#the promised neverland imagine

[akariamai]

Changed

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 1220

It seemed like a distant memory. The house that once felt like home, the books conveyed with hidden messages, the horrific discovery of the house, the large wall acting as a blockade, the ravine truly being a barrier towards freedom, and the overwhelming helplessness you felt as you watched your siblings be shipped out.

The plan your siblings came up with failed. Climbing the wall was the easiest part but the ravine on the other side disrupted your escape. Mother swiftly shipped off the rest and you had been the last to be on the cutting board. The last one to go. You had seen the mask your older siblings wore when it was their turn, a fake smile and a painful goodbye, you would wear the same. You would break the promise of writing letters to your siblings knowing you would die at the gates. You hoped they would see through the lies and the deceit of the house and find a way to live past the age of 12.

You expected to die that day, but fate decided to be rather cruel. You were shipped off not to be a pig for slaughter but a lab rat. You were, apparently, too valuable to be a mere meal. Instead, you were sent out to a special facility. Your new hell. You had lost track of time within your cage. You only knew the pain you felt every single moment you spent there.  Your eyesight was taken from you and all you were left with was the memories of your siblings walking towards their death.

Once the days in the facility were over, you and some of the other experiments were free. You had never gotten to see your savior, only heard his voice. According to the others, he never bore a smile. He's tactful, cold and riddled with stress. You owed him everything and made it your mission to lessen his load.

He convinced you and some of the others to stay near the hideout while he oversaw his plan. While you thought it would be better to escape, you kept quiet knowing you were the only one with an issue on the matter. Your opinion, the grand scheme, was irrelevant. He wanted to create a world where humans would not have to worry about the demons anymore. A world where children did not have to be raised as cattle.

“Oh.” Cislo noticed two familiar figures waiting by the door of the hideout. The others and you weren’t expecting company, nor did he say any visitors would visit. It must’ve been a surprise visit.

“You two are Boss’...” Barbara paused for a moment, trying to remember the name of the farm he had come from, “...his friends from Grace Shield!”

“Field.” Vincent quickly corrected, eyeing your movements as you made it up the stairs without any assistance. He knew Cislo was the closest to you, however, it was just a precaution. They knew you yearned for your independence. With or without your eyesight, you would not let the demons strip that away from you.

“I’m Ray.”

“I’m Emma.” The hues of their voices sounded familiar. You quickly concluded they were the ones you had met before. “Thank you for saving us yesterday.”

“Ah, that was Zazie who killed the demons.” Cislo proclaimed, “He’s with Boss now, they’re...” Cislo hesitated. He did not know if the boss wanted them to know of the plan.

“Boss will be back soon.” Vincent interrupted.

“You can wait inside if you want.” You offered. They were important to him, and you would not send them back without refreshments or shelter. They accepted your offer, made their way inside to have a seat, and the rest of your escapees followed.

The layout of the hideout was vaguely unfamiliar to you. You had few moments to try and memorize the placement of the furniture but remember a few spots where you wouldn’t be in the way. One of the corners was empty so you resided there.  

Cislo began to formerly introduce everyone to the Boss’ friends. “I’m Cislo. That’s Barbara. The short one is [Reader]. And the smart one here is Vincent.”

“I am not short.” You muttered softly as a soft smile made its way onto your lips. Compared to the others you were short, but you were never going to admit it out loud. They were older than you minus the boss. They had more of a chance to grow in length.

“Hello.”

“Would you like tea?” You asked, gathering the necessary ingredients to brew your favorite tea. You took small steps making your way towards the table, careful not to bump into any furniture, and the two thanked you for your generosity and agreed to have a cup of tea.

“Um, by ‘Boss’ you mean Norman, right?” Emma asked.

“Who else would it be?”

“It’s just so different from how he is.”

“People change with time.” You placed the cups onto the table in front of who you assumed to be the guest. “Some parts stay the same but overall things change.” You knew you were not the same as before. The experiments shattered your being.

“You’re his siblings and grew up with him, right?” Barbara was curious. “What was he like? This person you call ‘Norman.’” All of you were intrigued to learn more about your savior. He was young when he came up with a plan to escape that hellhole. He acted like a seasoned tactician. All of you owed him your life.

“Um, Norman is kind, smart, and always has a warm smile.” ‘Not anymore,’ you thought bitterly. ‘That smile they fondly remember was ripped away from him the second he entered the facility.’

“Warm?”

“Smile?”

“He’s completely different!” Barbara and Cislo uproariously rejoiced.

“What? He’s that different?” Emma was stunned when she heard her friend had changed so much.

You were stunned, too, but for a different reason. Barbara and Cislo, immersed in their search for who the Boss once was, forgot how sensitive you were to sound. The experiment not only took away your sight but cursed you with more receptive hearing.

Vincent, who was helping you light a fire for the tea, noticed your distress. “Are you okay?” His question gathered the attention of the others in the room. Emma and Ray, confused with the situation, sat in silence as they watched you removed your hands from your ears. The laughs were too much to bear but they did not know the extent of your hearing.

Barbara and Cislo, now realizing their mistake apologized quickly, “Sorry [Reader]. We forgot.” They watched you adapt to your environment, but your hearing has always frustrated you. It was the one thing you couldn’t fix nor adjust. You were stuck with highly sensitive ears.

“It’s okay.” You reassured them. You knew they did not mean to. “I’m going to go to the other room. Vincent, can you give our guest the tea when its ready?”

“Sure, [Reader].” Vincent agreed immediately.

You carefully maneuvered yourself away from your corner and walked towards the next room. “It was nice meeting you, Emma, Ray.” You called out over your shoulder and closed the door behind you. You wanted to sleep, get lost in your dreams, and remember the colors that once brightened your day.

Masterlist

[fluffyartbl0g]

The one piece reread only makes the hardest moments hit even harder,,,, even when you’re rereading it poorly in portugese

Or AKA, i found out today that HINATA SHOYO reads one piece and I haven’t recovered since

[chidoroki]

"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth

[darklight-owl]

Sometimes when I talk about a thing I'm mentally ill about irl I forget that not everyone has read the source material, spinoffs and remakes, seen the stageplay recordings and movies, analyzed every single aspect of the soundtrack, or dissected the characters by painstakingly combing every scene they're in.

[duchess-kyuupid]

hello!

Could I request Fem!reader singing Isabella's lullaby to Leona?

Of course sweetie! I loved watching the first season of the Promised Neverland, so I haven't seen the second season to keep my memories of it pure </3... But sorry for the wait, I hope that you enjoy! As always, for those who don't know the song and/or wants to listen while reading, here it is!

~Humming a Lullaby to Leona~

[Fem! Reader, Established relationship, Minor agnst to fluff]

It might sound a bit obvious, but sometimes you just felt like you needed to get away from everything. Away from all of the magic, the overblots, and all the lunatics that all congregate at this school. You never asked to come here, but you'd be lying if you said that you always hated it here. It's just that- sometimes it's all just too much. You want to go home, but what's left for you there anyway? And at the same time, how would the aforementioned lunatics deal with you leaving? They'd all probably overblot again, seeing as how their local 'therapist' would be gone all of a sudden. No, you couldn't leave them, but sometimes you wished that you could. That, at the very least, you could be carried off to someplace where there's just less everything. Where you're not the only female student in an all-boys school, where you're not the only magicless student in a magic academy, where you're not isolated and chastised for being the only one from another world entirely...

So when Crowley has a few too many new expectations of you, when you just can't finish that one magic assignment, when you feel that your brain is about to split in half from Ace and Deuce's bickering- when all of the stress starts to pile up too high, you go to a secluded area on the cliffside in the forests behind the Ramshackle dorm. You felt quite fortunate that the school was located so high up; the view of the expansive ocean was breathtaking at this spot.

This time, you had brought your mandolin with you (courtesy of Sam for finding one for you), and you planned on playing some music to let off some steam.

You climb up and sit down on your usual rock, which was fairly tall, and you begin tuning your instrument as the wind gently caresses your face. You close your eyes and listen to the nature around you- to the sounds of the waves harshly crashing upon the bottom of the cliff, and to the sounds of birds singing in the distance. You open your eyes again, looking out into the sea and thinking, 'If I had wings, like a bird, could I fly across that ocean?'

Your fingers begin strumming on your mandolin automatically as your thoughts continue to wander.

'Or if I was lighter than a feather, could the wind blow me away back home?'

You start to hum and sing softly to the tune that you were playing, letting all of your stress fly away in the gentle ocean breeze. There were no lyrics, just the sound of your voice harmonizing with the hypnotizing way your hands played the instrument.

This was a lullaby your mother sang to you when you were a child, and you always thought it was something beautiful anytime she sang this to you. Only now do you start to realize what she must have been feeling as she sang, because you think that you feel the same.

'If I could only escape from here...'

'But that would just be unrealistic, so I submit myself to this fate, and I will continue to survive as I always have... I will cherish this life I live and of those around me.'

'I just want them to be happy.'

And just like that, your song had finished. It was short and sweet, yet it carried the weight of your emotions away, just as you'd hoped. You take a deep breath and you felt that all of your stress had melted away, and now you were just left with the sounds of the natural world around you- feeling that sort of emptiness that happens when you let out a good cry.

"Oi, herbivore, what's with that song you were playing?" You hear a deep, tired voice suddenly come from behind you. In your shock, you yelp and almost fall off of the rock you were sitting on, and when you manage to catch yourself, you look behind you to see Leona sitting on the grass, leaning against the rock as well.

"Oh! So sorry I didn't see you there, Leona," you chuckle nervously, "Was there something wrong with my song?"

"It woke me up," he huffs as he looks up at you with his bright green eyes, "You always play creepy songs like that?" Creepy doesn't even begin to describe how he felt about the song. If he was being honest, while it is indeed a very beautiful song, he thought it sounded like you just wanted to disappear- that you were wanting to be whisked away in the wind like a fallen leaf with nowhere to go. To him, it sounded like you were crying in the form of a song. And that, no matter how much he may try to deny it, scared him on the inside.

You laugh at his comment, "Does it sound creepy to you? I think it's quite nice actually. But I don't think I could do any justice to the original, though."

"The original?" he hums curiously. You smile and sigh bittersweetly,

"Yeah, the original. My mom sang it to me when I was little... She was really nice.. I miss her."

"Then sing it again."

"Huh?"

"If it reminds you of your home, then go ahead and start singin' again. Don't let me stop you just because I'm tryin' to sleep," he fakes a yawn and closes his eyes again in a way to show you that he was going back to sleep. But with the way that his breathing didn't change, you didn't quite believe that he was actually asleep- even though you know that one of his 'talents' is being able to fall asleep that quickly. You giggle to yourself and turn back around to face the ocean again, saying out loud,

"Well, if the kitty wants a lullaby to go to sleep to, then I have no reason not to deliver."

You could tell that your little nickname got under his skin with the little grumble that you heard coming from him, but since he was trying to fake being asleep, he made no objections to the name.

So you begin strumming on your mandolin once again, with the same tune as before, but when your voice starting humming the song, the change was subtle, but Leona could definitely hear the difference.

You sang as if your voice was meant to comfort him, as if Leona was the one needing relief from all of the stress. And why was it working? Muscles that he didn't even know were tense started to ease, and it felt like the air he was breathing was clearer. Your song didn't sound creepy, nor sad- it sounded like unconditional love and affection. It sounded like hope. Does that make him crazy for thinking that? Probably, but as long as you don't know how soft and sappy he's gotten because of you, it's fine. He can handle being a little vulnerable on the inside, at least.

You had your suspicions about it, but it was true that Leona was only faking being asleep so that he could listen to your voice some more. He wanted to continue to listen to hear that angelic tone sing, and initially he had debated saying anything at all when you finished earlier. But now he's glad that he did, because the way you're singing now sounds much happier than before.

While in the midst of his own thoughts, you finished singing your lullaby once again, and you allow the place to fall into natural silence once again. Turning around to look at Leona, you ask,

"Do you mind if I come sleep next to you? The breeze is getting a bit chilly from up here."

With a moment of reluctance and a small huff, Leona grumbles and scoots to the side without saying a word, patting the patch of grass where he was lying at earlier. You climb down the rock (making sure to be careful with your instrument too) and settle yourself in his old spot, cuddling up to him and sending your hands onto his chest to try to warm them up a little.

"I think that lullaby had the opposite effect," you yawn with a breathless chuckle, "I got myself tired instead of you."

"Don't worry about it, almost anything will make me go to sleep. Including your lullaby," he says.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, I did," Leona sighs, "Now go ahead and take your nap already."

"Alright," you laugh tiredly, "But just so you know, I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Even if I had the chance to go home, I think I'd stay here. I love you too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What if MC / Yuu originally came from the world of The Promised Neverland and never learned the truth about the orphanage, and Isabella somehow found a way to send her children to different worlds as a way to escape without being caught by the demons. Like there's not really *that* much you can do with that, so I didn't want to fully incorporate it into the story (also as a way to make sure that readers who hasn't seen TPN can also read this too) but I can't deny that I did write this with something like that in mind 👀👀

[pillow-anime-talk]

idk if u write for male reader but i would love to read 3 + royalty tpn ray

# tags: scenario; friendship and also current secret relationship; light romance; mostly fluff; also a bit of angst; royalty!au; prince!reader and prince!ray; staring at the stars together; imaginary world; sfw

includes: male reader ft. ray {tpn}

author’s note: yes! i am writing for male readers and thank you very much for this. this is my first tpn request!

3. “Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather… lips to lips?”

A warm August night, and the day – and at the same time the feast – of Saint Aure’guen was a time when animals spoke with human voices, flowers changed their places and arranged themselves in beautiful patterns, and the stars showed the future to those who dared to look at them. It was a magical moment, celebrated only once a year on the fourth Tuesday of the month mentioned above.

“... It’s beautiful today, isn’t it?” You asked quietly, squeezing your lover’s hand tighter, who timidly nodded his head, looking at the stars arranged in various figures or signs. The moon was obscured by dark clouds giving the opportunity to shine that night to its smaller brothers. “Do you see anything interesting? Has heaven told you a secret or something?”

The Prince of Aquemering looked into your shining eyes for a brief moment, then turned his full attention back to the dark and the flashing dots. He was observant, intelligent, and loved anything to do with space. He was the opposite of you – a boy boy who loved music, painting and fencing. You loved the mundane things, while Rey loved history, the mysteries of the world, the cosmos and the depths of all the oceans that surround the earth, and all the fossils and ancestors of your families.

“The stars warn of a battle between the two of us. We must beware of third parties who will seek to destroy our happiness.” He said quietly, closing his tired eyelids.

As the future king, and also the current prince of Ignitesu, you will certainly be forced to marry a woman whose name you will hear on the occasion of your wedding ceremony in a few years. You will surely become the father of several children, a respected ruler and beloved man of the whole kingdom. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted to spend your next years, until the day of your death, with a person with whom you share not only love, but also mutual respect, sincere friendship and much more important values than the desire to start a family or exercise power over the entire country. These feelings were stronger than life and more certain than death.

“Ohh, I see. So... Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather… lips to lips?” You joked, wanting to lighten the atmosphere between the two of you, but Ray just rolled his eyes, pinching your warm right cheek.

The stars never lie; perhaps your fight will be symbolic – for a piece of baked potato with pepper on a plate – or perhaps it will have a second bottom that will end your relationship once and for all. The stars were never wrong, but they also never said when it would happen; tomorrow, in five months, in eight years, on your seventieth birthday. Or maybe posthumously? Nobody knows that.

Now, however, you wanted to enjoy the Night of Truth and each other’s presence. You didn’t want to think about superfluous things, you didn’t want to talk about the future. Now, in this moment, you valued the present and your current feelings. What will be tomorrow will be tomorrow.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

there are sometimes who is strange in all the side-information that we have about TPN.

In a interview, the author told that Grandma was the one to choose the names of the babies.

But in a bonus comic, Isabella tells Ray, Emma and Norman how she choose their name.

So either she lied...

Either that's a incoherence.

Either Grandma didn't name the kids who were going to Isabella to let her "daugther" names them as she want.

....either Grandma had given other names to kids who were going to the Grace Field House 3 an Isabella deliberally changed the names in a way to say "f*** you" to her former guardian (since the demons didn't care about the names) and claim the kids as her own. Carol is the only one to not have had a change of name because of Krone presence.

I don't know why but the last idea is hilarous to me ^^"

I default to the bonus comic being the most accurate to simultaneously keep any sisters in HQ from potentially getting attached to the infants by giving them official names and to make the moms more endeared and caring toward the children they named themselves (for reference for anyone who hasn't seen it; a reward for scoring high on the official site's IQ test:)

(Reprinted in The Promised Neverland Art Book World; one of the few times we get to see them with their short sleeves for warmer weather.)

Unless Shirai meant Sarah named them literally right before handing them off to the moms in the plants, but I don't believe she'd care enough then or at any point after becoming Grandma.

That last one is funny though dlkfjsd

The little petty ways you get back at your mom when you're both victims and perpetrators of a violent system.

But you're right; Shirai's said some conflicting things over the course of the series' run that I think come from being run ragged by a hellish production schedule and a work just naturally evolving as opposed to being antagonistically contrarian to spite fans he views as obnoxious.

The other two that readily come to mind are Shirai saying the series could range anywhere from 10 to 30 volumes long…

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | October 2018 Franceinfo Interview | October 2020 Series Completion Interview)

…before his health took a nosedive and saying it was always going to be 20 volumes at most, with him wanting to maintain his sense of artistic integrity by completing the series on his own terms (the similarities between this and the way Yoshihiro Togashi ended Yu Yu Hakusho, one of TPN's biggest inspirations, is sadly staggering).

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 5 | October 2020 Series Completion Interview | TPN Wiki's Chapter 134 Page | WSJ Editorial Department 9/5/19 Update)

And him (and Sugita) being purposely mum about how he felt about Noremma when speaking with Cloverworks staff during the production of season 1 in 2018 compared to what he mentioned to Kendo Kobayashi in an earlier January 2018 interview, assuming he ultimately wanted to leave it up to the audience's interpretation rather than imposing his own (Demizu notably interprets all the relationships in the series as platonic).

(Minerva Confidential Report from the S1 Blu-ray | Mystic Code Book Chapter 1)

[officersnickers]

Norman: refusing to take the Ratri's money

Every other cattle child:

[toxtricityamped]

@pawphin THE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[goldiipond]

and everyone managed to escape safely

[akariamai]

Prologue: Reborn

Crossover between The Hunger Games and The Promised Neverland

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1059

Marissa Crossly picked a handful of berries, deadly nightlock berries, from the pile the oblivious boy from District Twelve left. He didn’t even realize he was being followed nor noticed the pile he had left behind had lessened in size. It was a wonder he survived this far into the games. Maybe it was luck or his partner’s sponsors. She would never know. She survived long enough. Spent the last of her days stealing small bits of food from other tributes, enough for them not to notice, and now the pool of tributes has shortened. Her time was close to an end, and she would rather not suffer at the hands of the capital. She would not die for their entertainment but as an act of preservation of the person she was. A seventeen-year-old girl whose dreams crumbled the moment her name was called out on reaping day.

Nightlock berries were extremely poisonous, kills before it reaches the stomach of the individual that consumed it, a painless and quick death. A mercy in a game that celebrates painful and brutal deaths. It would look like an accident, a starving girl who loosened her guard at the wrong moment, who has been careful throughout the entirety of the games and died because of her carelessness. It would not be taken as an act of rebellion. Her family would only have to suffer the loss of herself and no more from her actions. She hoped they would not have to suffer any longer for the rest of their lives.

She ate them swiftly, enjoying the lessening hunger that rattled her stomach, reminiscing over memories of her district and her family as she’d soon drifted in and out of consciousness. She would miss them. She would miss sending her father off as he went to work on the hydro dam. She would miss working alongside her mother at her family’s plant shop. She would miss the sounds of electricity running through the machinery near her home. She would miss it all.

She felt her body become limp, falling towards the ground as her eyesight blurred with every passing moment, and the sounds of the forest disappearing as well. She was losing her senses as she passed from the world. She gasped her last breath before death came for her. The loud boom of the cannon could be heard throughout the arena as she died. Marking the end of another fallen tribute.

Marissa had never thought of what comes after death. It was the end of life. An empty nothingness after a life of pain and sadness with a sprinkle of happy moments. She was supposed to be dead. She had eaten the berries, she felt her body drift into numbness, yet she was still conscious but not. The thought was confusing.

Her eyes opened but could not focus well, no matter how hard she tried to will herself to do so, but she could hear the cries of babies. The sound frightened her. She had lost control of her movements, unable to sit up or even stand. She could not speak or yell, only cry or coo. It took her far too long that she was a baby once again, however, was cursed to remember her life beyond this one.

The women of the orphanage, she assumed it was an orphanage due to the multiple caretakers feeding all the babies. They never breathed a word about the dreaded Hunger Games or the annual reapings. Never mentioned the Capital or the endless deaths of children. It would seem there was no such thing as the Hunger Games in this new life.

Marissa accepted her new life with grace. Crying only when she needed to alert one of the caretakers. She reined embarrassed when she felt the need to poop or pee in her pamper. She was once a teenager, now reduced to a helpless baby. She could not wait to potty-train herself.

When her eyes focused for the first time, seeing the world she missed so much, and her body filled with dread and anguish once she laid her eyes upon a monstrous figure standing outside the nursery. Babbles spilled out of her mouth, in an attempt to warn the caretakers of the frightening figure, but they all cooed at her with awe. They were oblivious to the danger they were in, and she was too young to be capable of warning them.

She wanted to live. She was given another chance at living, and it would be taken away from her in an instant if these women did not notice the being in time. She could only move her arms so much before becoming tired. Her babbles would only further their attention on her, crying would do the same.

It wasn’t until later on, when she lived and so had her caretakers, that the real horrors of the world she was reborn into. The children and herself were raised to become cattle, produce for the species that stood outside the nursery. It became prevalent that the caretakers were helping the monsters. They played a part of the scheme, caring for the young and taking the one-year-olds away.

Months went by and she received branding on her delicate baby skin. The pain of the branding was a pain she wished she’d forget. It was a pain she never felt before and her cries could be heard over the sounds of the mechanical pen, permanently marking her skin with indelible ink, becoming a reminder of the horrors only she would know.

Once she became old enough, she was moved away from the nursery and taken to a dark tunnel. A woman waited by the entrance as Marissa was carried towards her by another. “Isabella.” “Amara.”

“This is Finch.” Amara placed Marissa, now Finch, into Isabella’s arms, “Your new ward.” Isabella was young with brown eyes reminding Finch of the umber. A mixture of varying shades of yellow, red and green muddled together. Her black hair was tied into a bun.

“My little Finch.” She held her small body lovingly, “We are going to have so much fun together.” Finch doubted it. She would never love the women who would raise her for slaughter. She would try to survive in this new world. Escape the new hell she was born into. She wanted to live.

Masterlist

[pheoflame]

This au is my gulty pleasure 😩✋

[nutzo0001]

Promised Neverland

Other name: Tech-zine future (inspired by July '97 edition of WIRED [picture] [link to read])

Main interest - Retro-Futurism, Cyberpradism

Related/Similar to the genres/aesthetics of Vaporwave, Y2K, Cyberpunk and those sorts -

Wonderland, Cyberparadism, Global Village Coffeehouse and Hauntology - among others -

This aesthetics talks about idea of "what could have been", "what we lost", even incorporating in talks those terms of "look what they took away from you".

Speaking of general "vibe", we are in-between on terms of: Dark Academia, sometimes Bastardcore - Mallgoth. Also might vary between Utopian scholastic, and/or cassette futurism (and others).

Talking of Hauntology - PNL can make us look over for "what went wrong/what could be//get better", this is, speaking figuratively. Human imagination, in these forms, presents to us, "what could have been's" - world envisioned: in 10, 50, 100, 500 years. Many projects and arts envisioned our "future"s, now long-gone (1800s, 1900s, 1950s-1980s ~ y2k).

Idealised future (now past) can consist of:

Topics: pro-freedom hackers, cyberpunk, "long bloom", "promised 80s neverland", (once upon a time-space - Barrille) futures; human-library-utopic, free world, calm, pre-9/11 dreams (y2k), new ways-opportunities-progress, tech = (as) saviour, "gay space free commie", unity-community-mutual help-understanding, econ. boom, "kids are alright"/no real deal, small media-only, man vs himself/bad habits (spooks?), theories of mind and research (everything is relative > no meaning, or value > nihilism); slow steady steps, new school(s) of thought, "kids = (are) future", "we build this city"/people-first, man-gov collab. ~mutual help/or, liberation...

for Gallery, see Retro-Futurism#Gallery

Mini-gallery

Albert Barillé landscapes

More:

"90s (Cyber/-) Positivism" and or, "Oldest (Alt.) Nets (80s-'93)"

- Also, *when* "Oldest Web"/"Old Alt.-nets" (Work name)? (1980s-1992/93) - "Eternal September", "there is no Cabal" and such? (https://aesthetics.fandom.com/wiki/Old_Web?commentId=44...54588&replyId=44...436775)

- https://aesthetics.fandom.com/f/p/44...52421

- https://aesthetics.fandom.com/f/p/44...53803

- https://aesthetics.fandom.com/f/p/44...53936

(^ Related: "90s Positivism")

-- Ike this: https://kyberia.sk/id/8639748#7 (https://aesthetics.fandom.com/f/p/44...53936/r/44...435546)

- https://aesthetics.fandom.com/f/p/44...53936/r/44...435363 (... (copied this text to AI and asked about mark fisher + stirner + hauntology...):)

[uponthefantasy]

♡Introducti0n♡

Hi everyone! My name is Uponthefantasy. It's a pleasure to meet you.

About me:

Since you may see me a lot more often, here's some things about me!

Favorite food - Orange Chicken.

Favorite color - Purple.

Favorite music artist - Melanie Martinez.

Favorite beverage - Iced coffee.

Hobbies - Writing, Drawing, Photographing, Kayaking, Shopping.

Favorite school subject - Math.

Favorite sport to play - Baseball

Favorite sport to watch - Motorcross

Gender - Female

Pronouns - She/her

About content and page:

My content will mostly be writing oneshots or imagines of MHA, KNY, TPN, and BSD (all animes). Please ask in my ask box if you would like to ask for anything else or if you have any other questions. You may also drop requests in the comments or in my request box if you click on my page.

I may also post updates of my life, whether it's something small and funny or something big and serious. Please know that this page (other than slight profanities) is family-friendly, which means no requests for smut/lemon/limes, pedophilia, or anything that you know isn't for the tweens of social media. I will, if one day requested enough, make a separate account for the teens and adults of Tumblr.

Thank you all! Make sure to request your wishes, and I hope you have an amazing day!

[t-marveland]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 | ray

Ray x Reader

Warning : aucun

Mots : 119

Masterlist

❝━ Allons jouer ensemble, Ray ! Chantonnas-tu.

━ Non, (T/P). Pas maintenant.

━ Mais tu dis tout le temps ça... Râlas-tu.

━ J'ai dit pas maintenant ! Je suis occupé ! Cria-t-il.❞

Ce n'était pas la première fois qu'il te criait dessus mais cette fois-ci, il semblait vraiment en colère contre toi et tu ne pus t'empêcher de reculer de quelques pas avec les larmes aux yeux face à sa réaction.

❝━ D'accord. Sanglotas-tu.❞

Lorsqu'il entendit tes pleurs, il se tourna vers toi et regretta immédiatement ce qu'il venait de faire. Son cœur se serra et il s'approcha afin de s'excuser mais c'était trop tard, le mal était fait.