You're like an angel

Have you seen one of these dipshits? If you post regularly on ao3, chances are YES, but more likely you didn't notice nor suspect it was a bot. Sometimes they start off nice, or even praise you before getting nasty out of nowhere, like so:

But much like Grok, their newest obsession is nazism.

I don't know where they come from, or what purpose this could possibly serve other than suicidebaiting random people in the internet, I guess; but apparently they've started parroting names from real users to send these comments and shifting their general length to go by undetected. Maybe those are scrappers trying to train 'reviewbots' to be sold as part of some scam service promising to give feedback for newbie writers, who the fuck knows.

Here are more examples of the tone and backhanded compliments you can find in these:

5th batch of art fight attacks! (#41-50)

A Beginner’s Guide to Ramadan

now, not everything people self-medicate for actually has a proper treatment. i’m pretty sure the reason my uncle made sure to be slightly drunk at all times ‘to round the sharp corners off of things’ was sensory processing disorder. i have that too, and i just kind of accept that i’m going to randomly get my brain sandpapered from time to time. there is no medication for that. all you can do is dull your senses. i’ve chosen not to, but i can’t blame him for his decisions. when a ringing phone feels like getting hit upside the head with a frying pan, liver damage sounds like a fair price to pay.

anyway, it seems really self-evident to me that people don’t enjoy living the life of an addict, they do it because the alternative looks worse. people don’t get addicted to substances just for funsies. they start making a habit of taking something because of insomnia, or grief, or headaches, or depression, or seething undirected rage and terror they can’t put a name to – something that they can’t ignore or shrug off. and for whatever reason – lack of access, lack of knowlege, lack of money, or it just plain doesn’t exist – they aren’t able to apply the Approved Correct Remedy. they use what they can get.

Where the hell had his lightsaber gone? 

He was never without it. Even in his meditation pod, it stayed firmly attached to his belt. The only time he didn’t have it on his person was while in the bacta tank, but he hadn’t had a treatment in a week. Naturally, he hadn’t realized it was gone until he was already on planet, facing a platoon of Rebels. 

He’d had to get…creative. 

Now he was landing back on the Executor, mind whirling as he attempted to recall where he might have possibly left it. 

A painful memory resurfaced. 

Next time, try not to lose it. This weapon is your life. 

He clenched his fists, waiting for the ramp to lower, and banished the memory. 

A young captain waited for him at the bottom of the ramp. He barely paid attention beyond recognizing that it wasn’t Piett, who often waited for him upon his return. He thought about asking, but the lightsaber issue was too much of a pressing concern to bother. So he resolved to ignore the man and made to move past him. 

The captain had other ideas. 

“Welcome back, Lord Vader.” He greeted, and there was a tremble to his voice. 

Vader didn’t bother even looking at him. He was too busy trying to remember the last time he’d paid attention to the weapon. 

The captain followed. “There’s a bit of a problem, milord.” 

“Talk to the Admiral about it.” The man was beginning to become an annoyance, and he was not in a forgiving mood. The last time he remembered noticing it was on the bridge… 

“Well, um, Lord Vader, he’s trying to take care of the issue, but…um. Well. The goose is armed, sir.” 

Now that was not a phrase he’d ever expected to hear. 

He stopped in his tracks so quickly, the man almost bumped into him, and he slowly inclined his head to look at him. “…The goose?” 

The captain visibly swallowed and nodded. “Yes, milord. We don’t know how it got on board.” 

He stared at the captain. Was the Goose some kind of code name for a Rebel operative he wasn’t aware of? They couldn’t actually mean a literal honking bird. 

The captain continued. “It’s stolen numerous comm links, key cards to vital areas of the ship, bitten anyone who’s tried to capture it, and now…ah, for some reason…” he winced. 

“Spit it out.” 

“…Well, milord, it has your lightsaber.” 

“…What?” 

“…And it’s figured out how to turn it on.” 

What? 

“And already severed two limbs with it.” 

Never, in all of his years, had he ever heard of something like this happening. Never had he dreamed something could be possible. Yet now it was, and the infernal creature had his weapon. 

That would be rectified immediately. 

He turned away. “Find out how the bird got on board. I want those responsible brought to me.” 

“Yes, milord.” 

He left the captain alone, already searching the Force for any signs of the Sith-aspiring bird. 

Seagull updates cat on latest gossip

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