#mind the typos and stuff

[softredrobin]

them...

[earako]

A/N: Jumping on the bandwagon for Shermie finds out his brothers are alive

-/-

Two.

There were two of them.

That wasn't right-Shermie was there when Ma got The Call, he was there for the aftermath and he was there when Ma collapsed in his srms sobbing about how no one showed up except for what looked like an IRS agent.

Lee Lee was gone. Six feet under. Crashed and burned in a horrific car accident.

Then For For became even more of a hermit, only really keeping somewhat in contact once the kids were born.

"Grandpa Shermie?"

"Uh-oh, Mabel go grab a chair, grandpa do I need to call 911?"

Shermie could barely hear his grandchildren past the ringing in his ears. He didn't know if it was grief, anger, disbelief, or a mix of both that rendered him frozen and staring at an old and gray pair of twins that the back of his mibd remembered acting almost as a second set of parents towards him.

Twins that taught him how to read from their comic book collection, his five fingered twin sneaking him sweets late at night, his six fingered twin finding ways to make the toys Shermie longingly stared at in the shop windows they'd pass while out with Ma.

"Hey...Sher-bear? You good?"

"Obviously not, Stanely-I told you we should have eased him into this!"

"Ford, how the heck do you ease someone into the fact that their older bro ain't dead and has been impersonating their other older bro for 30 years?"

A laugh bubbled out of Shermie, high and hysterical.

The arguing was oh so achingly familiar. Shermie had fallen to sleep listening to those two voices squabbling, and to his relief despite the arguing the voices lacked the venom laced barbs that became more common when For For and Lee Lee began to, as young Shermie said, "age backwards."

"This isn't real," Shermie managed to wheeze out. "This isn't real, I-I'm hallucinating or-or I'm dreaming, Lee Lee is dead and I've snapped or something-"

A six fingered hand gently cradled the back of Shermie's head while five fingers pulled him into a familiar feeling hug. "Sher-bear..."

"No!" Shermie yelled, wanting to rip himself out of the hug but the hands held tight and squeezed. His body instantly relaxed.

He shakily reached up and grasped the backs of his brothers shirts.

Solid.

Real.

Not a hallucination.

Shermie sobbed.

"Y-y-you asshole! Jerk! You-why didn't you tell me? No one told me! No one told me anything!"

"We know. We know and we're so, so sorry Shermie," For For's familiar, lower rasp softly hushed and cooed at Shermie while Lee Lee's slightly higher pitch hummed off key.

It was a scene straight out of Shermie's childhood.

He cried even harder.

"Grandpa?"

"Grunkle Stan, Great-Uncle Ford his he gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine kids," Shermie heard Lee Lee say, For For adding in, "He's procrssing a lot of emotions right now. He'll be fine once they run their course."

Shermie hiccuped. He gave his brother's (alive, both of them were alive, how-when-what-he had so many questions-) one last squeeze before managing to pull back so he could properly look at them.

"Where did you both go?" He asked, feeling his 8 year old self resurface. His brothers exchanged pained glances with one another.

"...Bad brains and bad people," Lee Lee muttered. Shermie raised a brow. "Elaborate?"

"That'll take some time, I'll put on some coffee. Kids come help me."

"Make sure he doesn't burn the water!" Lee Lee called after For For and the grandchildrens retreating forms.

"That was one time!"

"One time too many!" Stan called back, teasingly. Shermie let out a shuddering breath and wiped his face with his sleeves, laughing slightly at the familiar exchange. Stan seemed to brighten up at hearing a genuine laugh from Shermie.

"Hey, there's my smily lil Sher-bear." Shermie rolled his eyes, gesturing to the kitchen. "I have grandkids."

"Still the baby."

"By 8 years!" At the sound of Stan's laugher along with Ford and the kids bustling in the kitchen Shermie felt a weight he didn't know was in his chest lighten up a bit. He still wanted answers and was definitely going to demand them over coffee.

For now, though, he was going to enjoy the fact that he had both of his safe people back.

[alackofghosts]

shhhh

[stygiansauce]

sauce please apollo has chosen me as his stress toy and i am scared and i dont wanna smoke dubious gases to be his oracle-

you really are english teacher (in a good way. a great way even because you are saving me from my brain becoming mush)

but yeah now i’m thinking and oh lord why did you have to make tango so relatable???!!! argh!!!

- 💿

:D

Something something every author is a part of their work? Margin of Error is my love letter to life and writing. I spent too long focusing on academic writing that I forgot how much joy I feel when spinning a story. Putting my experiences into MOE is like taking a moment remember that I lived it and that it was a good memory. Jimmy and Tango are very real pieces of me, and hopefully (If I've done it right), pieces of you all too.

[longagoitwastuesday]

On the one hand, I don't believe Megumi and Gojo were ever too close, even if their apparent closeness called my attention since their first scene together because of the way they behaved and talked to each other.

On the other hand, Megumi was a fifteen years old with a lot of problems, a pretty bad childhood and a bit of an attitude to say the least, and Gojo, besides Tsumiki, was the "paternal" figure he could turn against

[ariwritessometimes]

fic idea scribbles.... what shall I write next 👀

[team5ds]

reading over you'd come back to me, and one of my favorite kaiba quirks in there is him constantly comparing people looking at him in confusion to asking a very obvious duel monster fact. rebecca was looking at him like he'd asked if luster dragon was a normal monster. yugi was looking at him like if he'd ask blue eyes white dragon has 3000 attack. very good kaiba character stuff.

[pcktknife]

Ur right + i think pearl and Marina would specialise in different types. Maybe Marina could do steel type since that’s kinda sciency? Idk what pearl’s type would be but she should have a loudred on her team

anon is reporting live from my brain rn

[waywardsalt]

bellum x linebeck chapter summary drafts that won those polls:

chapter 8

chapter 14

chapter 20

[scarapanna]

🦊 yeahhhh- I’m a bit of a coward-

- Puppet Anon

That's fair as well!!

[Ask game in question]

[randomfaeriedragon]

Hey, guess what I did this week?

Thats right, draw 3/5 OC Iterators that began growing in my brain on a photoediting program with my computer's touchpad!

This is the first time I've ever really drawn something digitally other than my profile pic & rw brainrot, and it's definitely the first time I've designed iterators, so yeah! Enjoy the art and subsequent Lore dumps under the cut :)

Iterator 35, Gen. 2: Shaded Pewter Lights / SPL

Built at the base of a dry, desert-like mountain, SPL preferred to occupy their time with huge, complex mechanical experiments rather than genealogical or Acension-based research. They despise thinking about the Great Problem, as no one can experiment if they're all dead, though they don't dislike iterators who attempt to solve it (for that reason alone). Their city used to harbor and attract skilled mechanics and engineers for miles around, as a particularly prodigous university was located on their can. Though they rarely interacted with their citizens, they often miss the requests they sent them, especially those sent by the less experienced artificers of their city; however, they feel little love for the Ancients beyond appreciation for their skill in mechanics (the skill required to build the iterators).

In the past, SPL has repeatedly set up projects within their can that could only be described as titanic Rube Goldberg Machines. SPL often sought to improve the functionality of their can with these experiments (plus having fun), keen to observe and record as much data as possible from the cycles-long whirring of cogs and water wheels before setting everything up again to repeat. Their main goals included lowering their needed water intake, gaining a form of low-power mode for bad weather, and utilizing lightning as a secondary power source. Though many saw these modifications as taboo, SPL couldn't care less, blocking almost all communication during their experimentation era: however, they often shared their knowledge with APS to assit in the creation of the wildlife santuary on his can, and many of the conduits used to water plants there are of their design.

Due to an integral flaw in the rerouted void fluid piping of their Easternmost Leg, SPL's can collapsed in the middle of a heated arguement with their local group, with their Westernmost Leg piercing through their can. With rust and sand permeating their structure, their many mechanisms fell silent for the first time since the Ascension. Although SPL is still connected to their can, overseers, and local communications arrays, they can no longer induldge themselves in experiments; they barely have enough power function as is. They now spend most of their time chatting with other iterators in their local group, sending overseers to APS's sanctuary, and attempting to prevent further discoloration and rust on their puppet. They're not usually bitter, but particularly vulgar arguements with EN can send them into a spiral.

SPL still feels they did the right thing in modifying their can. Though the other iterators refuse to admit it, the main reason they still function is due to the modification of their can.

Iterator 77, Gen. 3: Rain from Clear Skies / RCS

Although he often jokes around, RCS is the most calm and collected of his local group. He often finds himself mediating fights between his local group (read: SPL and EN) for this reason, as has the astonishing ability (within his local group at least) to sit back, consider something fully, and make mostly objective decisions. He also uses this ability to point out details many other iterators overlook, so is often called for help with malfunctioning software and to explain why some experiments went wrong. His citizens instilled him with a love for quiet and time to contemplate, and they had a moderately positive relationship, so often misses them. But when he isn't meditating or recording data from around his can, he's talking with EN. They have soft spots for each other.

His name comes from the already heavy rainfall in the region where his can was built, which his construction didn't help; very little non-semi-aquatic wildlife remains around his can. However, he often moderates the remaining flora and flauna to insure it's continued survival, and has sent more than a few wounded animals to APS so she can assit in their recovery. When he's not researching, RCS also acts as the jokester of his local group, and often codes pranks and malware intended to cause harmless irritation into sent messages. He's gotten quite good at it, to his local group's endless infuriation (and delight). He doesn't send these to SPL, though, as their systems likely wouldn't be able to handle the repairs.

Iterator 16, Gen. 1: Even Nightfall / EN

As one of the earliest iterators built, EN's city was particularly religious and pious, priding themselves on their virtue and detachment from the material world. This did not bode well for EN, who had an almost abusive relationship with their citizens; they treated EN as something to deal with their problems and nothing more. After they Ascended, EN felt both a weight off their shoulders and, for a reason he can't pin down, a profound sense of betrayal that their creators abandoned them. Though a few in their local group see them as nothing more than cruel and callous, EN is very emotinally reserved (but also very, very smug) and astoundingly protective and kind towards those they care for. This includes RCS, their genticially modified slugcat Arps, and to some extent APS.

APS acted as a sort of mentor to EN when they were built, helping them manage their city's requests and sneak in a few personal projects on the side. While their city didn't approve of the projects they found, and reprimanded EN, the number EN kept secret far outnumbered those discovered by the Ancients. With their creators gone, EN found a hobby genetically modifying the pre-existing wildlife around their structure, and has improved their already impressive skills; this lead many genticially modified organisms to spread out and inhabit EN's can, and is also where Arps came from.

Named after APS, Arps acts as a mix between a therapy animal and pet for both EN and RCS. Arps frequently travels between EN and RCS's cans, and EN gave them the ability to glide to ease this passage; however, they (and RCS) also always send an overseer along with Arps to ensure their safety. Even when Arps is simply gliding between trees in the Rainworld Equivalent of a Sparse Pine Forest surrounding EN's can, he always sends an overseer to make sure they're OK. They're almost overbearing!

EN and RCS are perhaps the closest out of any of the iterators within their local group, and frequently chat or play 7-dimensional chess for entire cycles before they have to check up on an experiment so it doesn't explode. Though they couldn't talk much and weren't nearly as close pre-Mass Acension, RCS was one of the few iterators who spent the time to work around EN's colony's communication restrictions and talk to them. He was a great comfort, and one of the only reasons EN didn't crack under their city's pressure.

Not Featured Here: (bios will get out eventually)

Iterator 4, Gen. 1: A Profound Serenity / APS (Any Pronouns)

Iterator 84, Gen. 3: Tide Rolling In / TRI (She/Her)

Arps (They/It)

Probably One or Two More Iterators

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: I used an Ancient script by @ikayblythe for the displays by my iteratoes, took heavy inspiration from iterator designs by @altitudeofalcatraz, and took the idea of Iterator Number Deisgnations from Daszombes' Iterator Logs on Youtube.

Anyways, I'm going to go drop off the face of the planet for a week. Thanks for reading this much this far, goodbye!

[firebirdsdaughter]

Like…

… And then the clones defeat themselves? Like. I get what you thought you were doing but. It doesn't really work.

[yellowistheraddest]

AAAAAAAAAAA YOUR FANTASY STORY THINGY IS SO COOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLL

thank you

i definitely have not been tormenting friends on discord for the past 6 months with massive paragraphs about the smallest details. honestly at this point i have the ending completely planned with is the worst as:

a. the ending is ages away (like potentially tens of years)

b. i barely have an idea of what im gonna do in the middle, the bones are there just nothing particularly juicy

c. this thus causes the problem of i make the middle section and realise the ending doesn't fit and i go and cry

so yeah its going great on my end

[b-blushes]

i've been wanting to get an ipad for probably >a year maybe even 2 at this point and i keep seeing digital art and thinking seeeeee if i had an ipad *I* could do digital art! buddy you have coloured pencils and a sketchbook right there if you were gonna draw surely you could do that? <3

[dan-crimes]

In reference to my last post, not to be a DOWNER or anything but the way my brain works is it focuses on bad memories like here and there I'll look back and be like Yeah there were some fun times I had but just KNOW you wouldn't ever wanna go back to THAT because of This and That and That and THIS which I have no issue with cuz it would be impossible for me to go back to that anyway lmao

It works both ways tho my bad memories also get attacked by positive ones we find a balance <3

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.