#net's brain dumps

[rockingego]

BRO I DID NOT REMEMBER ROCKMAM GRABBING DARK ROCK'S HAIR AND SLAMMING HIM LIKE THAT😭😭

[leatherjacketed]

You either get it or you don't. Sam and Dean had to pack lightly. They couldn't get too attached to anything. At a moment's notice, they might've had to drop everything and run. There's an army man Sam wedged into the ashtray of the Impala. Lego blocks Dean jammed into the vents. They're not there because they were boys being boys trashing their dad's old whip. If Sam and Dean loved something, really loved it, the only way to keep it was to make it a part of the one thing that went with them everywhere. It's not one or the other. Both long to be strong enough to possess something, protect it, and fend off those that would steal it away. Both of them are still the same kids that had to leave behind something they didn't want to when Dad said, "let's skedaddle." They both still ache with pangs for all they've left behind over the years. They both still wallow in the unfairness.

It's not as simple as refusing to allow death to take the other away. Not so simple as staying by each other's side. Sam and Dean are fused. That's the only way they know how to keep something they love. They're tired of being helpless little kids crying about how life or death isn't fair. They retaliate against any oppositional force that might separate them with the vindictive wrath of a child bereaved and denied one too many times. If you pull something away from the hands of a child enough, the grip they have as adults will be ironclad. Sam and Dean hold onto each other with iron hands. They make any who would dare attempt to keep them apart taste their steel.

They used to be scared of the things that would take them away from each other. Now, the things that would take them away from each other are scared of them. Look, you either get it or you don't. 🤷

[willow-thicket]

Nicolas Gatien made an excellent instructional video on creating your own "antinet" or analog zettelkasten. (Follow his channel, too. He's aiming for 1000 & currently has just 26 to go!) Awesome learning tool/note taking system. I kinda like this better than the commonplace book strategy. Well, I guess this is like a commonplace book, but unbound & sortable.

[unwelcome-ozian]

Each layer of cyberspace evolved our potential to connect and communicate. Cyberspace has connected aquaspace, geospace, and space and has also connected individuals and entities across nations: its government, industries, organizations, and academia. When we are now moving towards developing a brain net, understandably, there is a race to develop not only the brain-computer interface but also the brain-brain interface. While connecting our brains directly into the web looks both exciting and terrifying, it is essential to evaluate where we are going as the brain-computer interface evolves further. We must understand and assess what does this revolution in human brain-computer interface and brain-to-brain interface interaction allow us to do today, which we couldn’t do so far.

What is the state of communication possible in the brain to the brain interface? Are we prepared for the outside world to get into our brains? How close are we to developing an ability to know what action will happen before it happens?

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception. 

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. 

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp. 

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him. 

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment. 

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt. 

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.  

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively. 

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.” 

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.  

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally). 

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you. 

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

 

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.” 

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence. 

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down. 

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched. 

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door. 

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.” 

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning your name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[heart-of-a-rebel16]

*slides the info dump pass back to you* what story has been rotating in your mind that you've been wanting to talk about? You have so many marvelous AUs that are living rent free in my brain just so you know :)

yall are too good to me T-T

anyways, kalluzeb merfolk au!!! This isn’t one I’ve talked about at all in tumblr so now I’m gonna inflict my inner seven year old on all of you :)

-x-

Most of this is partially inspired by the movie The Sea Beast! Basically, the Empire (think like a pirates of the Caribbean-style imperialism) and her navy protects their people from the monstrous merfolk that lurk in the ocean. They are dangerous, mindless, always waiting for an opportunity to sink any ship and kill any aboard. In particular, a certain group has been terrorizing imperial presence around the island of Lothal. Imperials have nicknamed them the Spectres: they’re fast, deadly, and have recently picked up a nasty habit of sinking the Empire’s ships.

Basically, the HMS Chimera, her admiral, Thrawn, (boatswain? I have to do more research on this) Kallus and co. are tasked with hunting down the Specters and eliminating them from Lothal’s waters. They set sail, and just as Thrawn suspects, they are attacked immediately. However, Thrawn is always prepared, and in the ensuing battle, they are able to net one striped Spectre, with purple scales and green eyes that blaze with rage.

Suffice to say, Zeb is not happy about being kidnapped by a bunch of two-legged Imps, and even less jazzed to be shoved in a tank for “further study”, though in reality, he will be part of Thrawn’s plan to eliminate the monsters in Lothal’s waters once and for all. The Spectres were able to damage the Chimera well, though; she’s not seaworthy enough for another go, not for a few months at least. Until then, he’s stuck in a tank constantly being studied by a particularly annoying boatswain.

surely, nothing could go wrong at all.

[tiny-smallest]

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S RECOMMENDATIONS

I promised fic recommendations like a week or two ago and I'm only getting it to it now but ayyooooooooo here we go! Here are my favorite Sun and Moon fics, asked for by @spama and then it was like well shit let me just dump all my Five Nights At Freddy's recommendations here. They contain a mix of tropes, some of which contradict each other (I enjoy exploring different characterizations, but you’ll notice a lot of these have similarities that keep popping up because I am nothing if not predictable), and I’ll try to note prominent features and tropes in each one with minimal spoilers. So in no particular order!

Solar Lunacy by @bamsara

Reader insert, eventual romance with the daycare clowns. The protagonist has just been hired at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex pre-Security Breach for general odd jobs that need to be done around the complex and quickly finds out how actually fucking weird their job is. They slowly meet the robots one by one and find themselves drawn to the first two they met, the daycare attendants, and the weird mystery surrounding them- in that Sun handles the daycare alone, when Moon is clearly meant to be his counterpart and partner. Why isn't Moon helping in the daycare? What happened? Why is Moon so oddly feral; why does he play with them sometimes but try to hurt them other times? Something isn't right here, and they're gonna snoop until they find out what.

Features the other robots as prominent characters very early, but remains Sun and Moon central. Features Monty as a dick. So far no mentions of Bonnie or Foxy.

Celestial Omens (That Really Like Fishsticks) by @bamsara

This one gets its own separate category because it’s not part of the same story series and is in fact a non-fnaf au.

A mermay fic! Reader insert! Sun and Moon are sirens and you live on the shore. As a child you come across two siren children who are injured, exhausted, and trapped under netting, so of course you do the humane thing and rescue them. You take them back to your house and take care of them, giving them a safe place to sleep for the night. The next day you bring them back to the ocean and send them home, expecting to never see them again and eventually believing your elders about it all being a lonely child’s imaginative game.

Ten years later you nearly get yourself killed at sea, and your silent guardians, now as grown up as you are, finally get their chance to return the kindness you showed them all those years ago.

It’s only one chapter in but them as children is criminally adorable.

Lofi Beats To Capture Children To by @dana-the-control-brain Twin Animatronics With Too Much Time On Their Hands by @twinanimatronics

Lofi Beats follows Sun and Moon from their birth likely up to (maybe even including?) the events of Security Breach, detailing how these two got to where they are in present time- the circumstances of their creation, the abusive situations they were thrown into the deep end to deal with, and how that affected their relationship with one another. To say nothing of the actual child murders. Still ongoing!

Features the other robots as important characters, but takes a bit to meet them. DJ MM is encountered first early on. Yes, he's adorable. Monty is once again a bully in this universe, so be mindful of that if you don't like that characterization for Monty.

Twins is a reader insert that takes place after Lofi Beats and the events of Security Breach. The protagonist has known Sun and Moon for three months now and has grown used to them and their antics pretty quickly. The two are more bonded to one another now than they were three months ago, but they have a long way to go with their healing process and their relationship with each other... especially when neither have fully processed what happened to them, let alone how it affected them. This is further complicated with their feelings towards the protagonist, who remains clueless about all of this until one fateful encounter with Gregory after closing one day forces all three of them to examine themselves and their relationships with each other.

Is starting to feature the other robots, but also more slowly than Solar Lunacy. I'm guessing they and Gregory will be explored later on, as this fic is still a Sun and Moon centered fic. Monty has not been encountered yet at this point in the timeline but what we've heard of him indicates he's still kind of a dick.

Romance with the daycare clowns! Also utilizes the 'Sun and Moon were locked in the daycare and left there' trope if you like that one.

This series features an extremely interesting take on their origins and initial relationship with each other that I’m kind of in love with tbh; just be sure you’re ready to watch them fight. A lot.

Copper Cogs Rusted Through by @paper-lilypie

Reader insert, future romance with the daycare clowns! The protagonist lives in an unassuming neighborhood and works two jobs to support their baby siblings. Life is full of love thanks to their family, but is also mundane and exhausting... until one day they find a ruined robot in the junkyard they work in. A break in the monotony! Being a former engineering student of course the only thing to do is rebuild the robot!

But what happens when that robot turns out to be sentient?

And traumatized.

And also not the only robot inhabiting the body.

Also the other one seems to be a bit murdery.

Whoops.

A post-fire ending where Sun and Moon did not escape the fire, and wake to find themselves being reassembled by a stranger in a strange house a year after the blaze (and maybe two years since they've had contact with people; I don't know yet if this story is going with 'Sun and Moon were abandoned in the daycare' trope). Sun is just grateful to not be dead anymore and overjoyed to be around people again, but his and Moon’s second chance at life is not going to come easily...

Don’t Spare Your Gaze by @inazumaneko

Fun fact this is the first Sun and Moon fic that I ever read!

Sun and Moon encounter and survive the fire ending, but find themselves alone in the big wide world suddenly, injured and traumatized and without a purpose anymore. Now they must figure out how to survive a world they were never meant to fit into, with limited supplies and oh yeah the virus still kicking around in Moon’s head that activates anytime he encounters a human.

Surely this will go smoothly!

(It does not, in fact, go smoothly.)

Sun and Moon’s relationship in this is honestly just absolutely precious as in ‘I squealed aloud at a few points’ precious. If you prefer watching these daycare clowns not fight, this is the fic for you.

(That’s not to say that at some point in this long fic they won’t ever fight, just that their relationship starts from a better place in this one than previous stories on this list.)

Moon also isn’t a weird gremlin in this one. But he is adorable.

This one also has an interesting take on the what the virus is and how it operates!

And finally, NOT Sun and Moon centered, but far too good to not recommend:

To Fix What's Broken of The Unconventional Series by @larxicana

Set during Security Breach, Gregory discovers that Freddy has a missing loved one and that the robots can be flushed of their murderous glitch with a good shock to their systems. Because he is the world's tiniest juggernaut, naturally he decides the only thing to do about these discoveries is to find the missing rabbit release each of the others from the faulty programming compelling them to chase him.

But what starts as a mission to repair Bonnie and collect all of the other robots turns into a much darker mystery that needs solving as it begins to become apparent that something really bad is happening here, something beyond a simple glitch in the system...

Six parts so far, with most of them being one shots but a few being proper fics (though Sum Of Their Parts is short). The latest, To Fix What's Lost, finally deals with the 'where's Foxy' question!

Monty is not a bully in this one, so rejoice if you prefer that characterization of him!

The og four are actually THE ogs, if you like that trope too!

Sun and Moon enjoyers may be disappointed that they're not central characters, but they DO have a place in the family and are starting to feature a bit more.

Gregory is the pov character and he is a riot.

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO THE AUTHORS FOR ALL THEIR WORK YOU PEOPLE HAVE GIVEN ME HOURS AND HOURS OF SERATONIN AND STORIES TO PICK APART FOR ANALYSIS AND THEORIES FOR FREE AND DESERVE ALL THE PRAISE

YOU ARE ALL SO CREATIVE AND TALENTED AND MAKE THE FANDOM THAT MUCH BRIGHTER FOR BEING THERE

[golby-moon]

threw a mermaid!cas art piece into the pot that is the @reversefantasyspnbang and like magic a mermaid!cas fic appeared :00

here's the banner I made for this, (yes another) desk with stuff on it. idk why I draw so many desks as banners either. but yeah this one is pirate flavored and has a spyglass and compass on it as well as a phoenix feather and fancy pendant thing that was inspired by the one from Disney's 'Moana' with a spn-themed pentagram thrown on there, though the pendant kinda looks like a Tamagotchi and I can't get that image out of my brain. the fish in the drawer was supposed to be a placeholder for something else in the original sketch but it was silly so it stayed 🎉

the title is on a pirate map that's supposed to tell its own story or whatever. the dashed line explores all around the area with various scribbled-out x's marking various spots as well as a whirlpool type deathtrap around what would be the 'a' in 'dead'. the only un-scribbled 'x' is on a tiny island called Mermaid Rock (the thing around the giant tail-shaped 't' in 'tails'), but since the pirates go out of their way to avoid that area (as seen in the dashed line where they get sucked into the whirlpool instead) due to superstitions about mermaids being bad luck, they don't know whether there's actually anything there or not and therefore can't eliminate it

this was the original art piece I submitted, featuring Dean holding up Cas, who's tangled up in a net. looking at it now I can see that angle of the boat is...weird (especially that ladder staircase thing) but ehh. I spent a ton of time planning Dean's outfit to be a somewhat historically accurate pirate but didn't realize Cas would be covering the neat jacket and sword holster thing I gave him and everything uh

the goal with this was to have Dean not the pirate captain for once in a pirate Dean/mermaid Cas fic (which I like reading but doubt I can write, hence why I dumped it on somebody else via reverse bang I mean what). I wanted Cas to look like he came from deep within the ocean, so his eyes are slitted to take in more light (think of cats) and his skin is more of a grey to better blend in. ofc Cas can't resist checking out the human world and ended up getting caught in a net but luckily Dean was there to pull him out...only to get in trouble for it. this was the original art idea and I really like the way the author adapted it and made Dean more of a reluctant pirate and Cas even more in love with 'humanity'

I do not like drawing bunk beds. or furniture. but it at least looks like a bed so that's okay. but yeah Dean's singing to Cas here and is kinda embarrassed about it, hence why he's looking away, but Cas can't actually tell what he's saying either way so Dean's just being Paranoid. the marks on Cas are scars from the net, a reference to what actually happens to irl sea creatures who get tangled in nets, if they live at all. those lines are supposed to be ribs to indicate that Cas is pretty thin due to a lack of food (probably due to humans overfishing) but they kinda look like he had top surgery. which...ignore that that's unintentional or I would've made them that same pinkish color as his other scars. also ignore the nipple freckle I had to include it okay

water is really weird sorry it looks so weird. but here's Dean and Cas preparing for some boat kisses because they're Them. I really like how the boat and especially the words on the boat (Riverside Blue, a reference to Led Zeppelin's 'Traveling Riverside Blues,' one of Dean's favorite songs added as per the author's suggestion) came out. the boat was supposed to be blue with the characteristic white underside all boats seem to have but then it was just...too blue and what goes better with blue than green 🤡

there was an idea thing going around where the crew on the pirate ship weren't allowed to wear colors, hence why both of Dean's outfits in the other two pics are so drab (the dull backgrounds don't help). so in this final piece where they're off the ship, I wanted to make it as colorful as possible with that orange sky and brightly colored boat and then Dean's colorful outfit with his shirt being somewhere between blue and green. yay contrast

man I didn't mean to ramble so much sorry about that. just put a lot of thought into these even though it might not look like it

the fic this is made for is called "Dead men tell no tails" by @quicksilver-castiel for the spn reverse fantasy bang

(02/17/24)

[lowlyroach]

1235) Lungs Expand in Wonder

The sky holds its breath

Lingering clouds pause overhead

The moon has a strangle on the iris

The stars cast their net around my arm

Terraform my skin to static

Daydream a blanket of butterflies

The heart grows volcanic

The smoke fades to absence

There's a bedBug in the pillow case

Every dream you speak

-In this one-

A hyena giggles in C major

A lunar somnolence

She needs help eating quiche

I'm guilty for buying a book

Perfume on the palm frond

The worm cares not for the shoe

The bird flew away - alive

The sprinklers put out the gableblo fire

Three dozen deer stare

From beneath a solitary light post

At two colliding semi trucks

Argue over which of the trucks are deer

As they stare star-ward

Melting together

The deer chew on handle caps

The metal scrapes sound like fluttering

Arms like a galaxies

Ridges in the skin

The blanket becomes the focus

Her fingers could split my atoms

Her weak hands move in anticipation

Eagerly, all eyes turn to watch her

Tilt her head

In my periphery she says 'hey'

It is somehow an earth-shattering revelation

A rabbit rhythmically knocks the ground

Then flops over to its stomach

There's a hound at the dump

Pointing south and encircled by spirits

A bear holds you in its mouth

It refuses to bite your head off

The eggs in your brain are hatching

It's an all out war against lightning

Two voices speak in harmony

She reaches up with a clip

Everything breathes in at once

[rockingego]

cousins on a trip to miku expo

[puffpasstea]

Could you do a blurb where Matilda and Harry get in an argument? Angst + make-up fluff/smut?? I LOVE your writings so much!

Of course babes. Thank you SO SO MUCH for reading and for your very kind feedback 🥹

I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS!!!! So, since the next few chapters of the Matilda sequel are gonna be heavy on angst and smut, I tried to do something a bit different with them having an argument. Just so you guys don’t get sick of it haha. But also I feel like those two can never run out of stuff to argue over. Anyways, I'm not sure this ended up being what I wanted but still I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK EVEN IF YOU HATE IT

Warnings: angst, and angst i guess? idkkkk. 

——

Just tell him how you feel. Keep things focused on you. Don’t put any pressure or expectation on him. You can’t control the outcome but you can always be honest. My therapist’s words of encouragement ran through my head as I looked through my bag for the spare keys to Harry’s place. I knew he wasn’t home. In fact, I was counting on it. He’d given me this key “for emergencies,” and, well, “I’m in love with you and think I’m dumping my boyfriend for you” felt kind of like an emergency to me. Emotionally, at least. So, I got to his place, take out in hand, hoping to give myself a pep talk and make myself comfortable before he got here. 

Being at his place, even in his absence, felt like a safety net. Everything around here was so Harry. From the vinyl records on the entryway table, to the floral arrangements in every corner, to the teabags in the jar on the kitchen counter. Surrounded by his favorite things; his coat hanging by the door; the bookmarked novel he’d clearly been reading earlier in the day; it immediately made me feel a lot more grounded. I’d clearly made the right choice making this the setting of our upcoming conversation. I decided to set some plates out for dinner, and, while in the kitchen, pour myself a glass of wine. 

 A couple glasses in, and a Netflix episode later, Harry was still out. I contemplated texting him to ask when he’s coming home, but, that, in itself felt like too much pressure. 

A bit before midnight, I heard the front door unlock, Harry’s voice mumbling something I could quit hear. 

“Look, the media is always gonna find something to say. Yes, but- no, I am listening.” He seemed to be on the phone. Evidently having a difficult conversation. My courage already wavering, I took a sip out of my wine glass for some comfort. 

“I realize that.” Harry was now walking in a circle in his entryway. “You said it yourself ‘it’s a judgement call. Well, I’m exercising my judgement and choosing not to make any public statement. Yeah…I’m aware. Yes, it’s a risk, but-yup. Look, Jeff. I’ve had the worst fuckin day. Can we talk about this tomorrow, please? Just wanna go to bed right now. Ok. You too.”

The worst fuckin day? That’s a sign that I shouldn’t say anything. Right? You can do it. You can do it. You can do-

“Jeez- Holy fuck! Matilda!!! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Harry jumped as he walked in and saw me on his couch. His frame barely illuminated by the TV light in the dark room. “What are you doing here?” Immediately regretting my decision, I set my wine glass down and began to pack my things. Harry didn’t seem to notice though.

“You know what? I don’t even care right now, I’m just so glad you’re here…” he plopped onto the couch near me, and, without hesitation, wrapped both of his arms around me, squeezing me tightly and pulling me closer to his side. 

“Y-you are?”

“Course, baby. I’ve had the longest, most awful day. No one else I’d  rather come home to.”

“Oh?”

The words come home to made alarms go off in my brain. Suddenly, rather than feeling the comfort of being in this space, with Harry’s arms around me, telling me what anyone with half a heartbeat would long to hear their lover say, I felt suffocated and terrified. 

Harry took a deep breath relaxing his back into the couch and blinking repeatedly. Suddenly, he noticed the take out containers full of Chinese food and the plates I’d prepared for us. 

“Oh. You brought food.”

“Yeah, you want some?” I got off the couch as quickly as possible, busying myself with arranging some plates for the two of us, glad for any excuse to create some distance between me and him. 

“Guess I could eat. Not all that hungry though. Just wanna talk if that’s alright?”

“S-sure. About what?”

“I just mean about my day. Could use your opinion on this actually. So, the director, who I thought was my friend, has completely flipped these past few days. The way she’s been dictating the scenes, I mean- even when we’d had countless conversations about how I would like these moments to be portrayed in the film. At the same time, though, I don’t feel like I get a say in this. I’m not an actor, you know?”

“What you mean you’re not an actor? That’s absurd, Harry.” I passed him his plate 

“Thanks, hun.” He picked up a couple of chopsticks and started digging into his food right away. So much for not all that hungry. 

“I just mean….I’m not that experienced. It’s not like my instincts are based on any real evidence for what might or might not work for the film. I’m basically a baby by industry standards. It just feels so wrong to ignore my instincts. Feel like I’m just going through the motions, you know?“

I’d lost track of what Harry was saying relatively quickly, getting lost in how he was feeling. I could see by the look in his eyes, his incessant foot-tapping, his slumped shoulders that he was quite torn about this. In other words, he was being genuine and vulnerable right now. Opening himself up to me and sharing his doubts. Is this what being in a real relationship with Harry would be like? Coming home to the same apartment every night; talking about our days over a shared meal; discussing our thoughts and feelings? Every day? Being there for each other all the time? Is this what I was signing up for by telling him how I feel about him?

“Anyway, I know that I don’t wanna let people down. With an album, you know, it’s just me. It’s my name on the cover and if it doesn’t do that well, it’s my fault. But, this kind of thing…acting, it’s a team effort and there are so many people depending on me to do my part and…ugh and this other thing Jeff just called me about. I just can’t think straight right now..” Harry was still unfolding his quandary out loud, the earnestness in his voice, his genuine desire to not only bring the best version of himself to this project, but to make sure he was accountable to his cast mates was very touching, yet not at all surprising. That’s the kind of person he is. It’s part of what makes him so special. Unfortunately, though, it’s also why we can’t be together. He deserves more. Better. Someone who can be as open and giving as he is. Someone dependable and strong. Someone…not me. 

“Umm, I- uh. It’s getting late, Harry.” I set my plate down and looked sprung the room for where I’d tossed my bag and coat.

“W-what? But we’re in the middle of dinner!”

“Yeah, I- umm- sorry. I didn’t realize what time it is and I need to be up early, so.”

“Please don’t leave.” He looked up at me. Even in the dim light of the room, I could tell that he really needed someone. That someone wasn’t me though. 

“I’m sayin’ pleas here. I’m not usually the one who does the begging in this dynamic.” He smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. My inability to respond in kind was surely hurtful. I needed to get out of here as soon as humanly possible wirh as little damage to our relationship as I could pull off. All of this required a certain level of delicacy that I’m sure wasn’t native to me. 

Harry grew more desperate the longer it took me to decide to stay. I felt cruel for not agreeing right away. But I was doing it to spare his feelings. 

“Fine, whatever, let’s fuck.” He set his own plate down right next to mine and picked up a napkin to wipe at his mouth. 

“E-excuse me?”

“You’re gonna have to get on top though. I’m wiped.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think I don’t know why you’re really here? Or why you’re leavin so suddenly?”

My stared at him incredulously with a frown on my face, shaking my head.

“You came here for sex and when I didn’t jump your bones right away you started packing up and walking out. I’m saying forget the talking. We can fuck, if you’ll do most of the work.”

“That’s gross. You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, now I’m the one who’s gross, am I? You’re the one who’s here for an orgasm and you won’t even get it unless I do it for you. Do me a favor, next time, skip the dinner. Makes me think you’re actually interested in spending time with me. Mixed messages.”

“Fuck you, Harry. Have a nice night.”

As I rushed out the door, I heard Harry curse something under his breath. 

***

I didn’t see Harry for a couple of days after that night. And I couldn’t wait to go to my therapist at the end of the week and let her know what a moron she is for suggesting that I finally talk to him. How successful that whole thing was. I felt my blood practically boil at the memory of how crude he was. How unbelievable it still seemed to me, though I’d witnessed it with my own eyes, that he went so quickly from being self-aware and trying to open himself up to me to being remarkably insensitive at the drop of a hat. Though he undoubtedly hurt my feelings and the fact that I never got to tell him how I feel will always haunt me, in a way, I was glad the night went the way that it did. Because how could I trust someone who could change so quickly? And who would use our very dynamic against me in an argument? 

At the end of the third night, as I lay in bed, tossing and turning and thinking about all the clever comebacks I could’ve used to shut his smugness down, I heard a loud knock at my door. Flicking my bedside lamp on, I checked the time on my phone. It was 2 a.m. who on earth would come knocking at my door at this ungodly hour. 

I ran to the door, looking through the peephole and hurrying to unlock it once I’d seen who was standing on the other end. 

“Matilda!!! I’ve missed you!” Harry’s uncoordinated form stumbled inside as he bent down to give me a hug. I could smell the alcohol on his breath right away. 

“Oh my god, Harry, are you drunk?”

“Extremely!” He giggled and kicked off his shoes walking straight into the living room. “Look, I got food!” He announced unnecessarily loudly. At this rate, the neighbors were definitely going to complain soon. 

I ran to catch up with him and snatched the bag of food out of his hands. “You got Chinese food…and it’s from the same restaurant…Harry is this food three days old?”

Harry burst out into an obnoxious chuckle. In his current intoxicated state, things seemed about ten times funnier. 

“Of course not! I was…just trying to be cute.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

“ I already told you.”

I shook my head. 

“I miss you.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the food down in the kitchen. Harry followed behind me like a puppy. 

“I know you’re mad-“

“I am mad.” I affirmed, eager to express my indignation. 

“I know I was an ass.”

“You were an ass.” I sat down on the couch and Harry surprised me by instantly dropping to his knees and wasting no time in burying his face into my lap. His arms came up to wrap around my waist, his face nuzzled closer and closer to my thighs as he spoke. 

“I know we’re not a couple or anything. You and Chris are a couple. Not you and me. No you and Harry. Nope….”

His fragmented rambling was already tugging at my heartstrings. I wondered if this was just his drunk talking or if he’d still stand by his actions in the harsh, sober light of day. “I just had to see you. Hate the idea of you being mad at me.”

My fingers instinctively moved to comb through his hair and scratch at the base of his scalp. He let out a big, contented sigh, a smile appearing on his face, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “That’s nice…” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of my clothes. 

“I…just didn’t realize you found me so selfish, Harry.” I spoke, still massaging his head. 

He jolted up at my words, but I pushed him gently back into my lap, his arms tightening around my waist as a counter argument. As if attempting to squeeze the idea out of me. “I don’t find you selfish! Promise! I wouldn’t be here if I did!”

“ you think I just come to you for sex…”

“I dunno. I feel like you’re never interested in anything else about me.”

Hearing him confess that broke my heart. My hands stopped in his hair, my chest aches, I was speechless. 

“It’s okay though…think I care enough for the both of us. Just wanna spend any time with you that I can. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Harry, that’s not-“

“It’s alright. I know my dick is magical.” He giggled at his own joke like a schoolboy. 

I pulled at his hair. 

“Ouch! You’re the one with the pain kink not me.”

“Focus, Harry. I do care about you. Okay? You have to believe me. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I care about you a great deal. really! I might even say that I lov-“

“Listen, I know we have a rule about sleeping at your place but could I stay? Just for a little while? Until the sun comes up?”

“Of course. Uh, why don’t you get off the floor and come up here.” 

“Good idea.”

Harry shuffled over on unsteady feet and sat next to me. I did my best to hug and pull him closer the way he’d done the night that he stumbled upon me in his living room. In fairness, nothing much was registering in his drunk, sleepy mind, but he still laid his head on my shoulder and fell asleep. That had to count for something. At least for the time being?

[lackablazeical]

You know in cartoon when a character gets bonked on the head hard enough they lose there memory?,imagine if that were to happen to usagi? Like he just losses all of his memories of leo/all of his trauma,how would everyone react?

Usagi himself would still be somewhat withdrawn. He's an introvert, he wants to be a net-positive presence. He'd kinda go along with what others would say, because like. He doesn't know what is and isn't correct information about himself. His muscle memory is still perfectly intact, so his katana training is stuff is all still there. He'd be under the impression he and Leo were dating and like, huge lovebirds. Leo makes him uncomfortable but he can't exactly pin WHY. I mean, they dated, right? So why does this turtle touching or talking to him make him freaked out? Weird. Maybe that's just how it is?

Leo would be upset at first, but then after he recounts their 'relationship', realizes that Usagi is all of a sudden much more like. Relaxed around him! This is a win! He is very happy and likes telling Usagi about everything (Leo's own twisted accounting of events)! He gets to be in control of Usagi's memory now!

Mikey wouldn't mind all too much, because now he is basically in full control of Usagi's landfill emotions (Emotions like shame, doubt, etc that is caused by other people dumping it on you, rather then something you already inherently had). He can make Usagi BELIEVE there's something inherently wrong with him now, and he is definitely gonna use it to his advantage. Leo finds it silly or 'boys will be boys' almost, so he just waves it off. Whereas Usagi is like 'I did WHAT 👁👁'

Donnie doesn't care that much, ngl. Other then the scientific interest he'd take in the memory loss and how Usagi's brain would react/function, he doesn't care. Usagi doesn't affect his life, he'll let Leo do what he wants, lol. Raph is the same way, lol

Kenichi and Ishida would be trying to actually recount Usagi's life to him, even the dark parts, and Leo would be 'aaaaaaand interview over! All done <3'

[745voiceofthepeople]

Azula, Zuko, and Ty Lee all walk into the Avatar’s base in an obscure mountain top. Prepared for a… dialogue. Or a fight if nothing else. They were excited to finally be going on a mission.

Azula: Okay, let me do the talking, and whatever happens, happens to all of us.

Zuko: Okay!

Sokka (seeing the the three FN fighters walking up to their base): Heyyy! You guys know how To make whiskey on the rocks?

Azula and Zuko: *long suffering sigh

Ty Lee: You put ice in it! It’s pretty easy

Sokka: Really! Hey Katara want to do me a solid? Get it? Solid?

Azula: Oh for Fuck’s sake

Katara (yelling from the other side of the mountain base to team FN): Hey! What the hell do you think your doing?!

Ty Lee (yelling): We’re coming to investigate your base!

Azula (to Ty Lee): What don’t you understand about “let me do the talking”?!

Aang (yelling): Why did the girl with the braid put her tongue on our base before?

Azula (yelling back): It’s a long story!

Katara (yelling): We got nothing but time!

Sokka (yelling): Are you guys the test!

Azula (yelling): A what?!

Sokka (yelling in reply): A test! Were from the United Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom Alliance, and we’re waiting to find out what we’re here for.

Katara ( yelling): ex-alliance!

Katara (continued): We’re not really waiting for anything though, except maybe like a quick, merciful death.

Azula (yelling): Are you the leader?!

Katara (yelling): We don’t exactly have a chain of command anymore! I’m mostly in charge though, because I’m not a complete fucking waste of brain cells! My names Katara! And This (gestures to Sokka) is my brother Sokka and this (gestures to Aang) is our companion Aang.

Sokka and Aang (yelling): Hi!

Azula (yelling): *Azula points to herself* Azula!, (indicates with a gesture of her head) my brother Zuko, and our (indicated with head nod) compatriot Ty Lee! Soldiers of the Fire Nation.

Katara (yelling): Let me guess? You guys got dumped here.

Azula (yelling): Wha-I… How did you know?

Katara (yelling back): Body language!

Katara (continued) That and there’s no reason to come here. For anyone, like ever!

Azula (yelling) Good eye!

Katara (yelling back): Yeah, it’s a fun party trick. Got more of you want!

Azula (yelling): Really!

Katara (yelling back): There used to be a guy interested in you, it didn’t go anywhere since you’ve accepted the fact that you like the ladies!

Azula (yelling in consternation) Wha-! Hey! How did you-?!

Katara: Come on girl, it’s obvious.

Aang (whispering): Maybe you guys can date.

Katara (yelling): *gestures to Ty Lee* and that one got messed up somehow, but she has the most upbeat attitude, so net-net I guess.

Katara (continued) Here, we’ll come over, we can compare notes.

Azula (yelling) Okay!

Katara, Sokka, and Aang walk to the other side of the mountain to base. Coming face to face with Azula, Zuko, and Ty Lee.

———————————————————-—————

Katara: We were the worst soldier of our unit.

Azula: Ha! Us too.

Aang: Sokka here, he once detonated a base, trying to heat up a cup of coffee.

Sokka: Who puts the “Fire all the missiles button” right next to the microwave?

Katara: Pretty sure they were just expecting us to accidentally fall down a ravine or… blow up our base and save themselves the trouble of a coverup.

Sokka: Stone, cold, hearted, man.

Zuko (deadpan):Tell me about it.

Azula: Agni fucking damnit.

Azula (continued): Fuck my life, seriously. Our one chance at a real assignment and we meet you guys?

Katara: Oh you’re a real charmer, aren’t you?

Aang: Boss, I like her. *lowers voice* Seriously, are you gonna date?

Katara: The long and short of it is, we’re fuck ups. Like you! We’re all stranded here, we’ll all die here, and we’ll all be forgotten.

(Everyone): look down is despair

Zuko: Well, least we can do it together

Sokka: Hey, Yeah!

Ty Lee: Together!!!

Aang: Together!!!

Ty Lee: You Know, I think I just learned something. It doesn’t matter if the rest of the world wants to push you away, as long as you find friendship and-

Ty Lee (continued) Ice spider! *she starts to fire her assault rifle at the ground*

Ty Lee (continued) Oh Agni, it’s going- it’s going up your leg! *Ty Lee proceeds to shoot Aang in the leg*

Aang: Ow! She shot me!

Sokka: You bastards, I’ll kill you!

*Sokka begins firing at Ty Lee*

Zuko: Ty Lee, get under cover! *a bullet goes by Zuko’s head*

Zuko (continued): That’s not cool, man!

Zuko, Ty Lee, Sokka, and Aang proceed to begin a firefight between themselves. Katara and Azula stand in the middle of the chaos. Seemingly ignoring the fight and just staring into one another’s eyes. Blue on gold.

Azula and Katara (at the same time):*sigh deeply as their teammates exchange gunfire*

(Azula) Agni damn it.

(Katara) Tui damn it.

————————————————————————

Katara: This happen often?

Azula: Yeah, but not as often as- * a missile flies by* Never mind.

Katara: Man, I just wanted… I just wanted a chance, you know?

Katara (continued): To be given a mission. To be given a purpose.

Azula: You want a purpose?

Katara: Yeah... I really do.

Azula (laughs incredulously): Me too!

Azula and Katara proceed to gaze into each others eyes (again)

Azula: *Proceeds to raise her gun and shoot Katara in the foot*

Katara hunches over from the blow, her hands immediately going over to her foot. Fortunately, the armor appears to have absorbed most of the damage. That doesn’t make the small pond of red any less disconcerting though.

Katara: Ow, Shit! You shot me! The fuck did you do that for!

Azula: Giving us all a reason to be out here, bitch.

Katara (incredulous): What are you, crazy?!

Azula (flippant): Eh, probably. But I’m done waiting on someone to give me a purpose. I’m making one for myself.

Zuko (yelling): Azula, come on! We have to get out of here!

Katara (narrowing her eyes): You’re going down, sweet-cheeks.

Azula: Aw, that’s the spirit! It’s a shame, though. You actually seem like my type.

*Azula walks away to the now FN side of the mountain base*

*Zuko and Ty Lee are still undergoing a firefight with Aang and Sokka as this goes on*

Azula: Come on guys, let’s roll out.

*firefight has now undergone a temporary pause*

Zuko (angrily): What? What did you do?

Azula (smugly): I just gave us a purpose for being here.

Zuko: Which is?

Azula: To keep an eye on those assholes *nods towards Katara, Sokka, and Aang*

Ty Lee: All I wanted to do was kill the Ice spider.

Zuko: But…! They just said that they aren’t doing anything!

Zuko (continued): Why do we need to watch them?!

Azula: That’s where your wrong Zhu Zhu.

Azula (continued):They are doing something now. They’re watching us. Because now we’ve shot two of them.

Zuko: Seriously? You’re saying that the only reason we need to be here is because they have a base over there, and the only reason they need a base is because we’re here?

Azula (giggles): Yes! We finally have a purpose in life. Isn’t glorious?

Katara (Yelling): You guys are a bunch of psychotic assholes!

Azula (yelling back): You’ll thank me later, fuckface!

Katara (yells back): You’re super uncool! You know that right?! You’re all losers!

Azula (to Zuko and Ty Lee): Yep. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. And that Water Tribe chick? She totally wants me.

Katara (yelling): Fuck you!

Azula: See? She even wants to fuck me. My seduction plan is in full effect!

Zuko: I don’t think that’s what she meant by “fuck you” Azula.

Azula: Don’t ruin the moment Zhu Zhu.

[privateolives]

I saw people talk about their Zero Time Dilemma fixes around the tag so I thought I'd dump in my convo on the topic too (With shout-out to @oriko-magicas's galaxy brain read on Akane and Junpei)

Absolute wall of text below.

Me: I'm having trouble finding it, but there was a post talking about Akane and Junpei in Zero Time Dilemma that I really liked the interpretation of It's essentially talking about how Akane don't want anything but the perfect future with Junpei. She went through so much and spend so long aiming for fhe one needle hole solution to live that she can't settle for anything but her ideal fantasy ending anymore. Meanwhile Junpei still experiences time the way it normally goes and he was burned by 999. He knows things will never be the same cause THEY'RE not the same, but he's willing to work with that to stay with her And I think it's a super thematic read, especially when you consider their VLR attitudes

Friend: Yeah, you know, that actually makes a lot of sense to me

Me: https://www.tumblr.com/privateolives/730880206913552384?source=share

Okay I’m thinking of ztd again, and it’s how Akane only accepts a future with Junpei if it can be fairytale perfect. She wants so desperately to be that kid who died in the incinerator again, the one… There it is

Friend: That would certainly explain the way she frequently reacts to this new cynical, jaded Junpei

Me: I don't think that's her exact motivation for that ending but the sentiment is perf Yeah

Friend: It makes much more sense to me. Every time she shakes her head and says "what happened to you" it's because she's hopeful to see that same boy she used to know

Me: I think Junpei's attitude would make a lot more sense if the assholery was played up when Akane acts like he should still be the same like he was before 999. Or like the world could be how they saw it before then. It'd underline the dynamic better of "I need you to be the person I cried out to back then" and he's like "I love you but you literally made that impossible" … paired up with Carlos like "I am begging you to just talk" Carlos: you are both cute and valid but I NEED you to communicate

Friend: I think maybe part of it is that Junpei's jaded asshole net is thrown a bit wide. 'cause on one hand it is like he's upset at Akane for 999 and part of it is like he's upset that she acts like he should be the same after that, but then there's also all the shit that he went through since then and it feels like he blames her for that as well He's been through a lot in what has somehow just been one year and it feels like, perhaps fitting for someone who has also become an alcoholic, he's looking to put the blame for it all on someone

Me: Yeah Also I've been thinking, and I think there's an easy fix to the stupid "complex motives" crap. And a lot of Delta honestly

Friend: hell yeah let me hear it

Me: The whole frame he jeeps setting up with the snail. It's all about a series of small butterfly effects that cause an extremely specific outcome. That's what he wants to do too, same as the other zeroes, but he has one particular handicap: he can't shift or read timelines. He won't just know how to make the bricks fall to get the exact outcome he wants. But if he could gather enough shifters, he could read their hopping around through their minds. Because resonance would make the memories clearer. So he sets up the game that can only be completed by getting the exact result he wants and then introduces the piranha - Mira - to the equation to ensure it won't be a dead end stalemate Then in the end he can explain that yes, his motives are complex. Because the solution to save 8 billion without killing 6 billion is a hairline precise set of circumstances that he wouldn't be able to figure out what is naturally. So he had to make them create it. He had to make them all resonate to read them and make them all resonate to give them all awakened shifter powers for the future and to read at all. Furthermore I would play up his narcissism. The smugness of his own intelligence being double edged to believing he has to cause this himself because he's the only one who can. A staunch belief that he HAS to be what causes the bricks to fall as they should. And it'd make his point of "but I didn't do anything in this timeline. Everyone is prepped and noone is dead" more valid. Because he doesn't shift. He doesn't emotionally register all the timelines he massacred to get this one. He only know the actions that caused his personal outcome as a list of checked boxes checked off through their memories

Me: Furthermore, there could be another reason why he has to be the one triggering these events. I was super annoyed that it was like "Oh so now free the soul isn't enough. We need another terrorist group with a world ending leader. And what was the left thing about?" Well what if its not a separate terrorist group. What if the religious fanatic he's talking about is himself, transported forward in time. A younger version of himself is ending the world to create the ideal existence Dio was talking about. But the Delta who arrived in the original way back when doesn't shift. He has to live all those years. He meets interesting being like Sean that makes him realize that the differences between people makes for various choices that makes life beautiful. So now he has to find a way to out-checkmate himself to stop himself. How? Prep a group of people capable of doing what he can't to try and outsmart him. And set up a winning condition entirely set on being able to do that.

Friend: that's actually so brilliant because yeah I think definitely the weakest part of this outcome is that it doesn't really solve the problem that he set out to solve "You're all really motivated now!" oh so… what they wouldn't have tried to stop a terrorist attack if he hadn't made them all kill each other? the heck is that also, yeah I was going to ask you about that at some point. like, he doesn't mention Left at all in ZTD and I was confused if Sean was supposed to be related

Me: I don't think so. Because he was an old man when he met Sean in the hospital. But I think he was fascinated by Sean's approach to life And maybe made him consider that something could be beautiful outside of Left

Friend: this man just goin around creating marvels of science to preserve dead little boys

Me: I'm thinking part of it is also like Solving the conundrum of giving him whatever he wanted. He has his dreams of the future. He can give him that. But he's not in despair of having to die before that reality. So he gives ukm the option of death too By just giving him the option at all, he's ensured both will happen somewhere Thus the ideal outcome of how he can have both comes true Lastly, Mira's ending. I think they should have empathised more that she became a killer to understand experiencing emotions instead of just pretending them. She chases Eric because she thinks she wants to feel that rush again, but her connection with Sean could show her something different. That either through resonance she could experience emotions through others OR that you can still essentially be human even if you're only able to "simulate" having those emotions,m like a robot does.

Me: Meanwhile Sean both wants better for and cannot forgive Mira for her crimes. But thanks to the choice with the bad and happy ends, he has an answer for how to both make Mira live with her crimes and ensure a future where it doesn't happen. By creating a split timeline where she goes back and stops her crimes from being committed. In this case, the original Mira would still know and have to live with what she did. But I'm one tjmeline a young Mira never becomes the heart ripper and the crimes are undone. The sins are therefore both being punished and remembered for happenjng and erased to begjn with at the same time.

Friend: you know what I like that one. that's a good way of interpreting it, especially with the way the transporter works also, doubly digging this idea. Mira being shown this robot child who either somehow experiences emotion or at the very least simulates it in such a way what it fools everyone (and also is capable of calling her out on her own emotional mistakes) should have so much more of an impact on her

Me: Yeah Like I genuinely think you could fix this game either a few tweaks

Friend: yeah absolutely also I'm not sure what the amnesia element really did for it? I guess it was to confuse the SHIFTers so they wouldn't know they had already SHIFTed but to what end?

Me: It might be to confused the computer. Keep it from figuring out its not the real Sean too fast If it remembers being Sean it'd be easy to compression and contrast all the things that Sean definitely couldn't do or know and reach the conclution If it doesn't remember being Sean, there's nothing to compare any contradictions to. It can only just assume that the reasons are things it can't remember Also, if the computer ONLY has Eric and Mira, it makes it more incentives to latch onto them and care about their situations, despite them both being monsters in their own right Oh Also The Carlos thing Rather than just "I couldn't have met you guys" you could do: 1) in order to fix this we need phi and Sigma here. That means we need a timeline where Akane and Junpei escape but don't stop Zero or the radical-6 outbreak. So he breaks in to bust them out. 2) they need the timeline where Delta gives them answers. Meaning they need a timeline where Zero "wins". So he can't interfere. 3) split worlds principle. By just introducing the choice to stop zero's plans or not, he's creates both options. This is the world where he doesn't stop Zero. But because he comes pre-packadged with the knowledge of what's gonna happen, he can still tale actions to secure the timeline that'll allow for them all to stop zero So there is a timeline where he stops Delta before DCOM, but because of the anthropic principle (there must be a perciever for the option to be percieved) Akane and Junpei never see it because they never had to go through the game. They only percieve the option where Carlos didn't stop Delta in time

Friend: that makes perfect sense to me gosh imagine that timeline, though. Akane and Junpei never go to DCOM so they never meet there poor Junpei is probably still chasing the ghost of this woman who …wait what was her reason for going to DCOM again?

Me: So her and Sigma could stol the outbreak Stop Of radical-6 ALSO also

Friend: yeah that's what I assume but I swear the game acts like she doesn't even know about Sigma or Phi or the outbreak

Me: (I've thought about how to fix this game a lot idk if you can tell) The thematic relevance of "but then I couldn't have met you guys" can actually be valid if you flip it around.

Friend: hahaha understandable how so?

Me: Because of Carlos, Akane can come to terms with the changes in Junpei and see the validity in the "broken" futures by showing there's things worth remembering even in the imperfect ones. Like the argument Junpei makes at the end of VLR, the relationships after the disasters still mean something to the survivors. And Carlos helps Junpei realize there's still fundamentally good people in the world and come to terms with Akane and what she did and who she is now. By inserting Carlos they're able to help mend their relationship. And if Carlos never met them because the DCOM experiment didn't go down like it did, their relationship wouldn't have been mended either They'd still just end up like how they did at the end of VLR. Essentially dead to each other "You're not who I thought you were, goodbye"

Friend: very true it certainly seems like by this game they were never really going to be able to talk it over on their own he was a necessary mediator

Me: Not to mention If Carlos never met THEM, he'd never realize the cause of the reverie syndrome to save Maria

Friend: True! Gosh she's kind of a whole anomaly herself

Me: Yes! I think it could be cool if the they worked her more into Carlos and his abilities tbh Let's think back to the 999 lore The idea of the Sender and Receiver If Maria was the "sender", she could have gone into reverie when she was stuck in the fire, trying to save herself and her family. She continues to be stuck in reverie because she keeps simulating how to a) save her family totally and b) save Carlos from all his other eventual dooms The problem with saving her family is that there is a huge world crisis going down soon that's gonna wipe out most of humanity anyway! So? Make sure Carlos goes to DCOM to save her and have her essentially be a satellite quantum simulator to feed Carlos his insights And through that also learn from Akane and Junpei or just the experience itself that either the timeline where their parents was also saved still exists but isn't percievable Or come to terms with their death by still having Carlos that survives both DCOM and the would-be apocalypse And thus be able to lay the endless simulations to rest and wake up (With the added cute twist that she already knows Akane and Junpei and their relationship with her brother when she wakes up. Thus why she's so invested in it in the epilogue)

Friend: that is a bizarre kind of adorable and sweet! she's his own quantum computer though I wonder if they'd be able to still use those abilities after she wakes up in that case

Me: I'm guessing it'd just go back to working like it did in 999. Carlos himself might be able to do it on his own from longtime exposure too, who knows.

[blorbfoosh]

Chapter 7 -

Surprise, new early chapter! Do not mind the chaos that goes under-Whomever I am. This series is called 'The Intertwining' for a reason. Two Webs. Two creators. -Spotlight's on you now.- Guess who's taking over buuu-ds~! New writer here, just call me Pudd, pleasure to meet you all. This would be my side of the introduction of dear old Torah, and that so-called ‘Pesky’ ahh addi. There's a lot to say about these two, but ah. Lore dumping is quite terrible. Sooo, buckle-up buttercup, we're about to dive INTO THE INTERTWINING~! With Omni and Weya Allix. Let… start with the Moth. Tw: Torah Planning /j (that's to you nills lmao) 

While Charter events began to unfold.. 

A certain Moth would finally do his homework. 

It would be quite a gloomy, studious day in the office of the certain Moth, flipping through different blue print pages saved up on a thick journal while at his ornate desk, thinking in deep thought. Thoughts about a certain few past projects he's been saving, projects that seemed incomplete, missing certain components, parts. 

Keys… 

Keys..? 

“The Key…, I hadn't tested that out already have I?” He would mutter himself, twirling a pen in his right hand while using his left to read over. 

“I am still in need.. a certain subject for testing this, someone who's not tied, someone… Without any family, or got a good reputation. Just net 0. Like a complete nobody. 

I wonder… . 

Isn't there a rosette or hunt’a perfect for this?

  Someone without any thing?”

He would use an extra hand from his side to grab another book behind him, where a bookshelf lay. 

The book he would happen to slip out of, would actually not be a book, oh no no. It would be a sandwich thick hard drive. Labeled “Black List” 

Inserting the drive straight into the back of his neck, sliding it in like a disk. 

Once the drive would be inserted, his sight would switch in instant, from this glassy purple filter, to a black screen filled to the brim of names. Names that have info attached to them like files. 

This would be the so-called list of names. 

[-Delta, ?? yr old puppet-ton, has experience in Monster hunting, and game hunting. 20℅ part of the rosettes. Condition? Questionable. 

[ -A.v.A, a male 30 year old puppet-ton, gunsmithing, 50℅ part of the Rosettes. 

Condition? Decent. Need more potential. ]

[-the Lemon Twins, 

… no. Just no. Too damn chaotic. 

Don't get me started with those one single motherboard running spark brains. 

[ Noire? Ah. Fanboy, nope. Too close. 

He's a Addi, part of my group called H.i.v.e]

    -Nickel? A fairly young yellow variant Addison, broken off from his organization called B.o.n.e, total loner, very Experienced Bounty Hunter, has lots of bad history he wants to forget. Nowhere to go, and I am looking for a job. 

“Want… a minute, did I just find my ticket~?

I think I just did. Count the hell in, this should be easier than baking a pie darl.”

Just right when he was about to contact, outta of pure coincidence, the same sir on this blacklist would be immediately sliding into the office, clearly looking more nervous than a sandy rat when rain is about to drench ya. It was like staring at a spitting image of the guy. Blonde, dressed like a retro punk, styled pompadour, and a stylish black leather jacket. 

“Hey… Uhh, is Mr. T in here?

I apologize for being late”

A cocky Boston accented young puppet-ton would ask sheepishly. 

“Why.. Yes, I am. 

you came at the right time surprisingly, what compelled you to come over to my office?”

“I-... I need a job. Heard through the grapevine you provide only the best!

Someone who's got targets, and lots of shards willing to spare. I'm willing to do anything”

He would desperately add. 

“Willing..? How willing are we talking about?”

“Drop dead willing, if ya got any enemies, any rivals. Done and Done, just please give me this job ”

“Well then… You came to the right place then, come. Sit. Let's talk business little nickel”

“Make it quick! I got a Buddy to help out”

-----

And just like that, right into the moths hands, he'll gain his very first project. 

Project Nixon . 

If you could become a God at the press of the button, would you press it? 

Even if you'll become a puppet? A puppet willing to kill, and become a complete machine of war and havoc? 

—--------------------

Now that we got a plot string set, let's start with a certain other string. 

While a bounty hunter was making a deal, a certain Puppet-ton would be returning to his 9-5 job, a job that he actually loves surprisingly despite living out in Frontier, in a sandy scape called the Badlands. A rocky sandy desert landscape, with thousands of caves hidden inside.  with a silver streak lining of cities lining behind a giant lake. Calling it Stalagmite City, and Stag lake. 

Right near this lake, lies a radio and television station called Opa-locka, a city wide reaching station that runs this puppet-tons group, called M.I.S.T, there a tele and radio broadcasting group, deals with weather, news, and OHHH LAWDY~! gossip galore. A certain short white puppet-ton would be walking right inside of the station's door, loosely dressed as a nosy librarian, wearing high heels, and those classic librarian glasses with the little chain on. With a swept up bang covering one eye messyilgly. 

 Holding a lil cup of straight up black oil similar cup of coffee, 

storming right inside like this guy barely got any time to sleep, loosely carrying his slung handbag over his shoulder. Speed walking to his office, ignoring the other addi units 

“EYYYY! IT'S WHIT- oh Jesus, you look like you saw better days bud. Is it Halloween already~?”

A passing by, and rather tall yellow addi would add. A more proto-type looking addi, looking more mechanical than other human modeled looking. 

“H a h… very funny Nick. You know, you should become a comedian-”

 The short black haired white addi would add on snarkily. Downing the cup in one slurp once he arrived at his office, with the tall yellow addi following in. There was only just a tidy cubicle, clean desk, clean computer desktop, everything was right in its place. Just like how would this dear addi like it. Should be just as quiet too. 

“Sayyy, you never really say your actual name white, just your color. How come eh?”

Nick would seem to ask genuinely. 

“My name? Ah, it's Walts. Walton D. White seems to fit better since M.I.S.T here follow color names eh-heh. Just following protocol, as per usual.. Even when I want to get [f#CKIN] SLEEP.”  

 The puppet would rant to dear Nick. 

“But ahhh, your forgetting the number one motto here, [GOSSIP NEVER RESTS B#TCHES~! not in this GHOSsss-T TOWN~!] As my dear boss says.”

 Nick would mock and explain to the tired addi. 

“Ayy…dear mista Indigo, nice impression of him, quite surprised you can pull that off, coming from a guy who's usually l a t e, as [hell].”

“Ey ey, I'm a busy guy walts~! Nothing wrong with arriving fashionably late” 

He would bounce off walts, watching over his shoulder as walts would sit right back into his creaky spinny chair, getting comfortable as he started his laptop he had grabbed from his handbag, along with pulling out a couple of purple colored files, called [Tea]. Files that to the dear Addi, would seem to carry lots of certain rumors, research, photos, and all kinds of so called reputation dirt any desperate Joe school celebrity would want. To have no secrets, h a h, well ain't that challenge just waiting to happen. 

Speaking of a challenge. 

“Eyyyy, white. Did ya get that letter?”

Nick would gesture to ask. 

“What letter? You know, I rarely check the Network a lot.” Walts would plainly add. 

“I think ya should. It might reignite that Spark ya been wanting to get back for… How long?”

Nick here would add. 

“A h… , ever since Indigo asked ya boi here to do that hit piece on that ehh.. what's his face-

Ver-.. 

Vercc- OH! Vercos! That sheriff fella, what. Ya asking for another?”

“Ohhhh nah, indy here wants you to do something bigger than that.” The cocky butterball of an addi would add on lil finger guns towards walts. 

The hell..? What ya mean by that ya butter toast. 

“Bigger? We don't get a lot of major figures in a ghost town like Stag bud, ain't no way.”

“Ain't no way?? WE GOT ONE OF THE BIGGEST FIGUREHEADS IN FRONTIER HISTORY HERE!” 

“Eh… The f-, did you drink too much battery acid to melt ya motherboard- what do you mean?”

“Look. Up. Torah Bellerose . I'm ya telling maaaan, you'll love what indy got cooking up.”

—-------

And that there folks are where you give this lowly journalist a job. A job turned from curiosity, following through the motions, into complete obsession. Ohhhh, the amount of terrible shit this dear Addi unit would look into, from the Key Experiments, Fraud, The 15 counts of DAMN WAR CRIMES. SWEET EL. 

The many… many ideas, on how to put this absolutely bastard, was tempted. The sins, the corruption.. 

“No wonder your called the God Of Corruption, darling [m.0.t.H]”

Yeah, this job became way bigger than what Addison realized. 

Soo, with that info in mind. And in that pursuit, this lone addi would make his sole purpose to dig up dirt on the Moth, whenever through deep dives, eavesdropping on rumors. Or.. Taking a photo of a project, when Torah is in mid testing. And when I mean testing, this man was able to catch not just Torah Himself, but full on catch his long time friend Nick, closer than damn blood. 

Be completely shattered into nothingness. 

Right on a fateful night. 

—------

Right on a fateful Friday night, where Torah was caught testing in his deep underground lab, planning to actually rid of the gossip-teer who's screwing with his rep and having to deal with the damn Paparazzi, news reporters, god the whole shebang. But right when he was about to start testing with dear Nick, under the corner of the glass visor line of vision. He could catch the sight of one, sneaky, insomniac filled, puppet-ton. Sneaking in a photo shot of the underground base, peeking into a scene he was witnessing. Trying to keep himself hidden enough to grab. That damn. DIRT. 

“C'mon… . c'mon- , just three shots walts, bring this CAPITALIST [f#CCCCC, IS GOING STRAIGHT DOWN]

He took one.. twoo, all he needed was the third one. 

But, to the utter shock of this addi. Would be when he saw that familiar glimpse of that butterball addi, restrained to a table surface, with an exposed.. Not chest, or heart . 

His core, right down at his abdomen. A glass case had lied empty, with Torah sitting at a workshop desk, handling the Motherboard Key, and the other key. The Key Gen.

The Key.. 

Nick couldn't move, or feel. Because he was removed. 

Straight outta his shell. 

“.... Oh what the hell did YOU GET INVOLVED INTO NICKK, [YOU BUTTERBALL-]” 

Walts would growl to himself, immediately dropping the camera and rushing over to the restrained addis side, not realizing he would attract the attention of the moth, triggering a nearby rosette drone designed to look like a sleek visor wearing Moth and wasp insect. Grabbing the short stack by the neck, right when stepping into the Test Room..

“NIC-aCkarg- LET ME THE HELL GO 

YA TWO TIMING MMRRRPH-”

The addi would be promptly silenced, muting his voice box to complete silence. 

“Ah ah… Now, you really think I would let some nosy pidgeon step into my sanctuary here? Someone with the likes… Ohhh, I don't know. 

A backstabbing, truth desiring gossip WHOR-”

Ahem. Torah. 

Sigh.  

“ A back stabbing, true desiring BANSHEE”

“W h a t… ?” 

Ohhhh, Walts didn't realize just how vast the moths are. 

“Oh don't play Dumb, you know damn well what you're trying here, it's frankly worse. Then even what I have done. If you truly want to talk shit lil justice warrior. 

Then. Say. It. To my face.”

“You want shit… 

ALRIGHT THEN. [ STRANGER.]

CAUSE I'M LOOKING AT THE BIGGEST PIECE OF SHIT, I EVER SEEN IN FRONTIER”

Straight to the face, and straight to the point, cutting straight to the Moth faster than a sushi knife. 

“Biggest shit huh? Well then… sir, 

YOU JUST EARNED THE PERFECT TICKET.” 

The grip to the puppets neck had become tight as a tightened vice grip, crushing the inner metal right inside the puppets neck, crushing the interior, and the exoskeleton parts keeping it together. 

“WAI-WAIT, WAI[#######] 

Only static could be heard. Static filled cries echoing into the dark chamber of the Moth. 

Eventually silencing him entirely by commanding his Rosette to tear out his voice box, and store the unconscious bot near the Vault. 

Torah would attempt to complete his work while hearing the cries, finishing up the final tweaks, and creaks. 

Untillll.. 

The transfer would be completed. 

A transfer of one's mind, to a completely different device in requiring of such a device. 

Behold, Frontiers first Key A.i

—-----------

After that night, and having that thwart being more wimpier than a coup. Torah would take the advantage of not just using one experiment, but two. While Nick took to becoming an Artificial ghost, never being able to use a body. Torah would use someone else to use, someone who tried to soil his rep, will know how to face someone just as damn nosy as him, in fact more worse. Someone with the power of a complete god, and the power of one of the most experienced interlopers of an Addi system. 

It would only take three days of the installment of the Key, and it's A.i to awaken. Through this, Torah would put the experiment through simulated realities akin to matching the Journalists memories, trying to navigate through the puppets mind, and discover where the true interloper laid. One, with the power of a complete storm . 

Each of the realities would simulate a run of a game, to Pacifist, Neutral, Genocide. 

Each run seems to always end with a deal of some sort. 

A deal, slowly unraveling, breaking the reality and revealing just only glimpse, a glimpse Torah would pay dividends to just GRAB. 

Each reality would end as a dream, as a run completed. Going from day to day, night to night. Treating this as a Cycle. A cycle meant to awaken something deep beneath, something that could give him the key to the Chip itself.

Torah would be spending nearly months at this point, ignoring just about everything going outside his chamber. 

The only cycle he got close to, was a route called [A n g e l?] 

Called it the weird route, a route that started as a promising deal, turned to a complete.. a horrific nightmare. A nightmare of raging storms, deals being broken, and.. realizing this whole cycle. Was only a Dream. A REALITY. NEVER THERE'S. A reality meant to be.. 

Shattered. 

It was only a matter of time.. Before, the subject w41 would break from its strings. 

As if on a flick of a switch, the Addi would awaken, break out of its glass chamber, and attempt to escape. But that attempt , would become a chase, a chase that could mean life or death, rushing you the stairs from the basement fast as this sleep drunken bot could try, tripping and falling, nearly face planting right into the steps, frantically trying to make your fast as he could, hearing the angered shouts of one. Pissed off mad. MOTH. 

A Moth that would immediately mark down the bot's name into the White-list; a list of targets his blacklisted individual hunters can promptly take care of. 

—-----------

   After the forlorn events of being abducted, memory frazed, and practically becoming a literal puppet, walts would have a fairly hard time trying to adjust after that terrible reality shock, never looking at his own the same. Thinking he was always stringed, tied to M.O.T.H.

He would try his damn best to forget the events, trying to return to his job and completely forget it. Only to get complete whiplash, and.. actually experience a complete outer body experience. He didn't feel any control, he couldn't feel his limbs, his actions. Nothing. 

When he was able to return to finally feeling he was in control. 

All he could see was blood, colored blood completely staining head to toe, with jolts of electricity sparking into his inner wires on his main dominant arm , like it was.. Twisted, twisted to the point, he could only feel the sparks. 

If only he knew on that faithful week, when he took that call from the likes of M.o.t.h, he would turn into a complete Bulletstorm, of a machine. 

Never realizing.. just wait he did. 

When he committed something he refused to do in many many cycles of those simulated dreams. 

Complete. Unfettered. Genocide. 

Everyone completely blasted, or electroshocked to ash. 

With no memory of what he's done, or what had happened. 

Only a ruined city, painted in red as a raging storm looms above. 

Until he would pass out from completely panicking, and wake up. 

Everything back to net 0.

—-----------

Ever since then, he's been struggling to actually really trust himself, or his own reality, feeling like it could shatter, or just instantly fade to black. The once curious bot, had now.. become timid, senile, and broken. Having to rely on living like a rat in a dumpster next to his old place of work. M.i.s.t, living off as a puppet who scams, and remotely steals to get something to eat. 

Until… he would meet a little Someone. 

Someone else who questions their state, their actions. 

Someone whose fate is tied, while his is a cycle. 

A cycle he can break, and harness THE STORM~! 

[dragonprincess18]

Learning

Life in the South Blue, at least on this particular island, was rough.

Without Government help, the gangs had taken over, dividing the various towns and villages into rough sections they ruled over with an uneasy truce between them.

At least until they pissed each other off or started jockeying for power amongst themselves.

That left almost everyone else in a state of perpetual poverty, fathers toiling away in the coal mines or in the fields and motherless children running wild, dumpster diving for scraps and pickpocketing from what shop owners and outsiders walked around.

With what vague memories I had, and what I remembered from the anime, I suspected that our mother had been killed as a result of the sweep looking for Ace, and our father ended up a drunk that died in a mining accident not long after.

It was just Kid, Killer and me, or at least that was all I could remember with any clarity, living in an abandoned shack near the dump.

We got by, mostly because Killer knew how to survive and made sure we learned too, and getting Devil’s Fruit powers ended up being a net positive.

You know, after we figured out how to use them on purpose.

========================================================================

“SHIT!”

Nearly slipping off the edge of a half-broken box, four paws scrabbling for purchase, I turned around with alert ears to see Kid flat on her back, swearing up a storm as a metal pipe was thrown off her chest.

I would have laughed, but every metal piece of scrap was vibrating and shifting within a good twenty-yard radius, so that seemed like a bad idea.

“Find something good?”

I ended up toppling backwards to avoid getting brained by a flying wad of aluminum, skidding down the back of a trash heap before catching myself.

“You could’ve just said no!”

“Fuck you!”

“KILLER!”