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birdantlers · 9 months

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

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there’s something so bittersweet and lovely about fanfic, at it’s core. it’s so impermeable, because it’s so individual. fics don’t get finished. fics get lost because they were typed out and sent to friends, in the 70s, and somewhere along the way someone packed it up in a cardboard box and their kids shuffled it to the attic. websites go down. archives get built, but then people lose faith in the story or the canon or the creator and delete them. you read it at like, 3am, and can’t remember the title months later when you look for it again.

the tiktok these comments are from was lamenting about the loss of a favourite fic—it (the tiktok) had 85k+ likes, and over 700 comments, mostly similar to these. people talking about downloading fics to read on a tablet only for them to disappear the next day. using the wayback machine and combing through results, just to find something they loved. i think it’s sweet because it’s so human—how easily we love something, and how easily we lose it. i used to print out my favourite fics, as a kid—i still have a binder of them, buried under yearbooks and the old journals i kept during those topsy turvy preteen years. i could tell you the overarching plot to a Cardcaptor Sakura fantasy AU i read (and loved; it became my personality for months afterwards) but i can’t remember how it ended, or if it even did. i finally broke down and signed up for an account on AO3 specifically to bookmark an old, old fic that i had read somewhere else, years and years and years ago and found again on AO3 only because i accidentally stumbled on the author here on tumblr (i had only found the fic in the first place all those years ago because of a playlist). i used the same shade of lipstick for years purely because a fic i really liked had the main character apply it (it was a limited edition one at the time; i bought my first one from a ebay seller in the UK at double the retail price, lmao) while the love interest watched them, but i can’t remember the name of it, only how it made me feel (and how, for years afterwards, i would wear that shade whenever i felt like the day had something promising to it).

one of the first anon’s i ever got, in the early days of this tumblr, was someone who asked me if it was okay if they downloaded surrender—and of course it was. of course it is. there was a point, during the final stretch when i was trying to write the last chapter, that i almost lost the entirety of what i had written for that fic—and i mean, it was on AO3 by that stage so it would’ve only set me back a chapter or so, but it goes to show how fragile things can be. how sometimes fics only last in tiny ways—because of the unfinished PDF file someone downloads. The patchy memory of someone’s who’s jumbling it and three other fics together. Because someone wore the same shade of lipstick you mentioned, off-hand, for years afterwards.

(this is a love letter to the silent readers; the silent savers. the lurkers. fandom and the internet at large is made of lurkers (eighty-five thousand likes. seven hundred comments). people who saved fics and waybacked them and will reread them, even uncompleted. telling each other we did a good job, that we liked this or we liked that is wonderful, and fun, and a great (and important) way to build a community and has also given me my current friends—but sometimes something you make will matter and live on in a way you will never, ever know. and it’s just how it is. it’s part of the fun and it’s part of the charm. it’s just how we work as people.)

#floating rubbish island: mermaid spam #shall i do a part two for the opposite end of the spectrum? the readers who tell you as they’re rereading?#the ones that come back to point out details that have stuck with them?#sometimes i worry i don’t give enough to those of us in the community who do that #today i got a comment on surrender and it made my whole day—which otherwise would’ve been spent being miserable trying to sweat out my fever #people are so sweet and i feel so empty-handed for them sometimes #because time is so valuable—people don’t *have* to comment #people don’t *have* to note the tiny details #i share these fics because i *want* to—that is a choice i make knowing that maybe people won’t like it or respond to it #no one asks me to spend the time i do on these fics and so no one owes me for it #which makes the time someone *does* spend commenting or tagging or saying hello even more precious

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justallihere · 2 months

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Hi there! Welcome - I'm Alli (she/her). I like concerts, books, and science. My favorite color is pink and my favorite band is Fall Out Boy. At this time I'm writing fics for The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) series, but someday in the future I might expand that list. Thanks for joining the chaos!

Most of you probably know me from AO3 by the same username. Below you can find my entire masterlist of fics as well as some frequently asked questions. If there's something you'd like to know that isn't addressed below, my ask box is always open 🫶🏻

✨ masterlist:

storm in the quiet (E)

Xaden/Violet, arranged marriage AU, > 200k words, ongoing

It took only a few minutes for Violet to figure out what purpose she served. No one said it out loud—not yet, but they’d get there—but they kept throwing out words like formalizing alliances and uniting two groups, and she understood. Violet was a sacrificial lamb, and Xaden Riorson was the wolf, and her slaughter would be their marriage.

(find sitq deleted moments here, here, and here)

simmer (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The night that Tairn began channeling to Violet, she didn’t stumble upon Xaden in the snow. She found someone else to take care of her, and when Xaden realized, he was less than amused.

violence in my veins (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The Riders’ Quadrant had something of an obsession with piercings. The only person Violet Sorrengail knew without any was, of course, Xaden Riorson. Or so she thought.

invisible in a violet sea (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 2k words, complete

“It’s just me here, love. Tell me what you need so badly, Violence.” There was something about the way he said the private nickname in this context, with his voice low and husky, that made it feel entirely different from every other time he called her that. Like it was reverent and special and it, like her, belonged only to him. “You,” she said. “I need you, Xaden.”

void of all composure (E)

Liam/Violet/Cam, one shot, 2.8k words, complete

Liam Mairi figured it couldn’t be that hard to keep Violet Sorrengail out of trouble. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the fact that her version of trouble was Cam Tauri, and Liam was certainly going to go down with her.

somehow i still love you more (G)

Xaden/Violet, kid fic, one shot, 800 words, complete

Xaden’s favorite time was the middle of the night, when his wife slept peacefully and he got to hold his daughter and watch the snow falling.

✨FAQs:

Do you have an update schedule?

Nope. Fanfic is a hobby for me—I have other responsibilities and a full-time job. I write because it’s fun, and in order for it to stay that way I write and post as I’m able, and sometimes I step away for a week or two to maintain my own sanity. Unless I specifically say it, I promise my fics aren’t abandoned just because it’s been a few days without a new chapter. Please don’t ask me about updates!

Do you take requests for fics?

I do not. I write things that I love or am inspired by. Trying to conform to specific requests kind of sucks the joy out of writing for me.

Can I write something inspired by your fics?

Go for it! Fanfiction is fanfiction. At the end of the day we’re all just playing in the same sandbox, and the tropes and ideas I use aren’t unique. Twist them however you want, and have fun writing your own take on them. If you want others to know where your inspiration came from, you can use the “inspired by” function on AO3, or link back to my fic in some way if you’re posting your work on another site. That can also be helpful for readers to find similar works.

Can I bind your fics?

Yes, for personal use only. You may not commission any third party that would make a profit off binding the fic to do the work for you. You may not sell bound copies of my fics. Everything I’ve written has been done for free, as my own personal love letter from me to fandom. Keep fanfiction safe and legal. And send me pictures—I’d love to see your finished projects!

Will you ever write your own book?

I'd love to one day! I have lots of ideas floating around at all times, even though I don't talk about them much. I promise if I ever publish any original works, you'll know.

How long will storm in the quiet be?

Right now I’m estimating about 55-60 chapters—that’s just a best guess, if it changes as we get closer to the end, I’ll update this answer.

Will storm in the quiet have a sequel?

Nope.

Are you going to kill Liam?

No. I promise. I know you’re all traumatized, but please read the tags on AO3. There’s one that says “Liam lives!” and it means he lives all the way to the end and it’s not a joke 😅

When will Xaden and Violet fuck?

Never if you keep testing me. Enjoy the slow burn! I’m begging! (And if you can’t, go check out my one shots. They’re very smutty.)

✨ other info:

Find some of my favorite book recs here

Some great Fourth Wing fic recs here (my own faves and a lot of other good ones that I missed in the comments)

If you’re interested in what I might be currently reading, click here

#about me

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

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I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

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yuurivoice · 18 days

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How do you feel about people making Lucien more "demonic?" Like adding goat legs, bigger claws, sharper horns, classic demon stuff, blah blah, etc? You cool with it? Or do u not really care?

I can not emphasize this enough: yall can do what you wanna do with your fanart. I've been getting people asking for permission to write fanfics, make very standard fanart, etc. and I dunno who hurt y'all but unless you're making offensive shit designed to offend, upset, or disrespect folks...it ain't my business what you're up to. You're free to have fun and create!

As much as I appreciate people being considerate, at the same time I trust y'all to be cool and you can trust me not to be peeking over your shoulder like Big Brother. I promise that nothing you cook up will shock me or something innocent like "more demonic Lucien" would somehow bug me.

I also want to avoid making this regular check-in with me for how I feel about something thing a THING because I lowkey feel like it can be weaponized by someone who thinks they'll be clever and tattle on folks doing things they don't like or approve of. So it's best that we all just sorta know that unless someone is specifically doing something that super duper requires my attention...you can assume it's cool.

I remember a year or so ago some folks got trolled all to hell by someone making questionable fic with some of the boys and someone came to scream in my inbox about it without considering that it was an obvious troll job, and me answering that ask would draw significantly more attention to it than if they just...didn't look at it? 😂 Maybe I'm just old, but shit ain't that serious and I'm no one's dad.

Long story short: I appreciate the care folks take to keep me comfortable, but you ain't gotta tiptoe. 🙏💖

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jpegjade · 8 months

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spencer blurb - reader OCD

this turned out to be actually cathartic. (my therapist suggested i write about it in this format so here i go...) and yes, my therapist knows i write spencer fanfics and supports it as an outward creative release. inspired by my most recent breakdown.

spencer was the first to tell you had ocd, even though you didn't say anything to anyone but Hotch.

the organization, sure, but it was more than that. it was the counting. it was the steps. it was the particular way you had to have a number of sugars, time in increments, washing your hands for a specific amount of time or it wouldn't be right. you would have to do it over again. you had to eat counter clockwise every time. it had to be right. it had to be in the right order. it was hell wherever you went. every day. it wasn't fair.

"good?" spencer said, waiting outside the bathroom door for you. not in a creepy way, he promised every time. he just didn't want you to feel alone. he knew what that felt like. the intrusive thoughts. the fear about the consequences. he knew what happened when he shook hands with someone. the germs were one thing. it was different when he touched the wrong thing and all of his thoughts became obsessive. wave. who cares if they think he's weird. he can't do it. something bad happens when he does it.

"thanks." you said, getting a small smile from spencer as the two of you fell into step. every time. one. two. three. always a three. never more. pause. spencer always paused with you. he never walked faster, never lagging or speeding past you. never huffed. never complained. short distance because you were shorter but his steps shifted. you weren't sure why but he was there in step with you.

"do you want lunch?" spencer asked, his desk across from yours. you were tapping your pen, click click click. you couldn't stop until you it 27. 3 more to go and then you could answer him. you couldn't stop or something bad would happen.

spencer waited. he always waited. never rushed, wouldn't mind repeating himself on the rare occasion that you would not hear him because the thoughts made you focus on the problem. it was fine for him to wait. he didn't mind if it meant you were able to keep the thoughts at bay, even for a moment. something bad won't happen if you could just get to 27. no more. no less. no interruptions or you have to start over.

"you don't have to get me food." you said, finally hitting your number. one more thought down. you looked at him, his kind eyes looking at you when you eventually met his gaze. he was the only one who could watch and count.

"i know. but you need lunch. you need a snack. you need something to eat." he said, tapping his foot. you started counting. 3. 6. 9. 27. freeze. it was like he knew what you were thinking.

"Okay." You said, getting up to walk with him. The intrusive thoughts were coming back but you had to control them. you had to write it down in your phone, like your therapist said. you had to stop thinking spencer will die if you step on the same crack in the sidewalk outside of the office.

he stepped over it with you. he knew. he just new and didn't make fun of you or think you're weird. he just... let you be you and took it one moment at a time. you counted your steps, watching spencer fall in line with you. he didn't ask. he never asked. he just knew.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

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arcielee · 1 month

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Interview With a Writer

Thank you @st-eve-barnes for going over your Saltburn series with me! Just a reminder, you can view volume 1 & 2 of my ongoing series Interview With a Writer, where these talented individuals allow me to pick their brains over the brilliance behind their writing!

Name: st-eve-barnes

Story: Leverage

Paring: Michael Gavey x Female!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

So, when did you start writing?

I guess I have to say as a teenager, though I never shared anything I wrote back then. I still have the notebooks I used to drabble in (in Dutch), it wasn’t very good at all but I guess even back then I had that need to be creative and make my own stories.

I officially started writing fanfic in 2013. I watched Thor the Dark World, fell in love with Loki, made a Tumblr and a whole new world opened. After a few months of reading fanfic, I started writing my own. Again, it wasn’t very good at all but even my bad stories slowly started to find an audience on here, so I stuck with it.

Loki is amazing, just Aemond energy in a different font.

He truly is! I've written different characters since, but the moment I saw Aemond on screen I was transported back to the first time I saw Loki. His intensity, that quiet threat like you don't know what he's going to do next, combined with this, "I was made to be king but my stupid brother is the chosen one."

And a certain sadness, of course. We know they're the villains, but we understand them in a way and can feel their pain. And they are sexy as hell of course ;)

Where did the plot for Leverage come from?

Okay, so first of all, I am someone who never plans an entire plot when I start a fic. I am very much a "make it up as I go along" writer. I start with an idea and a dynamic I want to write between two characters and then I build from there.

For this one I wanted Reader and Michael to have a common goal and a common enemy, something that would push these two different characters to want to work together. I wanted the enemies to lovers vibe but soft. Like, you can tell very early on in the fic that they have empathy for each other. When Reader is crying, Michael softens up easily, and when she sees Michael being vulnerable about not being able to get girls, she feels for him as well.

Their personalities will still clash even after that, but you can (hopefully) feel the connection between them as well. I wanted Ben's threat to loom over them for the entire fic but also never make it the main plot point in every chapter. The main plot for me here was how Michael and Reader could help each other change and grow, and then either accept that change or turn away from it.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

No, not really, I think. I wanted to make her independent and confident, but also a little bit lonely, all traits you can also find in Michael. And anything else, as usual, I make up as I go along. I get to know the characters as I write them and often I'm surprised where they take me. In this fic I think it was Michael who surprised me the most though, he really turned out different than I initially had planned.

Explain your interpretation of Michael. What drives him? How did he differ from what you originally had in mind?

Salburn didn't give us much to work with, and I actually love that because it gives us so much freedom to play with the character.

I went with what the movie did give us: Michael's obvious hatred for the popular privileged kids. It's the reason he initially hates Reader, but warms up to her when he learns that she is actually working for her place at Oxford and she is not a real part of Ben's group. I think he is driven to help her purely because of that common enemy in the beginning.

Then he gets to know her a little and the promise of sex comes into play, which he definitely doesn't say no to. What surprised me in writing him is that I initially planned on writing him as a sub throughout the entire fic, but then half way in the tables started turning and he started taking over control a bit (of the Reader and me as well apparently!). And then suddenly it made complete sense to write him that way, because he would be that overeager student who wants to do well and who does the homework to get it exactly right, it doesn't matter whether it's math or sex, he wants to show how good and smart he is.

Him just accepting his feelings for her so calmly was also something I didn't plan, but just sort of happened as I was writing.

My initial plans there was going to be a big fight between her and Michael right before they would call things off. He would force her to admit her feelings and the sex would turn quite rough; Michael just being Michael and saying a lot of wrong things to her that would eventually shut her down completely. But I never wrote that scene and by the time I got there in the story it didn't seem to fit their characters anymore and it also seemed too heavy for this fic so I let go of that idea.

Do you feel your Reader and Michael complement one another?

I definitely think they complement each other, but I also think they are quite alike in many ways. As I said before, they are both quite confident in different ways and insecure in others.

I do think they complement each other perfectly with Michael being more book smart and focused, while Reader is (a lot) better with people and social skills. I think them being together changes them both for the better cause they can learn from each other's personalities and bring out the best out in each other (but also the worst, of course).

Let's say that in their future they definitely learn to focus on bringing out the best and not the worst in each other ;)

Do you think you'll ever continue their story?

Never say never, but there's no plans to write more for them for now. I don't think I've written many sequels over the years, but I love writing different ideas and dynamics between two characters and once they are together, it's like "my work here is done."

Do you have a personal favorite story (on ao3 or Tumblr) you'd like to share?

My absolute favorite story is from a previous fandom that I'm not in anymore, but I have to share that one as it is the single most beautiful thing I've ever read. It was the fic that pulled me into the fandom. It's a Stucky story and it's called Not Easily Conquered, known as NEC in the fandom.

It will crush your soul and heal you and I will give anyone the same advice I got before I read it for the first time: be prepared because this one will hurt. I cried for like a week after I read it and I don't cry easily so this one should come with a warning. But it is absolutely worth it!

Do you have another story in the works?

The only thing I'm working on right now is a Felix Catton x Reader story called Pretty Little Liars. Two chapters have been posted and I'm working on the next ones, but it may be a while as life has been a bit full on here lately.

Would you like to share a snippet of what's to come?

“I think he has a little crush on you,” you stated while Felix opened the door to his room and let you step inside first. Felix shook his head but the little blush on his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. “It’s not like that,” he denied, “He’s just…a bit lost and I’m trying to be his friend.” “You sure that’s all he wants?” “Yeah,” he laughed, “Ollie doesn’t want me, he just wants to be like me.” “If you say so,” you sighed, not convinced. Felix grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you down to sit on the side of his bed, leaning forward to look into your eyes, “Hey, come on, don’t ruin this by becoming jealous.” “I’m not jealous, I’m…concerned.” That wasn’t a lie. Jealousy was never a factor, you knew right from the start that Felix would never truly be yours, you would always have to share him with the rest of the world. And you always accepted that. But the idea of sharing him with Oliver somehow made your blood boil. Felix kneeled down in front of you, eyes locking with yours as his gaze darkened and he smiled that irresistible smile of his. “Now, did you come up here to chat about Ollie, or to get your pussy eaten, hmm? Cause I can’t do both at the same time.” His lips connected with your knee, kissing your skin softly and you bit your lip and sighed deeply, “Fine, I’ll shut up.”

#interview with a writer #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community #writing stuff #writers on tumblr

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eisforeidolon · 1 month

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I feel fans should be able to interpret shows and characters any way they want but it really bothers me that shippers die on the hill of Dean is such a closeted bi sexual and Sam is the biggest heterosexual out there. I love these characters because they are extremely toxic and codependent on each other. The story would not be the same with out that. Why would anyone look to Supernatural to be their all time gay representation love story when it most obviously is not. it just blows my mind how out there Destiel shippers are and how much they truly hate this show and hate Dean without even realizing it. I need someone to figure out how we can get rid of them from this fandom...LOL

Yeah, IDGI either. Fandom is supposed to be about just having fun however you want with the building blocks from the canon + your imagination. It's not even the main point that they're hilariously bad at interpretation, project too hard onto the characters to even see them, can't understand context to save their lives, pointedly ignore a million things that directly contradict their agenda, and too much of their so-called proof is actually gross backwards stereotypes about sexuality and masculinity (neither of which they seem to understand very well at all). If they were just having fun with it, who the fuck cares? Sure, it's annoying, but a lot of fandom is annoying because it is so specifically tailored to things not everyone is gonna like. There are other canons with fans who are fine admitting they just like playing in the canon world but not the canon itself that much.

No, the problem is hellers are not content to just enjoy their non-canon interpretations in fandom. They feel entitled to flood any and every tag associated with the show, trying to demand their interpretations be considered indisputably canon fact because ... reasons ... and anyone who doesn't agree with them is A Bad Person because ... they say so. Their ship is the greatest love story (n)ever told, the best representation evar in media! It's the only important thing about SPN - and if they couldn't change the canon, they can change the fandom narrative! The fact there's actually no there there under their overblown thousands upon thousands of words of inept meta is why the very suggestion it's not canon, that someone doesn't see it as the greatest thing ever, that maybe Dean is actually just a heterosexual instead of putting on an elaborate performance of one or even that Sam might not be the straightest character ever written? Is taken as an attack upon their self-declared status as the real main audience. Which makes sense, because they never were. SPN was anything but subtle as to what its actual focal relationship was.

To some extent I get how they echo-chambered each other into believing their ship was/would be a thing in canon. If you just look at the size of the piles on piles of cherry-picked nonsense they accumulated over the years without actually engaging your brain to see how variously flimsy, out of context, or how many other more sensible interpretations there were for any of them? If you wanted to believe and surrounded yourself with others who did, too, and kept talking each other up, spending way more time doing that than watching the show? It's no wonder some of them ended up with really skewed expectations.

What I don't get is how they're still going this long after the show ended. SPN is over and there's no more 'Well, next season for sure!' to promise themselves. There are increasingly more stories out there now in a variety of media which are centering deliberately, openly LGBT+ characters and relationships they could invest in championing! Hell, just saying screw canon and burying themselves in writing their idea of "better" fanfic is a perfectly reasonable way to deal with disappointment, no matter how self-inflicted. Instead, they're still here making up elaborate conspiracies about how SPN was something other than what it blatantly obviously always was - because admitting they were wrong and the only thing they ever liked about it was their own OOC fanfic very, very loosely based off of it? Well, that's more than a bit embarrassing in light of how long they spent campaigning and how vehement they were about it totally being not just A Thing but The Most Important Thing Ever. So I don't know what would actually get them to move on, they clearly love being miserable and wrong and pretending to be martyrs over it far too much for me to comprehend.

#destihellers #fandom issues #faux social justice

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aceofwhump · 5 months

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Dear Ace,

I need some advice. I’ve been a whump lover for as long as I can remember and I’ve been lurking around this community for some time now but I’m still having some trouble with feeling the need to hide my love of whump. I like to write but hardly ever do because all my ideas center heavily around physical whump scenarios. I have the hardest time putting pen to paper because once I do, it’s out there….and what if someone accidentally reads it and realizes how dark my mind is?!?

Intellectually I know that’s ridiculous. I live alone and the chances of someone accidentally stumbling over my writing are practically zero and even if they somehow do, it’s a creative outlet right?

But I still can’t seem to manage actually writing any of it down.

Any words of wisdom about how to get over this hold up and be able to write the stories in my head? Thanks in advanced.

Signed,

Anxious Writer.

Hi nonny <3 Sorry for my slow response.

What you feel is incredibly common amongst the whump community. Incredibly common. You are not alone in these feelings. And just like you're not alone in feeling weird or uncomfortable about your love of whump you're also not alone in loving whump. There's sooooo many of us here with you and you are welcome in this community. Your work would be welcomed in this space. It really helped me finding out that there are sooo many people out there who love the same kind of stuff I do. So know you're not alone.

It took me a while to become comfortable with sharing my writing and my rambles and general love of whump as well. One thing that helped me is knowing I sharing it in a loving space of fellow whump lovers. So I made sure to tag it so that other whump lovers found it and that non whump lovers who have the tag blocked won't see it. Tagging is a really great way to get your work into the right fandom spaces (both with AO3 and tumblr).

I also share the fear that someone I know will find my writing. My mom especially can NEVER find it because she will not understand it at all. So when I do write I make sure I'm doing in the safety and seclusion of my bedroom where no one can see my computer screen. I don't write when I'm in the same room as my family. Not unless I'm 100% sure they can't see my screen. So another piece of advice I can offer is to create a secluded space for yourself where you can write without worry that someone will see it. I don't know if that's the best advice but it's something that makes me feel more comfortable when I write whump. My sister knows I write whump fanfics just like I know she writes smut but we've made an agreement to never go seeking each others profiles or reading each others fics. Just for our own comfort levels. We don't judge each other but knowing the other wont see what our minds come up with makes us feel better.

And I know it's hard to get over the hump of thinking what you want to write is dark and bad but I promise it is not bad to want to write whump. Tons and tons of people write whump. And not just the hundreds aof fanfic writers either! Look at the stuff written by Stephen King or Mike Flanagan. They're praised for their whump writing.

Another piece of advice I can offer that helped me start to share my work is to create a blog/space made specifically for your whump. As soon as I made this blog I immediately felt more at ease sharing my love of whump because I knew I could keep it separate from my real life and keep it as anonymous as I'd like. If you'd like you could create a whump sideblog and post your work there. Try with something small like a drabble in answer to a prompt post. I did that. I wrote a short little thing that fit a prompt post I liked and i got such a nice response from the community it made me feel more confident with sharing more of my writing. Is there a prompt you've seen that gave some inspiration? Go ahead and try sharing your response! See how it feels!

I hope something here helps you nonny. I know it can be hard but we'd love to read your work! Everyone has something unique to offer and teh more whump the better! This community is really nice and we'd love to have you <3

#mod replies #ask #anon #whump community

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amethystfairy1 · 5 months

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Hello hello I gots some questions if you don’t mind

So we know some hybrids from different sub species that are in relationships like Lizzie and Joel and doc and etho but I was wondering if there were any specific sub species that only stay with their own type of sub species? And if there is, do or would they ever give others who are from the same sub species as them a glare if they saw a person from their same sub species in a relationship with a hybrid or mutant of different sub species? Example: Joel and Lizzie, would any of the cat hybrids ever do a double take on her being married to a butterfly hybrid? (I know they probably wouldn’t but this was for the sake of an example)

Is there a number in mind for how many different types of sub species are living in the under city? Or would it be like trying to count each specific m&m in a large bowl? Is there too many sub species to count or would you use a broad number like for example 1000 to get your point across?

Are there other new types of sub species you have in mind but haven’t talked about yet? (Ignore this question if it’s a large spoiler LMAO)

Are there any other sub species that have a bad reputation? I’m aware that creeper hybrids are know to be intimidating and most avoid them (at least I’m pretty sure) but are there any hybrids or mutants that when people learn what sub species they are they immediately hate and or dislike them? If so why or how did they get such a bad reputation?

(I really hope my questions weren’t annoying I just really enjoy your work and I had some questions!))

(I also apologize if any of these questions have been asked before)

Hello, hello! I never ever mind questions, I absolutely love them! Thank you for sending them over! ☺️

Alrighty, let’s see what we’ve got! 🏃‍♀️

1. Not really, no, or at least, I never intend to explore that. I think the closest we might get are perhaps blaze-borns or warden mutants, both of whom are known for being very solitary and keeping to their own areas, not usually living in the main cavern, but I don’t think there would be any sort of dislike/unhappiness from anyone if someone of that subspecies dated/married outside of it. The under-city is big, yeah, but it’s not that big so it’s always been common practice for people to mix and match. It’s just been growing more common than ever thanks to how Doc and Etho’s work has been connecting the various levels of the city like never before!

2. I think the m&ms in a bowl allegory is the best…there’s a LOT of them, I don’t want to put any sort of number on it just for the sake of IRL reasons, which are that I do make up parts of this AU as I go along, and I’d hate to give myself some pre-determined boundary for how creative and crazy we can get with all of these hybrids/mutants…so let’s just say A LOT and leave it at that.

3. YES and that is ALL I WILL SAY 😆

4. I think ‘bad’ reputation is the wrong way of putting it. No one necessarily has an immediate hatred for another based solely on subspecies. I mean, Ren and Lizzie are friends! And they’re literally a dog and a cat! But there are other sorts of reputations that can carry with someone’s subspecies. There’s Doc, of course, who we know is a sweetheart and a gentle giant but people are afraid of him because he’s nearly seven feet tall and terrifying-looking, that’s not his fault, though…and the augmentations aren’t exactly helping. 😭 We will also be learning more about dog hybrid clans with Ren, the deep dark with Cub, and blaze-born pyres with Tango, so through that I hope to show a bit more nuance in the traits and tendencies of all these various subspecies, because it is quite a lot of fun!

They were not annoying! I PROMISE I WILL NEVER FIND QUESTIONS ANNOYING! You’re giving me an excuse to ramble about a thing that lives in my brain and forced itself out in the form of a fanfic series, I am delighted so if you ever have any more questions send another ask! I will be happy to answer! (unless it’s spoilers but then I’ll just say that) so yeah! I’ve been having so much fun with the blog and the asks and the posts and stuff! So thank you for coming by! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #hermitcraft #traffic smp #through the sky blue cracks #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #worldbuilding #life series #empires smp #docm77 #cubfan135 #tango tek #tangotek #rendog #ldshadowlady #joel smallishbeans #joel/lizzie #doctho

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wttcsms · 1 month

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okay, so just yapping and sharing lots of notes & minor spoilers & extreme details of what i have planned/going on for balancing act (which WILL see an update this month, trust 🤞🏻)

please please please, if u read this, lmk your thoughts & if ur picking up what i'm putting down or else i have to revise my outline LOL

what's fun about balancing act is that we get to see my take on gojo's character; i've received comments and asks saying how they like how i've written not just gojo, but all the in-verse characters we have & i'm excited to expand more on gojo's friendships with everyone around him bc as a fanfic writer, it's a fun challenge to see how in character we can get these people when they're thrown into a wildly different universe.

so, talking abt "my take" on gojo's character: he's a goofy guy. he's cocky; he's a flirt. he knows he's Got It All, and he definitely drives a fancy sports car w a custom license plate that reads SIXEYES (bc this is a finance bro au, everyone claims he must have six eyes w the way he never seems to watch the markets but knows exactly when and what to go all in with). BUT !!! i love balancing act bc gojo is not reduced to "cocky womanizer and then u 2 fuck despite claiming to not like him" we get to see gojo's character shine through in his actions, not only in how he treats reader but also in how he interacts with all the characters. he's silly, he plays pranks, he sometimes (almost always) is annoying, but the things he does for them is always stemming from genuine kindness 🥹 like, i have this thought (my finance girlies will understand what i mean/it'll be explained in the fic) that yuuji is interning at the firm for a summer but he's from a non-target school & doesn't come from the same circles as most of the people in finance; knowing that yuuji feels a bit alienated from his peers, gojo goes out of his way to make dorky company merch and requires that all interns wear it & OF COURSE, it's one of those vests with the firm's name monogrammed on it & it's so pretentious but it's a finance bro right of passage and he did this so yuuji would have that status symbol but he also didn't want to single him out. things like that 🥹 he's thoughtful and we need to talk abt it more and we will explore this more within the fic!!!!

and balancing act is so special to me because it's all about loving someone so much that the mundanity of life suddenly seems exciting; suddenly, the boring, not so glamorous parts of life are an opportunity to showcase how much you love someone. MINOR SPOILER, but a scene that's so sweet and exemplifies this is the fact that you live in a luxury apartment building. authorizing/registering a specific vehicle to your apartment's parking services is a pain in the ass, and it's even more annoying to take off a car from the car registry list. that's why any past boyfriends, u rarely let them into ur apartment (bc it's ur safe space, where u can just be urself entirely) and the ones who do make it to ur apartment always use guest parking, which has a time limit. we, in typical romcom fashion, get the adorable "you're sick and he takes care of you" trope!!! so you have a bad flu and gojo drives you to ur apartment and takes care of you, but he's not registered as an authorized vehicle so he has to go to guest parking. well, he spends days with you while u recover, and he sees all the parking fines on his windshield. it's $100 per every hour he goes over the time limit. it's been days. your doorman is a sweet man who is always looking out for u and never likes any of the boys u take home, and he beefs with gojo (for comedic purposes, i promise. it's a fun dynamic) and gojo knows it's the doorman who reported him to parking services. gojo ofc is returning to the apartment building, holding the stack of tickets in one hand (using the same hand to wave cheekily at the doorman), and goes back in ur apartment to show u all the tickets.

he doesn't hold it against u though. what he says is, "your doorman hates my guts." all pouty and whiny. you tell him that the doorman hates the guts of all the boys u bring back & that he shouldn't feel too special, and that this is his way of saying gojo's overstaying his welcome, which u find hilarious. and gojo is like "well, he's saying you're only worth $100 an hour." blah blah blah, BUT !! circling back to the mundanity of life and how it serves as an opportunity to show our love for someone:

you go through the trouble of registering gojo's vehicle under ur apartment. even though u keep saying gojo is annoying and a pain in the ass and that this fascination he has with u will eventually fade, even though u claim there's a time limit to his affections and you KNOW how much of a hassle it is to unregister his vehicle if things do go south for y'all... you still go through the trouble of registering his vehicle, a sign that you like him. a sign that you're hoping things will be permanent.

and that's basically a major point of the fic!!! that our actions, our silly, simple, boring actions, can all have special meanings 🥹 if you look for it, you'll see that love really is anywhere

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im-a-king-baby · 8 months

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Hi!

I'm done with my re-reading of ELYN, and THE line I will keep with me is this one :

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Simon pulls back to look at him. He’s applied concealer to the bags under his eyes, this close Wilhelm can see the streaks of it on his skin as he gives a weak smile. “You want the most of anyone.” Which isn’t fair and isn’t true. Except that it is. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Simon says. “That.”

This is sooo powerful ! The weight of the expectations of your loved one... 😭❤😭❤

And I would love to know why Simon gave Wille a key for his room... What was he expecting ?

And if it's not too much, what do you think made August get clean and turn his back to royalty ?

Again, thank you so much for this story ! ❤

Hiii, sorry this took so long. Can't believe I am expected to work a job instead of just having fanfic related feelings on tumblr all day every day. Very rude. None stars.

(if your ask is in my inbox I promise I am getting to it! If you still want to submit questions for any of the memes I reblogged, I will happily ramble all day every day so the ask box is always open <3 )

"I just want you to be happy."

(I need you all to know that doing this meme is really reinforcing the 'a first draft does not have to be perfect or even good' mantra because guess what was also not in draft 1! All of this!)

There is a side of Simon's character that I think is justified in canon which is that he doesn't like letting people down. He switches schools to support Sara, he agrees to date Marcus even though he clearly doesn't want to because Marcus asks. So this moment starts with Simon talking about how he started on coke because he didn't want to let the fans down by being exhausted. Originally there was another step in the middle where he talks about how Candace wanted him to get clean but also be the superstar (and do a documentary!) and he couldn't see a way to have both. And then that his breakthrough was hiring Joseph, and Keira and realising that having money means you can pay people to care about you in very specific ways.

Wilhelm swallows. “Sometimes people help you just because they want to.” Simon’s mouth quirks slightly off to the side, like Wilhelm’s said something amusing. “That’s what they tell you. But they always want something from you, you just don’t realise what until it’s too late.” “I don’t want anything.”

Wilhelm I think genuinely believes that he's telling the truth here, but Simon has had to become a lot more aware of how he is perceived and the expectations of him from having this very public career. Like, for all Wilhelm saying 'you can take time, the fans won't disappear if it takes you more than 2 months to make an album', Simon has also seen the fan tweets complaining when the tour skips certain cities/countries, when they have to wait for the album, when they don't release a tour vlog. (One of the big reasons he doesn't have a phone is to stop him from reading all of that because at a certain point you can't satisfy everyone and Candace is like 'this is not helping you so let's put a stop to it.')

So in this moment Wilhelm is saying 'I don't want anything' but also he wants them to be together and happy and Simon is very aware that the easiest way for him to be happy is by drinking and taking the drugs. He's spent the last week and a half in coke withdrawal which is basically just being miserable all the time and going into rehab is going to be more of that. And then, the Simon who comes out of rehab is going to be very different from Simme-the-popstar and different to Simon-from-high-school and current-Simon has no idea what that person will look like or if it will even be someone Wilhelm likes.

So for Simon getting clean means getting away from anyone else's idea of who he should be. And that's hard. And sometimes you hit on the perfect line to articulate what would otherwise be 5 paragraphs of rambling tumblr post and those moments are the best part of writing for all that they come so rarely <3 (and also they do not always come in draft 1 and that's okay)

2. Why does Simon invite Wilhelm to the hotel room

I think SImon's base logic is the same as why Wilhelm went, this sense of 'if we can get away from the cameras we can be Us instead of Simme and Crown Prince Wilhelm and things will make sense again.' But on top of that is this thing that Simon is doing where he is attempting to use sex to solve his problems (arguably this desire is coming from the same place as the drinking and the coke. It's the 'I don't know how to feel good when I'm not performing, but if I invite someone up they'll tell me I'm amazing and then we can have orgasms and that'll feel good for a little while').

So Simon is thinking 'I need to see him in private' but then he doesn't have any plan beyond that so it's back to the usual plan of sex=feeling good, with a side line in 'if I give him a good enough time he won't notice anything weird or ask any questions and everything will be fine.'

(I do have a while Simon POV scene of the hotel after Wilhelm leaves that will probably be posted somewhere at some point so here is a teaser:

Wilhelm must have left by now. And if part of Simon was hoping that he’d still be there when Simon opened the door - so SImon could say what, he doesn’t know - that part is quiet enough not to show surprise when there’s just Gareth in the hallway in his perfectly pressed suit with his perfectly neutral gaze. Does Gareth feel emotion? Nobody knows. He has all of one facial expression so if he’s judging Simon for bringing the prince of Sweden up to his rooms or judging him for failing to keep the prince of Sweden there for longer than an hour, or not judging him at all because he has full respect for the whore lifestyle, Simon never has to know.

3. August

Oh hey! I thought this choice might get me more hate so thanks to everyone for coming on board with me for the off-screen August redemption arc 😅

So fundamentally ELYN (and, yknow, YR) is a story about legacy and inheritance. Both the big glaringly obvious thing of the crown, but also the other things: the secrets, the class culture, and the genetic predisposition to addiction. (I can't remember right now if August's father's suicide was drug-related in the show, but for the fic I definitely had that in my mind).

So August functions as a parallel for both Simon and Wilhelm. The obvious 'was taking drugs to cope with stress, stress kept increasing, ultimately broke under it' . But also on Wilhelm's side, August is desperately trying to live up to the legacy of a dead man. He's idolising his father, wanting to make him proud and unable to acknowledge that this culture of appearing perfect and not talking about problems is what killed him.

The way I always pictured August's arc was that he hit rock bottom somewhere in the military - he'd been relying on pills to get him through stress, this was infinitely more stress than high school, plus the fallout from Sara's confession (which had been covered up by the court, but was still impacting him). I never had a concrete idea of what the exact rock bottom was (maybe stealing pills?), but he was dishonorably discharged and checked himself into rehab where he basically got a big dose of Welcome to Real Life. Meeting normal people. Realising they're not so different. 'There's a whole world out there that's not our careful circle of cultivated Heirs and Heiresses and people have problems but they also have whole entire lives where none of these things you're so worried about matter at all.'

And he did the work. He re-evaluated his biases. He grew up. He met a girl, who I think was class-adjacent but more practical than the Hillerska-royalty types (I like to think she was maybe an art assessor who came to help him auction off large parts of the estate holdings) and they got talking. Their relationship seems to have moved pretty fast, but hey August took some pride in the elements of being prefect that involved taking care of people so maybe he's ready for a family. (Originally there were going to be 8 years between the show and the fic so I gave him 3 kids, and then when I cut it down to 6years it felt mean to delete a baby so that's why he has twins.)

The 12 step program has a step for 'making amends', I think August probably got in touch with Wilhelm and was like 'I owe you an apology and amends, and I understand if you don't want to talk to me but if I can ever help you or Simon, I'm here.' And that went ignored until Wilhelm called him from basic training, and then five years later when he got a call from Simon in hospital like 'So Malin gave me your number...'

One other bonus August ELYN headcanon I have is that Wilhelm phoned August from the car on his way to the debate and was like:

"I think if I do it now I can bring it all down, but if I can't they're going to come after you, and then the children. I'm sorry I can't protect them anymore." "It's my job to look after my family," August says. "And I promise I will not let any of this shit touch them. You have my full support, go do what you have to do."

(there is a whole other tumblr post about how I don't believe in writing bad people just people who sometimes make bad choices but this is already Very Long and I'm not sure if I actually answered the questions so we'll leave it there 😅)

#draft 1 doesn't have to be perfect! I say restarting my novel for the fourth time so that I can figure out 'the right' way to do chapter 1 #advice I need beaten into my skull somehow #tattoo it on my forehead #bonus content meme #this is still open if anyone else wants to message prompts #or just ask me anything #I don't know how to let this fic go so let me ramble at you!#elyn fic #elyn spoilers

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rxttingsblog · 2 years

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𓆩❤︎𓆪 Pacify him 𓆩❤︎𓆪

( PART 2 )

Yandere!Peter Ballard/Henry creel, dark!002 x hurt!Reader

READER IS 18!!

Summary: When getting caught talking to Peter after 002 specifically demanded you not to. 002 keeps up with his promises and makes you suffer greatly. But will anyone be there to save you? Is anyone willing to save you from this intoxicating relationship?

WARNING: Forced relationship, emotional and physical abuse, Non-con touching scene, grooming, manipulation, age-gap, love triangle, language, secret relationship, innocent!reader, 18+, smut, mentions of murder, angst, public humiliation, dark comfort, fluff, dark themes inside hawkins lab.

—Then again, as i briefly stated in part 1 i do not condone these actions! I find them beyond disgusting. Remember, this fanfic isn’t for everyone. I enjoy writing heavy angst so this is for my people who love dark fanfictions like me.

(part 1)

**Story in Reader’s POV**

“Y/N!” 002’s booming voice shouted, making me jolt away from Peter. I instinctively retreated to my partners side. Like a well behaved puppy. Whenever 002 would call my name, i mustn’t ignore it. Even as much as i despised it, as much as i resented it. It was just for my own safety. Besides, i couldn’t have 002 hurting Peter. He had powers and Peter was just an orderly.

A orderly i wasn’t supposed to interact with.. But i ended up doing so. My gut wrenched with intense fear as i dreaded my punishment.

002’s arm made its way to snake around my waist. Peter stood before us, trying to strain himself from casting that infamous infuriated glare he would cast upon 002 nearly every single encounter. My teeth clenched together as i tried to not cringe at 002’s touch. My mind told me to run, to use my powers and finally end this mess once and for all.

But at the end, i did nothing. I was submissive as always. An obedient person that everyone took advantage of. Day by day, i was growing exhausted from it. At the point i was very close to snapping. But as always i couldn’t.

I would always be weak.

002 tilted his head towards me, our eyes collided. It was just then i knew something was off. That look he casted me was no good. It was that familiar spark that shone in his gaze whenever he was up to something.

something evil.

My thoughts tried to brush it off. I couldn’t be thinking of it now. If only i could get my mind off things. My heart thumped out my chest as the air became think. So thick that someone could cut it in half with a butter knife.

002’s arm tightened around my waist, psychologically reminding me that he could break me in half with ease.

My body stiffened while 002 glanced back at Peter with a hateful glare. Such a possessive stare that basically meant: “Stay away from what’s mine”

“Two, i’m going to need you to leave the room and head towards the cafeteria to eat breakfast.” Peter ordered, because he was an orderly. He could control some of the test subjects here. But only some.

Most of the patients didn’t take him seriously. Because he was one of the youngest staff members. The other orderlies here were around their 50’s. Peter on the other hand being over 10 years younger.

002 only chucked in response to Peters orders. Which infuriated him but as always he kept that friendly smile plastered into his features. Out of everyone in this laboratory, Peter hated 002 the most.

“What’s so funny, hm?” Peter inquired, while pipping up one of his eyebrows. Knowing well what 002 was laughing at, “I gave you an order and you’re going to follow it! Or do i need to get Papa to escort you there?” A low threat escaped his lips and that’s something that caught 002’s attention.

002 was always intimidating, but he did have a weakness. His weakness was Dr. Brenner himself. 002 never got in trouble and didn’t even begin to think what it would be like if he did. The young man wasn’t scared of Peter, only scared of the freedom he had. Peter could easily inform Papa that he was acting up.

Let’s say, 002 wasn’t too keen on the decision so he huffed a sigh out in annoyance in response to Peter’s condescending threat.

“Come with me?” 002’s question was more of a demand. I was just about ready to follow him before Peter stopped me.

“She’s saying with me,” He sneered at the other boy lowly. In which 002 almost snapped in that moment. “You run along now.” Peter shooed him away as if he were a fly.

Now only the two of us were left in the empty corridor. This was going totally wrong. My steady heart beat was beginning to pick up pace once more.

No, i can’t do this. I need to get back to 002. But another part of me screamed to stay with Peter. Which i wanted to. But.. i couldn’t. Because i knew the consequences.

And those consequences were my biggest fear.

My body was acting on itself. My heart ached as i drifted away from Peter. No words can begin to describe how guilty i felt because of it. But i had to protect myself.

“Where do you think you’re going,” Peter’s question felt like a statement.

My body came to a halt and i turned to look back at him, “i’m going to the cafeteria with my boyfriend.”

And with that i roamed off, walking further and further away from him. I had a chance to be saved but i even fucked that one up. Even if he did save me there wasn’t anything he could do. 002 would always be there, to hurt me, to hurt us. I was doing this for the better. I had to control myself as i fought back tears.

I made my way into the cafeteria to see 002 and a couple of his friends. An empty seat open for me. I hastily stormed over and took my place next to him.

“Do you remember when i told you that i didn’t like you talking to him?” 002 growled lowly, so lowly i almost wasn’t able to hear him due to all the scraping noises of cutlery that filled the bland cafeteria.

“Yes, but he talked to me.” I reply in defense, hoping he’ll buy it.

002 didn’t like my excuse, “I don’t care, you still let it happen!”

His sharp breathy whisper sent shivers down my spine. Something about the way he spoke made me even more fearful than i was before. My heart increased speed. My palms sweaty with shaking knees. Is it normal to be this afraid of someone you love?

Is this love?

Suddenly, 002 with his small group of friends rose from their tables and prepared to exit the cafeteria. My conflicted gaze fell upon theirs. What were they doing? Where were they going?

“Are you coming or not?” 002’s shook me out of my trance of racing thoughts. Without thinking, i nodded and followed them out the cafeteria and into the hallway. 002’s hand softly made contact with mine as we now walked hand in hand.

I didnt trust his kindness. What could he be up to this time?

Suddenly i felt my body get forcefully shoved into a small storage closet that no one ever went in. As my body stumbled backwards my back hit the end of the wall in response. The harsh impact causing me to wince in pain.

002 then approached me, it wasn’t long until his body was now pinning me up against the wall. The only thing that could be heard was faint giggles from his peers and the sound of the heavy door shutting closed. My fear and confusión only rose as the seconds passed.

002’s cold orbs stared directly into mine. His intense staring made my soul want to leave my body. I felt my frame becoming smaller and smaller under his sudden dominant behavior. But this wasn’t in a good way.

His freehand then proceeded to find it’s way to my leg before slowly venturing up my gown further and further until his fingers made contact in between my inner thighs. My heart sank as i stopped him abruptly with extreme fear in my eyes. When i stopped him he gave me a confused stare.

“Two,” I say, “Two, what are you doing? there are people here with us- please don’t..” I beg, my voice cracking at the end as i tried to strain myself from sobbing.

“I keep my promises, Y/N,” 002 sternly states, “What you did was unacceptable and you’re going to pay.. they’re going to watch as i corrupt your innocence.” He says, referring to his friends when saying ‘they’

I knew what he was going to do, i had to do anything in my power to stop it! My body squirmed underneath him as i tried to break free but it was no use.

“Why are you making this so difficult!” He snapped then slammed my head against the wall. I screamed in pain but before a sound was able to escape my lips 002 aggressively slapped his hand over my mouth to prevent any noise from coming out of me.

My thighs shake, as tears cascaded down my face. My lip quivering in fear while his rough fingers made contact with the silk of my panties. Nothing about this is okay. No one could save me either, i foolishly expected his friends to put a stop to it but they only watched me as i got violated.

They even laughed at me.

I couldn’t control my crying at this point. 002 publicly degraded me as his fingers pumped in and out of me. This didn’t feel pleasurable whatsoever. It hurt. His friends spectated this unfold and i felt beyond humiliated. There was nothing i could do about this so i let him do it to me. I let him continue his sexual assault on my body despite my protests. All while his friends mocked me in the background.

Slut! Whore! Cunt! Bitch! 002 spat obscenities at me while i endured his ongoing brutal assault. My eyes automatically close shut. I just couldn’t bear to hear any of this anymore. I just didn’t want to look at any of it.. why did he have to make me feel this way? He never cared about anything i wanted. He only wanted me catering to him and only him.

002 was allowed to have friends and make basic human interactions.

I was not. I was never allowed to socialize with anyone ever since i started dating him.

He was allowed to have control. Telling me what to do and how to behave.

I couldn’t argue back. Because if i did, he’d only hurt me in return. I was there to only listen and obey his every word.

Thoughts overwhelmed my throbbing head and at this point i was like a toy to him. A toy he could play with until he got bored. Once he got bored of me i’d practically be useless.

His cruel torture on my now sore body was over with. As soon as he released me my body dropped onto the cold ground with a hard thud. I didn’t understand this feeling, my eyelids felt heavy as i fought to stay awake. I was overcome with a new sensation and my lower regions felt soaked and gooey but it wasn’t in a good way. I sit on the ground, my knees tucked into my chest as i curled up into a ball.

“Aw, poor baby! Does it hurt?” One of his feminine friends taunted. I avoided her foul gaze.

The last thing i saw was 002, my once love, and his gang of fuck ups exiting the storage room. With no emotion whatsoever. Of course they didn’t care! No one would ever care about me!

—

You don’t know how many hours you cowered there for but before you knew it the door of the storage closet swung open. Great fear pulsed through your adrenaline. Your body shaking in response, fearing that it might be 002. But to your relief, it wasn’t.

Your head that was lying on the wall ever so surely looked up and there you saw Peter.

At first he sternly asked, “What are you doing in here? You aren’t allowed to be in here.”

But when he noticed your glistening eyes, that’s when he calmed down a bit. Instead, looking at you with a frantic gaze. Within an instant he was at your side, crouched down to your eye level, bombarding you with questions that only stressed you out even more. Peter wasn’t the best at comprehending human emotions so he had no clue that he was only worsening your high functioning anxiety.

He’d angrily inquire the following, “What happened?!” “Are you okay?” “Who did this!”

You couldn’t help but burst into ugly sobs at that very moment. Peter attempted to reach his soft hand out so that he could rest it on your cheek but you resisted. Flinching at his touch as you withdrew your shaking body away from his. Peter’s heart sank.

“Baby, please come here.. let me take you back to your room, yeah?” Peter soothed comfortingly. Something about his voice grasped your attention. It made you feel safe. He gave you this new feeling, a new sensation. It wasn’t like the feeling 002 gave you. Something about this new feeling made you ponder on what it might be.

But even after all those new comforting thoughts, you still had no urge to reply. Your faint sniffing was the only thing audible. Peter only sat down next to you, only whispering nothing but sweet compliments and praises into your ear. It wasn’t long until your body relaxed.

He took note of that, and gently pulled your frail body into his lap. You couldn’t help but hide your face in the crook of his neck as you let out more tears flow down your face.

“Shh, shhh, it’s okay, doll. i’m here with you now. you’re safe with me.” His voice whispered into your ear, usually you’d get uncomfortable by this but with Peter you didn’t. For the first time you felt loved.

“I’m… dirty” You suddenly blurt out, you knew what 002 did to you was beyond disgusting and you just needed to clean yourself up after that. Scrub away the parts where he touched you. Also not to mention you hadn’t taken a shower in 2 days.

“Would you like me to take you to the shower?” Peter asked sweetly, smiling to himself that he was the one taking care of you. Not that piece of filth who was apparently your “lover”

You knew you couldn’t talk to Peter, let alone giving him permission to take you to the showers. But at this point, you just didn’t care anymore. Even if 002 killed you for this, you didn’t care anymore. At least you’d be in the care of someone who actually showed you compassion and love instead of running off in utter fear and then accepting death.

You felt your head slowly nodding at Peter’s kindhearted suggestion and with that his hold tightened around your waist and you now felt your smaller frame being lifted up into his arms. He was carrying you and heading towards the shower rooms. You feared for a split second that you’d get caught, but as soon as you two stepped out into the hall it was darkly quiet with not a single soul in sight.

Maybe they’ve all fallen asleep. The thought of that relaxed you again as your racing mind finally took a rest. You felt safe in Peter’s arms, the orderlies very existence brought you endless comfort. Maybe your shitty life was finally headed towards a brighter direction.

(comment for a part 3! reblogs+comments are greatly appreciated!)

—Willard

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incarnateirony · 10 months

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So here's the tea on the whole #WhatYouAren'tWatching thing, and what fandom, even people I consider intelligent, is having a brain hemorage about historically.

Back when I ran SomethingToSay and the subsequent elements of the CW boycott, maybe the public didn't realize it, but BTS I was getting a LOT of legal advice on what I could, and couldn't say, without getting blasted off the fucking planet. And I also had to constantly weigh my options on what to say, do, or instruct within grey areas or things that were Too Risky For Them To Squeeze Blood From A Turnip about.

For example, I couldn't say, "hey guys, call all of CW's advertisers and threaten to cancel your subscriptions with them if they don't stop advertising on CW." I had to go WOW, I JUST TRIPPED ON THIS AMAZING LIST OF ADVERTISERS, I WONDER WHAT PEOPLE COULD DO WITH THIS and let the internet numpties work through it. Why? Retaliation/damages/etc there's a fuckton of entanglements on that shit.

Now, what does this have to do with anything? Well, right now, WGA/SAG are in the fight of their lives trying to change an entirely busted system. As Adam Conover said, though--they won't starve us out, we'll starve them out.

I've tried to stay out of this on the public front praying and praying that people would figure it out but when I see some of the most intelligent people I know having brain damage about how this works even though they were in the inside of an identical proposal/movement before, I'm just. I gotta. I gotta say something.

No. If you ask any author about it, they're going to say it's Just One Guy. If someone is a rando in a union of a dozen-thousand people, they are not the word of god either. But why would even someone biggish say Just One Person or Not Entirely True?

Well, that does mean partially true and why yes, Just One Person posted it. Because Just One Person is all it takes to get the fucking ball rolling if people slow down and use their noodles for a second. Just One Person isn't worth the studios going after, blood from a turnip. But if the WGA officially announced it or everybody publicly acknowledged it like yeah we agreed on that shit, that means these studios, currently locked in back and forth litigation between writers and studios all the way up to the federal level, can actually fucking fire shots on the WGA/SAG and just completely fucking derail shit.

They literally Can Not Tell You to unsubscribe from big streamers specifically; it's wrong to do it generally (#notallstreamers(arebigstudios)), and they can't single out and directly say "here's how to damage their bottom line" without blowing up their entire fucking operation. And if you guys are going to flood their inboxes untli they answer, they're gonna say who, don't know her. No shit. They literally cannot say.

They are literally fucking relying on everyone to stop making excuses to keep glutting themselves on favorite shows for One Whole Month. Do not cry "but their royalties!" when Bev's creator shows you the whole three cents she makes on a quarter. Or "but their reputation!" the goddamn world knows about the strike it's not gonna be breaking fucking news to them that it affected viewership. I promise you the authors do not care about the three cents they will lose for the big studios to lose 3 billion.

But but but-- no fuckin buts. "But a podcast said we can write meta and fanfic still" the fuck??? what the fuck does that have to do with streaming why is this bloating the argument. Get all that shit out of here.

"But random writer mcgee said they didn't know about it. But a few names we recognize made vague statements that didn't really say no, just talked around it. But but but--" no, no fuckin buts goddamnit. No shit every knucklefuck in the kingdom isn't gonna be told, that's how leaks and legal attacks happen and fucks your entire operation up. It's called plausible deniability, fuckin figure it out. Anyone demanding it be posted on WGA officially is going "please sue the union into collapse", anyone demanding their favorite face to say it is going, "please be a fucking scab and sell everybody out to convince me, stubborn internet rando hugging my blorbo plushie."

"But my opinion." I don't care. It's a shitty opinion. Deal with it. "But my blorbo" I do not fucking care about your favorite blorbo.

The ONLY way to make change here is to make the STUDIOS crack before the creators do, and that only comes by gouging out their quarterlies and making them cascade losses in investors. That's the only fucking way guys. There's not going to be a moment where someone farts pixie dust and it gets better. No, studio CEOs aren't going to have a disney movie crisis of conscience and come around. The creators are protesting BECAUSE they are being exploited for this and getting NOTHING back, you are literally not hurting them if you turn off their stuff for a while.

It's the same note as studios crying "BUT THE POOR SUPPORT STAFF" fuckin. no. No goddamn buts, goddamnit. Get out of the way. Revolution comes with cost, they know it, they're the ones sweating for it, all I see is blogs kneejerking to find excuses to watch their favorite shit with selection bias and transient global amnesia on how this works in some people's cases.

It costs you nothing to turn off your TV/streaming through september. It loses the writers a penny. It hits the corporations for billions. Do the fuckin math, sweethearts.

Figure it out. I ran this model before. [clears throat] CALLING ALL FANDOMS-- oh wait.

Deadass guys. Fuckin. order of events. use your noodles.

Adam Ruins Everything: "They won't starve us out, we'll starve THEM out."

WGA Guy Running For Leadership: "CALLING ALL FANDOMS"

Fandoms: But--royalties

ResDogs Writer: FOR THOSE WONDERING ABOUT MY ROYALTIES HERE ARE MY THREE CENTS

Fandoms: [spams faves begging for guidance]

Studios: [waiting to pounce]

Fave with a gun to his head: what who i don't know her

#wga strike #sag strike #whatarentyouwatching #what aren't you watching

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sxugaryx · 3 months

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Delusion (Fanfic)

One shot 💛

After Carlo dies, Geppetto slowly starts losing his sanity, desperately trying to put together the pieces of his fractured mind.

Geppetto was in a rush to get to the Monad Charity House, it was late, hoping he didn’t miss his son’s graduation, why does he always tend to prioritize his stupid job? This is so unfair to Carlo, he promised him yesterday he would be there on time, he even gave him that necklace as a promise.

He broke his promise.

He needs to find a way to make it up to him, he is always letting Carlo down, he needs to show him how he loves him no matter what, but first he needs to apologize.

When he gets there, something is wrong, terribly wrong, the police are there, there are doctors, he is desperately trying to get inside but they won’t let him. Geppetto starts shaking, people are coming out of the place in protected suits, and people are being carried away from the place, some barely alive, most dead, he starts praying, he has to see Carlo, he needs to see him again.

And he does, someone has his son in his arms and Geppetto feels despair, the body of his dead son is the last thing he sees before passing out.

——-

“Geppetto”

Someone is trying to talk with him, a coworker.

“I understand these past few months have been hard”

It’s hard to process to Geppetto what he is hearing, has it really been months? How many? One? Two?

“But it’s almost been half a year since Carlo died”

His heart sinks, Carlo is dead, his son is…. No, Carlo isn’t dead, his son isn’t gone, Carlo is-

“You have to pull yourself together, you are the director of the workshop union”

Geppetto’s mind can only understand bits and pieces from the conversation, something about the workplace, something about how he is supposed to be a leader, something about how others don’t think he can….

——

Antonia is staring at him strangely and he doesn’t understand why.

“Why is-“

His mind blocks the rest of the sentence, it’s something about Carlo’s funeral, the closed casket.

“Maybe it’s in my mind” Antonia whispered, “I could have sworn the casket sounded hollow”

Geppetto has a pounding headache, the body, there is no body because

Because

——-

He has the bottles in his hands, the liquids that were so hard for him to obtain, he had to make calls, he had to ask for favors. Geppetto hears a woman’s voice.

“Just in case you forget, I wrote down the specific use of each” She looks intrigued, “This project of yours must be secret but I just have to ask, why do you need the embalming fluid?”

Did he make an excuse? Or did he even respond to the question?

—-

Geppetto is crying and desperately apologizing over and over again to Carlo, he is promising he will help, that he will save him, that they can be a happy family, that he would be a good father, that he would do anything for him.

Carlo is holding his hand, Geppetto sees his son’s face, Carlo can’t speak but his brown eyes show a deep sadness, he is trying to tell him something, and Carlo is pleading with him. Pleading for what?

Geppetto doesn’t understand, what he does understand is that he made a promise to his son, and this time, he won’t break it.

—-

Venigni is trying to reassure him, both were spending time together, both of them were supposed to be relaxing.

“Please friend ignore those sorts of comments”

Did someone say something to him? Geppetto takes a sip of his drink, trying to remember what was said yet no matter how hard he tried he simply couldn’t.

“Just because you are a man that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to show emotions” Venigni asked to spend time with him; everything, everyone had become so overwhelming.

“I want you to know that-“

Venigni is trying again to reassure him, although Geppetto can’t listen to him, the only thing, the only one he has his mind is Carlo.

—-

Geppetto is lying on the couch of his home when he gets the first call.

Then another and another.

It’s his coworkers, it’s the police, the alchemists…

Everyone is frantic, they want answers, they don’t know how this happened, it makes no sense, the grand covenant was supposed to bind them, this should have never happened. They ask questions, questions that he can’t answer.

After all, he can’t remember why he started the frenzy.

—-

“I’m doing this for Carlo, I’m doing this for Carlo”

Geppetto hears the words frantically being spoken, but they aren’t coming out of his mouth this time. There are tears in Romeo’s eyes, he is gasping for air because of the pain. Geppetto is on autopilot, working on the body, the plan, the deal that was made.

Hours pass, the process is hard and complicated. Geppetto managed to do it, he managed to turn the young man into a puppet.

So he apologizes to Romeo.

Romeo feels agonizing pain, Geppetto keeps apologizing, Romeo grabs his hand and applies pressure, he is hurting him, he can feel one of his fingers being fractured, but Geppetto doesn’t complain, he deserves this, for being a horrible father, for being a horrible person.

Finally, Romeo lets go, looking at his body, looking at what he has become, then Geppetto pulls something out of his pocket, the pendant now in Romeo’s chest as he sets the necklace in place.

It’s the one he gave to his son, the one Carlo gave to Romeo. Geppetto knows that he deserves to have it more than him.

—-

He is knocking at Antonia’s doorstep in the middle of the night, obviously, she is confused at first, but then her expression changes to one of fear and worry.

“Geppetto what happened?!”

He told her it was an accident, that he was working with something at home and accidentally hurt himself. How he didn’t want to see a doctor or go to the hospital, they were all too busy with those with the petrification disease anyway.

She is helping her by disinfecting the cuts that are all over his left arm, and grabbing alcohol to wipe around the injuries.

“What exactly where you working on?”

Geppetto dances around the question, he makes excuses, and he tries for Antonia not to know the truth. Antonia already doesn't look very convinced.

The cuts look too clean, too methodical to be an accident, Antonia asked once more what occurred.

He lied to her like he has been lying to everyone all this time, how he lies to himself that he is fine.

——

Oh my God…. Carlo… what did I do to you?

His sweet son, his sweet boy is almost unrecognizable, tubes are coming out of his back, his skin is completely gray, and his face is.

His face is.

Carlo applies more force, his son has him pinned to the ground, he has something sharp in his hand. Carlo puts the blade in his neck, but Geppetto doesn’t try to fight back and doesn’t try to calm Carlo down.

The only thing he can do is apologize.

Carlo stops what he is doing, a tear falling from his deformed face, now Carlo is the one apologizing, but he is asking something out of his father.

“Father….”

Carlo’s voice is completely different, it’s raspy, it almost sounds like a scream, and it doesn’t sound like his son’s voice at all.

“Please… let me-“

No no no, he loves Carlo but he can’t do that, he can’t let him go, he can’t let him die again, he has to save him, he will save him.

—-

This is it, he is going to die, he locks himself in that carriage but with the weapon is only a matter of time before the stalker uses it to break the door and get to him.

That’s went suddenly he hears the sound of a battle outside, the stalker falling dead on the floor saying his last words. Geppetto comes out and looks at his son.

It’s Carlo, somehow he woke up in his new body, without the need for his help. The body he made for him so that he wouldn’t be in pain anymore, he only had to take part of his Ergo and put it inside the new heart.

Geppetto finally meets his son again, his precious son.

Whoever Geppetto can’t shake this strange feeling something is wrong, Carlo is smiling at him with his blue eyes, did Carlo have blue eyes? Why did I give him blue eyes?

Eyes like mine.

And freckles, Carlo didn’t have freckles, did he forget what his own son looks like?

Geppetto ignores those feelings in the back of his mind, he is just grateful that Carlo is safe and sound again, it’s hard but he has to ask a favor of him, but Carlo gives him a sweet smile and nods, like a good boy his son is eager to do what he tells him.

—-

Geppetto is preparing to leave for work while doing so, he can hear a few coworkers talking behind his back.

“Is he leaving work early again?”

“Apparently something reminded him of Carlo”

Geppetto is trying his hardest to pull himself together, trying to ignore them.

“Look I get that losing family is hard but come on, this is the third time this month he breaks down crying”

“I agree, he is a grown man, life is unfair he needs to get over it”

Lately, he has been hearing the same things, people starting to lose their respect for him, people who don’t want him to be the leader of the workshop union anymore.

The union he started, the union where he did everything to make it become the place it is, the factory that creates the puppets he invented, the ones that led Krat to an era of prosperity.

The union he hates, the work he despises. The worthless job that took his son away from him.

No, it’s all his fault, he is the one who prioritized it over Carlo, over his only son. The many goals he missed in his life, how he abandoned him at that boarding school, all because he is an idiot. What kind of worthless father puts his work over his family?

Not anymore, not ever again.

——

Geppetto feels the scythe up to his neck there is fire all around the stage, Carlo is hurt yet even then, he is desperately grabbing Romeo, begging him to stop.

“You are pathetic”

Romeo’s voice is back to normal, his glowing red eye fixed on him, he lowers the weapon, Pinocchio looks relieved and goes to his father's side.

Romeo’s words become incomprehensible again, this time because Geppetto’s mind is blocking them. The next thing he knows is that they are all back in Hotel Krat, everyone but his son is mad at him. It doesn’t matter, Geppetto fixes Romeo until his puppet body is back to normal, as normal as it can be in that condition.

Carlo is grabbing his long black hair, his son feeling tense, not used to everyone yelling, not understanding why everyone was so mad at his father.

Geppetto looks at Pinocchio, he tells him that he did something bad, something horrible. Pinocchio doesn’t care he hugs his father because he loves him.

Even if Geppetto knows doesn’t deserve that love.

—-

It’s not enough, it’s not enough Ergo.

He stole a good amount from the ones used at the factory. It’s not working, why isn’t it working?

Geppetto does the calculations again, he reads books and investigates the nature of Ergo. He needs more but how much more?

A ridiculous amount, an amount of Ergo he simply can’t get in his hands, dozens of people would have to die to get that much.

He looks at the black box, Carlo is resting in there, the box is special, he doesn’t remember how he did it but Carlo is no longer enraged, it’s almost as if his son is resting. Although Carlo can’t truly rest, the pain is too unbearable for his poor son.

The pain, what kind of father allows his son to be in pain? He can’t let Carlo suffer, he has failed his son so many times.

Geppetto has an idea, a horrible idea, he is ready, ready to set the entire world on fire if it’s necessary, the only one that truly matters is Carlo.

He asks his son for forgiveness again, then he asks God to forgive him as he activates Law 0.

——

Carlo returned with the painting in his hands. Geppetto had no idea the Black Rabbit Brotherhood had stolen it, he stared at the painting, he almost wanted to cry, he needed to stop crying he is a grown man, he can’t cry, specially not in front of his son, so he apologizes for getting sentimental.

He asks Pinocchio if there is something wrong, he doesn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable. Geppetto knows that he has to be more careful, unlike Carlo, Pinocchio is a little sensitive, the only thing he does is end up worrying him too much.

Geppetto tells Carlo to be a good boy and to be careful out there, he can’t lose him, he can’t lose him again.

As Pinocchio is leaving, Geppetto looks at the painting, again this feeling that something is wrong comes back. He just spoke with his son, why does it feel odd? Why does it feel like…

——

Antonia looked furious at him, she wanted to have a word in private.

“I want to know what the hell you were thinking”

She isn’t shouting, her calm anger is somehow worse.

“I almost had a heart attack seeing him, why did you-“

Geppetto makes up an excuse, someone had to save everyone from this mess, someone had to save them from this mess. The mess he created.

Antonia looks away for a moment, she looks tired, and stressed, can anyone really blame her? She is dying.

“Geppetto are you okay?”

Her voice sounds sweet and caring, she wants to know the truth because she wants to help him.

Geppetto says he is fine, how many times has he lied to her by now?

—-

There is blood in Geppetto’s hands.

His blood.

How did this happen? Why did it happen?

He looks at his left arm, there are more cuts than before, this time Antonia would get too suspicious so he cleans himself, he cleans the mess he made. When he is done Geppetto goes to bed, in the morning he starts to get ready for work, he looks at his arm, there is something that wasn’t there before, words that were slashed in his skin.

Camille I’m…

He can’t make up the rest of the words, there are more cuts, and his arm now truly looks as if he suffered an accident, filled with wounds, his wrist red, black, and blue.

——

Geppetto is hugging his son tightly, he is shaking and crying, begging him for forgiveness.

Pinocchio looks at his father confused, not understanding what’s going on, not understanding what his father did wrong. He is saying that he is an awful father, that he is only making the same mistakes over and over again, how he loves him, how he wants him to be someone he isn’t.

Then Geppetto grabs his chest, a piercing pain he cannot handle, he falls onto the floor, his son is now the one who is crying shaking him because he doesn’t know what to do, that’s odd… he remembers Carlo once told him that they taught him how to do CPR at school, something they teach all stalkers in training.

Geppetto is gasping for air, the last thing he hears is his son screaming for help.

——

“Mr. Geppetto you had a heart attack”

He is in a hospital, he was brought here from his workplace.

“Thankfully you didn’t go into cardiac arrest, however, this is very serious”

The doctor asks him questions about his family’s medical history, and about how he has been feeling in the past few days.

“Well you are an older man and it seems likely that could be the cause, although it might be that external factors are making it worse, is there anything stressful in your life currently happening?”

Geppetto is a liar, a good liar, how can he not be after the many web of lies he has pulled? The doctor believes his lies and he is discharged from the hospital before they perform a full examination. Geppetto feels relieved, when he is home he touches his chest, then he looks at his left arm, the one they didn’t examine.

There is another message slit in his wrist, before he can read it he starts feeling exhausted, so he decides to go to bed and rest, he goes to his room, the box is in his bed, it’s a little hard sleeping next to it since it takes so much space, but not having Carlo by his side was killing him.

And now, his heart is killing him.

——

“Can you make them stop?”

Venigni was asking Geppetto to make the puppets stop the frenzy, so he did, it was very simple, only having to activate Law 0 and undue his command.

Romeo is watching from afar but looks away, he mainly stays away from everyone, he can’t look at anyone, specially not at Pinocchio.

“At least… at least the only thing to worry about now is the carcasses”

Venigni can’t look at Geppetto either, not after what his friend had done, Geppetto makes his way to leave, to be alone in that room as he had always been while staying inside Hotel Krat.

He barely talks to anyone, besides it’s not as if he deserves their compassion.

A few minutes pass before Venigni goes to see him. He is trying to talk with him, but this time Venigni is the one apologizing to him, saying that he should have seen how much pain he was in, saying that he should have helped him when he was at his lowest.

Geppetto doesn’t respond, he can’t respond, his mind is somewhere else, his sanity completely fractured, Venigni gets closer to him, asking if he is okay, then he tells him not to answer that because it’s a stupid question since he is clearly not okay.

Like the liar he is Geppetto does respond and tells Venigni that he is okay, it’s a stupid lie, an obvious lie, and Venigni and everyone else can see it.

Venigni looks away again, Geppetto can tell that Venigni feels helpless, that he doesn’t know what to do to help him.

His friend can’t help him, it’s too late for that.

——

Geppetto is trapped in that cell, Simon had come to see him, to try and gloat about his victory, to mock him.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Simon looks annoyed at first, but he stares at Geppetto who is in a terrible state, Geppetto is on autopilot, living because he has to, talking because he has to, and nothing he does feels natural anymore.

“How unfortunate, Geppetto the genius inventor losing his mind”

Simon is now smiling, he opens the cell, and with confidence he makes his way to Geppetto and grabs his shoulders with force, making direct eye contact.

“Your son is dead Geppetto, and it’s all your fault”

Geppetto breaks down crying, Simon looks happy, he mocks him again, he doesn’t stop. He reminds Geppetto of every time he could have spent with his son, every achievement he missed.

The graduation he missed.

“You could at the very least have died with him, what kind of father doesn’t go to his son’s graduation?”

Simon lets go of him, and Geppetto covers his face with his hands sobbing, completely breaking down. Completely defeated, Simon is right, the man who killed his son by spreading that disease is right.

—-

Geppetto is lying in one of the couches of Hotel Krat. He is too exhausted to open his eyes, still, he hears what everyone else is saying, Carlo is thanking Romeo, apparently, he was the one to save his life.

“Hey it’s okay, please don’t cry”

Pinocchio is sobbing, Romeo is reassuring him, trying to make him feel better. That’s why they are best friends, Geppetto knows how Romeo always stood by Carlo’s side. Pinocchio then asks why Romeo hates his father, and why he is always so cold towards him. Geppetto can hear Romeo give out a sigh.

“I can’t even hate your father anymore, I just… I just pity him”

Pinocchio doesn’t understand why, everything is overwhelming him, everything is too much, he barely understands the world around him, barely understands what’s happening most of the time and he always has to go outside to fight, to save everyone because no one else can.

“Even if your father is sick, he loves you, like he loved-“

Geppetto’s mind can’t hear that last sentence. He opens his eyes, is exhausted, and looks at both of them, his son going to his side, his son kneeling next to him, Carlo making direct eye contact as Geppetto gently touches his son’s face.

“Pinocchio I’m…”

He wants to say he is sorry however Geppetto then gasps for air, the pain in his chest starting to come back. Everyone is rushing to his side, everyone wants to help him, help a monster like him who caused so much pain to others.

——

Geppetto can hear the elevator descending, his son making his way towards him.

Carlo has his pinned to the ground again, he opened the box, he shouldn’t have, opening it only made Carlo be in pain. Carlo is asking why he is stuck in the past, why he can’t move on, and why he always says the same things. How everything his father says doesn’t make sense anymore.

Everything sounds like a broken record, everyone lives until they go away and the truth is he doesn’t know anything.

Not anymore.

It’s him who says the same thing over and over again, why does he beg for forgiveness if he doesn’t deserve it?

Geppetto can see the arm of god on the floor, he stares at Carlo more closely, did he use it on himself? His son no longer looks disfigured, he looks like a normal corpse, the same way as the day he died, no, he doesn't look the same, his limbs are still mechanical, at least… at least looks somewhat normal again.

Still, that doesn’t satisfy Geppetto, he needs to have his son back, his real boy.

“I want to die”

This time, his brain doesn’t block out his son’s words. Carlo asks why, why he did all of this, why he can’t simply let him be at peace. What the hell in the world does he want from him?

“I don’t want the world” Geppetto’s voice doesn’t feel like his voice anymore, it sounds hollow, devoid of life, “I just want you back”

——

Geppetto hears purring, he looks up to see Spring sitting at his desk, the cat staring at him curiously.

He isn’t a cat person, still he pets the small animal who rubs her head in his hand. The cat’s head is now stained with his blood.

His arm is dripping blood, when did he hurt himself again? This is bad, he grabs something to clean up the cat, and it somehow works, looking like a strange stain, hopefully, everyone would think she got dirty wandering around.

As for his arm, he washes it and changes his bloody shirt. He takes a look at his arm, he can no longer recognize it, he remembers years ago at the factory, someone had an accident and their arm looked sort of like how he does now. Completely filled with cuts, slashes, and bruises, most parts of it are black, the necrosis taking a tool on his body.

Geppetto stares at the arm, and the first message he ever wrote to himself is now completely unrecognizable, as for the second one, he tries really hard and makes the words out, or rather, makes the word out.

Help.

—-

He is at a work meeting, and all the high-ranking members of the union are there, all of them speaking to him, he has known them for many years but at this moment he can't recognize their voices, he can't tell who is who anymore.

“Geppetto we are very concerned about your health, considering the previous event”

Geppetto assures them that he is fine, that he can work perfectly fine.

“I know you think you can, let’s be realistic, you can’t”

The words cut like a dagger, and Geppetto stays quiet.

“We think it’s best if you were to retire early”

Geppetto wants to speak up this time, but he cannot because he is interrupted.

“Please don’t try to argue against this decision, Geppetto you have to be honest here”

No, he is capable of doing this, he can-

“Also we wouldn’t want to you know… affect more your state of mind”

He isn't crazy, he hasn’t lost his mind, he is okay, he can work perfectly fine, he can bring Carlo back. So he tries to argue against this.

“Oh for the love of God, Geppetto you have to resign, we can’t have the leader of our union breaking down over every small detail that might even remind him of his son, Carlo is dead, move on already!”

There is shouting directed at the man who said those words, “You didn’t have to say it like that”; “You didn’t didn’t have to be so blunt”; “You didn’t have to be so harsh, think of his heart”

Geppetto says how he understands, they looked relieved, almost as if they all had wanted to say the same thing. There is an agreement, that he will resign willingly by the end of the month.

He is getting ready to leave, when he is by the front door one of his coworkers stops him.

“Geppetto wait before you go, we just realized a shipment of Ergo is missing can you-“

He leaves, he doesn’t care anymore, it’s not like they will find out it was him, plus they are already firing him, this job isn’t worth it anymore and Carlo needs more Ergo to survive.

——

The door of the cell is being opened, his son is here to rescue him. Frantically asking him if he is okay, hugging him tightly and Geppetto hugs his son back.

Geppetto asks if he is a good father, and the boy says yes, he says that no matter what he will always love him. Then he starts shaking him, he starts asking him what’s wrong if his heart hurts again.

“Who are you?” Geppetto doesn’t know who he is speaking with anymore, this is his son but what is his son’s name?

“Father it’s me!” His son says frantically, “It’s me P-“

Carlo looks strange, why is his hair white?

Geppetto knows he is getting old, although he should be able to recognize his son by this age, it should take at least a few more years before he truly starts to lose his memory. Carlo tells him he should rest, that there is a stargazer nearby, and that he should go back to Hotel Krat.

He can’t go back to Hotel Krat, Geppetto knows that Pinocchio is worried but there is one last thing he must do, he has to grab the black box, he has to free Carlo from this nightmare.

—-

Antonia told him to come downstairs, and that she needed to speak with him. This time she is tired, she demands an answer, a real answer, and doesn’t tolerate Geppetto’s lies, she wants to know the truth. Yes, she blames herself for not reaching out more, however, Geppetto didn’t make anything better by constantly lying about his feelings. Now he is lying again when everyone knows that he is an emotional mess. Antonia starts getting desperate, and angry and asks him if he is truly happy with himself with this delusional web of lies.

“I haven’t been happy one fucking minute of my life since Carlo died”

Antonia is speechless, she had never heard Geppetto curse, much less at her. Now she feels guilty, guilty because knowing the truth was only making things worse for Geppetto. She tried speaking to him again but he ignored her, he went back upstairs. Refusing to talk with anyone, he has to push them away.

Despite his love for Carlo the only thing he did was hurt him, they don’t understand, and he has to push them away, he doesn’t want their care, he doesn’t want them near him. He doesn’t want anyone he loves to suffer again because of him.

They don’t need me here.

—-

“Son, I know you are there”

Pinocchio was outside the Opera House, he was going towards the stargazer when he saw his father staring at the statue outside the place, Pinocchio decided to hide to see what his father was doing, unfortunately, it didn’t work.

The clouds in the sky began to look gray, drops of water going around with the humid air.

Pinocchio got closer to his father, he couldn't tell if there were tears on his face or if it was the drops of rain.

“Do you miss her?”

His father asked, Pinocchio looked uncomfortable, he had read the inscription in the statue before.

“No, you don’t miss her, you’ve never met her”

Pinocchio faintly smiled, his father remembering he wasn’t his brother, the boy grabbed his father’s hand; his father looked confused, Pinocchio touched the stargazer to bring him back to Hotel Krat, it was not safe there for him.

—-

Geppetto stole the artifact, the arm of god.

The alchemists underestimated him, he now had everything in place, the P organ to collect Ergo, the hand to bring him back as he was before, and the puppet.

Geppetto knows that puppets tend to awake to their previous self with the Ergo used, he wanted to make Carlo comfortable so he made the puppet body exactly like his.

The only thing missing was what he needed to make modifications to the heart, the automaton police offer was the key, he just needed to get there and use Law 0 to break him apart and get what he needed.

He turns to look at him, resting in peace in that chair, he gently touches his son’s face and promises he will be back.

As Geppetto is walking away, he can’t help but wonder what would happen if he used the arm on Carlo’s real body now, could that ease the pain? Could that make him look somewhat normal?

No, he has to be methodical, all of this has to be perfect, according to plan.

——

“Father please don’t die, please don’t die!”

Carlo has his hands on his chest, giving him chest compressions, Geppetto can see Pinocchio right behind him, kneeling next to him, his son is… praying, he didn’t know Pinocchio knew how to pray.

Geppetto fully gains consciousness, despite that, he feels an impending sense of doom, his time has finally come to an end. Carlo is apologizing for getting mad, saying that he didn’t mean to, saying that he does love him, Pinocchio is saying that he loves him as well, that he doesn’t want to lose him either, too many have died, and he can’t die as well.

“Pinocchio… Carlo…” Geppetto struggles to get the words out, “I… love you both… please…”

One last time, one last apology, “I’m… sorry”

Geppetto gives out his final breath, the last thing he ever sees, the last true memory of his fractured mind is his Ergo being split in half as it floats towards each of his sons, their P organs absorbing it, as each of his sons hold him in their arms together. His other senses begin to die as well, his body becoming cold and weak, the numbness, his heart taking his final beats.

In the end, only his hearing remains and he hears those last words, words that he doesn’t deserve from them.

Their forgiveness.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #ao3 link #this is in ao3 too #lies of p geppetto #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo #lies of p venigni #lies of p antonia #lies of p simon

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