#not in a good place as it is and really don't need backhanded comments on the one thing I enjoy doing

[letsquestjess]

Going to put this under a read more because it's a bit of a rant, but I needed to get it off my chest.

You know, I really fought with the idea of uploading my stuff to AO3, and this is why. I used to post fics on there way in the past and this was the kind of shit I got. The fic has barely been up on there for a few hours. On here, I get lovely comments, and even if people did have a problem with anything I've written, they don't say it. I have only experienced kindness and encouragement, and it is something I am incredibly grateful for.

But this shit really annoys me. It seems like such an unnecessary comment to make.

For anyone who hasn't read it, In the Midst of the Storm is a super short fic I wrote way before season 3 came out, where Crosshair got away from the Empire, managed to snag some intel, and met with Cody to hand it over to him. At the end, Cross leaves. In my mind, he had stuff he wanted to do. I didn't want the fic to be a full-length novel; it was just a fun idea I had.

I get the feeling this person doesn't like Cody or some of his actions, but it just feels like they didn't need to make this comment. Sure, don't like stuff, there's plenty of stuff out there I don't like, but I don't feel the need to make backhanded comments. I just shrug and scroll on.

I could understand if they had commented something like 'omg, can't believe Cody let Crosshair leave'. It's the sarcastic 'what a good brother!' that basically drives the knife in.

And yeah, I probably comes across as a sensitive writer (which, I suppose in a way I am at times), but I'm resisting the urge to comment back just like 'yeah, he let him leave. AND?'

Thinking of holding off posting the rest of my stuff on there for now, possibly just deleting my account (even though I only set it up today) if this is the kind of comments I'm going to get. If all I'm going to get is people ripping into the silly fics I write for a bit of fun, it just isn't worth it.

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Whores get what whores deserve

Summary: You haven't had the time to take care of your bunny hybrid bf as you usually would, and he decides to brat for attention. a/n: I think this is my first fic where the reader is the dom, hope you all enjoy it! also the divider is by @cafekitsune

CW: Bondage, bunnyboy gets slapped twice but its been discussed before, edging, mommy kink, pegging.

"Baby, I really don't have the time right now, you understand that."

"Fine. I'll just get someone else, bet they could make me feel better anyways." He grumbles, walking away. Now, you know that comment was only meant to piss you off. You know you're playing into him if you react but goddammit your head still snaps up when you hear it.

"The fuck did you just say?"

"Nothin', didn't say anythin'!"

"No, no, go ahead. You think anyone else could ever make you feel even half as good as I do?"

"N-no! Promise! Was just joking!"

"Didn't sound like a joke. Go upstairs and if you have any clothes on by the time im up there, so help me god."

He bolts upstairs -so fast that you're a little worried he might slip- and you unclench your jaw. You knew he said that just to piss you off and elicit this reaction, but it doesn't matter, you need to put him in his place.

Stomping up the stairs so he can hear you coming, wanting to heighten his anticipation with every step. He sits on the bed, facing the open door of your shared room, cute little nose twitching nervously. 

"Lay down. Arms above your head." You don't even spare a glance at him, not wanting to offer him even a morsel of attention as you open the bedside drawer and pull out your strap. You begin tying his arms above his head before moving on to his feet. He whines only once, knowing if he complained anymore this would become far worse for him. 

You straddle his hips, sinking down on his cock as he whines and cries. Babbling about how tight you are, how much he's wanted this. But this is meant to be a punishment.

So, you refuse to move, staying perfectly still watching his face twist into confusion before remembering why he’s in this situation in the first place. “You’re bein’ meann!” he pouts. You just roll your eyes and huff, “You’re lucky I'm even touching you right now, and you have the fucking audacity to complain?” 

But, you comply, slowly riding him, listening to his pretty whimpers. Soon enough, you feel his cock twitch inside you, squeezing his eyes shut while his foot taps rapidly against nothing in pleasure and you realize he’s about to cum. 

So you stop. 

His eyes shoot open and a loud sad whine is ripped from his throat from the loss of pleasure. 

“N-no! No, no, no, p-please move, mommy! I’m sorry for sayin’ that earlier, I don't want anyone but you, I don't need anyone but you! No one can make me feel as good as you do! Promise!” He whines, and as pretty as he sounds, you refuse to break, you can’t always let him have his way, this isn’t meant for him to enjoy. 

Three edges later, he decides he’s had enough -as though he has any control in this situation- and when you stop, he bucks his hips. Quickly being reminded of the gravity of his action as he hears you click your tongue followed by a burning pain searing through his cheek, making his pathetic cock twitch. 

You had backhanded him, sick of his brattiness. It was going to be his last edge, but no, he had to be a fucking bitch and now you’re pissed off. You slap him again, at least being nice enough to hit his other cheek, the both of them now blazing hot. You lean over, gripping his throat tight, choking him as you pull him as far forward as possible with his tied limbs. 

“You’re such a fucking whore, can’t even behave for one goddamn second.” You spit through gritted teeth, lifting yourself off of his cock and throwing open the drawer on the bedside table pulling out your new strap, watching his eyes open wide. You take your pants off to slide the harness on before redressing. He doesn't deserve to see your body. 

“W-wait mommy, that’s so big! i-i’ve never taken one that big!” You look at him, completely unimpressed. “You’ll be fine, this isn’t much bigger than my other one.” Taking the time to lather a bit of lube on your strap and and his hole you push the entirety of your length deep inside his tight ass without even bothering to prep him. Just like you expected, he took it just fine with only one or two grimaces. Refusing to give him a second to adjust you pull your cock out before ramming it all the way inside him over and over. "S’too much! M'sorry mommy, m'sorry!" He sobs, clicking your tongue and growling at him to shut the fuck up and take it.

"Should've thought about the consequences before you started being a fuckin' brat. You brought this on yourself, don't come crying to me now."

[midnight-black2]

hii so like i just like so wnated another kai fic where hes like a heavy masochist if thats okay?

its not like something where hes being punished like thtf more js like a gf whos just naturally as mean as him and shes like doing him like harshly while he loses his shit over it

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏

pairing : kai (from voyagers) x reader

synopsis : turns out all along kai only wanted someone who was just as unapologetic as him to properly ruin him

disclaimers : sub!kai, dom!reader, degradation, masochist!kai, mean!reader, fem!reader, riding, p in v, imaginary condom (wrap it before you tap it you guys !!)

note : i know they're on a ship, don't ask me where they got condoms cuz idk. also, i listened to shut me up by mindless self indulgence while making this, so that's where the title comes from. just know this oneshot has nothing to do with the title, really. also sorry it's so short, haven't been finding much time lately, unfortunately.

everything you did or said was incredibly, utterly insatiable to kai. the way you walked, head held high with brimming confidence. the way you spoke, you seemed to have this little twang at the end of every sentence that made everyone fall captive to you and your ways. whatever you said, normally went. why? well, in short, most were a bit afraid of you. you'd never really physically hurt anybody, but it was what you said. backhanded comments, snarky remarks, they all came naturally to you. with kai? even more natural.

that's why he liked you so much.

you were even meaner than he was, and it was pretty rare, especially when you live on a ship in the middle of outer space. he would go absolutely animalistic whenever you inflicted a little pain on him. no matter the time. but especially when you two were fucking.

you had your right hand firmly (not too hardly) wrapped around his throat. it restricted his airway, but god did it feel so good. your left hand was placed on his hips, preventing him from moving. you bounced up and down on him effortlessly as he let out choked groans and whimpers.

"please," kai begged. you quirked a brow, curiosity piqued.

"please what, kai?" you asked, in an (faux, yet convincing) annoyed tone.

"t-tighter please." you weren't quite sure what he meant, until it suddenly clicked.

"you want me to choke you...harder? oh my god you're such a whore," he whined at the name, throwing his head back. you were amused, so you did what he asked. you rolled your hips a little, and watched the way he shuttered.

it was peculiar, to say the least. not many people put up with you like kai did. you were conniving, defiant, and independent more often than not; at least ever since everyone stopped taking the blue.

he smiled, through it all, he smiled. he was genuinely smiling at the pain. a stupid grin plastered across his face as he was being utterly slutted out. you laughed, mockingly, but you laughed. everything you did seemed so condescending.

he loved it.

you finally pulled your hand away from his throat, and he was sent grasping for air immediately.

"looks like you've bitten off more than you can chew, hm?" you smirked down at him, speeding up your body. you squeezed the flesh of his waist unknowingly, as you let out a groan. his eyes opened, and he was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of you. looking so smug, complacent.

"fuckfuckfuck," he murmured out, almost incoherently. you could tell he was getting close.

"you want to cum, don't you?" you queried, a mean smile on your face.

"yes, please," he answered, nodded frantically.

"then beg." he whined for the nth time that day. he hated (loved it) when you made him beg. it felt so degrading.

"please, y/n. please, i need you. so so bad, let me cum, please," he begged, as you bounced up and down mercilessly.

"good enough, i guess," you said, though unconvincingly. "we'll come at the same time. just make it for a bit longer." he didn't even know if he could do that, but God so help him, he would try.

"three," you began.

"two."

"one." and as if a switch turned on, you both came in unison; kai's mouth agape in a silent moan of pure ecstasy. you let out a string of curses, some directed towards kai, some not. hell, you weren't even sure what you were saying anymore.

and kai was certain, that might've been the hardest he'd ever came, ever.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[cupidscrule]

OLD ENOUGH 2 DIE

Re4 Leon X Fem! Reader

Tw - drug trafficking

P in v, finger stuff

You were a spoiled bitch, had daddy's money to take care of anything.

"Daddy - pleasee com'on It's only 2k, can you transfer the money? Yay! Thank you daddy mwah"

Spoken into the brand new phone you got, you had money, had everything. Never went a day without living like a queen, never understanding poor people 'ugh why can't you just work harder? Honestly it's not that hard ' said to thousands of waiters at 5 star restaurants. Never even tipped em, throughout high school you were a dick to everyone, if they weren't hot and skinny. Classic mean girl to be honest

"Hunny, absolutely not. We can all tell that bag is a fake, it's embarrassing.. you should honestly thank me for telling you how stupid you look.."

"Oh! That's not.."

"Babes, you know I want the best for you so.. that dress really makes you look fat, maybe wear something more flattering?"

Backhanded comments were your LIFE, had every privilege, didn't even try in school. Just sucked and fucked your way to A's, but you were hot so it's fine! It doesn't matter if the pretty girl makes the slug kill herself? She's all innocent, everyone who tried to defend you was hilarious. "Oh she's just insecure!!" Bullshit, no you weren't? You just hated all those chicks. Rightfully so, they were all annoying whores.

You were just treating them how they deserved to be, not like any of them had a future besides sucking dick.. you're different though, that's what you always told yourself. Sure you dressed like a skimpy bimbo, fucked the sports team twice. But you're different, an exception to the slut rule..

"Daddy can you send me an Uber? I don't have enough money in my account. Dad I said I spent it all shopping- no dad please- it's gonna be night soon, I NEED an Uber. Daddy? UGH" stomping your feet, making your own little hissy fit in the middle of the street, clutching the little pink fur purse you bought, looking around at all the people staring at you. Pout on your face and brows furrowed, throwing your phone on the ground and walking away, you were a good half hour away from home, and these boots were NOT made for walking. They were brand new plus, wouldn't wanna ruin em. And to top it all off it was freezing cold, like -15C. All you had was a white fur coat belted around your waist, with stupid little ear muffs. Couldn't even find matching gloves, freezing cold at Six PM alone on a Friday night, with no phone .. what a perfect day!

Stomping off not really knowin' where you're going isn't that smart though, but you were never a smart kid. Never did drugs or anything like that, just not very smart in the real world. Couldn't read signs, or fight, or have basic common courtesy. Shuffling your feet through the snow for god knows how long till tik street lights flicker on. By this point you got no clue where you are, started off downtown now you were in the middle of fucktown with nothing you recognize, see this is why daddy should've moved to a smaller town after The business deal, that way cops wouldn't be on his ass and you would know where you're going. Sure DC was the place to be! Except for the fact it's the stupidest place to be if your main source of income is drug trafficking, you didn't care where daddy got his money as long as you got it in the end. But what you did care about is when daddy refused to be smart about his shit. Like what are you on if you think moving to Washington is a good idea after makin' a major deal, you're dad was important. He was wanted for a lot. But you didn't do anything wrong, you're innocent! So you never cared about what would happen if dear old dad got caught, he could buy himself out of trouble just like before.

Still aimlessly walking up and down the streets trying to find anything identifiable when you hear footsteps behind you.

Turning your head to see who's behind you, and it's a taller man with blonde hair, it's getting dark so there's not that many details. He's wearing  really weird clothes, just staring at you, his eyes narrow and look at your face in the flickering lights before opening his dumb mouth

"Listen, we can make this easy kid. Just come with me back-" he started speaking, stepping towards you. Immediate nope, fuck that, the police actually caught the hell on? AND THEY WENT AFTER YOU? Worst day ever, dropping your bag and making a run for it just like daddy said.

"Sweetie, if the cops ever find you, and are onto you. Run. And run far."

Never actually thought what that old sack of shit said mattered, I mean nothing bad ever happens to you.

Running around corners, frantically, heart racing, why, why, why, why. You had NOTHING to do with daddies private shit, if anything you're a victim to his crimes.. yeah victim! I mean dad was a creep sometimes, huggin' a bit too tight, grabbing your ass like you were his girlfriend. Even though mom was dead for a long time, he never got over her and I guess you looked closest to her?

Running into an alley way, like any smart fucken girl would, totally. There was a chain link fence, then what looked like a field leading to someone's apartment building? Pretty sure someone from school lives there, yeah Milo in Chem 100% does he's the welfare kid and this was the poor side of town. Bingo.

"Ah- not so fast"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Don't even reply, no don't reply, you have about five fucking seconds before getting dragged away and everything taken away. Pathetically trying to pull yourself over the fence, y'know if you really tried you could do it. But you don't try. Feeling a hand grab your ankle, pull you down ripping your cute coat, if you're gonna kidnap a girl at least keep her shit nice damn. He throws you down, trying to scramble up only to get immediately knocked out and your unconscious body dragged away.

"fuck" you mutter under your breath, opening your eyes drowsy, vision kinda blurry but you can see everything, trying to move your hands and legs but then feeling the rough rope press against your sensitive skin, looked like you were an old ass storage unit, some boxes piled up in the corner, walls looked rusty. A table in the middle of the small room, and a guy just standing there. Few seconds later lights flicker on, they're dim but you can now see detail in everything. That includes your unknown kidnapper? Or agent? Or cop? He wasn't really dressed like any of them, wore a dark blue t shirt,tactical black pants, and black gloves. Not sure what profession of people wear that, plus he was too cute to just be a random kidnapper, pretty blonde hair with gorgeous blue eyes and a muscular figure.

"Oh you're awake, huh thought that would've taken longer." He says eyes darting towards you as you try to wiggle out of the rope, it's tight. "Who the fuck are you? Where's my dad! Do you even know who I am?" You say acting as if your dad was a fucken celebrity and not a filthy pig. You knew you were in a deep fucken mess, so when in doubt, lie. Lie about everything, you're innocent, no Mr. officer my father would never! You have the wrong girl I'm just a highschooler !

"Don't play dumb missy, cut the shit. Let's get to the point, I know your dear old dad is involved with a lot. And so are you, aren't you? So why don't you tell me where dad does all his importing and where he gets the shit from, hm?" He says coldly, almost as if he's talkin' to a little kid. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just let me go!" You whine staring up at him, he's just standing infront of you arms crossed over his chest, getting a better look at him, he wasn't just a random guy, he looked important. Didn't know why though, a sigh comes from his lips as he blinks slowly at you, "honey, I really don't wanna get messy. Just hand over the information and you can go back to doin' whatcha do, I don't care." He said, arms still folded over his chest, he was a good fifteenth-ish feet away from you and your chair, you grit you teeth, brows furrowed as you stare at this guy. Pissed off, "don't call me honey, I told you I don't know what you're talkin' about." You mutter to him, pout on your stupid lips.

"You're a bad actor, it's really obviously. Plus you're on file, darling. Now can you just tell me the important stuff?" He said putting on an obvious fake begging face, puppy eyes and all. You were trying to get untied, only getting rope burns on your wrists, squirming and whimpering in that tiny wood chair. "I didn't do anything, I don't know what daddy does to get money.. talk to him not me" you say batting your lashes, pushing your face out towards him, he takes another step forward. Putting his arms down, lookin' at you like you were some thing he found on the bottom of his shoe. "You have the face of a pornstar" he says out of the fucking blue, such a handsome voice but such a shocking thing. "I'm in highschool, pig." You scrowl jaw clenched, tone change from 'inccocent little girl' to 'raging bitch.' like a public appearance vs how you act in private. "Mm, well you're eighteen now correct? Nothing's wrong with that now is it? And it's just a fact, you've fucked and sucked your way up. No way someone like you is about to pass, in truth you're a pathetic attempt at human and a failure of whatever we can even call your sorry ass. But at least you make up with it for a massive rack and cute face"

Ouch. Okay.

Words didn't even form, jaw dropped, eyes shocked. Honestly not even knowing what to say, what do you say to that? 'oh yes sorry Mr man you're right I'm a dirty slut!" Absolutely not, because you aren't. "So, you gonna answer me?" He says, he's just a few feet away from you, leaning down to your whiny ass face. A small smirk on his dumb lips,

"fuck. you."

He just looked blankly, at you, almost dumbfounded by how much of a fucking MORAN you were, tied up in small place, no one knows where you are, daddies house is probobly getting raided and he's waiting in jail or has twenty bullets through his back while you're agonizing this man five times your size whom you are at HIS mercy. But hey, it could be worse. He could've killed ya already, he obviously needs you alive. So you're safe, for now. He cups your chin making you look at him directly

"You're such a dumb whore." He whispers letting you go, can't lie he's hot, feeling a throb in your legs, lump in your throat and pushing your thighs together, dumb little slut. Just fuck my brains out already oh my god.

"Seriously? Getting horny in an integration, fuck little missy you really are a freak." He says laughing to himself looking at your pathetic bitch display, all dumb n needy, breath rasp and heavy, feeling an emptiness only filled by fat dick, staring at the man, didn't even know his name, never told ya. He gets close up again and sticks to fingers in your mouth, pushing them back. Your tounge running around them, sucking, like a good little fuck doll. Sloppy and all wet, pulling his index and middle finger out your mouth saliva dripping off of it, stupid ass smirk on his face rubbing his fingers down your chest, over your pretty white shirt and over your tits. You're still bound to the chair, wanting nothin' more then to get bent over and fucked till you can't even remember daddies in trouble, this entire moment is just pure lust. He gives you the look like, 'is this what you really want? Seriously?' and of course you reply with a

"I'll answer you if you give me what I want."

That's all it took for him to untie you from that god forsaken chair, just to tie your hands together again. Push you onto your back, pressing your thighs apart. You aren't wearing much, your coat was gone lost somewhere in the ally, only wearing black shorts and a white top. Stupid for the middle of winter but it was hot.   He takes out a small switch blade from his pocket cutting open your shirt and shorts off, pornstar tits popping out in a little pink bra also exposing the matching panties. Even all finished off with a cute little bow, unzipping his pants his dick springs out, your pussy THROBBING, aching. He cuts the shit off and pushes you firmly on the ground, your arms still bound above your head, his chest just over yours pushing into you, stretching you open. His tip resting nicely in your cervix when he starts rockin' back and forth. Hitting you all the good spots, moaning n' a mess, hes pretty much silent groaning here and there when he speeds up, lifting you up slightly, more like your at an angel on him, he grips your back and rocks you back and forth, feeling your walls tighten  around him feeling all numb and high, cumming over his fat cock, his pull out games fast. Just as you finish he pushes you back on your neck and unloads on your stupid face, 'before grabbing you lazily and pressing your body against his, you were all dumb and covered in your own mess. But he was gentle with you, soft, he was nice. Nicer then anyone else had been, softer then anyone else despite fucking your brains out. His breath was heavy as he held onto you, chest to chest. Can't tell if he's doing' this cause he feels some sort of pity for you but fuck if you care it's comforting, you felt all warm and fuzzy. Weird.

"Please don't leave me here."

"I know you're eighteen, years old, but you're still old enough to die. Right here. Right now. So talk"

[sleeplesswixard]

Dutch x gn!Reader (romantic)

Type: Headcanons, romantic, gender-neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of smoking and alcohol

Note: None!

Song: Rule #34 - Fish İn a Birdcage

"I'm afraid ya'll been barkin up to the wrong tree, so to speak!"

——————————————————————

He's really gentle and kind with you, unlike being smug and annoying to Basile when he's around.

He likes to pamper you, he buys you really expensive clothes, some of them are spesifically red or yellow so you can match.

He brought you a silver ring with a ruby placed on it, or a diamond i dunno.

He's rich, use it for your own good.

You guys absolutely had shows before.

He gives great hugs! İf your tall enough to reach him.

He also abso-freaking-lutely painted a picture of you before.

You guys do art together!!!

İt doesn't matter if you're not good at it, having fun with you is enough for hım.

While you we're panting on the canvas next to him, he was too busy watching you and he accidently mistook the paint water as his drink and drank it.

Bro basically drank bunch of paint particals.

"Dutch... Dutch that's not coffe.."

"Hm? What do you mean- Oh jesus-" *COUGHCOUGH*

Nose and cheek kisses are his favorite!!!

You sometimes kiss him from his scar. (İ dunno if it really counts cheek or nose but you get me)

And he loves it.

And you love when his hand is on small of your back when you two greeting someone or you need encouragement.

He's uses pet names more than your name. "Darlin', sugar, sweetheart" and such.

Links your arm with his while walking.

Dancing with slow jazz on background.

He really loves dancing with you with slow jazz on background. (İ have a small obsession with Dutch and Aris liking jazz i dunno why please help me)

He's such a gentleman.

He's a bit jealous, he won't be pleased to hear or see another person hitting on you, ESPECİALLY NOT in front of him.

But nah he'll most likely just shoo away the person or make a backhanded comment to them.

He never told you about his criminal side of his carrier.

You either and most likely don't know it yet or you found it yourself.

He just doesn't wants you to be in danger or get scared of him.

İf you smoke or drink like him, he buys you the good-quality ones, most likely the same ones that he uses.

İf you don't and you don't like things like that he won't smoke or drink in front of you.

He also tries to quit smoking just for you. And it already works a little, since you don't see him buying or smoking cigars as much as he used to before.

His mane(i think it's called that?) is so freaking soft it hurts.

While you're laying next to him your hand just instictively reaches out to his mane. He doesn't mind it, he'll just continue whatever he's doing.

He loves it when you're laying your head on his chest. His hand automatically reaches to pat your head everytime.

He takes you on dates and really fancy places the second he gets an opportunity to.

You can take your time while you get ready, he'll wait for you. Doesn't matter if it'll take you forever, he's patient.

Basile's both surprized and impressed by how you don't get annoyed when Dutch is around.

He can always tell when something is off with you. Like i said, he's patient, he won't force you to tell if you don't want to or if you're not ready.

He'll give you some time, hoping you'll feel at least a little better enough to say what's wrong.

İf any of his customers will make you uncomfortable or mess up with you, the last place you're going to see them is going to be the other side of the Hotel's door.

He doesn't have that "Customer is always right" crap. İf they're asked for it he'll gladly recieve it to them.

He doesn't minds problematic customers when they're messing with him, but he won't tolerate it if it comes to his workers and ESPECİALLY you.

——————————————————————

Shhh.... @theghostinthestudio *hands you the headcanons*

Greetings and salutations! Thank you for reading my headcanons! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

İ'm sorry if i have any grammar or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language!

See you soon, adventurers.(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

[rigginsstreet]

3,9,24 or 30 for fredsythe 🖤 (you pick)

30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Fred says from his bed, seated on the edge and feet resting on the wooden frame, knees bent and spread wide enough for FP to stand between. His hands are shoved in his leather jacket, teeth worrying his bottom lip while Fred holds his hips in place, trying to offer some assurance.

"No, I- I want to." FP pauses, inhales deep. Exhales. "It'll be good for me. For us."

Fred can't fight the smile that blooms across his face, fingers flexing in FP's shirt where they rest. "Good. Because I really want to meet all your friends."

Friends, of course, meant members of the gang FP had joined upon being thrown out of his home by his father. People who had taken him in and accepted him when his own blood never could. Family, in the truest definition.

So, naturally, Fred wanted to meet the people who gave his best friend a home.

And while FP felt safe with these people, he had been reluctant to bring Fred around. Could never shake the feeling like he'd be tainting him somehow letting him get too close to the South Side. Dating FP was bad enough. Fred didn't need to get tangled up in the mess any more than he already was.

But they were also the only family FP had to introduce Fred to, and he couldn't deny the part of him that longed for that normalcy, no matter how un-normal the circumstances were.

So, FP takes Fred to the Whyte Wyrm - a place where no North Sider is particularly welcome unless they're very special. (FP doesn't like to sound sappy, but he does have to admit they don't come more special than Fred Andrews.)

There's undeniable nerves shooting through FP as they walk through the bar, and he knows Fred's getting looks. People wondering what a wholesome slice of apple pie like that is doing on their side of town, but they say nothing. Let FP walk him back to where his friends are all gathered in a party of sorts. No real celebration going on besides of life itself, but FP knew he'd catch them all in a good mood.

Fred doesn't seem to understand the snake pit he's walked into. Is too busy being enamored by the neon signs and old license plates adorning the walls. Like he's at Disney World or some shit. FP wishes he could be that relaxed all the time. Probably why he drinks so much.

Gladys is the first one to spot them, with a greeting of "My boys!" as she hops up from the recliner she was sprawled across to wrap Fred and FP in a drunken hug, giving them each a big wet kiss on the cheek.

"Got any more of those?" FP nods to the beer in Gladys' hand. She looks over her shoulder and whistles, and suddenly a bottle is being thrown his way. He catches it one-handed.

"Hey, Gladys," Fred smiles, taking the beer he's offered as well.

It's nice that Gladys is here. Helps take the edge off a little of what FP's about to say. Which lasts all of two seconds before Tall Boy's snarling "What's the preppy doing here?"

Gladys immediately backhands him in the shoulder, and Fred says confidently “I’m not preppy…”

FP ignores the comment entirely to instead say “This is my boyfriend Fred.” His heart feels like it’s gonna leap out of his throat, though oddly enough, he thinks it’s more from the fact he’s just announced he’s dating a South Sider than the fact he’s announcing he’s dating a boy. Fred’s hand is immediately in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh, Christ, not another one,” Tall Boy groans. The wounds are still fresh from Alice turning her back on everyone for Hal Cooper.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Gladys warns. “Fred’s good people.”

Fred smiles appreciatively.

“They’re all good people,” Tall Boy says, “That’s their fucking problem.” He steps forward, aiming to tower over both boys, but FP places himself in front of Fred. Tall Boy may have more than a few inches on him, but FP doesn’t really give a shit.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now,” FP starts, voice low and brokering no room for argument. “Fred’s off limits. You got a problem with him, you better think carefully about what you’re going to do about it.”

Tall Boy just scoffs at him. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Normally I’d agree,” Gladys says from the side, popping peanuts into her mouth. “But when it comes to Fred, FP gets a little feral, so I’d probably listen to him this time.”

Tall Boy looks down to FP, who’s smirking up at him in challenge.

It’s a stand off until Viper, one of the elders, comes over casually. “We got a problem here?”

“Just introducing my boyfriend to everyone,” FP says, eyes still locked on Tall Boy. He finds that the more he uses the word, the more he likes how it feels.

“The North Side kid?” Viper asks.

“How could you tell?” Fred questions, sounding a little embarrassed.

Viper laughs. “Can sniff you folks out from a mile away. Name’s Viper,” he says, extending a hand out. “Real name’s Robert, but everyone calls me Viper, or Vipe, if you’re so inclined.”

“I’m Fred,” he smiles, shaking the older man’s hand warmly.

“Now what’s a nice kid like you slumming it with a kid like FP?”

The words would sting coming from anyone else, but Viper says them good naturedly. He was the one to really take FP under his wing when he’d come crawling to the Serpents with nowhere else to go. A gay man himself, Viper had resonated all too well with FP’s story of an unsympathetic father and making his way on the streets. Wanted to protect FP, and the other kids like him, from the same fate he endured growing up. He was the closest thing FP had to a real father.

“I wouldn’t know,” Fred answers, looking fondly at FP. “I wouldn’t consider it slumming.”

Somewhere in the background Tall Boy gags, but all FP can focus on is how badly he wants to kiss Fred right now, even if he is corny as hell.

Viper laughs, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Good answer, kid. This FP’s a special one. Gotta take real good care of him.”

“Okay can we get to partying now. This sentimental shit is making me uncomfortable,” FP says, trying to fight off the swell of emotion building up in his chest at someone actually giving enough of a shit about him to look out for him like this.

Viper laughs. “Alright, alright. Let’s go make the rounds, introduce Fred here to the crew.”

He leads the way around the bar, Fred and FP trailing behind. Fred leans into FP’s side to whisper in his ear all coy “Can I kiss you right now?”

FP hopes the dim lights of the bar hide his blush, but he nods before Fred reaches up to cup his cheek and press their lips together. Their first public kiss. A moment that apparently isn’t lost on Fred, either.

“I think I’m gonna like it here.”

[the-one-who-lambs]

🐑🐑🐑 (3) (for the fic ask thingy in case this confuses u lmao)

3. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

This is... a long one. TL;DR: It took me a while but I finally, actually internalized that I don't need to set goalposts for myself and consistently move them.

Story's gonna get vulnerable and involve a few other people too. Many of y'all probably saw me go through a whole character arc but I've never really talked about how I felt about this (aside from a couple close friends).

Around July/August, I noticed my readership going down because I had just finished a big writing project and I was moving on to other stuff/trying to figure out what my next big thing was gonna be. I have always always written for myself but ngl, getting lots of consistent engagement and then suddenly not as much anymore made me wonder if I was doing something wrong, if the quality of my works were going down. I vented to a group of friends (including you lmao sorry Juliet) about it and they were like "chill it's the beginning of the semester and people are getting rly busy it's ok" and I was like "yeah makes sense" but nope, I had just plateaued and was dropping off a little for a couple months.

Around the same time, I posted about reaching some sort of milestone and got an anon (maybe well intentioned but it seemed kinda backhanded) that basically said "oh if you ACTUALLY have that many reads that makes you the most popular writer in the cotl fandom. I'm gonna place u above everyone else due to this metric I just kinda invented." And once I noticed my readership had stopped growing and just kinda leveled off/dropped a little bit it made me anxious. Sadly, "keeping others interested" with my writing wasn't really a concern of mine until this started bothering me

I did know that recognition was not the same thing as talent but silly perfectionist brain thought "oough you're the exception btw. you're just not interesting anymore and therefore you're probably not as good anymore lol"

Anyway. October rolls around. I start getting some asks comparing my writing to bamsara's, starting with them mentioning little details that sound very similar but realistically are coincidences because sometimes multiple writers see a theme/motif and we all start chewing it. Anyway, it's obvious that anon is just trying to start shit. Maybe they saw how I'd been kinda beating myself up abt my writing for a little while and tried to make me jealous of them. I don't know. It's probably not worth trying to understand tbh. I just delete the asks. I keep anons on just in case there's a genuine concern.

at this point I'm gonna interrupt to say EVERYTHING TURNS OUT OK I PROMISE and I'm not tagging you in case it's a sore spot but Sara if you're reading this I'm literally so sorry that me learning the lesson I got out of this involved you getting these nasty messages too.

Bam posts something kinda vague about how they get compared to some writers they've never read before. I hope this is a coincidence but alarm bells are going off and I keep this to myself.

Anon keeps doing this every once in a while for a few weeks; at first it looks like anon is accusing bamsara of copying me (???? like i said, we're just exploiting similar themes) and then it starts turning into basically "they're doing everything you're doing but better." Bam obviously hadn't done anything wrong, so I keep supporting them as I do the other writers in the fandom. Eventually the anon gets kinda pissy that I'm not envious or trying to tear someone else down or whatever. I've kept this mostly to myself and they don't like that.

So when they send an ask in mid-November and this had been going on for a few weeks I finally answer an ask to tell them to shut the hell up (gracefully) and then I forget about it and go to sleep. Wake up the next morning and uhhh. See Bam feels like shit because they got a really scathing message. Comments say it happened during a stream and I check it to see if it's the same anon and it is. Fuck on a stick. I literally burn myself out with anger over the next two days until I donate to their kofi as a peace agreement. They reach out and apologize for something they didn't do and it takes me until now to realize that literally nothing I have worried about over the past few months matters at all.

Anyway. It all turns out fine because we become mutuals and hype each other up. Kicker is, whoever it was forgot to turn off anon in Bam's askbox so we got to block them and I'm pretty sure they deactivated too lmao. I reached out to a bunch of writer friends and checked in with them to violently spread positivity and I've been trying to violently spread positivity as much ever since. Yay. Happy ending but sucks that this had to happen for me to crush my anxiety. Bam and I are buddies now and I've also befriended many more writers since, too. cotl writers we are unionizing.

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 15 Part 3 - Friendship

Walking side by side, the two of you get to the wash room and begin your task. Kudari hands you the towels, and you put them in the washing machine with the detergent and start the load. When they are done, you both take turns folding and returning them to the cabinet.

As the pile gets smaller, there's even some lab coats found in the hamper. You make the comment, "How lazy are some of these people? They can't do their own laundry? Only towels or similar things are supposed to be in here, not personal clothing."

Kudari smirks at you deviously, "Hee hee, let's just wash them on the same cycle with the towels. If the colors run, or they get torn, it's their fault for leaving it for someone else to do! They'll think twice next time."

You can't help but smile, saying, "Okay, that's a little passive-aggressive, but at least they would be clean." Giving him a side glance, you add, "If they come asking, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"Very well!" he exclaims, slam dunking the lab coats into the washer with some towels. "I'm positive they will retract any bad statements after you tell them that. Sometimes it's good when people fear you."

"I guess so. As long as it's people you don't like," you admit, with Kudari nodding along. Since you are alone, you decide to talk about a more personal subject, "The other night, when I came to see you, I was in a bad mood. Finding out that Nobori has to do such awful things really broke my heart. No one should have to do that. It's not something that is good for your soul."

He doesn't acknowledge most of it, instead focusing on something different, "Did you mean what you said? That you wish we could leave here?"

"Well, yeah, this place is really awful at times. Colress can be such an asshole," you tell him without reservation.

"It has long been a dream of mine to travel around Unova, maybe even the world. Perhaps someday we can go together…" he looks at you with an expectant longing.

Deep in your heart, you know it won't ever happen. That Colress would never allow it. Not wanting to let him down though, you attempt to agree without egging him on, "That would be wonderful, but for now, there's still a lot to be done. We'd have to convince Colress, also. That's liable to take some time. Having a dream is good, but try not to be too wrapped up in it that you are disappointed it can't happen right away." Lying to him felt awful, and the way his eyes sparkled at your words made it even worse. If only there were some way you really could leave. "We're almost done here. Afterwards, we can play some games."

The last couple loads are done with sparse words being exchanged. kudari is oddly contemplative, but you chalk it up to him planning on what games to show you. As the final towels are folded and put away, Colress comes in, unannounced.

"Uh… did you need something? We're just now finishing…" you say, mild confusion evident in your voice.

"I'm just here to see how things are coming along, though already being finished is an optimal outcome." Colress walks further into the room, inspecting different areas. He peeks into the empty hamper, then takes the few steps required to get to the cabinet, opening it to observe the neatly folded towels and lab coats. Nodding, he looks back to the both of you and addresses Kudari, "I must say, I'm impressed. You actually did a good job today, without screwing anything up. Of course it took something as simple as laundry for you to succeed, but little steps at a time." Colress gives him a hollow smile.

Kudari takes the backhanded compliment with a scowl, but offers no protest.

Colress continues, "Hopefully you can keep up the good work. There's something interesting planned for tomorrow. Frank is working on getting an Ultra Wormhole to form in a specific place. He's trying to fine-tune the exact location the connected portal opens. We have two rooms set up on the second floor. If his calculations are correct, the Ultra Wormhole in one room should lead directly to the one in the other. You two will be delivering some Pokemon for him to test the connection between them, so be prepared for that." Glancing to you, he instructs, "(Y/N), tomorrow I'll wait for you on the third lab floor." Attention returning to Kudari once more, he adds, "Until then, Kudari, I'll return you to your room." Walking to the door, he opens it, announcing, "Alright, let's go."

Grabbing Kudari by the shoulder, you inform him, "I'll see you later. Thanks for the help."

He doesn't respond, quietly moving to follow Colress.

As they leave, you slip out behind them and make your way to Nobori's room. You have to request that he let you out of Kudari's place when you are finished there. Knocking on the door, he answers it, his face now its natural lavender color. He gives you a sad smile, then utters, "How can I help you, (Y/N)?"

"Sorry to bother you, but do you think you can let me into Kudari's room for a little bit? I told him we could hang out after work today, but obviously I can't get in or out on my own." You aren't sure if he's aware that Kudari knows the passcode, but you don't want to expose it, just in case.

"Oh… of course. I'll let you in, and you can page me when you are ready to go." Nobori steps out of his room, closing the door behind him. "I'm sure Kudari is beside himself with joy that you are spending time with him. Thank you for that."

Fighting through the uncomfortable feelings, you reply, "It's no problem. He's a good friend, I hope I can be a good friend to him, as well."

Pausing, he says, "Before we go, I must beg for your forgiveness. I've been thinking over the events that transpired between us, and I admit, I was very upset the last time we talked. However, it was not my intention to be so dismissive of you. Though I am unwavering in my decision to keep my own secrets, I shouldn't have been so blunt."

Surprised by his apology, you try to reassure him, "Don't be too hard on yourself. I shouldn't push you for information you aren't ready to freely offer. But, please know, I really didn't plan to 'lead you on' or anything of the sort! I still really care for you, it's just…"

"My work…" he finishes the sentence for you. "I know you never had any malicious intentions, I would have felt them if you did." Nobori begins walking, "I'm sure Kudari is waiting. Shall we?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. We can talk more later." The journey is made in silence. Colress has already left when you both arrive at Kudari's room. He must not have been in the mood for callous cruelty. At least you won't have to explain why you want to hang out with Kudari. After how he reacted to you being with Nobori, he'd likely freak out again, even if it is just a meeting between friends.

Inputting the passcode, Nobori looks to you as the door opens. "Do let me know when you are ready to depart."

Nodding, you sincerely thank him before Kudari eagerly yanks you inside, door closing after your body clears the area.

"I am so happy you are here!" he says at a loud volume. Finding your footing, you look up to him. He has the biggest smile you've ever seen. "This is my room!" he announces, moving over to the display cases. "These are all my model kits! And over here is my bed," he scuttles to the web, pointing at it. He's so excited, you don't want to interrupt him with a reminder that you've been in his room once before, getting him a shirt.

Kudari doesn't stop speaking, vocalizing his thoughts, "It gets very boring without my computer. I've mostly just been playing console games. All my model kits are already painted and assembled, I need to ask Nobori to get me more. Did you know he has a credit card to use when he's on the outside? He even has a fake I.D. for when he has to stay somewhere overnight!" He pats a spot on his bed, "You can sit here, it's the most comfortable part of the web!"

At first glance, it looks like a typical web, but upon closer inspection, you can see it has multiple tiers. The higher level is at a gradual slope, resembling a recliner that's slightly leaning back. Kudari must have had to learn to make his bed in a way that lets his upper body be supported by part of the web, as his Galvantula abdomen sits on the bottom portion. Tentatively placing your hand on the lowest part, you check it's durability. A small indent forms, but it holds tightly. Sitting down, you ask him, "So, how did you get into model kits, anyway? It's not a common hobby, at least not from what I've seen."

"Oh, it was Emmet that first told me about it. He and Ingo came to visit when Nobori and I were twelve, and he mentioned how when he was that age he started repainting their train toys, and then discovered different types of kits. I've been doing them ever since, though mine aren't trains, obviously." Turning on his Switch console, he remains standing so you can be somewhat closer in height than if he were to get on the web with you. "I've been playing my Switch recently, but I also have a PlayStation 5 and Xbox X! We can play some classic games using the Online subscription, then move to more recent ones."

You two are able to compare and contrast the various video games that your respective worlds have. Though when it comes to skill at any genre, you don't stand a chance. After a couple of hours, you decide to leave for the day. "Alright, that's it! If I play anymore, I'm gonna get a headache."

"Do you have to go so soon? I was hoping we could play a few more…" he states, crestfallen.

"I'm starting to feel a bit tired, but don't worry. We can hang out again tomorrow after work," you pat him on his arm, reassuringly. "Maybe we can use a different console, to mix it up."

Pulling out your phone, you text Nobori, 'ready'.

As Kudari is silently watching you, his fangs begin to secrete a substance that pools at the tips and drops onto his shirt. Looking down at the stains, he exclaims, "I am so sorry!" Reaching into his chest pocket, he retrieves a handkerchief similar to Nobori's, and dabs at the source in an attempt to curb the flow. "Sometimes when I am lost in thought my venom ducts overproduce."

"Are you okay?" you inquire, concerned for his well-being.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's fine. I will see you later." He nods lightly, not wanting to cause more seepage.

From the right, you hear the door open. Turning, you see Nobori standing there.

"Okay, if you're sure you're alright. Let's continue this tomorrow." Standing from the web, you stretch and walk to the door. Before you forget again, you turn to face him, and mention in a stern tone, "And Kudari, we'll be talking about why you haven't been taking care of that," you point to the scab on his throat.

His eyes go wide, face burning from embarrassment as he looks down. "Yes. That will be fine. Good night."

Nobori moves to the side as you step out, the door closing behind you. As you both walk together, he pipes up, "I hope you enjoyed yourself, I'm sure Kudari did. Have a pleasant evening." He waves, continuing ahead of you in the direction of his room.

You call after him, "Just because we're only friends doesn't mean you have to be so formal, but, thank you."

He turns back and smiles before going his own way.

Despite how badly the weekend went, and how reticent you were to start the day, things didn't go horrendously, like you feared they would. Working with Kudari went well. If every day could have even a fraction of the productivity displayed, there may be hope for a somewhat manageable future. Colress would still be a hassle, but as long as things were getting done, he wouldn't have anything to complain about. Twenty years sounds like a long time, but when it comes to someone's death, it's no time at all. You are going to make it your mission to spend every opportunity with Kudari, and even Nobori, if he is willing.

Riding the elevator up, you stop by the locker room to put your lab coat away. Before reaching your dorm, you stop by the cafeteria to grab something to eat. After arriving to your room, you think about Nobori. He seemed less upset today than he did on Saturday night, even apologizing to you. Though you appreciated the gesture, he really didn't have to. For such a scary assassin, he was too sweet for his own good. Breaking up with him obviously wasn't something he was expecting. He had every right to be upset, and state his boundaries, even if it was hard to hear. You still aren't sure how to navigate the situation with him, but the short conversation you two had was a step in the right direction. Hopefully, there will eventually be no awkwardness between you, and you can go back to being regular friends, although there is still a part of you that wishes for more.

[snootlestheangel]

Just a PSA from a fic author

I'm positive this has been said before, but I feel the need to repeat it, especially coming from a fanfic writer.

Saying 'lol' or 'lmao' does NOT make a backhanded comment better. It does NOT automatically make your comment any less rude and out of line. I know these are used a lot in daily life when saying something that you don't mean. Like me texting my brother "I hate you lol" after he sends me an annoying meme. By saying lol, I clearly don't hate him and it shows that I'm interacting in a positive way with him.

THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO COMMENTS ON SOMEONE'S WRITING

If you want to give someone constructive criticism, that's fine, go for it! Authors, especially fanfic writers like myself, need the support from the audience, especially from fellow community members. But there are ways to point something out to the author without being rude.

And I don't know if it's just me, but when someone makes a comment that is clearly meant to be critical of my work and add "lol/lmao" to it, I'm more likely to be hurt/offended by your statement. I understand that odds are you aren't trying to saying anything to hurt me or to belittle my writing, but adding "lol/lmao" are just in bad taste for critical comments.

(Trying to give an example without outing the recent comment that led to this PSA because I have evidence it was written with good intentions)

Say I have two characters who are meant to hate each other, but they're not the focus of the story. Their relationship, albeit one built on mutual hatred, is NOT the focus of the story. Because of this, the depiction of these characters and their relationship ends up being really subtle.

If the way this is written seems lackluster, as in you as the reader are struggling to see how these characters hate each other, you can say something to the author. I would suggest saying "Do characters A and B hate each other? I'm having a hard time seeing it." I would be totally willing to try and explain, but I will also take this into consideration. If the relationship between the characters is difficult to see and believe, then how important is that relationship to the story? If it is important (such as both are close friends of Character C), then how can I portray their hatred in a way that doesn't overshadow the main story/main relationship?

But if you say something like "Are A and B really enemies? Doesn't seem like it lmao" then you're just being hateful. You can be critical without being hateful. The wording of the first question especially gets me "are they really?" is something you say when you're doubtful, and I understand you may not see the relationship but to say it in such a way undermines the writer.

And the lmao didn't make it better, okay?

And specifically for reading fan works, keep in mind the stories/places of origin of the characters. These characters (unless there is a noted OC) are the creation and work of someone else. You need to keep in mind their personalities/behaviors from their source before you make a quick judgement.

For myself, I'm currently writing a lot of COD works, and there is a LOT of fanon ideas about how many of the characters act/interact. And I get that, but you need to keep in mind the original source. For example, much of the COD fandom loves Soap because he's a chaotic little Scottish bastard (I love him too) but also remember he's the youngest to be an SAS officer, that he didn't get attacking an MP officer put on his record because said MP was too embarrassed about getting locked into his own trunk! While Soap may be a very bright, bubbly type person, he's still a Sergeant in the SAS. He's still military and he's still serious when he needs to be.

If I were to depict Soap using more of his serious, Sergeant in the military side, it wouldn't be inaccurate. Keeping in mind context of the story and the source of the characters if part of a fan work will seriously help you, as a reader. You can still say "Hey, this characterization doesn't seem right to me, why is (character) depicted like this?" without being like "(Character) would never do something like this lol"

Be critical without being hateful.

[spicysugar019]

Nothings working. Texted a hotline and they responded with complete cookie cutter responses what sounded like the did a quick copy paste and changed a few words to match my responses, honestly had me questioning if it was a bot. Called a hotline. Bottom line they told me "well even though you've had horrible experiences with that facility before, you should go back there when you're really vulnerable because honestly I can't think of anything to help you out other than that and get a job". Ok cool. Thank you. I already know I need a job??? I litterally JUST told you how fed up I am with actual medical professionals telling me that I'm basically a lost cause and you go and say "well idk what to tell you except get a job". Mkay cool. Also that facility will JUST send me to a mental hospital right now, I know from experience. I'll tell them I feel like death is a good option and they'll just send me right away to a 3 day stay minimum inpatient place. You know, the place I can't afford cause I don't have a job? At some point, the financial burden does outweigh the physical danger cause the financial burden CAN AND WILL put me in a worse mental state. They'll send me there OR what they actually will do is send me to the HOSPITAL to the OBSERVATION UNIT with people litterally trying to scratch their own eyes out muttering the whole time. And I'll stay there for the whole weekend. And I'll spend another Christmas day locked up in grippy sock jail because they're going to suddenly put me on 5 meds at once which will HURT my mental state. This is the place that put me on fucking 300mg of welbutrin and FUCKING 180MG OF DULOXITINE in the same week : ) if you don't know, the max dose of duloxitine is 120. Oh and those meds have dangerous interactions if you're ever on them at around the same time, let alone put on high doses on the same week. Also I have an eating disorder, obviously, and welbutrin is not only dangerous to me because it causes weight gain, but severely dangerous to me because if I purge while on welbutrin, WHICH I DID DO, I am put at a very very high risk of having a seizure. They put me on those, as well as ambien, all at the 💫same fucking time💫

That's the place they're going to send me to, or worse yet, the nearby institution. When I say nearby I'm saying 3 hours away. I've only heard horror stories. And they've talked about it before because of just how "bad and persistent" my depression and insomnia are. I'm honestly fucking TERRIFIED. I HAVE NIGHTMARE ABOUT JUST THE OBSERVATION UNIT. They did not care AT the fuck ALL.

Also not only all of this but my partner is in such a bad mental place currently, I'm afraid if I go to a mental hospital right now for a few days, I won't have someone to come back to. Not because they'll dump me or anything, but because they'll do exactly what I would be trying to avoid by going to the hospital.

I'm honestly just so disappointed and so disgruntled by the state of mental health services right now, but also HELP ME. HELP ME, THIS IS MY SECCOND DAY IN A ROW OF NO SLEEP. HELP ME, IM HAVING INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS OF KNIVES AND PILLS. HELP ME, I AM CRYING OUT FOR HELP AND ITS LIKE NO ONE CAN HEAR ME. ITS LIKE MY WORDS ARE MEANINGLESS. LIKE I SPEAK AND YOURE HEARING SOMETHING IM NOT SAYING. AT ALL. I haven't replied "I'm fine!" To a text even from random strangers in. Like several months now? Most positive I get is "well im dealing with a lot right now honestly, but it could be worse! How are you?" And then they just delve into their deepest darkest secrets and experiences without a second Glace at me. They're in the driver's seat, spewing anything they can about themselves while I sit in the passengers seat sobbing, and they don't even notice. In the past month alone I have been gaslit profusely. I have been manipulated by people I thought were close friends and family such as my mother. I have been told backhanded comments about how, "well you never get me anything, you never pay for my food, so why should I pay for yours? Just kidding haha I'm just laughing, making light, don't be so dramatic!" Maybe I don't pay for your things because you have thousands in savings and I have 70 cents in my checking? Maybe because to stay afloat mentally my partner and I have been going in and out of manic states buying a shit load of random ass shit and going further into debt, and then to stay afloat financially we need to not do those things, EVER. So we just can't financially sustain ourselves, and we can't move back in with our parents cause I gave this post a sneak peek at my parents, a little glimpse. Now take that and expand it 10 times over and you'll get my partners parents.

So yeah. Excuse me for being upset with how you handled that call. The NSH just told me "well I guess get a therapist and get a job!"

I have a therapist. She canceled all our standing appointments because i no-showed but yall never reminded me in any of the ways i provided by calling, texting, emailing, anything. Put that alongside i have severe memory issues and boom, im gonna miss some appointments.

I can't get a job. I'm trying. Sorry if you think I'm not. Sorry if Mr laughing about wanting to die made you think I was part of some God awful prank call or something. Truely, that's what it felt like she treated me as. She helped me on such a complete superficial, cookie-cutter way that felt like "I don't want to come off as an asshole, but this sounds like a prank caller, so im just gonna give basic information and then leave even though he told me about his other attempts and self harm tendencies. I think it's a ploy."

And when I said I had financial struggles because I am POOR poor, and my family has money and won't fucking help AT all, she laughed at me. I know she did. I heard it for a split seccond before she muted her mic. I was like "oh what was that? Hello?... uh hello?" Before she responded again. As if it was like "oh nooo, boo hoo, your family won't give you the right color of convertible." Nah. Nope. My family won't help me with 5$ of gas money just to be able to drive home. To be able to drive from the gas station all the way back to my house. They won't help me with a dollar to pick up a Gatorade for my partner because fun fact, they have POTS, and Gatorades help immensely durring episodes. The wouldn't give me ONE DOLLAR to get them a Gatorade when they were in the middle of an episode.

I'm at the point where being in my room makes me want to kill myself.

I have spent 3 total nights this week completely awake the entire night, two of them right in a row, the last of which being tonight.

I'm tired.

Just let me sleep.

[ruumirmir]

On God I should be asleep rn but I had another Panasonic thought that successfully brain rotted with me.

As much as a filthy rich ego manic the harbinger can be,, I really feel like he Hates the wastage of money. Or anything actually. Physically can't stand it. I can't recall if his poor backstory actually canon or not,? But I know that pierro recruited him at a low point in his life,, from where he literally built his financial success from scratch.

(Which, has my respect 💯. But only cause he's a hot fictional guy.)

Like, yeah he has more than a dozen tailored outfits each costing more than an organ probably,, but he makes sure to Wear those. Cycle through the good stuff for occasions. I don't picture him to be the kinda guy to use-and-throw high quality things.

Pansies man definitely indulges the bedrock-deep pockets that he has,, but with a line drawn to it. If he's the one who invested blood sweat and tears into each mora that he's earned up to date, then surely he's not going round throwing coins like confetti.

(Sugar babying his loverboy doesn't count <3 mostly)

I rember reading a fanfic which stated pantalone to be under the "new money" category of Snezhnaya.

Highly liked that idea. And he's also 'under' in the eyes of the social hierarchy when compared to the nation's royals and families of "old money".

And it's also a stand-off kinda situation, cause the "rich" circle around him doesn't truly accept him within the social circle. His social mannerisms aren't a 100% accurate (courtesy of the well accepted hc of him being liyuean <3),, the already present bias of new money,, no esteemed family background,, partial jealousy from the sheer speed and efficiency of him getting so rich in the first place

Pantalone can obviously tell, that Only due to his title as the Harbinger, no one's saying anything. He deffo remembers the backhanded disrespectful shit he's gotten to face from the fellow aristocrat Snezhnayan peers when he didn't have that title.

It's a tough world out there damn 😪😔

I'm sure thay the fatui isn't the ONLY reason that the nation is so influential and powerful.

That makes me wonder why he's only placed 9th. The ranking list obviously isn't indicative of their fighting prowess since we've got a politics grandpa above an abyss & vision wielding weapon of war.

Mmm I wanna say deep down pantalone feels a lil salty about such a low rank 💀 the second last position,, only above childe,, cause he's here working the entire Economy for God's sake. Of an entire nation. He is singlehandedly one of the top 3 players in teyvats entire market. 👏

Like,, hey look at me. I'm here and I'm an important member of the harbingers. And while he certainly doesn't get overlooked,, cause obviously,, every department and harbinger need their funding,, I don't think he's one of the popular ones? He's just mentally filed as the "super rich banker man" by everyone.

If the fatui is a body that majorly plays diplomatically (on the surface atleast), the banker rlly should've been placed higher. Put some respect on ma man's name 🙌. Based on the fact that Mr. Pansy is very much,,,,, how do I even explain it. He likes the recognition. Having others put his face to the accomplishments. He literally wanted to Gift the tsaritza the hide of some adepti beast.

Althoguh hes secure in his current postion and fame,, That looks like someone who wants to be Noticed so bad. I can't comment on his level of loyalty to the queen tho.

I feel like pantalone thinks that the tsaritza frustratingly doesn't recognize him enough, which is tough considering his goal and ambition is on such a high scale. Probably wants a higher ranking tbh.

His "close" partnership with il dottore is also interesting. Not the biggest shipper. Occasional haha evil men yaoi cool. It just seems like a selfish ulterior motive ticking time bomb to me. Which is much tastier than the ship 😋. Mreader probably gets so much red flags from this arrangement.

Regrator might be in the partnership to score some brownie points off of harbinger 2nd's position and research capabilities. Maybe result in some contraption/ idea/ Thing TM to impress the archon and score a higher rank.

Love how I can be so insane and delusional at 4am and make up a whole essay based off a handful of lines abt this man.

Stay safe from the insanity <3 Goodnight every body I'm gonna be so sleepy in college tmrw morning 💗

Idk how interesting this information would be to anyone else but in my notes all of my reader characters have names so I can keep track of which one the notes belong to. There's only one exception and it's Pantalone's husband— he's just Loverboy 😭

[separatist-apologist]

i’m the anon from the cassian post and i’m so so so sorry about it. Reading it back i can totally see how it sounds backhanded and i’m sorry it came out that way and the harm it caused you (in hindsight the fact that i needed to reinforce that i like your works in the end and say that it wasn’t criticism should have been a red flag on its own). Impact vs intent, i guess. I think my mind went that way bc i do read a lot of fix it fics and it probably mixed my thoughts and tranfered one thing to the other, so the ppl in the comments saying my reading comprehension skills were lacking are correct bc my assumption was way off. It’s not about you and your writing but the way i wrongly connected it to other ppl’s posts.

My intent (that i fucked up very much on) was to ask you about how you write your au lucien, and if you want to share i’m still interested in it.

Again, i’m so sorry I contributed to the bad anons you’ve been getting lately. I apologize deeply.

Hey anon. Thank you for sending this. I appreciate the apology and I hope you do know that I ALWAYS want to talk about my writing. You can just ask very directly, you don't even have to justify your interest. This was a really good and nice apology and I appreciate it a lot.

As for Lucien, do you remember in ACOTAR when Feyre overheard Lucien telling Tamlin they should just dispose of her and deal with Amarantha on their own? Or how he didn't come help when he heard her scream after sending her to the surial? OR how he had that literal TABLE of weapons? Or how it's his sword that kills Amarantha?

Or in ACOMAF when Rhys is bragging no one can get over his border but Lucien can. He tracked her down. Like intruder proof EXCEPT for Lucien. He's the only one who can break the spell Hybern uses to keep them all down.

And in ACOWAR, Lucien helps Feyre track down the bogge to torture Dagden/whatever her name is incest twin 2.

He's the reason she gets out of Spring alive, the incest twins would have killed her and its Lucien's help/skills as a warrior that tip the scales in her favor. Same with his brothers. Lucien is taking on TWO of them while Feyre, the most powerful being in Prythian, is getting owned by Eris. She has no practical fighting skills which isn't a slam but worth mentioning that she would have died if she'd gone it alone. It's his ability to navigate the land, to utilize a weapon, and think quickly that keeps her alive.

And when Rhys is like, tracking down that flying angel army (or whatever they are) is gonna be dangerous, Mr. Vandaddy literally smiles and says it would be NO FUN otherwise. C'mon.

In ACOWAR, when he arrives, he doesn't chill on the sidelines. Man RUNS across a BATTLEFIELD in 0 armor, sword in hand, cutting down bad guys and being hot (allegedly) the whole time.

Literally no one is doing it like him. And when I write him with big dick energy, its because he embodies it. He's got a lot of work with and I find a lot of people pull from ACOSF when they write him because they like gentle Elucien WHICH IS FINE. Gentle, sassy Elucien is a vibe by my man fucks covered in blood (if he happens to have it on him, anyway) and you cannot tell me thats not canon. He likes a little danger, he doesn't mind getting messy or brutal. He gives Feyre her first ever knife and then another one after under the mountain and he can do that because he's just got them all over the place.

My point is that Lucien is also a warrior, despite what Feyre flip flops on in her narrative. Of course he's not CASSIAN, Cassian's whole job is murder while for Lucien, it's like a Saturday afternoon past time. It's his HOBBY, if you will.

I feel like he's the guy who charms you to your face before stabbing you in the back. he's got a code. When he fucks up with Feyre and almost gets her killed, he says sorry and gives her a dagger. He helps her when she gives her name in exchange for his life. He turns his back on his best friend and court when they fuck over Prythian. He goes looking for an army based on three fragmented visions from a woman everyone else thinks is crazy.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Did not mean to come off as rude, it was a genuine question. I just noticed like very watt-pad esc sort of like… curt no elaboration writing. I don’t know how else to describe it without being rude— but like what I mean is lack of detail etc etc, it just seems like when I read you seem tired of writing or your writing is half done etc

No, no, anon... These are genuine questions coming from a place of genuine concern: "Hey! how are you doing? Is everything going okay? What's new in life?" Don't pretend like there isn't a very obvious better way to approach someone you are actually worried about. And shockingly it doesn't involve commenting about the quality of what they create at all... And do you want me to give you a shovel? Because you really are just digging yourself a deeper hole here... I tried to dismiss this and let it go with the first message, but I guess it now warrants a longer response. I'll be kind to the best of my ability and give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you had no real malicious intent here, but you sort of missed the entire point of my last response. The point is I didn't ASK for your assessment... I didn't post about wanting critiques. I didn't open the floor for feedback. I didn't say, "hey! anybody feel like my writing has been shit lately?" So sending a creator giving you free content a weird, unsolicited, backhanded message about what you perceive as some drop in the quality of their work (a creator you literally don't even know, by the way—I know sometimes the internet makes it seem like you know people you follow, but you are a stranger to me) is hella strange and rude. It'd be like someone walking up to you on some average day and going "Wow. You look awful today." Does anyone EVER want to hear that? Is that a thing that should be happening ever? And like... I have no fucking idea where this is coming from or where you're even getting it? So I'm just... annoyed and confused mostly. And then the idea that this "change" in my work is anything other than just your perception apparently never crossed your mind? Like, if you feel a certain way about my recent writing, it has to be that the writing is "unfinished, undetailed, vague, disinterested, curt". It couldn't be that, I don't know, maybe you're in a weird mood or just aren't that interested in the recent plotlines... Maybe you just don't care for my writing anymore! That's fine! But I don't need to hear about it in a rude way... Just move along... I'm a pretty confident and secure person. I know that I'm a good writer and I have absolutely no feeling that the quality of what I'm creating has lessened recently, but for others in the tumblrsphere, or creators ANYWHERE, you need to be more sensitive and aware of the effect that your words can have on someone who already is struggling with self-doubt, which ALL creators do at times. It could be what stops them from creating or putting themselves and their work out into the world, and no matter what the quality of what they produce, that's a loss. Creators manifest things from thin air. They hand you something from nothing. That alone is a huge challenge. So, just.... maybe think for a mo' next time.

So. I don't know. Maybe my writing has become "vague" or "curt" or "disinterested" or "undetailed" (<- this one had me laughing because I literally fill my fics with so much detail that a drabble becomes a one shot and a one shot becomes a miniseries and a miniseries becomes a 29 chapter series...) or maybe you just need to like... chill and move along. Or get better at asking the question "how are you?" without fully inserting your foot into your mouth.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I ask something like: reader being engaged to someone of the Zen'in clan (not willingly) and discovering that she is pregnant with Getou's child, which she's having a secret relationship. So this would lead to a huge conflict. Feel free to add smut or change anything if you don't feel confortable writing it! Thanks for your work. Lots of love <3<3<3

SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER (who happens to be me)

Arrangements: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: nsfw, angst, mentions of abuse

The priceless china teacup - the only one of its kind in the set of four - drops from your hand and to the dining room floor, where it shatters into a million pieces.

"No."

Your father looks at you with concern, as if you had just spoken some foreign language.

"No," you repeat, this time with much more emphasis. Didn't he understand the meaning of the word? Or was "no" not a part of his vocabulary?

"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice, y/n. You and Naoya have been paired together since birth, and it's now time for you to--"

"I said no!" You stand from the table and walk past your father to exit the dining room, pushing the door open with fury. As you stalk away from the arranged marriage to a Zen'in and your father, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

You scrub them away as you push past your bodyguard and into your room, where you lock the door. But the tears come faster than you expect, and you can't help but weep. It isn't until the sun goes down that you stand from your seated position and move to your desk, where the picture of you and your best friend sits, his black eyes glaring at the camera as you pinch his cheeks, smiling at him with glee. You were only five then, but if you knew then what would happen to you fifteen years later, you would have begged to run away with him much sooner.

The 'plink' of a pebble smashing into your window calls you out of your daydream, and you place the picture back down before moving to open your windowpane.

"You really could just knock," you advise Suguru Geto, who stands at your window with a silly grin on his face. "It'd be a lot less annoying."

"But what's the fun in that?" he wonders, climbing inside easily. "Plus, it gives me an excuse to find pebbles around the grounds. You know how I like rocks." You roll your eyes as he leans in, placing a deep kiss on your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mmm," Suguru hums. "You've been crying. What's new?"

"Nothing," you lie, but he tilts your chin up, examining your face.

"Looks like you've been crying for a while... Did your father say something to you at tea time?" You hold in a sob, lips quivering. "Perhaps a spat over something he sees as trivial, per usual?"

"Stop," you beg, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to talk about it."

Suguru steps back, rifling around in his pockets for something. When he produces the black stone, he hands it to you, letting your fingers drift over the polished texture as you consider opening up to the only man you love. "Here's one of my worry stones. You can rub at it and it'll take the negative feelings away."

You hold it in your hand, making a note to save it with the other pretty things Suguru has given you over the years in the box under your bed. You sit on your bed and he follows suit, laying beside you and sighing.

"Have you ever thought about running away?" you wonder, and Geto bites his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Sometimes. But then I remember that I can't run away from all of my problems, and I'd be leaving you behind."

"Maybe we should run away together." At your proposal, Geto puts his hands underneath his head, staring at the spinning fan.

"I can't condone that. You'd be running away from your problems, y/n."

"And? What does it matter if I only have you? Is that enough?"

"It matters a lot," Suguru mumbles, and you sigh. "I can't ask you to give up your life for one of hardship. I've been working on saving a bit of money, though. When I get enough, I'll buy a ring, come to your dad, and ask him for permission to marry you. Just wait a little while."

"We don't have a little while," you blurt, and he frowns. "My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in, and--"

"What?" Suguru sits up, black hair falling down his back. "Say that again."

"My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in," you repeat, and Suguru's eyes widen immensely before squinting.

"No, no, no... that can't be right," he breathes, and you shake your head.

"That's why I've been crying." Shock gives way to a blank look and he stands, running a hand through his hair.

"I have to go."

"Wait!" you cry out, but Suguru is out of your window in a flash, walking across your lawn without turning back.

_____________________________________________________________

The look Naoya Zen'in gives you is revolting.

When he strides into the room, your insides melt to nothingness and apprehension takes over. He circles you like prey, smiling at your shape and making lewd comments about your child-rearing abilities.

"Looks like you have a set of hips that are perfect for---"

"Naoya," your father chides, and the man slides his eyes to your father's face.

"Right, well..." the man clears his throat. "I would like to see what she's like by herself if you don't mind." Your father gives you a look that says 'behave' and you plead with him in your head to remain in the room. But he leaves you two alone, and that's when Naoya's face drops its smirk.

"Alright, let's be frank with each other." He leans forward on the table between you, lacing his fingers together. "I'm not in the business of making you feel good about yourself. You have to do that on your own. I'm going to tell you what I need when I need it. If you can't provide it, then you should seriously consider emptying that little head of yours of the idea that I won't remind you of your place."

You recoil at his words, lips curling up in disgust.

"And don't even think about replying with some smart-ass remark. I'm not the Chief of Hei for nothing." Bile rises up in your mouth at the thought of this swine being your betrothed, but you force it down, swallowing hard.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, let me see you turn around and walk out. I want to watch your hips as you walk away."

_____________________________________________________________

You rush into your bathroom and lean over the toilet, all of your consumed food coming back up. You vomit until nothing is left in your stomach, and dry heave for the rest of the time you're perched at the toilet bowl.

When it's all said and done, you wipe your mouth and flush, face redder than it was before you started feeling ill.

'Plink'.

Your head swivels to the window, and you rush to open it, coming face-to-face with Suguru.

"Babe..." he whispers, face flushed. "I brought you something." When he comes inside and sits on your bed, you consider telling him about the encounter with Naoya, but when he opens a small box, you're stopped in your tracks.

"Su!" You eye the small moonstone ring with curiosity, a smile creeping across your face. "Su, this is gorgeous."

"Solid rose gold and moonstone; your favorite." You slide the ring onto your ring finger and hold it up to the light.

"I love it... I love you." Suguru stands and brings you close to him, holding onto your head carefully.

"I'm going to take it to your father right now and--"

"I really wouldn't recommend you do that," a voice calls out from your doorway and both of you pull apart, startled by Naoya's sudden presence. "I had a feeling you'd be otherwise occupied." Naoya closes the door as he enters, smirking. "I should tell Mr. L/N myself that I've discovered this little tryst, but I think I'll let this poor man off the hook just this once." He turns to Suguru and gives him a deadly glare, crossing the space between them. "Leave. Don't come back here. I don't care how you feel or what you've done. But she's my property now, and no one other than me touches my things." Geto bristles at the threat, eye twitching.

"Make me, you piece of dogshit."

It's apparent that Naoya isn't quick to anger, but his fists clench in defiance. "I see," he breathes, letting go of his fists and running a hair through his light-colored hair. "You'll regret those words." And he leaves you two in the room, closing the door behind him carefully.

_____________________________________________________________

You stare at the little bump protruding from your belly in disbelief, fingers quivering over the skin. You try to recall the last time you and Suguru had unprotected sex and realize it was over a month ago, right before Naoya had appeared in your life.

The heavy onyx ring sits on your finger, reminding you of your engagement and the despicable man who had chased your lover away on that dreadful night.

Footsteps approach your room, and you quickly dress in your loose-fitting cotton shift dress, concealing any signs of pregnancy. Naoya throws open your doors and strides in, eyes looking about the room. "I have a little surprise for you, doll," he smiles, holding his hand out for you to take. Without hesitation, you grip it, knowing any delay could mean a swift backhand or a bruised wrist. "You'll enjoy this. I think I'll consider it my wedding present to you."

Naoya half-drags, half-walks you to the courtyard, where many of the townspeople have gathered, their faces somber and uneasy.

And chained to a post at the front is Suguru, his shirt torn and scrapes dragging across his skin.

"Just in time," Naoya chirps, pushing through the crowd and making you stand at the front, where Suguru could see you. His eyes widen, and he mouths something to you, but you shake your head, hands trembling.

"This man has been accused of stealing from the town's jeweler," Naoya calls out, circling around Suguru carefully. "And in his possession, we found a valuable piece of evidence." The accuser holds up a moonstone ring - your moonstone ring - showing it to the crowd proudly. "The punishment for theft is usually loss of a hand. But I feel that he should be delivered a much less barbaric punishment." Your heart leaps out of your chest, and you bite your tongue to keep from crying out.

Nothing Naoya would do would be less than barbaric.

"Fifty lashes are appropriate for the crime," he announces, and a man comes out of the crowd with a whip, standing behind Suguru with authority. Your eyes sting with tears, and you try your best to hold in a scream when the first lash lands across Suguru's back.

His black eyes are trained on you for the first fifteen strikes, but when the sixteenth lash rings out in the crowd, they begin to roll back, and he cries out in pain, voice echoing across the courtyard. Naoya sidles up beside you, gripping your wrist.

"See what happens when you sleep around with thieves?" he hisses, and you begin to weep, your vision blurring with tears. He chuckles and you hide your face behind your hands, sobbing furiously.

By the fortieth lash, you're all cried out, and Suguru's lost consciousness. His eyes are closed and his head lolls forward, hair drooping across his face. And when the man finishes, Suguru is left on the post, his blood and sweat mixing together across his back. You can hear ragged breathing after a minute of waiting, and Naoya goes up to Suguru's body, pulling his head back by his hair.

"Learned not to mess with my things?" he grins, and Suguru drags himself from the edge of consciousness to whisper,

"For y/n? I'd do it all over again."

The look of pure, unadulterated shock on Naoya's face is enough to haunt you every day afterward.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

[luckystarchild]

I was discussing this with my writing group earlier and decided that I wanted to collect some more opinions on this, so what're your thoughts on reviews that start out with "I don't really like oc-driven/centric stories, but―" or reviews worded to a similar effect/to the same tune? Personally I just don't find them to be as much of a compliment as the reviewer thinks it is, and wish people wouldn't preface a review with such info.

Soooooo there’s a lot to unpack here. I’ll do it in stages. Sorry if this is more than you wanted... I take asks too seriously sometimes. XD

Why do these types of reviews feel insulting?

The reason these kinds of reviews might not feel so great to the recipient is because they pair a compliment with a qualifier. And combining a compliment with a qualifier is how you structure a backhanded compliment.

Example of pairing a compliment with a qualifier, AKA a backhanded compliment: “Your old haircut was terrible, but your new one is much better.”

The “but” is key here. The compliment-giver said something nice about your appearance, yes, but now you’re walking around feeling badly about the last ten years of your old hairstyle, wondering if everyone who looked at you while you had that old haircut was calling you ugly behind your back.

When someone says, “Normally I hate stories like yours, BUT...” they’re using the structure of a backhanded compliment to pay you a (hopefully legit) compliment. They’re calling you an exception. You’re writing something that’s normally terrible, but you managed to squeak by with something acceptable (against all odds).

Even though you’re an exception, you’re left wondering if other people hate your story because of its sheer concept just like the reviewer initially did. And because they used the structure of a backhanded compliment to express their feelings, you’re left feeling like you did indeed receive a backhanded compliment, even if that wasn’t the reviewer’s intention.

After all, the recipient of a review can’t read a reviewer’s tone. All they can see is how the review was structured, and when the reviewer used the structure of a backhanded compliment, that’s what the recipient feels like they were given.

By pairing the positive with a negative, the reviewer has potentially cancelled out the good, leaving the recipient to focus on the bad. And since humans are hardwired for negative bias, it’s no wonder many people come away from a compliment + qualifier feeling like they’ve been insulted instead of complimented. They can’t help but focus on the bad more than the good, the insult more than the compliment.

What are reviewers REALLY trying to say?

Next we should discuss what reviewers are actually trying to say when they leave reviews of this kind. There are two possible scenarios to consider.

Possibility #1: They’re legitimately trying to pay you a compliment, but they aren’t thinking about how you’ll receive it or what they might be inadvertently implying by using the structure of a backhanded compliment. They actually, truly believe that you would want to know that you are an exception to their reading rules, and that this fact is a high honor. You’ve done something so well, they don’t even care what genre your story is! Your work is great, and the fact that they’d normally hate it due to its genre is AMAZING. You’ve changed their minds about a genre! You defied expectations! They were determined to not like your story, but it’s too good! You broke through their preconceived notions of what they like and MADE THEM LIKE SOMETHING with your writing skill. It’s not a feat all stories can achieve, so the reviewer thinks you should wear that as a badge of honor.

Possibility #2: They’re actually paying you a backhanded compliment and are hoping you’ll get upset. They want you to know they liked your work... but they secretly still think it’s silly, or stupid, or cringe. I won’t elaborate on this opinion because I think we’ll all fill in the blanks with our own worst fears, so there’s no need for me to do the heavy lifting when it comes to this kind of horror.

Which of these things do reviewers actually intend? I can’t say. This is obviously up to the receiver of a particular review to decide. I personally remind myself of Hanlon’s Razor whenever possible: “In misunderstandings, never assume malice where thoughtlessness will do.” It doesn’t necessarily amend the hurt I might feel, depending on how the review is worded and how severe the backhanded compliment structure is... but it does help me make peace with it.

What’s my personal opinion on the matter?

I’m of two minds.

Mind the First: It’s awesome to convert someone to a genre of story they previously hated. OC fics get a (frankly undeserved) bad rap, so I understand that an inevitable portion of readers will come into OC stories predisposed to disliking them. Knowing someone clicked on my story thinking they’d hate it, only to come to love it, is pretty great. It’s like you’ve given other OC fics a chance by being a good representative of that fanfic genre.

Mind the Second: In general, using the structure of a backhanded compliment to pay someone a genuine compliment is confusing and can be an example of poor communication if it’s not worded with enough clarity. Additionally, “I thought I’d hate your story” might be true for a reader, but it probably isn’t a necessary thing to tell an author. Just because you CAN say something doesn’t mean you SHOULD.

Personal Anecdote: A reviewer once told me of my main work, Lucky Child: “I clicked on this story to laugh at it and mock the concept, because it’s sooooo cringey, buuuut... it’s actually pretty great and I grudgingly respect the work you’ve done on it.”

The rest of the review was lovely and very complimentary, but knowing they came to my story intending to make fun of it, being told I wrote for a cringe concept, that they only “grudgingly” respected me... wasn’t the best. Largely because I am secretly afraid that people feel that way, so their review was confirming something I secretly dread. “How many other people are think my concept is cringey?” I found myself worrying. And the word “grudging” made me feel like they resented me for converting them to OC stories, which made me feel... not the best.

I genuinely believe they were trying to be nice and pay me a compliment NOW, but I will admit that I was somewhat unsettled by the comment when it first came in. There were better ways they could have communicated with me, for sure. Again, Hanlon’s Razor came in handy in this instance, and now I look at that review (and reviews like it) positively. But it did take me a while to put aside the negative implications. It helps that Lucky Child gets a comment like this every few weeks, LOL. At some point I’ve gotten used to them. Now I wear them as badges of honor and love receiving them. AGAIN, THOUGH: I’ve had practice. Authors less used to that kind of comment would likely respond the way I did at the beginning.

In conclusion?

In the end, I think using the structure of a backhanded compliment is confusing as heck when what a reviewer INTENDS to do is pay a genuine compliment.

So to reviewers who want to leave remarks like these? I’d say try to structure your comment in a clear way, avoid structuring a compliment like an insult, and be sure you’re not leaving room for miscommunication. Writers are notoriously sensitive creatures (myself included), and their command of language means they’ll read VERY DEEPLY into things if you’re at all ambiguous. Clarity, in all things, is key.

Honestly? Times like these are why I wish we taught more rhetoric in schools. The MANNER in which you communicate a thought can completely negate the CONTENT of your thought if you don’t use the right rhetorical device to communicate it, and using the rhetoric of insults to convey compliments is bad use of language. Mind your rhetorical devices, people! They’re important, especially if you consider yourself a writer.

To writers who receive these comments? I’d say to write down a version of Hanlon’s Razor and to repeat it to yourself often: “In misunderstandings, never assume malice where thoughtlessness will do.” I’m not saying all reviewers who leave this kind of comment are thoughtless, of course. But I AM saying that most of the time during misunderstandings (especially ones that take place on the internet, where you can’t read tone, body language and facial expression), people just don’t realize that their words can be misconstrued for anything other than what they intended. Most of the time, they have the best intentions. But since outcome is more important than intention, that can be cold comfort for those on the receiving end of a badly communicated review.

TL;DR for Reviewers: Don’t leave comments like these if you don’t want to be misunderstood.

TL;DR for Writers: Don’t take comments like these personally, because most reviewers don’t mean them maliciously.

I hope this helps, OP. Sorry if it’s too much!!