#i already have copies of all of them i do NOT need to have them on my phone also

[corviiids]

hello thank you for asking i am very flattered. i would be most honoured to give some advice that i am most certainly unqualified to give!!

ok advice 1: hey why does everyone keep telling me to read and write a lot

i think this is the most commonly given advice. i have always found it true but incomplete, because on the face of it this kind of focuses a little too much on volume. which by itself just isn't going to do that much for you, or it will, but it'll do it very slowly and ineffectively, because the second part of this advice i don't see nearly as much (and the part that makes it work for me) is that after you read or write something you need to do The Why Interrogation. what are you looking for?

when you like something, why do you like it? not just in terms of copying and learning an author's stylistic quirks or techniques, but in a more abstract way:

is it the narrative? that the premise is novel, that the progression of the story is unexpected and thrilling, that the stakes are high?

is it the characters? what is it about them? do they have compelling backgrounds? does the author spend a lot of time in their heads? is the pov internal in a way that lets you experience the story from their shoes? does their biased narration tell you more about them? or is it a detached narration that lets you see the characters in a way they don't see themselves, so the gap is intriguing?

is it the telling? maybe the prose is beautiful - what makes it so? sentence structure? unconventional use of grammar and punctuation? elegant, sophisticated vocabulary? or maybe the dialogue is sharp and human so conversation flows naturally. is the story paced carefully? does the author linger more in certain moments?

the same exercise is useful for what ISN'T working.

if your attention is drifting, what's making it drift?

purple prose? clumsy prose?

does the narration drag?

do the characters feel stagnant, and why?

plot doesn't make any sense?

maybe this sounds obvious, but imo it's a crucial piece of the advice that i just don't see as much because people tend to focus on volume of works consumed/created. the reflection and analysis is what makes that volume useful, otherwise you're just churning through content. the question should always be why, why, why. why did that work, why didn't it work, why did i like this, why does it suck. then proceed to: if i were doing this, how could i make it work?

advice 2: don't forget that all the words you need already exist.

this is more subjective advice. this is something that works for me personally. so ymmv. have you ever tried magnet poetry? you should try magnet poetry.

i always see writing as kind of a puzzle. if i have an idea in my head, the idea exists. the job is actually a translation exercise: how do i express the thing in my head as a thing other people can see? in this way it's like visual art, but it's also not like visual art at all. in visual art you choose where all the lines and colours go, completely freely. any line you draw is a brand new line.

in language, all your parts already exist. all the words already exist. (you can make new ones if you want but that's a whole different thing.) you are plucking symbols out of a collective understanding. it is like lego. all you are doing is selecting the most effective pieces and placing them in order. so for me, i am simply trying to find the 'right' words to fit each context as best as possible. it becomes a game of arrangement, which determines your expression.

then syntax and punctuation become your rhythm, which is how you determine flow. sentence length, word length, whether you omit words or use more, whether you want to be a bit unconventional. character also plays into this - i am not writing an advice 3 because i am getting self conscious but advice 3 would have been consistency of voice.

so i would prioritise vocabulary and timing. what are you trying to say (which words do you pick) and how do you want the reader to experience your words, how do you want the words to feel and sound (how will you pace your sentences)? remembering that all the parts are already there. it is the world's biggest game of magnet poetry.

advice 3 which doesn't exist: keep your voice consistent.

this advice doesn't exist. im not writing this i got embarrassed and stopped at 2. but if i did write this it would say, remember who you are. (remember who is writing your story. are you a character or are you god? remember how much you know. remember which feelings you have access to.)

[delilahsturniolo]

𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓’𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 — 𝒄.𝒔 ᥫ᭡⋆˚࿔

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 . . . 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 💌

in which . . . y/n and chris attend boston university, the both of you are always competing and bickering with each other academically. one day, chris suddenly asks you to help him make his ex jealous. the only problem is, you can’t stand each other. what happens when chris can no longer keep his true feelings about you a secret?

warnings . . . none?

written by @delilahsturniolo . do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

one, two, three

the deal had been going on for about 2 weeks now. throughout the days, you and chris were being as touchy and flirty as you could around victoria. even your classmates were highly suspicious of the two of you, the sudden switch up was strange to them. if you were being completely honest, you didn’t really mind having chris around anymore.

as of right now, you and chris sat in the corner of the library. he was helping you study for a calculus exam you had to take, and so far you were doing great. you already saw a huge improvement in your grades, since chris had been helping you everyday. if it wasn’t for him, you be miserably failing right now.

you watched as chris wrote example equations for you to see on a scrap piece of paper. he put his pencil down and lifted his head to look at you. “you’re doin’ really well, y’know. this isn’t an easy topic.” chris smiled at you, making you blush slightly. “thank you for helping me, chris. it means a lot.” you replied.

“well…i kinda have to. we made a deal.” chris snickered, noticing how flustered you looked. “are you blushing?” he teased, you shook your head and put it into your hands. “i’m not!” your giggles were muffled, chris playfully rolled his eyes. you both went quiet, just sitting in a comforting silence together. that was, until chris began to speak.

“hey uh—i’m sorry about the party, by the way.” chris suddenly spoke, making you lift your head up from your hands and give him a puzzled look. “what’re you sorry for?” you asked him, chris sighed. “i’m sorry about victoria. i shouldn’t have let her do that to you, i should’ve stopped her. it wasn’t right.” chris confessed, making your heart sink.

“chris, you don’t need to apologize. it wasn’t your fault at all.” you quickly reassured chris, he ran a hand through his hair before replying. “yeah, i guess…” was all chris could manage to say. you could tell he wanted to say more, it was obvious he had deep feelings about the situation. he was feeling something he couldn’t tell you, his expression was hard to read.

suddenly, the bell rang. you and chris gathered your things and began heading off to class, since you both had your next period together. the two of you walked in and headed over to your designated seats. you waved to stacy and sat next to her, chris sat a few rows ahead of you. the professor got up from his desk and began to clear his throat.

“good morning, class! today we have something special to do. we have a project about what we have been working on in class, this will be a group effort, i will be assigning the groups.” the professor explained, you and stacy exchanged a look, hoping you both ended up together.

the professor began to announce the groups. “anna, hailey, and alex…gigi and ben…” he began. you just hoped you ended up with a good group, you needed this project to be picture perfect. “stacy and jasmine…y/n, victoria, and chris…” the professor announced.

wait, what!?

stacy looked at you with her eyes widened. no no no…this couldn’t be happening, this just couldn’t be true. you felt your heart nearly jump out of your chest, there was absolutely no way you were going to work with chris and victoria at the same time. you knew chris probably didn’t mind…but you were in a state of panic, and shock. you hadn’t even interacted with victoria since the party.

this project was about to go south.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

a/n✉️: sorry about the veryyyy short chapter…but things are getting angstyyyy!!

[trainsinanime]

This is such a weird ask to me, because this doesn’t seem like a mystery. The purpose of an empty account with only bookmarks is probably to read stories and have bookmarks, right? It’s fairly obvious why people, especially non-writers, would want to have such an account. I’ve also seen a number of Tumblr posts specifically encouraging people to make Ao3 accounts for reading only.

As for AI scraping: No, that doesn’t have anything to do with that. If an AI company (or other entity) wants to steal your writing, all they need to do is open the page. That only requires an account for the very small number of stories that are restricted to logged in users. It never requires a bookmark. Once they’re at the point where they can e.g. copy and paste the story, they’re already through. Scraping isn’t magic, it’s just doing the things a human user would do automatically.

This is a typical case of voodoo computer security, like the people who think they’ll get hacked on Tumblr if they don’t block all the spam bots. There is no connection there.

I’m sure there are some accounts on Ao3 created by AI companies. I am also sure that they have exactly zero bookmarks, not have they ever left any kudos, or done anything else that makes them visible, because they don’t have to.

all these users on AO3 with thousands of favorites but no icon images or bios have got to be bots right? this is how the AI is scrapping AO3 for content to steal, I'm sure

--

[dragqueenstarscream]

In relation to your Starop Library au post:

-Starscream suddenly starts going to the library more often, asking for assistance finding books all the way at the other end of the library despite already knowing where they are whenever Optimus is on staff.

-Star starts sitting near Optimus' desk, occasionally staring at him and taking care of his appearance even more than usual. (He'll deny it to the end of the Earth though)

-In some places (*cough cough* Amarica *cough cough*) the average salary of a librarian can be pretty low compared to living costs so if Starscream finds out Optimus has trouble with living costs he mysteriously gets a raise.

-Whenever Op has trouble finding someplace in the city due to being from the country, Starscream would immediately assist him. Trying to find a good coffee shop or bookstore? Need a ride home since it's dark outside? He'll jump at the opportunity to be near Optimus longer, although he'll probably act annoyed about it.

-If Optimus is in collage on scholarship (or highschool based on how old they are) and needs an expensive textbook(s), brand new copies of them are mysteriously donated the the library by an anonymous source, or Star would let him borrow his if he had it.

Sorry if these are out of character, I just like sharing my StarOp brainrot

-💌 anon

see you get it!! you see the vision!!

as for the out of character worry, remember that, in some iterations, starscream was actually a very different person before the main war happens, like in skybound. since this is an au where nothing goes horribly horribly wrong and nobody dies, i think we can play with that possibility here. anyway!

- he would. he absolutely would. he'll ask for the same book several times even when he should know where it is by now. he thinks he's so sly, but optimus caught onto what starscream was doing a while ago. he just plays along because he thinks it's cute.

- i could definitely see starscream switching his usual study sessions from his dorm to the library so he can be near optimus. it's no coincidence that he also wears nicer outfits and fixes up his hair on his study days. maybe he'll throw on some jewelry if he's feeling especially fancy.

- i imagine in this au, optimus is working at the library to help with paying tuition while the rest of his money goes to food and rent. starscream comes from a family rich enough to afford the full ride, so he's a little shocked. cue a "mysterious donor" paying rent for optimus and his roommates. i wonder who that could be!

- starscream knows a good opportunity when he sees one. if optimus is looking for a nice place to treat himself with his christmas bonus, starscream has a recommendation. new movie out that optimus wants to see? starscream knows the best theater and can pay for the best seats. optimus needs a ride back to his apartment because his pickup truck is in the shop? starscream drives him in his rolls royce. he acts annoyed, but really he's just emotionally constipated.

- college textbooks are ridiculously expensive, so if optimus is having trouble affording the pricey physics textbooks he needs... oh, wow! someone donated a bunch of physics textbooks to the library! how kind! definitely without any ulterior motives of any sort!

also, what would their names be in this au? i imagine optimus' would be orson ryan pax, but he always goes by ryan or orion because he sees orson as an old man's name. what about starscream? something fancy and british probably

[sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan]

Introducing…

Ex!BSF/BF!Matt x Reader

Warnings/Contents: fluff, mentions of characters being hurt – physically, mentally, & emotionally, internet trolls, break up, ANGST !

Note: This is an original idea of mine. Please inbox or personal message me if you'd like to use any of these characters as 'inspiration' of some sort !

(If any of this seems familiar, like you've already read it before – you most likely have! I took bits and pieces of a previously written work called 'Silently Suffering' and either copied it or edited it to fit the background information of this introduction)

To read more about this au, click here !

I do NOT give permission for my work(s) to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded to ANY site !

Want more like this? Visit my masterlist !

Taglist: @forgottxen @ariastur9z @watercolorskyy @daniel-is-bae

Comment, personal message, or ask via my inbox to be added to my taglist !

Reblogs are always appreciated, but never needed :)

The divider is by a random Pinterest creator

Enjoy 💜💙🧡 ☆ :) $

How It All Started

Reader and the triplets all grew up together in Somerville, Massachusetts – going to the same school and everything.

One day while at recess, little kindergartner Reader was simply swinging on the playground's swing, minding her own business.

Meanwhile, the triplets were kicking and passing around a soccer ball – their mom had wanted to sign them up for soccer that evening.

All of a sudden, Nick made a bad pass to Chris. The ball went flying – straight into the back of Reader's head.

She looked around the playground, trying to find the reason for her now throbbing head. She picked up the ball and marched over to them, angrily ready to tell them off.

Her anger faltered, confusion glazed over her expression just slightly. It appeared as if she were seeing triple. Three same faced, slightly freckled dirty-blonde boys stood in a row, eyeing her sheepishly.

She tossed the ball onto the ground as she spoke sassily, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?” One of the boys at the end spoke up, "It was an accident, we swear!"

She had rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with her foot, tapping the mulch angrily. “Well, I expect an apology because that hurt!” Her eyes had drifted towards the boy standing in the middle.

His eyes stared back at her with this look of intensity in them that caused her stomach to churn with butterflies. "I'm sorry about that. Our brother, Nick, isn't very athletic like Chris and I,” the boy had said, pointing to his brother on one side, then at his other before holding his hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Matt, by the way. And yes, before you ask, we are triplets,” she couldn't help but laugh at his words. She was sure they were constantly getting asked that.

She took his hand in hers, shaking up and down once before quickly letting go. His hand was warm, presumably from working up a sweat playing soccer. Hers were clammy too from gripping the handles of the swing. “Wanna play with us?” Nick had offered.

She quickly agreed, kicking and passing the ball around with the three brothers. From then on, the four of them remained close. Like a tight-knit group of friends.

How They Got Together

Throughout elementary and middle school, they all remained good friends. That was until around sixth or seventh grade, when Reader caught feelings for Matt.

Sure, he was attractive and pretty to the eyes, but that wasn't what drew her near to him. It was the kindness of his heart. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about one of his interests. It was his smile. The one that made her heart absolutely melt anytime she saw it.

She always kept her feelings to herself. Not wanting to ruin the friendship between her and him. Or even mess up the dynamic between her and his brothers.

But anyone could see it. The way she stared at him, like he was the only person in the room. Even if it was crowded, her eyes always looked for him.

When freshman year of high school started for the four of them, that's when it all changed. Matt had finally noticed her – in more than a friendly way.

It was soccer season again. Matt and Chris never dropped the sport they grew to love in kindergarten. Nick and Reader did though. They were in the photography club together. The only two.

Because Nick was Chris and Matt's triplet, he had to go to their games anyway. So he thought, 'why not take photos of the team for the school's yearbook?'

Of course, being the only other person in the club, as well as being best friends with the boys, Reader had decided to tag along to assist with the photos.

The rain was pouring down hard during a particularly close match. Matt was a striker along with Chris. He was about to score, a good strong pass from a midfielder aiming straight towards him.

Until he slipped. He ended up landing oddly on his ankle. Reader ran onto the field, ignoring the protests of the people around her or the way that the rain was beating down onto her skin. All she cared about was making sure Matt was okay.

When she got to him, he was lying on the ground, groaning out in pain. She dropped to her knees, gently placing his head in her lap. She held his cheeks as she looked down at him with worry.

Matt smiled up at her, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. Reader couldn't tell though. It was raining too harshly. His hand weakly reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, staring into her eyes lovingly.

That's when it happened. Matt had leaned up, connecting their lips in a soft, tender kiss. He tried putting all his emotions into it. Reader was shocked at first, and did not kiss him back. His confidence faltered – 'had I been reading this wrong the entire time?' – so he tried pulling away.

Only to be met with her lips right back on his. Her pent-up emotions – the frustration of having to hold back how she truly felt for so long, the love and desire to be his, the longing of wanting, needing to be his, all of it – seeped into the second kiss they shared.

When they pulled away, they were breathless and smiling. MaryLou and Jimmy had rushed onto the field with Nick following closely behind. Chris was too busy goofing off with his teammates, telling them all about how he just knew Matt and Reader would be together.

Where It All Went Wrong

When the triplets had started their group socials, Reader had created her own. About the same time that the boys were going viral, so was Reader. They were featured on each other's platforms quite often in the early parts of their careers.

They each told the viewers from the beginning – Matt and Reader were together. They loved each other dearly.

When the boys moved to LA, so did Reader. Matt and his brothers bought their house and had a manager oversee everything, while Reader maintained her things by herself.

Reader had an apartment not far from the Sturniolo's new home. A five-minute drive – if that. It was within walking distance. Which Matt and Reader both enjoyed and took full advantage of.

The first few months with the four of them in Los Angeles were going well. They were thriving, living their life exactly how they had always dreamed.

Until, five months into their new lives in LA, things went downhill. Fast. Madi, their manager's daughter, had started to receive extreme hate from the triplet's fanbase. As was Reader.

Reader couldn't take it anymore. So she broke up with him. She broke up with Matt, much in the same way she got together with him.

It was a rainy day out, the sky a dark, sad, shade of gray that fit the mood of the Sturniolo Triplet's home quite well. Reader had told Matt that she couldn't – wouldn't – handle all of this negativity from his fans any longer.

Matt's reaction was heartbreaking. He was upset, and understandably so. The love of his life wanted to walk away. Wanted to call it quits. He couldn't deal. His eyes showed the pain he was feeling. The way he was hurting.

As Reader walked out the door for the last time, Matt broke down. She didn't spare him a final glance like he'd hoped. She was done. Done with the relentless hate that she was receiving, simply for loving and being Matt's partner.

They were both broken. Both hurt. Every social media post, every video felt empty without the other by their side. Not only had Reader and Matt lost each other romantically, they had also lost each other in a friendly way too.

Reader didn't even talk to Nick or Chris anymore either. All communication, all ties leading to the triplets, had been cut off. Permanently.

What Are They Doing Now?

It's been three months. Three painful months of not having the other by their side. Three excruciating months of having to act like they are fine. Like their worlds weren't crumbling to the ground. Neither Matt nor Reader was okay.

They tried to hide it. Tried to pretend that they were fine. That there was no hurt. That there was no anguish. But that's a lie. Not only are they lying to themselves, but they are lying to those around them as well.

Reader and Matt made other friends in LA. Other influencers and people besides each other. Reader had these other friends besides the Sturniolo's. But it wasn't the same. The connection wasn't the same.

Reader missed Nick's sass. Reader missed the way he wouldn't be afraid to call someone out about something, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the way they were able to tell each other anything. Like how in high school, Reader was one of the first people Nick came out to – even before his own brothers.

Reader missed Chris's goofy personality. Reader missed the way he was always able to make her laugh, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the fact that he was the first person to support the relationship between her and Matt. Like the time Matt took Reader to New York just a month before they broke up. It was just the two of them. Chris immediately supported the idea.

Most of all, though, Reader missed Matt. Reader missed everything about Matt. From the way that his hair fell into his eyes when it needed to be cut to the way that he drank his coffee. She missed it all. Everything. Every detail, big and small. She missed it. She missed him.

The boys had missed her too, but it was Matt who sat up in his room at late hours of the night. Wondering where he went wrong. Wondering what he could've done differently to make her stay. Wondering who exactly was to blame for their separation. Wondering when these intense feelings of hurt and pain would end. Wondering why the world – specifically the Internet – had to be so cruel to push away the love of his life. Wondering how he could possibly fix it, possibly erase the damage.

It was frustrating. Watching the other pretend on a screen for their millions of fans watching. Watching the other pretend that everything was fine. Watching but not talking. Watching but not touching. Watching but not holding. It was frustrating.

There was no going back. Not attempting to make up for the lost time from the past three months. The days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds – all this time that had passed. None of it would be taken back. None of the wreckage – from their hearts, their minds, or even their souls – would ever be mended.

People could tell. People could see. People could notice. People were aware of just how miserable Reader and Matt truly were. But neither ever said a word. Neither ever told anyone how they were truly feeling inside. Inside their minds. Inside their hearts. Inside their souls.

[typicalopposite]

Heartache

Chapter Two (Read Chapter One HERE)

Pairing: BuckTommy - JonahTommy(past)

Rated: M

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abusive relationship ; manipulation ; emotional trauma ; dom/sub undertone ; forced heart conditions ; attempted MCD (no actual MCD) ; this one gets very dark

One. 

There is one chair in the room. Everything starts there.

Two.

There are two trash cans. One for trash… one for the bandages, and gloves, and medicine bottles, and syringes.

Three. 

There are three medications placed on the bedside table: Sertraline, for his anxiety, Tylenol for his headache afterwards, and propofol. 

Four. 

There are four people on Tommy's phone to contact if it ever goes wrong… His father, although he likely won’t answer. His Nonna, for a copy of his advanced directive, and life insurance policies. His captain, to tell him the news. Howie, because other than Jonah… he is the closest thing Tommy has to a friend.

Five. 

There are five things Tommy thinks about during their role plays… They keep him tethered to reality as his body literally slips free from it. His mom swinging with him on their porch swing. His last day in the army. His first day back in the air. His neighbors cat that hops balconies and sits with him while he recuperates afterwards. His life before he met Jonah… 

Calm, peaceful… healthy… lonely. Who would have thought someone would miss being lonely. 

Sometimes Jonah makes him feel lonely even when he’s right there with him. Sometimes Jonah gets distant and cruel. Pokes sharp painful fingers into the fragile exterior that is meant to be there for protection, but Tommy’s is weak and flawed and easily penetrable. 

Jonah knows every insecurity, every self doubt, every regret and mistake and failure. He can take Tommy on his best days and play him like a fiddle until he’s reduced to a sniffling squabbling mess and then he draws him in close and kisses away the tears; tells him he cares about him and most importantly he wants him… even though no one else ever will. So Tommy should be thankful. Tommy should be willing to do anything to repay such a selfless act of generosity. 

Absolutely anything.

And so, for two years, Tommy did anything… and everything… Jonah asked of him. He never complained. No matter how scared he felt everytime Jonah came home with that look in his eye… knowing he once again had that scratch that he needed to itch… that need he needed to fill— he needed Tommy to fill. For two years Tommy allowed himself to fill it. To be Jonah’s assistant, of sorts; his plaything, of sorts; his… experiment… of sorts. 

Two years of letting Jonah play God.

Until it all— almost— went wrong. 

“N- No more…” Tommy had said, once his heart stopped pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest. He’d wanted to call an ambulance… or at least go in to get checked out. Jonah convinced him not to. 

“You want to lose your job? A heart attack? At thirty six? They’ll clip your wings so quickly…” Jonah glared at him, like he dared him to try to push back with logic— like the fact it took him shocking Tommy four times to get his heart beating again. Jonah eventually lets out an over dramatic sigh. “I mean if you’re that worried…” he said, putting on a pitiful pout. “If you think I know that little… and didn’t do a good job here… then fine. Here…” Tommy was already prepared to take it all back when his cell phone was slung directly at his face; he had no time to stop it or move before it smacked him right in the mouth  “Call them.”

Tommy lifts a hand to his face, feels the sting of what he knows is a cut on his trembling bottom lip. “I- I won’t call…”

“No. Call them, Tommy. They can take better care of you… right? Right?!” 

“N- No.” 

“But you’re scared?” He crossed the room back to their bed, leaned down so he was right in Tommy’s face; Tommy could see his jaw clench, his nose flare… He is nearly half Tommy’s size. It would be so easy… so easy… to fight him off. Instead Tommy cowers as he shakes his head. “You think I’m not good at my job?” Another shake of his head. “You think I can’t save you?” 

“I know you can…” Tommy cried— it made him sick how he cried… “You are amazing, and s- so skilled… you always take the best care of me… You- You’re my hero, Jonah…” The words— the lies— flow so easily because he’s trying to diffuse Jonah’s anger before it bubbles up too high. “It’s me, baby… I- I’m too weak…” and it’s true wasn’t it… he was so weak. So pathetic. “I just don't think I— m- my heart… can handle it anymore. I’m so sorry…” 

He reached out and blindly grabbed Jonah's hand, keeping their eyes locked together as he brought it to his lips. Jonah moved the hand to his cheek, running his thumb roughly over the cut on Tommy’s lip. “I forgive you…” he said and kissed Tommy. Pushing him back down on the bed and climbing on top of him. Tommy went without a fight. 

A month passed and Tommy waited, anxiously expecting each time he saw Jonah to be faced with that look again… that itch… that need… but it never came. Tommy thought maybe he was really free of their little game. 

Then the dispatch fire happened. 

Tommy sat on their couch and watched the news coverage as the fire raged on, the firefighters on scene working effortlessly to put it out. They announced Captain Bobby Nash was still inside. He mindlessly rubbed a hand over his chest as he stared at the screen and waited for each update. Finally they said Bobby was safe. Tommy sighed in relief. The reporter gave praise to the 118– Tommy couldn’t help the proud smile for his old team as the camera panned over to them standing united as they exited the building— and the 133… 

And Tommy couldn’t help the sinking feeling of knowing Jonah was on such an intense call. 

He spotted him on the TV, standing next to one of the victims, smiling down at her as they talked, and he dreaded the thought of Jonah coming home the next morning to tell him all about it. He turned the TV off, pulled out his phone and texted Howie, asked him to send updates on Bobby, and praised them for their work at the fire. He didn’t call, nor did he text Jonah. He just went to bed. 

The next morning he woke up to a return text from Howie. Bobby was going to be fine, so was his step daughter. Again Tommy sighed in relief. Then he read the rest of the text and his heart began to race: we lost one though. One of the dispatchers went into cardiac arrest on the ambulance ride in. Firefighter Greenway did his best but he couldn’t save her. She was DOA. 

Tommy ignored the other text in his phone from Jonah saying he was almost home. He ignored the key in the lock turning  over… and the door pushing open. He ignored the initial call of his name as Jonah stepped inside. He already knew what was coming next.  

Except it didn’t. 

Jonah was a little stoic as he crossed the apartment to their room, pulling Tommy into his arms and kissing him. He asked if he heard about the fire, and Tommy lied and said he hadn’t. He said he wasn’t feeling too good and went to bed early; slept in late. Jonah actually seemed concerned. He said he would order them some breakfast, and they could just spend the rest of the morning in bed. 

What was Tommy going to do, not take such an extremely rare offer?

He held Jonah after they ate; pulled him up against his chest, let him listen to the beat of his heart like he knew Jonah liked to do, and tried to push asking about the fire to the very last second. But after a few random dramatized sighs from his boyfriend, Tommy finally asked. “Is everything okay?” 

There was a long pause. “I lost her,” Jonah finally said. Tommy felt like he’d been dunked in ice water, he shifted his body so Jonah’s head was no longer on his chest— so he could see him better (so he couldn’t hear his heart pick up speed). 

“O- Oh… b- baby I’m so sorry.” 

Jonah shook his head, brows pulled tightly together. “I just— it doesn’t make sense… I can’t believe I couldn’t save her…” 

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Tommy said.

Jonah jerked his head side to side. “No. No, I should have saved her. It should have been fine.” He all but leaps out of the bed, storming out of the room. Tommy startled at the slam of their bedroom door. He thought, maybe he should just let him cool off… alone. A glass shattered in the kitchen, and he thought, instead, that maybe he should attempt to calm him down. 

He grabbed the broom and dustpan out of the hall closet first, and went straight to cleaning up the glass as Jonah paced the kitchen. He only just got all the shards up when he heard the contents on the counter table behind him get shoved off. It crashed to the floor, more glass breaking— the glass cake tray his Nonna gave him, with the entirety of a cake he’d bought himself the day before and hadn’t yet tried… he desperately tried to not react to the loss of either— another mess for Tommy to clean up; he went straight to it. 

“I guess I really am just a piss poor paramedic,” Jonah said bitterly, his voice rising from a growl to a scream. “Can’t save anyone. Why am I even doing this fucking job?!” 

Maybe it was because Tommy did want anything else broken… Maybe it was because he didn’t want their neighbors to hear the screaming and call the cops… Maybe it was because he was so conditioned to please… 

He dropped the broom. 

Clutched his chest.

And took in a sharp breath. 

“J- Jonah…” Tommy said, looking up at him. “P- Please… Help…” It took less than a second for Jonah to catch on. Then he was kneeling at Tommy’s side, lifting Tommy’s face to look at him. There’s a glint in his eye, a flicker of something dark… and Tommy should be scared but instead he leans into the touch. In that moment Jonah’s full attention, devotion, love even (maybe), was on Tommy; in that moment it was really Tommy helping Jonah… because he just loved him so much— too much. “I need you… I’m scared.” 

Oh, was he scared…

Jonah fed off of it. It was like a switch flipped over and he went full character: assuring Tommy he was in the best hands, helping him to his feet, leading him to their room… Jonah gently pushed him down to sit on the chair. Tommy put himself into autopilot while Jonah got him ready. 

He checked Tommy’s vitals. “BP is good… heart rate is accelerating… you need to relax, Tommy…” 

Tommy slowly nodded. And begins taking deep breaths. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

“There you go… That’s better…” Jonah smiled at him, and leaned down to kiss Tommy’s forehead. It should be comforting; it’s anything but comforting. “Okay go lie down… I’ll get everything set up.”

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

Jonah pulled on his sterile gloves— Tommy only knew because he had to pop them to his wrist every time… he couldn’t actually watch him because of what he knew came next. Jonah went into his little medical bag and pulled out the Tylenol… and the propofol. He sat them on the table beside where Tommy kept his anxiety medication. Then he grabbed one of the syringes— slowly opening the sealed packaging and Tommy focused on any other sound of the paper peeling apart in the room to try to drown it out— then he drew up the propofol.

He tied the rubber band around Tommy’s bicep, waiting until his veins popped out nicely. “Big pinch,” he said and gripped Tommy’s wrist as he brought the needle to the vein. 

“Wait…” Tommy gasped, trying to calm his breathing— trying to blink back against the rush of tears. “C- Can you hold my hand?” He asked. 

Jonah looked at him and a flash of disappointment crossed his face before he, too, broke character. “Now Tommy… that would be a little too unprofessional. Don’t you think?”

Tommy swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat and nodded. “Y- Yeah. You’re right. S- Sorry…” He looked back to the ceiling fan spinning above him, and refocused on his breathing. The needle pressed into the vein, the medicine burned as it entered his body. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five cc of propofol. Four minutes to take effect. Three seconds to boot up the defibrillator. Two paddles pressed to his chest. One shock.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

He felt it as it happened. It made him feel sick knowing Jonah could see it as it happened, too. Tommy could feel his eyes, wide and maniacal, locked on him as he waited for Tommy’s breathing to slow and eventually stop. Tommy felt himself dying— felt how this was killing him. Not just in the moment— as it literally killed him— but in general. 

He had flown so far from the person he had aspired to become when he finally came out and embraced who he was. This was not where things were supposed to end up. He hated that version of himself almost as much as the old. He wished he’d never met Jonah… never fallen in love with him… never become so dependent on him…

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five things he always wanted to do: go skydiving, go deep sea fishing, go mountain climbing, go on a cross country road trip, take a walk down the aisle. 

Four places he always wanted to travel: Italy (for Nonna), Paris (for Romance), New York (for Broadway), Alaska (for the Northern Lights), an altar (for love). 

Three words he always wanted to hear: I love you— not just I love what you can do for me. 

Two souls who are meant to be together— but it was never the two together in that room. 

One more time… for Jonah. 

Anything for Jonah. 

His body surged up into an arch from the shock. Tommy collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, his heart pounding as it attempted to re-regulate itself. Jonah stared at him with this strange mix of awe and pity. “Shh…” he shushed softly, reaching out to wipe away tears as they fell down Tommy’s cheeks. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I saved you.” Tommy blinked, eyes feeling heavy. He grabbed on to Jonah’s wrist, clinging to it for some sense of comfort. “You did so well. You can rest now.” The hand on his cheek gently swiped over his eyes, closing them. 

When he woke up, Jonah was there, like always. His mood was better, like always. His eyes were soft and inviting. His lips found their way to Tommy’s… kissing him deeply— passionately… hungrily. Tommy laid there and played along knowing this was only another part of the game; thinking, still, if he tried hard enough to believe it… it was almost like they were just making love. 

*

His phone ringing woke him up. 

Recovery this time took longer than his usual couple days… He had to call in sick to work… His captain was annoyed but understanding; Tommy rarely missed work, if he did it was serious. 

The phone continued to ring, causing his headache to only get worse… and he was still an hour away from being able to take more Tylenol. He groaned and rolled over to grab it, bringing it up to his ear. “H’llo?” 

“Hey Tommy…” Daryl, Jonah’s partner at the 133, said way too loudly into his ear; Tommy had to pull the phone away and put it on speaker. “How are you feeling? JG said you were a little under the weather.” 

Tommy scoffed. “Uh, yeah… what- what’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“About that,” Daryl continued, and the strain in his voice had Tommy up and out of the bed, starting a panicked pacing of their room. “Listen I- I overheard Cap talking to Jonah… something about Wilson and Han from the 118 reporting him… o- over that dispatcher's death, I think. It sounded like they dug up some crap from his past… heavy shit. I don’t know— but the conversation got pretty heated; he left very upset. Thought I’d give you a heads up…” 

Daryl was one of the only people who knew about Tommy and Jonah. Jonah didn’t want the type of friends who came over to your house… he had too much to hide at home. Tommy was enough of a loner… so he never had anyone over either. He had Howie, but he knew Howie was a sore spot for Jonah since Hen took a while warming up to Jonah as Howie’s temporary replacement; and then he was moved off the 118 after he came back. Tommy could read a room enough to know he shouldn’t mention either of them. 

Now they are— are what… out to get him? 

He was rushing Daryl off the phone and scrolling through his contacts for Hen’s name before he even really knew what he was going to say. He didn’t even wait for a hello before he was going off. “What the hell are you digging around Jonah’s life for, Hen! What business is it of yours!”

“What the— what business is it of mine?” Hen repeated back to him, scoffed and added, “what business is any of this of yours!?”

“He’s my boyfriend, so you snooping around trying to find something on him to hurt him is my business,” Tommy blurted out. 

Hen was quiet for a long time. “He's your— he’s hurt people, Tommy,” she said, a new— softer— tone to her voice. 

“That’s a lie… he— he would never!” He promised. He said it was only ever Tommy. It was— It was their thing… “J- Jonah is a… g- good man…” 

Another long pause. “You don’t sound too sure about that,” she said. “Listen… if you’re scared— if you feel like you have to—” 

The sound of a key turning in the lock caught Tommy’s attention. “You need to let this go, Hen,” he said and ended the call. 

The front door slammed open, and Jonah stormed in.

He came straight to the bedroom and stood in the doorway, eyes locked on Tommy. His breathing was heavy and slow… shoulders rising with each inhale, and falling on the exhale. “Get my bag,” he said, flat and emotionless. 

Tommy should have fought, right then. He should have refused. He got up and walked to the closet instead, bringing the medical bag out and back over to the bed. He held it on his lap as Jonah crossed the room to him. Jonah didn't pick it up, just opened it where it sat on Tommy’s legs and began taking bottles of propofol out, IV tubing, syringes. 

“You worked with them,” he said after a while. Tommy lifted his eyes slowly up to meet Jonah’s. “With Hen… and Chimney. You still call him Howie right? He’s your friend…” 

Tommy quickly shook his head. “I- I would hardly call us—”

“Do you agree with them, Tommy?” Jonah said, and leaned down close to Tommy’s face. “Do you think I’m a horrible person, too?” 

“No!”

“Do you think I hurt those people?” 

“Of- Of course not…” 

“You know I had it under control.” 

“Ye— wait…” Tommy searched Jonah’s eyes, waiting for some explanation he knew wouldn’t come. Jonah didn’t blink. Hen was right… and maybe— maybe Tommy had thought that all along. But thinking and knowing are so vastly different in moments like these. “Jonah… you— you didn’t…” Jonah’s brow furrowed; Tommy chose his words carefully. “You didn’t m- mean to hurt them, I’m sure…” Jonah doesn’t react… “They— They were just… weak. You did your job… you would have saved them had they been stronger.” 

“Exactly. They were just—”

“M- Mistakes?”

Jonah smiled; something so maniacal and evil shouldn’t have been a comfort… but he seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders, so Tommy did as well. “Mistakes… that’s it. They were mistakes.” He began to draw up doses of the propofol. One syringe after another. “Not even my fault, really… just weak people who didn’t want— no didn’t deserve to be saved. Now I’ll just have to show them what I’m capable of… then they will see…”

“Show who?” 

“Hen and Chimney,” Jonah reiterated with a grin. “I’ll show them both just how good I am at what I do.”

“H- How…” the question rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. Jonah didn’t respond, just laid everything back in the back and walked to the closet for the defibrillator. “Jo- Jonah… w- what are you going to do…”

Jonah smiled, reached up and cupped Tommy’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed him. “I’m going to teach them a lesson, baby.” Tommy felt his eyes widen, a choked off sound escaping him as he shook his head. “It’ll be fine. They have to learn.” 

“Jonah… please… don’t,” he begged, would beg on his knees if he had to. He couldn’t let Jonah hurt anyone else. He decided to be brave just a fraction of a second too late and felt a sharp pinch in his neck just as he was about to lunge at him. 

He fell over on the bed, watching Jonah pull out his phone. “Heard you were talking about me,” he said.

Tommy barely heard Hen’s voice respond before he passed out. When he opened his eyes again the room was dark. Part of him thought maybe— just maybe— Jonah was gone. He tried to sit up and felt dizzy… 

“Easy now…” he heard Jonah’s voice cut through the darkness. “You know better than to try to move around so quickly.” 

“Mmhmm…” Tommy hummed. 

He watched the silhouette of Jonah walk around the bed, sit down beside him; he took his hand and held it like one would a stranger. “I really thought you were the one, Tommy…” he said. “I thought you understood me. I thought you cared…” 

“I- I do… care,” Tommy said, sluggishly. 

The silhouette shook his head. “No… no you don’t. I’m really sorry, baby… but I have to get going. Things to do; old friends to visit.”

“J’nah… p- please…” Tommy tried once more. He felt the familiar sting of medicine entering in his vein, only then registering the needle that had been in it. He felt Jonah’s lips press to his in a chaste, emotionless, kiss. He felt the rise of the mattress as Jonah got up and walked out. 

Four minutes. 

Jonah said it took four minutes before the flatline. He waited until he heard the front door click shut and he rolled off the bed, falling heavily to the floor. His adrenaline spiked… that was a good thing… it would keep him alert longer. He rolled over towards the bed, sticking his arm under it and feeling around until his fingers brushed over the box. A panic induced purchase really… he’s glad he made it now— he’s knows Jonah took his with him. 

Three minutes. 

He hadn’t even opened it yet. Why hadn’t he ever opened it?! His fingers trembled clumsily as he tore the box apart and freed the equipment inside— a shiny, brand new, defibrillator. It felt like some kind of sick Christmas present… He struggled against his fading consciousness to get it set up… nearly busted his head as he toppled over to plug it in… he pulled himself back up with the bedside table and that’s when he saw his phone was still there where he left it after the call to Hen. 

Two minutes.

He managed to do it in tandem; turn on the machine with one hand, call 9-1-1 with the other. “9-1-1 what’s the address of your location?” The dispatcher asked the question, then waited for Tommy’s response. Tommy peeled the first pad off, and carefully slid it under his shirt, sticking it to his left side. “Hello? 9-1-1… what is the address of your location?” 

One minute.

1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon Street Apartment G!

“I- I’m actually not sure where he’s going,” Tommy said as he put the second pad on the right side of his chest. He turned the defibrillator on, holding the phone close to his mouth; his finger lingered over the button… he didn’t have much time to waste but— “But his name is Jonah… Green- Greenway. He drives a 2021 white Nissan Altima. License plate seven-delta… hotel-li-li-lima… nine… six… sev—” 

He pressed the button and everything went dark. 

“Sir. Sir, do you hear me?” 

He had read… somewhere… that shocking your heart while still conscious felt like getting kicked in the chest by a horse. 

Tommy fluttered his eyes, tried to open them against the blindingly bright light of the— the ambulance. He was in an ambulance. 

“Alright! We got him back!” 

Tommy took a deep breath through the oxygen mask over his face. Then another. Then another. 

“That’s it, sir… in and out. Nice and slow. You’re going to be just fine… you’re safe now.”

Was he though? Was Hen? Was Howie?

He got his answer in the shape of the former— donning a matching hospital gown to his— sneaking in his room many hours later. 

He was still barely conscious… having faded in and out multiple times. The only people to enter his room since his arrival had been doctors or nurses— none paying him much attention as he incoherently asked about Jonah and if he’d been caught— that’s the price you pay being a loner, he supposed. Hen stopped in his doorway, waiting until he opened his eyes and looked at her to enter. 

“Hey…” she said with a smile, soft and friendly— neither things he deserved. “How are you feeling?” 

Tommy waited for the other shoe to drop. For rage or some snarky comment… an I told you so. It didn’t come. “Like I was kicked in the chest by a horse…” he finally replied, letting his head loll towards her. “Are you— you and Howie…” 

“We’re fine.”

“Jonah?” 

“Going to prison… for a very long time.” 

Tommy sighed, and nodded. “Good,” he said. That was good— something good to come from… all this. “How- How did you know I was here?” 

“Karen called the cops when I called to warn her Jonah was up to something…” Hen explained, sitting down on the foot of Tommy’s bed. “They told her somebody had already called in, and there were already units out looking for him. I had Athena look into it. She said the person who called was found unconscious and admitted here… I pieced the rest together and asked the hospital if they had a Thomas Kinard.” 

She reached for Tommy’s hand and he flinched, pulling it away. “I- I’m so- so sorry, Hen… I- I should’ve…”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. We are all victims here.” She reached for his hand again and took it this time. “Some… a lot longer than others, I’m sure.” 

She gave him a knowing look and he couldn't help but laugh… What else was there to do? “You have no idea…” he said tiredly.

*

Evan is quiet. 

Tommy is… on edge— although he’s doing his best to be patient. He just dumped a lot of trauma, he would not be surprised if Buck turns and runs out the door, never to look back. 

“So you— you told Hen everything?”

“Everything I just told you, yeah…” 

Evan nods. He’s still holding Tommy’s hand… that’s a good sign, Tommy hopes. “And— And Athena? You— you told her, too?”

Tommy shakes his head. “She just asked around about the anonymous caller for Hen. She never knew it was me. I did talk to the cops who found me, though. But…” he sighs… this is the part he regrets the most. “I asked to be left anonymous. I— I didn’t know Jonah was doing this to other people… there was nothing that me testifying would add to the case, unless I wanted to press charges.” He breaks away from Evan’s eyes. “And I— I didn’t…” 

“Tommy,” Evan gasps in disbelief. Here it comes, Tommy thinks. “Why- Why wouldn’t you… after— after everything he did to—” 

“I know…” Tommy interjects, hanging his head. “He hurt Howie and Hen… and so— so many other people…”

“And you!” Evan all but shouts. “Tommy he— he hurt you too… so many times… and he— he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.” 

That… was not what Tommy expected Evan to be upset about. He isn’t exactly sure how to respond to it. “He’s going to prison for life, Evan…” he says, as a start. “He didn’t get away.”

“That’s— that’s not good enough.” Evan shakes his head using his hold on Tommy’s hand to pull him into his arms. 

Tommy is held tight to Evan’s chest and he feels— he feels many things, actually. Mostly he feels safe. Which is something he’s never really felt in a relationship. Safe to be himself. Safe to be vulnerable. “I’m sorry…” he says, trying to blink back tears. He thinks he’s cried enough in just this one day for his entire lifetime, and the next. “Jonah… he— he was all I had… I just— I- I couldn’t…and I know I should have but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry…”  

“H- Hey…” Evan gently pushes him back, then gently cups his face. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be sorry… I don’t blame you for wanting to bury those memories. I’ll— I’ll talk to Athena; maybe we can fight this summons.” 

If only it could be that easy…

Even after Tommy re-explains his reasoning for not wanting to get on the stand in front of Jonah… the judge still decides she’ll allow it. “I’m so sorry,” Athena says somberly, and Evan’s hold around Tommy’s waist tightens. He presses a kiss to Tommy’s cheek. 

They meet with the DA, discuss what he should expect, and Tommy schedules a session with Frank— recurring sessions, actually. 

He knew this would come back into the light one day. He should have been prepared. He’d gotten too cozy with his life, that was his first mistake…

“Tommy there’s a call for you in Cap's office,” Lucy says, jogging up to where Tommy is under the hood of one of Harbor’s engines. 

“For me?” Tommy grabs a rag and wipes the grease off his hands, so he can run his fingers through the loose curls falling down onto his forehead. “Who is it?” 

Lucy shrugs. “He didn’t say.”

There is a sinking sense of dread Tommy can’t shake as he approaches the office, takes the phone, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One…” Tommy hates how he can hear the sinister grin in Jonah’s voice. He hates that he’s hearing Jonah’s voice at all. “You were always counting down. Sometimes you even did it out loud, did you know that?”

“How— How did you—” 

“Do you know what day the trial starts?” Jonah continues, brushing over Tommy’s question… of course. Tommy doesn’t respond; Jonah chuckles. “Save the date, baby… it’s a good one. I can’t wait to see you.” Then the line cuts off. 

“Who was that?” Lucy asks, but Tommy is too busy trying to get his phone’s calendar opened. “Tommy…” she says— repeats, maybe… She touches his arm. “You’re shaking… Are you okay?” 

He is not.

Five years ago Tommy talked himself into meeting someone he matched with on some dating app Howie teasingly suggested he try. 

Four days until he has to come face to face with that same person on the anniversary of that first date. 

Three life sentences is what Jonah is looking at if found guilty… He will be found guilty. He has to be found guilty.

Two hours before Tommy is off shift… and Jonah probably knew that. 

One almost— but not quite— forgotten nightmare Tommy has been thrown head first back into. 

~~~~~~~~~

Tagging people who seemed interested (let me know if you want to be added for the last chapter or removed 🫶) : @sunnywithachanceofbi @weewookinard @xtarmanderx @racerchix21 @sad-girl-hours23 @laundryandtaxesworld @swagmaster9k @iphyslitterator @adian-ua 🫶🫶

[free-fart-avenue]

But they also know who he is.

At the end they hear about how he's from "another dimention" and want to know more, what if he meets with Sans briefly and asks if they should share Everything, Most things, or just make things up, then Papyrus and/or Frisk come over and remind them the hell they (almost entirely Geno) went through to just learn the lession that

They can depend on and tell their friends things. They don't have to lie about who Geno is because that would For Sure lead to more isolation.

Maybe Papyrus and Frisk don't even need to be there. Geno and Sans are both very smart and know that their friends, with being so strong already and now having a happy ending, could handle knowing that Geno was Sans. They both talk and figure that, nah, lying and hiding things is how they got here. How Geno got here, existed in the first place.

It could go either way, and would be up to whoever makes this into an actual thing if they do.

The others would have issues though. But maybe Geno's voice is more hoarse? Can you imagine how much he might have cried over.. everything? Watching his family and friends die, not being able to do anything, but he could probably deal with that, he knew something like that would happen long ago. But with how much he tried to convince himself just to be abandoned when his only hope of ending the pain gets taken from him again and again and Again.

Torriel would know Sans and Geno apart the best, Geno sounds sadder, but he puts more effort into talking then Sans does. Geno's voice is more tense.

Once the others all learn about and accept the fact that Sans and Geno were the same person, they can help show Geno how he is an individual, and one who lost all he cared about, just to get it replaced with copies.

Undyne keeps looking at him, he is quieter and he thinks maybe she is trying to see how they are the same, or how they're different, but then one day she approaches and tells him her thoughts.

She couldn't imagine losing all her friends, she'd make sure that'd never happen. But right in front of her, Sans did let that happen, but got everything back by going through hell. She probably doesn't think it was all bad that Geno went through the hell he did because that was what it took for her best friend's brother to actually open up to those around him.

I can keep going with just Undyne's pov, but this is about Geno.

With him trying harder to be open to his friends, he can confide his guilt and shame into them, he can tell them how he feels and what he thinks and they can help.

He probably would spend time with his aquentences more, but if he is able to grieve the loss of his world, his family and friends, and even his own identity, all with the support of his friends and brothers, then it could be a healthy change, one because he is a different person from Sans, and he can have different.

Maybe he gets closer to them first and they help him work through his pain, that seems more likely.

They all have a lot to work through, and I can keep going, but this is getting long and I'm getting tired, so I'll make less sense and say dumb stuff.

do you think geno post-aftertale gets guilty for "replacing" his papyrus with the current one (and by extension everyone else). like yeah there's A papyrus here and he's his brother along with sans but he's still wearing the scarf of his papyrus.

the papyrus he failed to protect.

and like sure since the timeline reset technically the current papyrus IS his papyrus but both geno and sans being here could probably mess with him.

he knows he's here because of determination but maybe sometimes he can't help but look at the scarf he's wearing and papyrus and feel an immense sense of guilt

that's not to mention how everyone will think of him as a stranger. can you imagine they're all hanging out and then undyne tells geno something that sans did. but he already knows that because he did that but that's weird to say. "oh yeah i remember that i did that." they dont know that, you're not their sans.

does toriel sometimes get unsettled by how sans and geno's voice sounds the exact same. how often would she mistake the two at first when they're talking out of sight. how often do they get mistaken in general? and when they do get mistaken do people always assume it's sans and never geno?

like yeah aftertale had a happy ending but there's still so much to explore after it. how does geno adjust to being in the real world again (and on the surface at that). how does geno deal with his identity. does he keep his name? does he explain who exactly he is to the others or does he let that go unspoken? does he sometimes look at sans and get jealous he didn't have to go through everything that he did to get this happy ending and then feel bad for getting jealous?

i think it would be nice for geno to hang out with people that are less familiar with sans but still people he knows, like asgore, mettaton, napstablook, etc. there'd be less of that "i know sans well but you're almost like a stranger". it's simpler with acquaintances because they simply don't know either of them well enough. so geno doesn't have to be worried about being compared all the time, consciously or not

[butch-bakugo]

Why are vetted accounts sending people stuff like this.

I mean it's clearly copy-pasted and sent to multiple people but this isn't even a donations ask. Imma guess the reason people aren't responding is because you're accusing them of not doing enough for Palestine and sending it to multiple people who you clearly don't check because I've been posting about and for Palestine since oct 7th when I learned about it.

Also yes he is looking for donations, you can check his account and find it. Why are you sending this guilt trippy stuff to people and accusing them of not caring enough? You don't know me? You send these to multiple people so your clearly not checking the account in question. This dose nothing to help you personally or the Palestinian cause, it just pisses people off and makes them question vetters.

[pallases]

IM FREEEEEE

[doodlingwren]

It's 2024 can we please stop saying it's normal to trace or copying an entire drawing and pretending it's 100% your work? Just bc you changed the character or added clothes on a base you found on pinterest it doesn't mean you created original art

[yelldeadcellvrremix]

OKAY I WAS TALKING ABOUT THIS IN A DISCORD CHAT A FEW MONTHS AGO AND LEMME JUST SAY... I think Reboot Vergil was David's weakest performance and part of me questions if he actually liked playing the role.

This is supposed to be a character who uses his charisma to sway people into his cause and manipulates them into doing his bidding but I just don't get that from Reboot Vergil at all? He sounds way too dry, like David's just reading the lines without much effort. I've only watched a little bit of Westside (I still need to continue Outrageous Fortune first), but MAN, that is how you do the "charismatic criminal" character right.

And even at the end of the game where the mask slips off and Vergil shows his true side, which is supposed to be cold and menacing and , it's only barely a step up. He has some more emotion, but he doesn't sound menacing. I finished watching Dark City: The Cleaner a month ago since David was in that show too and I wanted to compare it to his other roles; In that, he plays the antagonist Robert Calhoun, a cop who's suspected to be committing murders copying off of another serial killer.

if i had a nickel for every time David de Lautour played a character named Robert, that would be two nickels

But anyways, he is fucking TERRIFYING in that. The scene in episode 5 where Calhoun is confronting Joe (the protagonist) about his plans to expose him, and even though Calhoun's already yelling and threatening Joe, you can see how much he's still trying to hold back and afford at least one more chance before going completely berserk.

Reboot Vergil just sounds like he's trying to imitate Original Vergil, but the really flanderized version of Original Vergil that doesn't understand what made that character's performance so intimidating.

I have no way of confirming how David de Lautour feels about his time as Reboot Vergil, but considering just how much hell Ninja Theory was put through due to Capcom's restrictions and having a lot of angry fans breathing down their necks, I would not be surprised if that was reflected in Reboot Vergil's performance.

"So there's this one character; He's this goofy ahh guy who seems all silly and carefree but is smarter than he lets on, and is an excellent mentor to those he carries under his wing. Yeah he's also half-human, and he has an internal conflict about refusing to let his nonhuman side take over out of fear that it'll hurt the ones he holds closest to him. Also he really likes pizza."

...Yeah you're gonna have to be specific.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than brutality

In celebration of overcoming what once felt impossible (available in both transgender and gay flavors)

[leafy-m]

So I hit my 700th edit for the WHA wiki today, because I am a totally normal person

[seekingthestars]

we're doing these workshop things to try to address some of the equity/workflow/workload problems in our department and our facilitator wants everyone to email her "the problem [we'd] like to solve in [our] large team" and how do i politely say i just want people to do their fucking jobs

[thatonefreemanversefic]

happy mind/martini/mercy monday!

🎉🎉🎉 Happy Mind/Martini/Mercy Monday!! 🎉🎉🎉

(these guys gotta pick a new consonant man. freaking copycats)

[alchemiclee]

a bad side effect of being afflicted with Head Empty is when you try to do art, your canvas is also empty, and it stays that way.