy by the same measure of other people. But she was being clingy for her. In fact, tragic events aside he was probably the more clingy out of the two of them because of how physical he tended to be when he was in a relationship.

“Afterwards, at the house. Good memories. Memories that make us laugh. That type of thing. Before…” Tucker trailed off before he cleared his throat, “He told me he didn’t want people to be more sad. So he wanted us to remember the happy memories and he thought you and me would be the best because-”

“We have the most embarrassing memories of him?” Sarah said with the ghost of a smile on her lips. Her friend mirrored her.

“Well, that. But also we were his best friends. I think Olive was going to speak too, but she doesn’t think Danny will let her right now because he doesn’t want anyone else to hold him right now. She can barely go to the bathroom without him throwing a fit right now because he’s so confused right now with Justin not here.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Tucker excused himself a few minutes later to go call his parents. They were coming in for the service, but they weren’t here yet and he was starting to worry. So that left Sarah and Connor to go mingle around the room. Well, Connor was mingling, being his naturally charming self. Sarah was more or less standing by his side, listening to his rich raspy voice as he talked.  

Only talking quietly when someone spoke to her directly. A lot of the people in marine corps uniforms seemed to know who she was. Or they recognized her name. Apparently, Justin and Olive talked about her often and it was ‘nice to finally put a face to the famous sister we’ve heard all about despite the circumstances.’

In those cases, not knowing what to say, Sarah just gave them a tight smile and let her lover make conversation for her. The brunette knew it was a cop-out to lean on Connor with this, to use him as her crutch. Because he was here for her. This was her best friend. Her pseudo-family. But as the service continued, Sarah’s energy had started to wane. (And they hadn’t even made it to the actual service yet.)

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“By the way, just so you know,” Annie told her best friend in a quiet undertone while Travis entertained Autumn with a piggyback ride because Tucker was still talking to his parents, “When you told me Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend and I told you she did because I caught a vibe between her and a guy at her hospital-”

“Let me guess, he’s the guy?” Erin interrupted looking over to where her little sister and Connor were talking to a group of people in marine corps uniforms.

“Yup.”

“Yeah, I know. I was wrong,” Erin said with a rueful smirk at herself, “Apparently, I’ve been wrong for six months now.”

The blonde woman whistled but didn’t say anything more than, “Well, no one can blame you for being out of the loop. You did kind of go into a black hole with Nadia’s death.”

Erin felt herself grimace as she opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, a voice called for everyone’s attention.

“Sorry for the delay folks, but if you’ll follow me into the viewing room, we’re ready to begin the services now.” The funeral home director told the crowd of people. Olive released a sob. Hank reached out and grabbed Danny, passing him off to Teddy. Then he wrapped an arm around Olive’s back.

“Olive, maybe taking a seat will help. Come on,” he told his daughter-in-law in a gravelly yet gentle voice. Then he moved forward and one by one the crowd followed behind Hank as they made their way to say their final goodbyes to Justin Voight.

[beggingwolf]

I came across this tiktok and it gave me something to chew on

I fully agree with the critism of newer published (some self-, some traditional) authors being too sensitive to critique of their works—I've heard the stories, I've seen the ranting goodreads posts haha—but I was definitely left with something to consider about the "culture of niceness" commentary regarding fandom

that's arguably how I operate in fandom spaces these days, ESPECIALLY around fanworks. "say something nice or say nothing at all" was, to me, the acceptable way to interact with passion projects people were doing for free. it's interesting to hear someone push back against that mindset and actively miss days of fan critique!

like, I don't know... part of me is like "if I got someone thoughtfully wording constructive criticism, isn't that a growth opportunity?" as if I wouldn't immediately be put off and affronted by someone leaving critique in the comments of a fic of mine hahaha.

I think I don't have a particularly thick creative skin, and that's definitely a result of my fandom upbringing. hell, even when I was writing crackfic as a tween for twilight, I never got critique for it. I've gotten very few comments that could ever been construed as critque, and I think I've never gotten one that was outright hateful... which is good?

but I do see the pipeline there of "fic writers participating in a culture that only validates and never critiques" to "people who cut their writing teeth on fic who are now unused to dealing with varying opinions on their work".

I do think it's worth saying that I don't think fic should inherently be held to the same standards as published books—lord knows I've dashed off a couple thousands words and slapped them onto ao3 without so much as a second glance—but I think we also should be conscientious of not trying to have our cake and eat it too.

I'm reminded of those really annoying comments online where people are like "i'Ve ReAd FiCs BeTtEr ThAn AnY pUbLiShEd BoOks" and I just go...... okay well if it can be treated as serious literature (which... maybe it can!) then it needs to be able to withstand critique, and we do not have a current culture of critique in fandom to actually put those very good fics to the proverbial test. you know??

this isn't to say I think we should start a reading salon where everyone can loudly proclaim "I HATE THIS ONE FIC" or whatever but it's a complicated dynamic that I believe I have traditionally left unturned because I figured niceness is better than unsolicited critique. and also I don't really derive joy from offering someone unasked-for feedback and potentially ruining their night haha.

I DO get a lot of joy from working with my friends in a beta capacity and being able to really dig in and offer up a harsher look at stuff, AND I think I like receiving it (when I am in the right mindset to do so, as we all have nights where it's like "JUST READ FOR GRAMMAR, I CAN'T TAKE ANY PLOT HOLES POINTED OUT TO ME RIGHT NOW!" haha), but I like receiving it from people who I am DIRECTLY ASKING and whose opinions I already respect and value. getting critique from strangers is an entirely different skillset that has to be practiced, and you have to know when to start filtering out opinions because You Can't Please Everyone

anyways this has been a lot of words to say that I have complicated feelings about a "culture of niceness" in fandom and while I certainly know I ENJOY participating in a culture of niceness, there are downsides (see: people dogpiling anyone who in the FAINTEST WAY POSSIBLE does not precisely conform to the-never-critique-fic attitude) and it's good to at least think about alternate ways to do fandom/alternate ways in which fandom has BEEN done in the past

[lola-andheruniverse]

hi hi, have a rec possibly for WIP saturday or our turn sunday! i re-read coffee & pies after you rec'd it last week and realized that one part of it (the daryl/merle subplot) kind of reminds me of rough & tumble by iliveatlast on ao3/9 lives. it's an au where daryl meets carol when she's working the night shift at an urgent care after merle breaks his arm, and from there we see them slowly building a relationship (btw the two of them and also sophia!!) and grappling with the legacies/cycles of abuse. i feel like i've read a ton of non-zombie aus where carol is still with ed and daryl saves her from the abusive relationship, but i've never actually seen it handled the opposite way before - even in stories like coffee & pies, merle is very much the b or c plot, and i love seeing carol be the one who has clawed her way out already and is pulling daryl with her - she's not a damsel in distress, canon has made that clear. it's updated decently regularly and currently at almost 100k so even though it's not complete i think it's def worth a read!! i also have to say, i'm a sucker for sophia - more time for our girl, gone too soon!! - and the relationship btw her and daryl in this fic is so beautifully drawn and delicate. and her and carol - breaks my heart, so loving and caring and makes the loss of her in the show hurt 10x as much. the author has a couple other aus that are ZA aus where sophia lives and i love that version of her sophia too - slingshot wielding badass in training! so just some recs for you if you want/need them. thanks for doing these lists, i'm really enjoying being reintroduced to fics i haven't read in a while and digging into some fics that are brand new to me!!!

Hi, giveusthesun! Thank you so much for taking time to rec a caryl fic to us all. First, let me say that I agree with your reflection about how fic writers can get a same plot/prompt and, working with the same characters, create very different, but equally excellent, stories. I'm currently reading Rough and Tumble too and I'm very happy to see it recommended by you. Writen by @iliveatlast, you can find it on both 9Lives and AO3. Summary: "How are people gonna sign your cast?" the girl asks. "If it's all black?" "Um. Dunno. S’okay,” Daryl says awkwardly when it becomes clear she’s waiting for some kind of response. “Ain’t like - don’t really think nobody’ll wanna sign it anyway. So." Instead of getting the kid to let up, this statement seems to somehow capture her interest. She uncurls in the chair a little, looking at him with a wide-open face. “Why not?" But he’s saved from having to answer that by Carol the desk lady, who breaks into a little half-run when she sees Daryl waiting. “Sorry, sorry - just had to step away for a moment, sorry about that, Daryl.” “S’fine,” Daryl mumbles. She doesn’t have to apologize to him for taking a piss or whatever, good Lord.

Rating: T / Teen and Up Audiences Word count: 92107 (18 chapters of ?) Published: December 02, 2022 - WIP Rough and Tumble is a story reflects on how complex abuse is by shining light on Daryl and Merle's very difficult and violent relationship with great detail. If Daryl's your favorite TWD character, you'll love how iliveatlast writes him - it's just really well done. Despite dealing with heavy themes, this is fic is also very endearing and sweet (Daryl and Sophia's bonding make me smile every single chapter). Dear fellow caryler, go and give this fic a chance if you have the time. As always, leave the author some kind of feedback to let them know that you appreciate their work and creativity. Love and kindness makes all the difference in having a positive fandom experience! Caryling on to our next rec!

[jaelijn]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Was tagged by @quordleona03, thank you! It still blows my mind we're talking, haha.

I'd like to see this spread to the B7 folk, so if you've written for B7, even if you haven't in a while, consider yourself tagged!

How many works do you have on AO3?

227 - though as ever I need to remind people that this is not the total of my fics and certainly not the total of my fanworks (I have none of my art on AO3).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

985.865 (I always have to do math here because I'm "co-author" on a fic I did the art for. So this is my *actual* words on AO3, not what AO3 says.)

CUT because oops it got long.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, Blake's 7 only, unless you count Drake's Venture, but then again I have no active projects on that.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

This is in no way representative because my most kudos-ed fic will probably always be said "I did the art" fic that doesn't count, and my fandoms are vastly disparate in size, so my older SPN stuff is automatically up there. But anyway - Destinies Entwined (SPN), The Kindness of Strangers (SPN), There is no sin except stupidity (Canon Holmes - this one actually crept up there! I archived it, backdating, but people seem to have found and loved it!), Fields of Gold (SPN), and finally, With Every Single Word (B7) - and with the exact same amount of kudos, Bitter Days, and Sweet (B7).

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! Sometimes it takes me a while, but yes.

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

*filters works by MCD warning*... I mean I've written a lot of bleak things, but not every MCD thing is necessarily bleak - on the other hand, I am probably forgetting some angsty ones that have no MCD. Most recently, or most in my memory, are a few of the Whumptobers, which always seem to bring out the darkness: Impending Destiny is up there, as is Bitter Almonds, Death's Kiss, perhaps, though that has some measure of catharsis, A Grave Man, Poisoned Apples. Then there's Earth, Earth Sector, Greyscale... Whatever you consider angstiest, it's probably a B7 fic. If you'd asked me to pick one, it'd probably be Impending Destiny because it hurt me to write and I feel it's underappreciated.

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

I'm in a similar boat as Quordle - these universes are angsty. Most of SPN ones are just... kind of even, all things considered, nothing to happy and nothing too sad, same with the Holmes stories, as they are all set somewhere in the middle and I can't give an Ending if there is more canon to go (and I rarely write AUs). But when it comes to B7, I've written some incredibly sappy stuff that doesn't really have "happy endings" because it's a fluff one-shot in the first place. Longfic with the happiest ending is probably Bitter Days, and Sweet, if only because it's a happy ending PGP. I do tend to prefer bittersweet endings to "fix everything" endings though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've got some... strange comments, but no outright hate, no, not on fic. But I also enable comment moderation on anything that might attract things, as a precaution. It hasn't been necessary, but perhaps people don't bother if they feel they might get moderated anyway. This is not an invitation to start sending me hate!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. Being ace probably has something to do with that... I've found myself writing some intimacy, non-sexual or bordering on sexual kink or "draw the curtain" sex scenes lately, but I don't really get anything out of sex in fic for smutty reasons (and for a long time disliked pairing fic because it seemed so focussed on sex). I could see myself writing something more explicit if it served a plot point, but mostly I don't feel explicit detail is necessary for character development/plot progression. Intimacy, yes. But who cares who sticks what where and where the body fluids go?

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

Yes, though I wouldn't say I do it *often* - I am generally more keen on conceptual mashups (what if B7 characters were in Victorian London) than pure crossover (what if B7 characters met Holmes characters), because I tend to be interested in single fandoms at a time rather than more at once. That said, I have done them. The most out there is probably my Doctor Who / Pirates of the Caribbean crossover, Dancing Star. I vaguely recall it being for a longfic challenge, but don't remember which. I'm still fond of that one and it's not even on AO3 (yet).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. (Don't do this.)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have been asked, and I think I had a Holmes fic translated once back in the LJ days? I'm not generally against translation if it's with my explicit consent, but there are some fics where I don't feel comfortable with it, often long or very personal work or stuff that I'm still working with. It helps if I already know the translator before they come to me with translation requests.

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

I have made attempts, yes - some never worked out, some are yet to be published, others were collabs more in the sense of "let me add a sequel to your thing" rather than true co-writing. I have done a few fic/art collabs, on either side of the line, but I don't think there's anything currently on AO3 that has been co-written, unless you count my meta with @comarum.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I am not going to make a claim on an "all time" favourite, particularly as I still feel I only found my niche with shipping fairly recently, and there are a few... fan-favourite pairings that I never really shipped but where I'm now wondering whether I would have jumped in more readily if I had been aware that this niche existed. Also is it still a ship if the pairing is canon, or is that just enjoying the original work?

My most long-standing active ship at this point is Avon/Vila, however.

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

When someone says "doubt you ever will", I always immediately think of a project or two where I get defensive about the idea that I will never ever, even though I haven't touched them in decades. They are in long-term hibernation, but I balk at the idea of them being abandoned. That said, I have a good number of Red Dwarf fics that I'll probably never polish up. Dimensions was important to me, but this is where it'll probably end. Something about that fandom doesn't work for me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think: characters, dialogue, angst and long-form fics, though of course the short things will always outnumber the long ones because they take so long to write!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finding endings for fics that are supposed to be short. Writing characters that aren't neurodivergent. Writing characters/relationships that aren't ace, though I feel I've been getting better with that. Anything that demands I actually pay attention to the characters' gender. Homonyms.

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

Depends on the extensiveness. If characters are always speaking a different language, sprinkling single lines in that actual language is weird and having the entire dialogue in a language that isn't the fic's is tedious, but if a few lines of dialogue are in a different language, sure. I feel the same way about strong accents.

Besides, I'd argue that characters in my current fandom aren't speaking English (the language I write in) in the first place, but a future common tongue I call Standard, so unless I want to invent a conlang, I'm not using their actual language anyway. On the other hand, rendering other languages in English can ignore some special characteristics of that language - something I specifically think about when I write about SIGN (my concept of sign language in the B7 universe). In general, I tend to emphasise readability over accuracy.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Depends on what counts. The first things I called fic were for SGA. Never published. The first published stuff was Canon Holmes.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This changes constantly, and I also feel like I keep developing as a writer, so there are things I was very happy with at the time that I would not write that way now. They still were a favourite once - and in the same vein, if I didn't feel any of my recent stuff were favourites, I'd be doing something wrong with the craft. Consequently, right now I am very fond of Impending Destiny and my current longfic project.

[yesloulou]

Please tell me we are not feeling bad for someone who purposely wrote erotic fiction about a real person and published it. Let’s not side with her as an excuse to hate Dax. I don’t love him either, but people like this “author” cause direct harm to fandom spaces. They enforce the trope that fans are insane stalkers and sexual perverts.

This is the same shit that happened with hockey “booktok”. Someone did something wildly inappropriate, it got around to real people involved, and the fallout made EVERYONE uncomfortable.

Some girl wrote something DISGUSTING and put someone’s real name as well as a caricature of that person on it, and now fandom “feels bad for her”? Hell no.

Sometimes people deserve ridicule. Sometimes people deserve to be shamed. SHE brought this on the fandom. While that’s partially Dax’s fault, the blame is on that author for opening this can of worms. That author fucked around and found out and I hope she has trouble sleeping at night. And if Dax ends up on Ao3 that’s fucked up and I’ll hate him for it, but it will be HER that caused him to go looking. That girl deserves to be ejected from every fandom she’s ever in and I hope she has the life she deserves ❤️

ok. here's the thing. i edited that answer a couple of times but couldn't decide on what to say bc i can't feel bad for her but i also didn't want to tell people who do feel bad for her that's not the right emotion to have. so ultimately i decided to discuss intentions. and based on intentions i do think dax as daniel's friend and a public figure deciding to profit off of a daniel erotica is worse than that girl writing and publishing it.

also i'll admit i have no idea what she wrote in that book and i'd like to stress that i think what she did was simply not right. but i also find it very interesting how much hate and serious allegations that book has been getting, especially on tumblr where rpf is pretty widely accepted. i think at least some of this condemnation comes from a place of self awareness. bc if you think about it the only difference between writing/consuming rpf and writing rpf and then publishing it is publishing. and the act of publishing does not make all the difference. by publishing her rpf (even on a platform like amazon) it was not like she put it in front of daniel and said read it. in fact if we're talking about ease of access, a pov tiktok or an unlocked fic on ao3 is way easier to access than a book you need to buy to read. but somehow, none of the easier to access rpf works got as much negativity as this one. in addition, when this book was first discovered by the fandom, the reaction was mostly "this is so ridiculous help 😭". the tumblr post about that book got barely 30 notes. it was only until a week later when we realized dax brought it up to daniel on his podcast that this outpouring of anger and condemnation started. you see, the issue is not only the girl publishing her rpf. it is also the book being a reminder of how controversial rpf really is. when a piece of rpf enters the internet, there is never guarantee that the person it's about won't ever see it. there is always that risk. Ofc you'd hate her and want to 'eject her from the fandom' for possibly turning that risk into a reality, but it's a risk you (we) took on in the first place, and obviously you (we) wouldn't want to be reminded of that.

anyways. again im not saying she and her book doesn't deserve hate, i just think it's interesting how much hate there has been. i'd love to discuss more but ive probably gotten ms into enough trouble for this already lol sooo.

[deusvervewrites]

I posted 8,686 times in 2022

That's 8,379 more posts than 2021!

7,935 posts created (91%)

751 posts reblogged (9%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@barid-bel-medar

@deusvervewrites

@gentrychild

@runningwolf62

@princess-of-the-corner

I tagged 8,141 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 7,640 posts

#meta - 460 posts

#blue sky au - 281 posts

#ask game - 277 posts

#future toga au - 220 posts

#pokemon legends mustafa - 202 posts

#draconic hero au - 156 posts

#wimtbah - 152 posts

#inhumans au - 147 posts

#clone for one au - 126 posts

Longest Tag: 78 characters

#having a summary that is only questions is a good way to get me not to read it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Imagine how annoyed Nighteye would have been if Izuku hadn't applied to his agency? Like he just goes to fill in the application, 'hmm, suddenly vibes are shit no,' and then applies to like, be Nedzu's apprentice instead.

Midoriya: "These are some rancid vibes. Absolutely horrid."

Nighteye, storming Nedzu's Office: "Not only do you steal Togata's rightful Quirk, you deny me mentorship?!" Nedzu: (: Nighteye: "Don't you have anything to say, Principal?" Nedzu: "Oh heavens no. The longer you talk the more time I have to come up with ideas." Midoriya: (:

Narrator: "Nighteye was never seen or heard from again."

Oh yeah, Sir "Control Freak" Nighteye would be absolutely furious. I'm trying to remember if he explicitly told Togata to extend an offer on his behalf to Midoriya for the Work Studies. Come on, Nighteye, how are you legitimately creepier to me than AFO

305 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

#4

Aizawa for the time travel fix ask game?

I'm sure you meant this seriously but I had a really funny crack idea with Aizawa so we're doing that

Aizawa comes up with a plan to ensure that everything will work out. It is a brilliant plan with no flaws. He expels all of Class 1-A during the Quirk Apprehension Test

Naturally, the class immediately pack bonds into a found family speedrun out of sheer united rage

The class becomes a 20-person vigilante organization specifically to spite Aizawa, with All Might's less-than-secret-but-still-deniable backing

Every major Villain is incarcerated within five weeks.

Nedzu reminds Aizawa that he could've just asked him for help

362 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#3

You know, why WAS Tensei attacked by Stain anyways, now that I think about it?

That's a wonderful question that canon has never in fact answered. It is one of the primary points in my 153-slide powerpoint titled "Why Stain Is A Clown and If You Like Him, So Are You'

I think the closest it's come to answering is Stain canonically has a habit of attacking people to see how they react when they believe they are going to die, and I really shouldn't have to explain everything wrong with that

405 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

#2

I Think I Know Why I Dislike Bakugou's Writing

Yes I know I just did the AFO/Asano Meta, but I feel like I need to do this too

To clarify: this is not me bashing on Bakugou. I want to like Bakugou. If you like Bakugou, you aren't wrong. You just deserve better for him.

Let's begin.

For at least a week now, I have had a picture open in a tab on my browser. This picture is something that I was beginning to think was made up by an Ao3 author because I had only ever seen one mention of it. And now that I've found it for myself, I found myself holding on to it and trying to figure out how to feel about it.

But now that's led to me finally having a way to verbalize the issues I have with how Bakugou has been written throughout the series.

On paper, Bakugou has one of the most interesting character arcs in manga. He goes from being a self-absorbed asshole with a superiority-inferiority complex who only wants to be a Hero because they win fights to the genuinely Hero Midoriya believes he can be.

In practice... well.

Let's play a game really quickly. I'll describe a scene from My Hero Academia, and I want you to guess what chapter it is. It doesn't have to be exact, just a general idea. Here's the scenario:

Midoriya manages to use a Quirk that's destructive to him without seriously hurting himself, and is proud of this accomplishment. In response, Bakugou gets incensed and physically attacks him.

Thought about it? Got an idea? Keep that in mind for later.

So here is my issue with Bakugou: there are two Bakugous. I know that sounds weird but let me explain what I mean. I'll call them Interim Bakugou and Dramatic Bakugou.

Dramatic Bakugou saw his classmates at the Battle Trial and realized that he wasn't the Big Man on Campus. He was furious with Todoroki for not using his fire at the Sports Festival, and infuriated by his internship with Best Jeanist. Dramatic Bakugou was kidnapped by the League because he's an asshole. He blames himself for All Might retiring, and he failed the Provisional License Exam because he's a asshole. Dramatic Bakugou told a kid that he needed to acknowledge his own weakness, took a hit for Midoriya in the War Arc, and apologized to him.

Dramatic Bakugou is improving as a person and a Hero.

Dramatic Bakugou also barely appears in the manga.

We are instead left with Interim Bakugou, the Bakugou who exists in the interim between dramatic moments. Interim Bakugou has not changed from his first appearance on the first page of Chapter 1, when he was five, beating the shit out of Midoriya.

Interim Bakugou tried to attack Midoriya on Day 1, and tried to kill him on Day 2. Interim Bakugou listened in on a private conversation about how Endeavor's obsessions broke him and learned nothing. Interim Bakugou told the League of Villains that he wouldn't join them because he likes how Heroes look when they win. Interim Bakugou told the Help Us Company actors to fuck off. Interim Bakugou dragged Midoriya out to Ground Beta to beat the shit out of him because he was butthurt about his exam and making it all about him. Interim Bakugou won the Joint Training Battle because he wanted to be the Undisputed Best. Interim Bakugou never calls people by their real names.

Interim Bakugou called himself Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Interim Bakugou told the class that Deku is fucked in the head and doesn't care about what happens to himself, while ignoring that he called Midoriya 'Useless' so often Midoriya responds to it like his own name. Interim Bakugou uses Deku right up to the moment that Dramatic Bakugou apologized for inventing it in the first place.

Interim Bakugou never changes, no mater how much Dramatic Bakugou tries.

Here, let me prove it. You remember that game I had you play a few paragraphs ago, yes? What chapter did you say? Chapter 7, during the Quirk Apprehension Test?

Well, I have to admit that I lied a little. That picture I've had on my browser for the past week or so? It's actually a screencap of the manga.

This is from Chapter 253, after Midoriya shows his progress with Blackwhip.

This is five chapters away from the start of the War Arc.

This is 69 chapters before he apologizes, most of which aren't focused on him at all.

This is within the Final Saga, as Horikoshi puts it.

And Interim Bakugou is indistinguishable from Orientation Day eleven months ago

I will freely admit that this is clearly meant to be a joke, and that he did not hurt Midoriya as severely as the class is acting, but the behavior is still there. It hasn't changed a bit. Interim Bakugou hasn't changed a bit.

Dramatic Bakugou, in a flashback, confessed to All Might that he used to bully Midoriya.

Interim Bakugou still does.

This is why I don't like how Horikoshi writes Bakugou. I want to like Dramatic Bakugou and follow his journey, but for every step forward he takes, Interim Bakugou takes two steps back. All of his apologies feel hollow because Interim Bakugou is demonstrably the same.

See the full post

466 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

AU where everything is practically the same but Izuku is visibly more feral. IE: he bit All Might instead of grabbing his leg and Toshi, upon remembering doing the same thing to Nana, decides to make him his successor (adopt him) on the spot.

Midoriya just fucking snaps one day because if you bully someone nonstop for ten years you either break them or get them to stop caring and bad news for Aldera they got the other coin flip this time.

You do not Fuck with Feral Midoriya. He has bitten most of his classmates by this point. He hisses like a cat. He casually starts discussing what it would take to render someone's Quirk permanently useless, like how someone could paralyze Bakugou's hands or scar them over until he couldn't make any explosions without breaking himself.

All Might gets nostalgic when Midoriya is gnawing on his leg to keep him from leaving.

During the entrance exam, Present Mic had to start the test a few seconds early because when Iida went to stop Midoriya from talking to Uraraka, Midoriya fucking picked Iida up and was getting ready to throw him like a javelin, and that announcement is the only thing that saved him. Midoriya did however carry him into the exam before he remembered to put him down.

When Midoriya uses his Quirk at the QAT, Bakugou assumes that Midoriya manifested it through sheer Feral energy and chooses life. Aizawa on the other hand tries an expulsion scare and he can taste how mad Midoriya is about it

511 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

I had to delay doing this because @gentrychild went and reblogged my Stray Cat AU and completely threw off my stats