#extremely ambiguous timeline

[lecliss]

I'll never be able to take the theory that Vincent is Sephiroth's real father seriously cuz I cannot stress enough how important I think it is to the plot that Vincent wanted to fuck Lucrecia and did not get to.

[pasdetrois]

love the conversations where sasha's just like, actually forget what i said about us being mirror images—i hate you and i'm going to fucking annihilate you.

and farit just looks at her like this:

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[sealedterror]

Stellaron Hunters and Astral Express Parallels

So, I've noticed that the Stellaron Hunters are basically a darker, murdery, and morally grey parallel version of the more heroic Astral Express, with every member mirroring another from the other group. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. First thing I'd like to point out, both factions don't really follow any current aeon. They "follow" (very loose term here) the missing-in action Akivili and the "Destiny" that Elio forsees. Both factions also are deeply involved with Stellarons(we encounter a stellaron on every planet, the Stellaron Hunters hunt them. Obviously) Here's some similarities I've thought of between the members and some theories based off each other: !!SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Dan Heng and Blade:

Both from Xianzhou,

Immortal in some way(Blade's self-regenerating and Dan Heng's reincarnations)

Same gender

Dan heng's five star form enhances his basic attack, like Blade, who I BET was ALSO a four star before the mara and Jing Liu incident

Similar age? Don't really know exact timeline between them

Both feature flowers in their gameplay(lotus flowers and spider lilies)

Himeko and Kafka:

Both intelligent women

The pseudo-moms of their faction.

I might be pulling out of my ass here, but I'd like to point out that both of them use both a ranged weapon(Himeko's laser and Kafka's gun) and also a melee weapon(Kafka's katana and Himeko's grator).

Since they are each others parallel, I'd like to make the assumption that since Himeko was the first one to join the Astral Express, that Kafka was the first one to join Elio. It just fits with the known info we have and clears up any ambiguity, but you don't have to strictly adhere by it lol.

Pom Pom and Elio

"Animals" yeah right

The being who leads their group in the direction wanted(conducter, scriptwriter, best destiny, best path to blaze)

You assume they are the cute mascot at first, but then there is something...exceptional about them, that you can't quite pin down.

Both are sentient and can presumably talk(Elio might just write to communicate, how would that work though? Toe beans? Meow to text? Lmao)

Wait....with synestheia beacons that's actually very possible. Oh god

March 7th and Silver Wolf(HEAR ME OUT)

The trendy, youthful girl of the group

....Use of technology?

yeah i got nothing BUTBUTBUT

March 7th's mysterious pasttttt. Like, the similarities between Danheng and Blade weren't revealed until his five star form was revealed and I'm making the theory that when March 7th's mysterious past is revealed, the similarities between her and Silver Wolf will appear!!!!

So Silver Wolf is from Punklord, is extremely accomplished and powerful, chaotic neutral with a sense of wanderlust. I don't know much about her(don't have her character/character story) so I can't say much more, but what I do know seems pretty plausible for March's former self.

It supports my theory that March 7th's five star form will be Nihility. Imbibiter Lunae was Destruction, like Blade. The memokeeper in March's quest said her past would "only bring her pain". How nihilistic is that? Either way, I'm definitely pulling xD

Stelle/Caleus and Firefly/Sam(the best for last ;)

So this is the one that really cemented this theory into my mind. So far, you might have noticed that every member's mirror image is the same gender(with the exception of Catlio and PomPom, I'll talk about it in the comments). But Trailblazer has TWO genders/personas. You know who ALSO has two genders/personas?FIREFLY/SAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some theory and more similarities between them

They both are the explosive power powerhouse of their group(Stellaron and Sam's firepower)

Both pretty smart(dubious) and funny(hilarious, the both of them)

They both eat questionable things...Trailblazer's trash consumables and Firefly's woodchip Oak Cake(seriously, read the description, do they have iron stomachs or something??)

...So they might have iron stomachs.

Both were presumably artificially made. We know Firefly/Sam is(born to fight in a war) and the Trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron. There has to be some funky, wonky, genetic/biological makeup for that.

Welt Yang and no one lmao

Lonely ass old man, no ship?(making the no bitches face)

Anyway, I presume he doesn't have any parallel bc he's from another universe. I don't know much cause I haven't played Honkai Impact. Something about a comic and "herscherr"? Idrk but. I suppose Luocha could join the Stellaron Hunters. That would be crazy as hell and if it happens I CALLED IT, but it probably won't. Probably.

There is also the theory Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. It's honestly really interesting and if that's true.....Welt Yang and Sunday don't have any similarities so that's tossed out the window. So, that only leaves the possibilty that we will have a mirrored someone of Sunday joining the Astral Express in the future. That would be INSANE but fun as hell like, can you imagine?

On another, slightly less speculative note, I'd like to point out that the five stars of the Astral Express have the same paths as the Stellaron Hunters. DHIL and Blade, are both Destruction. The Trailblazer started off as Destruction and Firefly/Sam is Destruction. As I theorized above, March 7th's five star form is likely Nihility, just like Silver Wolf. Except for Himeko and Kafka. Hmmmm

It is also my theory that Kafka was supposed to be Erudition, like Himeko, but the Stellaron Disaster on her homeplanet altered her path to Nihility. We know how smart Kafka is and we've seen paths change, Dan Heng changed to Hunt after doing away his vidyadhara features, and we have switched paths multiple times now. But we know we and Dan Heng can switch between paths anytime. I think Kafka's case is different, in that she can't switch and the Stellaron permanently altered her, removing her fear and switching her Path.

So this concludes my rant, are you convinced yet ;)? It's really interesting that the two factions mirror each other so deeply. I am getting the message that, whatever our fates are, they are deeply intertwined.

Thanks a bunch for reading this far and please, let me know what you think! May the Trailblaze be with you....or something lol

Edit: AAAAAA, Firefly's pool cutscene!!! She said, and I quote "The Astral Express and the Stellaron Hunters are like light and shadow. We walk on different paths, intertwined, moving forward and growing together...Maybe the end is predestined, but, it is not today."

Idgaf, I'm taking this as confirmation!! My theories are becoming true!!!!! *high pitched squealing* Show me more, Honkai Star Rail!!!!

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 10/12

Anonymous asked: Scratch: Won't anyone think of the children!! If you're gonna be smooching then get a room!!! also Scratch: Time to go manipulate more children into destroying their relationships! @manorinthewoods asked: There are two events in which Scratch has, so far, gained emotions: one, when he discovered that the Serkets stole an incredibly important magical item and hid it for centuries or millenia; and two, romance in his workroom. ~LOSS (20/9/24)

@manorinthewoods asked: "Is it because there’s a ‘good’ and an 'evil’ way for a God Tier to die?" On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate this brain fart? ~LOSS (20/9/24)

Wait, is that a brain fart? Because to me, it still scans.

Prospit, the 'good' moon, would naturally be associated with heroism, and vice-versa for Derse. Am I missing something really obvious?

Anonymous asked: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Death's Bell grows ever nearer. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. But will it determine whether the thief is trully a sinner? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Honk. I guess we'll see :o) @ben-guy asked: The showdown between Vriska and Terezi really is one of the watershed moments of HS imo. You've questioned if Vriska has matured enough to escape death by mysterious transcendental judgement engine… but let's not forget the meanings of the words in question, and their inherent linguistic and philosophical ambiguity. What if her death being caused by her pursuit of a heroic (albeit foolish) plan tragically makes her growth the cause of a permanent death instead? What if Terezi's decision to kill her is just regardless of Vriska's motivations, making her growth a moot point? Of course, this feels a lot less mutually exclusive, which goes against the implications of the clock imagery. […]

How did Scratch phrase it again?

The terms of a God Tier permadeath are defined according to the case of the individual - which implies that Heroic and Just are subjective, even to Sburb. It sounds like there might not be any ironclad rules, and that everyone's ruling works differently.

Yes, Scratch appears to be outlining some universal examples here - but what does, say, 'corruption' really mean? There are many equally valid interpretations, and a lot of them are contradictory. Maybe each death uses the definition that makes the most sense to that player.

In any case, I think Vriska's fate is currently meant to be unclear. She's designed from the ground up to be a complex, morally ambiguous character, and you could construct a valid argument for either outcome.

For my part, I'm fully convinced this will resolve as Just. I've been predicting Vriska's death for most of the Act now, and it's extremely fitting for it to happen at Terezi's reluctant hands. All those Incidents are finally coming full circle, and they're coming for her.

@morganwick asked: Note that Scratch starts talking about dark pockets and needing to speculate immediately after Vriska sees Karkat and Terezi's corpses. That's all Terezi needed to see, which means it's all Scratch needed to know - and all Hussie needed to know as well.

True! The fight that Scratch couldn't call was part of a doomed timeline. Its outcome was completely irrelevant to the story - and therefore, there's a good chance that Hussie didn't bother to decide on the victor. Author Theory survives another day!

@relaxxattack asked: i dont know if this counts as spoilers (it's a quote from andrew hussie) but i think your theory on scratch's omniscience is basically spot-on! "Doc here refers to the dark spots, the pockets of void on which his vision is built. These hint at limitations to his omniscience. As an alt-author figure, his omniscience makes sense, since the author has sweeping knowledge of story details as well. Because I "know everything," he "knows everything" too. Of course, as I write the story, there are plenty of things I don't know yet, and the "not knowing" is always an important part of the process in this largely improvisational medium. The known gaps are worked into the story, evaded through time skips and other tricks, filling out the surrounding narrative until certain answers become clearer, and then revealed at the right moment. The voids are built around, and in a real way, become foundational, almost load-bearing gaps in knowledge, just as he describes. Pillars of shadow. So his dark spots are not only a limitation to an otherwise ridiculously overpowered villain that can be exploited, they're a feature of a specific type of "authorial omniscience" copied into his profile." -- Andrew Hussie

...and it's officially Hussie-approved! Let's fucking go!

Anonymous asked: One kind of less obvious thing he says about circumstantial simultaneity is that it weaves together perfectly disparate chronologies such as a pair of distinct sessions, so it seems it is at work when there is communication between sessions, such as conversations between humans and trolls. ie: The troll sending the message is circumstantially simultaneous to the human receiving the message. Ditto for the memos. Anonymous asked: Posting for someone else again. -DJ || I interpret Circumstantial Simultaneity to mean a very simple thing: "those events happens at different times, but at the same meta-time". Especially if the things happen in different worlds, and so happening at the same time is impossible, because different worlds have isolated timelines. - RM

That makes a lot more sense than my interpretation. I think I was thrown off by Scratch's insistence that Circumstantial Simultaneity is 'not fully comprehensible to a mortal mind'. His use of such phrasing led me to assume that the concept was more complicated than it appeared, leading me to try and puzzle out the 'real' meaning of the term.

So, in a nutshell, circumstantial simultaneity is when multiple sections of reality are linked by shared events, allowing their local timelines to synchronize. Seems straightforward enough.

Anonymous asked: i don't think scratch technically lied. there are multiple ways in which scratch could die in the same way that there are multiple ways in which anyone could die - an axe could theoretically kill you, but that doesn't mean there has to be a timeline where you get killed with an axe

The semantics here are pretty interesting.

Scratch has stated that there are multiple ways to kill him, which could mean:

That there are multiple scenarios which have a non-zero probability of killing him.

That there are multiple scenarios that would hypothetically cause him to die, if they actually occurred.

These two statements have fairly similar meanings, but, as anon pointed out, there's an important distinction between the two. Statement 1 requires Scratch to actually die in some timelines, but Statement 2 doesn't require him to ever die, in any timeline.

Scratch has stated that he'll only die in one timeline, which means that there is only one scenario that will ever lead to his death. All other scenarios will never lead to his death - and thus, even if they could 'hypothetically' kill him, the probability that they will kill him is zero.

@heliotropopause asked: Never change, Noir. is that the oil jug WV uses for his mural in act 2? how'd it get to Scratch's lair?

I don't think it's the same jug, for the simple reason that both Carapacians emptied out the whole thing for their respective shenanigans. This ain't no Alchemy Jug!

abysswarlock asked: I like to think that the meta joke with the disks are a parallel of how the kings scepters hold small instantiations of skaia that exist within skaia itself, in this case the story of homestuck exists in disk form within the narrative itself.

Perhaps, but the Scepter's recursion is explained to be a game mechanic, whereas there's currently no explanation for the disk's existence. I guess Hussie himself could have put it there, but, like... why?

Anonymous asked: ‘His army thus inspired would spearhead a major re8ellion. Surely one at least on the scale of the sectarian revolt crushed 8y the High8loods, who thereafter for8ade its mention, or any invoc8tion of the heretical sym69ls at all, even in private journals.’ do you have any theories about this line?

Karkat's leadership shines in times of immediate crisis, which is part of why he struggled to keep his team together in the Veil. He doesn't know how to motivate people without an immediate, in-your-face threat - but since his ancestor was leading a rebellion, that probably wasn't an issue for him. The threat was omnipresent.

In short, I think Karkat Senior was always in Vantas Panic Mode. He'd have spearheaded Alternia's first rebellion with vim, vigor, seemingly infinite stamina, and sheer, bloody-minded determination - and if he was anything close to as likeable as Karkat, folk heroism was virtually inevitable. I can't wait to learn more!

@semaphoricwave asked: w.r.t. learning Mindfang dates the Summoner: it makes you wonder if Vriska's obsession with Tavros was the Alternian equivalent of comphet. She had no respect for his agency in the scenario (not difficult to develop when you're able to mind control people), but also she didn't seem to hold much stock in her own agency in all that, either. It's not even a cueball fortune, she just seems to want to be true: this boy she wants to 'make better' (but doesn't know how) is meant to make her happy. Anonymous asked: so with the revelation of the summoner, this makes TWO characters that vriska canonically was in/pursued as part of a romantic relationship that were descendants from her ancestors romantic partners. girl is inventing new kinds of comphet 😭

Vriska, for god's sake. Terezi is right there.

@iknowitsgreen asked: I find it so interesting that there's now an implication that Vriska literally expected Tavros to grow wings and fly to safety when she threw him off that cliff. The question is, did she simply resent Tavros for proving her fantasy wrong, or did she convince herself that Tavros chose to be paralyzed over showing his wings to her? It somewhat recontextualizes her early treatment of him either way

Layers upon layers upon layers. Vriska was fucked up about Tavros from twenty directions at once, and should never have been let within a thousand feet of the poor guy.

@manorinthewoods asked: Since trolls growing wings is apparently some sort of mythic event, presumably the God Tier wings of Vriska specifically tie into this. A God Tier troll gaining wings would be much more significant to the troll than to the human reader, as their culture places incredible emphasis on the meaningfullness of such - and perhaps the God Tier ascension could be likened to such a 'pupation'. ~LOSS (10/9/24)

It would explain why both Vriska and Aradia got them, but John didn't. The trolls have a lot in common with insects, so it stands to reason that in their culture, an insect's metamorphosis would be associated with divine apotheosis.

Anonymous asked: It’s super fascinating riding along as you go through this sequence because when I first read homestuck literally all the mind games went over my head haha. I saw what happened, and had a decent grasp on the characters, but the idea that Gamzee was manipulating Terezi? Never occurred to me. Everything about “why didn’t Terezi suspect Gamze” was just a mystery I never solved (mostly because I never understood gamzee, and still don’t) So Thank You so much for helping me understand better, years later! It’s so wild to look back and know what happens, but still have a limited grasp on why it went down that way.

Thank you for the kind words!

And yeah, a lot of Gamzee's schtick seems to be focused on obfuscating what he's actually doing. The real smoking gun there was the near-complete loss of Terezi's deductive abilities, at the exact moment Gamzee should have entered her radar.

@skelekingfeddy asked: ive always seen the grand highblood as not a troll, but like, the head of the imperial drones. when asked why his blood is black hussie said ‘Because he’s a huge gross monster? I don’t what sort of answer would be meaningful.When the highbloods were setting up the judicial system, they said ok we’re going to need some judges for this thing. Then they said ok how about these massive brainless monsters, that would be so perfect.’ […] its a headcanon of mine that hht is technically the same species as the mother grub. same with the imperial drones. if the mother grub is a queen bee then the drones are…well, drones. and hht is, like, a drone foreman, or sergeant, or something. i imagine that trolls and the drones’ species evolved a reproductive symbiosis, but then the empire took advantage of it and co-opted the drones + hht as enforcers

There's such an interesting untold story here, about how the early trolls might have cyberized a formerly symbiotic species, and essentially made them its slaves.

I've always been interested in how, exactly, the trolls developed their symbioses, and what they might have looked like before Alternian civilization became what it is today.

Anonymous asked: terezi tries to play disc 2 on a gramophone because she literally doesn't know how a cd works - sgrub is all run via grubtech, and most of her humanning has been with mr turntables who even if asked would probably describe a cd through obtuse metaphor likening it to a vinyl record

Oh, good point. Terezi's from a civilization which left CDs behind a long, long time ago.

Hey, come to think of it, why does the Veil even have a…

...oh, right. The room isn't 'canon', so I probably shouldn't be trying to theorize too hard about its contents. It's not really part of the story.

@catlikeascendant asked: I had the impression that just like mindfang was vriska's FLARP character, Redglare was terezi's. That would explain terezi having the outfit and responding to the name, at least @somebody0214 asked: Terezi did roleplay a lot as the Redglare so it would make sense she would respond to Redglare. @dissonancies asked: I'm honestly not sure Terezi does know about her ancestor. […] Vriska had the journals, but she tries to keep her cards close to her chest- remember, "Mindfang" was Vriska's roleplay name. Who's to say she didn't just "casually" "suggest" Redglare for Terezi's character, without telling her why?

Vriska, just how many of your friends have you been molding into their ancestors?

I won't be mad - I just want to know.

Anonymous asked: Equius Sr being fit to Inherit the cueball due his passive Voidiness is another point to sharing classpects with Equius Jr, the Heir of Void. @cationicflood asked: now that youve met the Expatri8, you know now why Scratch didn’t know Vriska had the cue ball until Terezi told him — it’s spent untold centuries ensconced in Zahhak-flavored Void aura. Even when it was in Vriska’s possession, it so happened she was quite literally neighbors with Equius.

We've talked a lot about how I believe Scratch's 'dark pockets' represent information that Hussie hasn't decided on yet. It's admittedly a little difficult to reconcile that with the fact that Void, an in-universe Aspect, is strongly implied to be the source of at least some of these pockets.

Maybe Aspects can work on a meta level, as well as a literal one. Like, perhaps Void is the aspect of author uncertainty, and therefore, anything that Hussie hasn't decided on out-of-universe is canonically 'hidden by Void'.

Anonymous asked: Mindfang warning Vriska about looking into the cueball…. So what you're saying is that Mindfang warned Vriska about the *stares*

It literally keeps happening!

@wolygan asked: So based off of the troll Ancestors we have seen, what do you think the rest might be like? also what do you think of the ones we have seen, since we don't know much about them yet. @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: Hi! I'm wondering if you have any updated thoughts from your initial ancestor theory post about the ancestors we haven't seen yet, given we know a bit more about troll history now

Not a lot! I'm obviously curious about the others, particularly Karkat's, but it's hard to come up with any concrete theories, other than 'their experiences and personalities will parallel those of their descendants', which is a freebie, based on the Ancestors we already have.

Anonymous asked: To be fair to EQ,Nepeta was far and safe when Gamzee attacked, and she could easly hide out of harm way with her skills. He just miscalculated and didn't realise she would follow him and attack Gamzee after he died.

True - but at the same time, he knew that Gamzee would still remain at large after his death, and that he, Equius, would no longer be able to protect Nepeta.

Even if she hadn't attacked him immediately, Gamzee would have remained a significant danger to everyone else on the Veil, Nepeta included. Had Equius fought back, he could have ensured that Gamzee would never be able to harm her.

@martinkhall asked: It's obvious to us that's not Vriska's handwriting. But just because Terezi can smell what the words say doesn't nesisarily mean she can smell the difference in how they're writen.

Plus, would Terezi necessarily be familiar with Vriska's handwriting? After all, most of the trolls seemed to communicate exclusively through modern technology. Would they really have any cause to pass notes to each other while FLARPing?

Anonymous asked: I would push back on the assertion that Heroic and Just deaths are the only way stories can work. One can be slain by a villain but not be a hero, and that can still matter to the story. A certain event from A Song of Ice and Fire springs to mind.

Oh, for sure - that's definitely correct outside of Homestuck. But within the comic, they really might be the only ways to die that Sburb considers 'dramatic' enough to be permanent.

Outside of the God Tier system, though, anything goes. After all, Equius was slain by a villain, and he didn't exactly die a hero.

@flerponius asked: Not really relevant to anything that's going on right now, but I thought you might find it interesting. In the Homestuck physical books, AH comments that the 4 grist types unlocked by default at the beginning of the comic (not including build grist) are related to the players quests; specifically, each grist type is a blight on the land it's found on, and the players quest would involve removing it from the land. I don't think this was explained anywhere else in the comic.

Oh, interesting. I wonder what they were supposed to be for?

Like, how does Rose's chalk relate to bringing life back to her oceans? Did Hussie have different Quest in mind for her, back then?

@manorinthewoods asked: The human session is shaping up to have lasted for less than a week due to Jack's interference, while the trolls slogged through over 600 hours (probably 612, to be specific, or 25.5 days) of relationship drama, powerleveling, and the production of inane yet somehow powerful weapons. Which of these is a more 'normal' length for a session? Did the trolls take too long, or were they rushing? Do bigger sessions last for longer? ~LOSS (2/9/24)

I'm pretty sure the troll session was closer to a 'typical' length.

According to Karkat, the human Reckoning arrived significantly sooner than normal - I assume this was due to Jack's double regicide.

If the human session had gone more smoothly, I imagine that it, too, would have taken several weeks. Like the trolls, the kids would have been able to hang out in person - and unlike the trolls, it probably wouldn't have devolved into multiple homicides.

@cheyj05 asked: Hey, just so you know it's pretty much impossible to read your liveblog in order on mobile. Searching the act 1 tag doesn't work so you pretty much would just have to scroll ALL the way back, which is impossible @cheyj05 asked: Ignore my last ask, I figured out how to do it

Mind sharing how, actually? I've been assuming that this was impossible, due to the Tumblr app's, uh, unique issues. If there's a way to browse the tags properly on mobile, I should probably add it to the pinned.

Anonymous asked: What do you mean "barely wind-themed", John made a car fly with his wind powers, why is a boat less believable?

You're not wrong. I guess I meant more that the boat's Breath energy looked a lot less like actual wind, and more like the abstract idea of Breath. It might just be stylistic, though.

@wolygan asked: I read another liveblog for Homestuck, and they just got to meeting Jade and then wrote a short essay on how they are convinced that Jade is the seer of light, just thought you might find that funny to know.

I do find that funny to know! Hussie got 'em again!

[fernsnailz]

How long do you think Shadow was on earth when Maria sent him down in the escape pod before GUN captured him? There’s so much stuff abt Maria getting shot but I don’t see much discussion abt the immediate aftermath.. Being alone on an unfamiliar planet gotta be scary as fuck. Do we even know where the pod landed? Could’ve ended up in the ocean for all I know. If that were the case it’d make sense that he couldn’t hide from them

so the timeline and details between shadow getting launched from the ark and his reawakening on Prison Island are pretty vague and leave a lot up to interpretation.

timeline wise, it's unlikely that he was on earth for long before being found by GUN - my main reasoning for this is that pretty much every event regarding shadow's backstory is described as happening "50 years ago." the black comet's first arrival, shadow's creation, the GUN raid, and gerald's execution all seem to take place within the span of this same year. my personal interpretation is that shadow's escape pod was probably on earth for no more than a month before it was found by GUN.

it also seems unlikely that shadow was conscious after he crashed to earth - at least, it's not a period of time he ever mentions or seems to remember (which doesn't necessarily mean he wasn't awake, but personally i always thought he would've been unconscious during this period of time. that, or there's something larger going on here).

this period of time in shadow's backstory is incredibly vague, but its ambiguity is something i would argue is deliberate. one of the biggest questions raised in sonic adventure 2 is whether or not shadow is the "original" shadow or even the true ultimate lifeform. this question is brought up by rouge, who identifies the biolizard as the original ultimate lifeform (though she's technically incorrect because the biolizard was just a prototype to the ultimate lifeform). even though rouge is wrong, this question is incredibly important to shadow's character and comes up a few more times over the course of SA2.

so there's a very, very real possibility that the shadow in SA2 is not the original shadow/ultimate lifeform created on the ark 50 years ago. it's possible that the original shadow died after being launched from the ark, and that SA2 shadow is a clone of the original. it's also possible that the original ultimate lifeform wasn't "shadow" at all, and literally every single one of shadow's memories about this time were entirely fabricated by gerald. there's also extremely compelling evidence that this original ultimate lifeform was actually sonic. the hedgehog. just a lil game theory for you to chew on there (gets shot)

anyway so. my answer is that shadow was either just taking a month long nap after he was launched from the ark or that he was fucking dead

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi again Nalyra!

I’ve found myself stuck on something in 2x06 that I desperately need your help explaining.

I don’t know if it is the been-up-since-3am brain (yes), but I just can’t parse the implication surrounding the exchange Louis and Armand have regarding Louis allegedly requesting to have his memory erased. (It doesn’t seem to be confusing anyone else though, so I am making this SOS call, haha!)

This is the exchange:

Louis: I asked you to erase it? Armand: Yes. After you came out of a shower in our home in Sausalito. Three days after we abandoned him.

^ Is this exchange meant to explain that three days after they 'left' Daniel, Louis allegedly asked Armand to erase his own memory (re: the Claudia realisation/walking into the sun event)?

Because if so, what does that mean for the timeline? It happened only three days after dumping Daniel in the drug den = is that meant to imply that Armand was able to speed up Louis’s convalescence through the strength of his ancient blood? Otherwise erasing Louis’s memory is sort of moot if his body is still in a bad state, telegraphing exactly what happened to it, right? So Louis had to be all healed before his memory was erased. And yet it was only three days after they left Daniel?

What am I failing to grasp here with this exchange? Armand’s ancient blood is either power af or the ambiguous ‘three days after we abandoned him’ refers to a much later date than the drug den drop-off?

Seriously, send help. I’m all tangled up in probably unnecessary confusion, haha!

Heyyy!!!

Ahahaha, no it's not just your brain, I also stumbled over this.

Because... with Jacob's statement in the episode insider, and the comment re the martini... (also vermouth!!!!) - there is quite the clear picture emerging.

Namely that DM did happen in the past.

I think that comment was maybe the truth - but it happened a few years after that eventful night. I'm not sure what would have needed to happen for Louis to request that, but I do think there is a possibility for that to happen.

In any case I found the wording... let's say vague enough to ring the alarm bells for me as well. Because why not say "3 days after the interview" or similar. No, it's "three days after we abandoned him."

"We... abandoned him." A shared decision? What made Armand use the word "abandon"? There are implications to that word. Because you just "leave" people you just met and don't feel much for. They would have "left" Daniel after erasing his memories. But no, they "abandoned" him. There is one definition of "abandoned", which goes: "No longer maintained by its former owners, residents, or caretakers; forsaken, deserted."

And so yes, I think that word is definitely a clue. As well as that vague... time frame. He is trying not to lie, would be my guess. But there are ways to be vague. And as Assad has said it so plainly, Armand is already trying to spin another web, to keep Louis and Daniel away from the truth.

And that truth is that DM happened, but Akasha did not rise. And something else happened that made Armand (and Louis) decide to "abandon" Daniel. Or... they were forced to.

And if Louis really asked for it (we'll see)... then he could not stand to know about it.

And it will be extremely interesting to see what that was.

Or if Armand is just... throwing a smoke bomb there.

[01zfan]

01ZFAN WRAPPED 2024

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! 365 days, 74 fics, and 497,800 words later we are already into the new year! after being tagged in a year end post and being swayed by the timeline i want to kind of do a little something like a year end review of me and some of the works i posted throughout the year. let's go on a little trip down memory lane! here is my masterlist for the works i'll be referencing and much more. BLURBZ ARE NOT INCLUDED simply because i don't really count those as full fledged works and there's not much to say about them.

MY MUSES

OSAKI SHOTARO

8 fics 60.2k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: MARRIED COUPLE/ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

OUTLIER: PRETTY GIRL DISCOUNT | HOOKUP/PLUG!SHOTARO

SONG EUNSEOK

18 fics 123.1k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: HOOKUP/ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS

OUTLIER: YOUR BIRTHDAY | ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

JUNG SUNGCHAN

18 fics 110.7k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

OUTLIER: NOT MINE | CHEATING/ANGST

PARK WONBIN

9 fics 61k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/HOOKUP

OUTLIER: MOVIE | SECRET RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

LEE SOHEE

9 fics 65.6k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ANGST

OUTLIER: GOOD LUCK CHARM | FLUFF

LEE ANTON

12 fics 77.2k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: FRIENDS TO LOVERS

OUTLIER: SEE YOU AROUND PT. 2 | SOMETHING WITH BENEFITS/ANGST/BREAKUP

BONUS: MULTIMEMBER | 4 FICS

NOTHING IN COMMON. ALL OF THEM ARE CRAZY

FIRST AND LAST FIC

summer | s.es january 3rd, 2024

big shot | j.sc december 31st, 2024

of course i began and ended the year with my youngwonz. it's hard to tell if my writing has improved or gotten worse. i think the only way to tell would genuinely be to rewrite summer and see what i'd do different. i will say though deciding to go to autocaps was a good decision on my part because i think it makes for an easier read. i will say i went more in depth with the descriptions and everything in summer as opposed to big shot. but i will say i like how i don't need as many words to convey what i want to say anymore.

TOP FIVE FICS

twelve grapes | l.at 1,601 notes

paint you | l.at 1,385 notes

necklace | p.wb 1,369 notes

should've told me | l.at 1,251 notes

rainy day | l.at 1,155 notes

i understand now that you guys don't play about anton. like at all. i was going through all my fics like DAMN all of my hits are anton and then a short wonbin fic fighting for its damn life. thank you to my anton girlies i will try my best to keep you guys fed with amazing fics. i had no idea that any of these would be popular ESPECIALLY twelve grapes like jafnkjdfnkjsnf. you guys are amazing.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

film it | l.sh 490 notes

this was a fic that some people put on their recommended list, and a few people i've seen put this in their top five when i asked all that time ago! i really liked the concept of skater!sohee and their little story together. i can see him having a little skate crew looking for someone to film their tricks. also a happy sohee fic we cheered! i loved the readers room so much it reminded me of the room i wanted to have as a kid heh.

(honestly any of my sohee fics could've ended up here even though a majority of them are sad i always really really really like how i end up writing sohee.)

miss you more | s.es 878 notes

this fic...this fic...no i really have to say i'm surprised this didn't even break top ten in terms of notes like i feel like everyone loved this fic DOWNNNNNN. something about the yearning and the angst and eunseok being a good father just had so many of us down extremely bad. i think about this couple so often and ever since my dear friend told me this fic reminds her of siena by the marias i think of them everytime i listen to it. this fic is probably the one i've gotten asked to do a second part for the most out of all of my fics. i do have to say though, it's never happening. the open ending and the ambiguity of it all adds so much to the story and makes it so real to me.

trigger finger | j.sc 898 notes

this is still one of my favorite sungchan fics i've ever written. i love love LOVE it and the story and the party and the buildup. i feel like so many people like this fic because it's so him like jsfkjdfnskdjf. the doting perfect little boyfriend who never gets mad and you just wanna push his buttons.

stress relief | o.sh 263 notes

the drop off on these notes but IDGAF IDGAFFFF i love my shortaro fics so freaking much. at this point i write them for myself and i will continue to do so because i love writing for him so bad. this fic is my favorite because i just love the love they have for eachother and the mutual understanding. also i love the song too sweet by hozier so freaking much too so i really enjoyed writing this fic and i feel like i set the scene so nice likeee he's coming home late and you're still up. this fic makes me sick to my stomach because i want shotaro so freaking bad you guys.

LONGEST FIC

seriez: argue with you | 31.8k words in total

JESUS CHRIST....no i was actually in shock doing the math the last part for this seriez was 17.9k words. this fic took so much out of me oh my goodness. i remember doing the third part as a special event for hitting 1k and it took me like two months to finish. i seriously can't believe i wrote that much and i don't remember any of it. if you were here for the argue with you seriez and you read it i love you with all my heart.

standalone: peach fuzz | 12k words

this fic ended up going over my original word count just becasue i loved the story so much. friends to friends with benefits to a secret third thing is something so dear to me. camp counselor anton you still have my entire heart. i really love the summer caamp idea so much and i really like the ending scene of them at the pier TT i always envision it like a movie.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

bike peg | 11.6k words

such an amazing fic to write. i love everything about this fic seriously. the runaway coming back home for rehabilitation. the scenery of the city on the water with nothing better to do than riding around on your younger sisters bike. the mutual understanding between wonbin and the reader. the sofa with the plastic still on it. like something about this fic is so homey to me and was so comforting to write despite the very sad underlying theme that i didn't even realize how long the word count was. i am genuinely so proud of this fic, it's like my baby.

contact | 11k words

a more recent work of mine. now this fic i read it so quickly i'm surprised each time that it's 11k words. i really like the story told here heh my only regret is that i didn't dive deeper into the funeral part of it. i kinda still wanted to make it readable without mentioning death too much but love and death keeps us together! (magdalena bay reference). but yesss i love this fic and i love each word of it.

2024 MILESTONEZ

so many things happened to this account last year! surpassed 1k followers, finished my first seriez, wrote my first multichaptered fic, got my first commission! i had no expectations for this account so everything i achieve here is always such a shock but i welcome it with everything in me seriously!

WHAT'S NEXT

finishing my rock the house seriez, doing alot of commissionz, doing next parts for several awaited fics, hopefully getting some more people to join this lovely community of writers so i have more things to nibble on. in 2025 i also hope to dabble and try writing darker stuff! not in the sense you may think, but i want to try writing things that involve murder, stealing, and in general just more morally ambiguous things. i don't want to reveal what i have in mind but i want to really try more things involving characters and getting better at scene descriptions too! ALSO. MORE HAPPY SOHEE FICS.

this was such a long wrapped i'm sorry but i was so busy this year LMFAO. thank you everyone for making this such an awesome year for 01zfan. i am super grateful for all of you guys, and i would genuinely really really really love to hear about your favorite fic(s) of mine from 2024 or what you'd like to see in 2025! i am open and i always love to hear what you guys think of everything hehe

[propfortytwo]

its so funny to me how de made all these alternate history legally distinct names for everything in 1999 except xipe totec is still xipe totec. there was some massive point of (at the very least linguistic) divergence in the warframe timeline with our own, except for the aztecs, theyre a universal constant.

jokes aside its interesting actually whats changed and what hasnt, like it seems like its specifically the anglophonic world thats diverged the most, since plenty of myths from other cultures have apparently endured long enough to have orokin terminology named after them. and of course to some extent this is, from a doylist perspective, a result of orientalism and viewing non-european cultures as inherently exotic. which is frustrating but not surprising from a western dev team.

having said that, im going to keep talking about the in-universe perspective because its fun and toys. anyway im assuming that the sol-lua mythology is the "principle of dualism" that ballas says came before "the vain faith"- which i'm also assuming is the whole orokin thing. given that other mythologies still existed, as evidenced by xipe totec, and the context clues of it being present in britannia (enough for eleanor to complain about it sneaking into childrens stories) and höllvania (theorized to be near where cetus ends up being by some), my assumption would be that in this timeline christianity did not emerge but this new mythology is still occupying a similar role in history, which is kind of low hanging fruit to notice, but still. its particularly interesting that ballas ascribes this faith to "our people"- either the orokin or the culture that proceeded them, despite the chat logs establishing that it was not the sole mythology of this timeline, which to me seems to imply a very chauvinistic origin to the orokin, presumably the socioeconomic bloc that the icr answers to.

the orokin, if im remembering right, had access to kuva prior to albrecht's Incident (unless im misinterpreting his statement of "i will not take the kuva"- it could be that it was invented after the fact and he's recording the logs much later, but its ambiguous, and i feel like the writers would have made a bigger deal out of it being a new invention from his perspective), and a tablet in duviri explicitly refers to kuva as being void-empowered. at this point, i wouldnt be surprised if kuva is a bootstrap paradox, being introduced into the timeline from the future and allowing the orokin to emerge from the ruling classes of 1999- after all, between the technocyte coda, scaldra's attempts to use the techrot for political upheaval, and the digital extremes infestation gag in the arg, its clear that the bourgeoise of this time have no qualms about trying to use dangerous eldritch forces for their own gain. they absolutely would establish the orokin empire, given the chance. this wouldnt be a huge far reaching lore reveal if it was true, of course, if anything it would be painfully mundane and anticlimactic- but unsurprising. scaldra especially, with its religious undertones, would make sense as an origin.

that just leaves this sol-lua culture as the only unexplained variable. is it the divergence point of the warframe timeline? when did it come about? we know its ancient even in 1999, since komi apparently comes from it, but just how ancient is the question. modern german, french, and jamaican patois exist in 1999, which seems to imply that certain aspects of history havent changed- its just very unclear how much has been influenced and its driving me nuts. i need drifter to go find a world history book and take notes for me to read.

[jonahmagnus]

I make them transgender. Okay?

Headcannons below the cut ✂️!

Isabeau (he/him): Isabeau wanted to name himself Isaboy because he thought that would be funny (it is) but his mom wouldn't let him legally change his name to that so he chose Isabeau, which is exactly two letters off from Isabel. People still call him Isaboy as a joke, though.

The first person he told was Max, both because xe (Max) is ambiguously transgender in every universe, and because xir dad cracked his egg by showing him that masculinity can be whimsy and joy and not just the hardened role hes been forced to play until now. This realization would probably come after a short but very intense femme phase after whatever happens to his grandpa happens (exorcism hopefully) where he tried to embrace traditional "girly" things and while the freedom was nice he hated it so bad and eventually realized he was just forcing himself into another box. Him and Max are the Buzzcut Brothers during highschool.

Anna (she/they): Anna wanted to name herself Miku, and then remembered that she was white. She decided to name herself after the titular Anna from Fr/ozen, which is lame but its a "fucking Mildred?" situation where her friends are begrudgingly supportive. You can't really see it well, but her hairties are the same magenta as Miku's!!

The realization would come after like... years of repression and thinking that feeling Wrong is a problem unique to her and that Nobody Else Has Ever Felt This Way. The catalyst is an argument with Max over it which xe says "just google it, stupid". She does and then stares haunted at her computer screen and the posters of pretty anime girls up on her walls. How her favorite stories all feature transformation. She probably tells Doorman first, at like midnight, and then frets over her contact list before she calls up Max. Xe comes over grumbling the whole time but still supportive has she sobs her eyes out over this realization and gets snot into xir sweater. Xe makes fun of her name but nicely. And then xe asks if she wants to hear any other diagnosises that Max thinks she has. She says "no thank you I've realized enough for tonight ♡" and she is later diagnosed with autism, ocd, bipolar personality disorder and depression.

Crash (they/them): Crash names themself both after the titiular bandicoot and in honor or Crush, the guy who strangled them the day they realized they where nonbinary. This name is awesome and literally the perfect choice for them, its the perfect amount of absurd to suit them and also a normal enough sounding word that people would do a double take when they introduce themselves.

The first person they tell is honestly? Probably Rj. After a few weeks of Knowing that their... not cis, they track down Rj when their alone and explain the situation to them. Their super supportive, obviously, and extremely excited to have cracked Crash's egg. They are delighted by the name and in honor of the choice Rj takes Crash out to egg some houses with the jang. Crash tells the rest of the jang next, with Johnny being deeply enthused by the same they chose and concinved them to try and let Ollie roll them like a bowling ball. Ollie does so and another beautiful friendship is formed. Stephen solemnly tells them "Im proud a' you Crash, gender is a scam made up by the goverment to track our bathroom usage and its pretty cool that you're sticking it to the man like that". Crash nods equally solemnly in response, appreciating how thats fully just a fucking insane thing to say. They nervously tell Isabeau (who at that point is probably still Isabel) over text the next day, who then hunts them down to squeeze them in a hug.

Max (-/-): Max, of course, looks the same in every timeline. No matter what, they have a buzzcut and their name is Max. Cis girl? Buzzcut. Trans girl? Buzzcut. Trans guy? Buzzcut. Cis guy? Buzzcut. Nonbinary? You're never gonna belive it, but, they have a buzzcut. It/its situation in every timeline too. Doesnt matter the combo. She? She/it. Makes 'shit' puns about it. He/it? He is gonna "he/it" you with his car. They/it? Theres no pun for this one but it'll find a way to make one. It/its classic? Also no pun but it gets a boost to its attack speed so it doesnt really need one.

Max doesnt really come out to anyone. Xe doesnt feel the need to. You dont know its alphabet and you will never learn. If it feels like sharing xe will. If it doesn't, it wont. If you try and make it join a pronoun circle against its will, it will pull the god danm fire alarm. It will tell you its not cis but will not tell you in which way.

"Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-" "Spender, if you dont stop trying to get me to share my alphabet, Ill take a "she/it" on your work computer and pull the fire alarm"

[Plain text: "Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-"]

[matamorose]

The decision in TP to drop any interaction between Audrey and Coop was a bad one. I think that their dynamic is a great way to refract a lot of the themes of the show, and it has a lot to do with TP’s multiple ways of viewing “good people.” (Something I’ve been stewing about for a while— hopefully soon I can articulate some of those thoughts)

Anyway,

Audrey is a great character, and it makes perfect sense for her to be intrigued by/attracted to a kind, handsome older man. She’s also badly neglected, and models the ways of gaining power + autonomy + attention that she sees in front of her, something that puts her in danger and is in no way a good thing. I get that all the characters’ ages/the timelines are fucked so there’s some ambiguous wiggle room, but she’s a kid. A very smart and resourceful one who wants to be the mysterious and competent adult that others see as a person, but still.

She wants Coop something fierce, and gets herself into intense peril pursuing that. She's tenacious and smart and badly damaged, and a teenage girl who's ignored + allowed to do whatever she wants, which is a very potent combination.

And Coop is textually attracted to her: I think that that’s very important to understanding a lot of his character, and ignoring it does a disservice to a lot of what the show is saying. MLMT does a lot of heavy lifting to explain and explore a history of childhood sexual misuse + hypersexuality with him, but even in just the show canon I think it’s very apparent and easy to understand that he’s grappling with his attitudes and attraction towards women, and especially with his own past and traumas.

The scene where Audrey surprises him naked in bed had the potential to be the fulcrum moment in their relationship, imo. Cooper is visibly wrestling with his attraction to her— something he knows and expresses aloud would be very wrong to act on— and Audrey is in an extremely fragile state, for all that she was trying to be assertive and take control in a relationship with an older man (a cop, even).

When Cooper lets her down gently and says that what she needs is a friend, that’s a very powerful moment. This is the “adult men sexually abuse young girls” show, but their relationship in particular has been set up to be interesting and alluring— I don’t think that people are nuts for picking up on the very intentional tension. It’s there, you’re supposed to see it.

So when Cooper says that she needs a friend, he makes the right choice, something that he doesn’t have a great track record of doing.

It’s a really powerful thing, that surrounded by all of these men who choose wrongly, and do wrong intentionally, Cooper is maybe the only adult man in Audrey’s life who makes the choice to respect and protect her, and that’s profoundly compelling. Like, I get it if someone wants to take that in another direction.

(There’s a more specific point to be made about Audrey’s father very nearly sexually assaulting her, and another, older man who is into her consciously deciding not to act on that, but I’ll toss it around and try to express it later)

You can debate it all day— which can be interesting and enriching— but for him to enter into a relationship with her would have been a clear, gross abuse of his power, and followed the pattern set by all of the other monstrous men in the show.

TP makes its stance on adult men sleeping with teenage girls crystal clear, there’s no way that they would have had their main character— morally iffy though he can be sometimes— go to bed with the teenage peer of a murder victim and then be like “awesome!” Cooper would be a very different man if he acted on it.

Which, I think is one of those moments where you as the viewer are supposed to look past the aesthetics and how pretty both adult actors are, the same way we all need to look past the quality of the coffee to understand what happened to Laura: a federal agent in his 30s who picks up a rural, neglected teenage lover in the wake of a grisly sex crime + said teenager’s father is a major player in the crime ring that allowed that to happen, is not a good man. That is a real-life horror that follows the framework of the show, and I think that part of the original intention was to leave that avenue open for later in the series, but more on that later.

All that being said, he absolutely thinks about it. He’s very tempted. That’s something that I feel like a lot of people don’t want to admit, but he’s explicitly attracted to her. It’s a testament to his character, and an interesting mirror to his ultimate failure of courage, that he, mister "Give Yourself a Present," was able to recognize a desire as harmful and squash it.

He’s less interesting if you just wave your hand and say “oh, he never even thought about it!” He did. He totally thought about it, he considered it, and wrestled with it, and ultimately came out on top. That’s infinitely more interesting— and IMO fits in better with the backstory established for him— than the idea that he’s just too morally pure and untouchable.

Even so, he elects not to do something that will harm her, and chooses to be her friend instead, something that she badly needs. That scene easily could have transitioned them from a very unequal “will-she-won’t-he” to a friendship that would benefit both of them, and give the characters some more room to flex + explore the facets of their similarities/their links to Laura and what they share with her.

Cooper sees Audrey, instead of blindly buying into her adolescent facade, or just looking past her. Even many of the angles their scenes are shot with reinforce that. He doesn’t ignore her.

I think that all of that goes into making their relationship extremely compelling, and, in my opinion, totally dropping that relationship after a point was just shitty writing. The whole weight of his choice to be her friend and to do right by her + her choice to accept that disappears when the show just truncates that entire plot line and dynamic. She needed that friend, needed and accepted what he was willing to offer her! Not to get shuffled off to the side and into a somewhat baffling plot line

(And if the show had gone on longer, or gone a different direction, I think that that would have been the avenue they chose to hammer in to viewers that as sexy as it sounded to a teenager, this is a bad thing, and that Coop was letting hangovers from past trauma/abuse get the better of him— something that is also very thematically appropriate. In a S3 that never was, I think it’s likely that possessed Coop/his doppelgänger/whatever direction they would have gone in the 90s would have attacked or initiated a relationship with her. TPTR alludes to this, I think, with Mr. C’s fathering Richard.)

I understand that there were tensions on set, and actors/execs had very strong opinions, but I do think that the “okay ew that’s over now” way that the show chops off a major undercurrent is badly done, and that the show is poorer for it.

Anyway, that relationship is one that really bugs me in how it developed in the show. Let me be clear that this is absolutely not an anti-ship post: do as thou wilt, have fun whatever I’m not here to pick a fight, and I really don’t care what other people ship. What strangers want to do with two fictional characters isn’t really my business.

But I don’t think that people are making something out of nothing, there, even if I have a much different stance on it. I think I’ve made my opinion of that relationship as romantic pretty clear at this point, but I have eyes and understand when you’re supposed to pick up on tension between characters.

I think that many people try far too hard to pretend that something very explicitly onscreen isn’t there, because they don’t want to wrestle with the thornier parts of it. (For a show that centers around a child being raped and murdered by her father, a great many watchers get surprisingly precious about unpleasant or even gray subjects, it seems to me.)

But I think it’s a shame that one of the most interesting relationships in the show got cut off so severely, and it’s really interesting to think of how they might have followed through on the punch, had there been fewer disasters surrounding the series.

I went on a little longer than I meant to about the idea of the pair of them as a romantic item, and that’s not the major point of this. Really, it’s that I think both characters lost out on that could have developed into something really compelling, because the bones were there. The setup was very strong, and the scene I talked about above absolutely could have transitioned those two into something, anything, more narratively satisfying and interesting than what we got.

I really like both of them, and I think that there’s a tendency to swing wildly one way or the other with Audrey. She’s much more nuanced than I think a lot of people give her credit for (which in fairness is something that afflicts basically all of the teenage characters, not to mention dear Dale), and there’s a place to think about her in-between outright fetishism a la coquette blogs, and pretending like she has no agency or desire/that her neglect has no impact on what she wants and how badly she’s willing to fight to get it.

She’s a major character in the show for a while, and I don’t like it that A) her character gets sidelined so abruptly B) many people in fandom go out of their way to minimize her role in the story. She’s not even one of my big favorites, I just think that she gets a raw deal.

My favorite thing about the show is the deep and knotted relationships, and I think that there was a warm-up swing and a really big miss with this one.

[karnaca78]

speaking of which Karna, I wanted to hear about your Rom too !! If i understand/remember correctly, she was Micolash' supervisor of sorts ? Would you mind telling us more, and what other ideas you have for her ? 👀

Oh! Yes, I suppose I've shared very little about her even though she's always been a favourite. Thank you for giving me an excuse to yap about her 😭

In my timeline, Rom (1830-1869) is a fairly reputable anatomist at Byrgenwerth, as well as Willem's niece (extremely strained relationship, the vibes are rancid like you wouldn't believe).

She is very close friends with Caryll, one of the college's archaeologists and later self-appointed Runesmith who makes it his life's purpose to translate the word of the Great Ones.

With Laurence she is cordial at best— her dislike for him probably motivates her not to join the Choir, even though she is involved with Ebrietas (as an anatomist, she mostly studies her physicality).

Her relationship with Micolash is so far the most significant. In 1859, she hires him as her assistant during the Fishing Hamlet beach party because of his upbringing as a surgeon's son, and they do funky experiments with the villagers' remains. All in all she takes it rather better than him, but they both see their scientific worldview tilted on its axis.

(There's a whole fic I've been struggling to write for months on this topic... Hopefully I'll finally decide how I want to write it, but today is not that day)

After that, they work together to try and make sense of Kos and what her existence implies. Micolash, who is first and foremost a physicist, finishes in 1863 his doctoral thesis on the influence of the Great Ones on the laws of matter (which ends up being an odd jumble of mathematical theory, philosophical conjecture and whatever music he's managed to put into it). Rom has to battle Willem for him to give Micolash his doctoral title and keep him at Byrgenwerth, considering the rather abstract nature of his work, so they can pursue their research.

When Laurence and Micolash decide to research the blood they've found during one of their expeditions to the tombs under Yharnam, she doesn't get much involved. She sort of works with the Healing Church (founded 1867) from the sidelines but keeps her post at Byrgenwerth— Willem allegedly wants her to be elected in his place as head of the college. It turns out to be a ruse for him to use her for an attempt at ascension.

Rom and Micolash essentially remain friends but their relationship is rather ambiguous. She's 7 years older than him but after he gets his doctoral title, they interact as equals and have a brief romantic thing going on before Micolash leaves Byrgenwerth to join the Church (to rekindle his yaoi flame with Laurence no doubt).

(I'm at the moment writing a short Micolash/Rom fic. I'm still debating if it's worth finishing.)

She gets turned into the "Vacuous Spider" at age 39 following Willem's failed experiment. Micolash learns of it after the fact and will mourn her for the rest of his life. She spends about 20 years in the lake before the Good Hunter finally puts her to rest.

References:

this comic hints at whatever the hell these two were up to in the Fishing Hamlet

and this one hints that they are quite close (definitely enough for her to touch him which rather says a lot about it, I mean what)

[shortnotsweet]

growing pains

It’s only been nine years. They’re not in their thirties yet—and won’t be for a while—but it’s worth noting that things are different. Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s the boardwalk, or maybe—well. Logan is a different person than when he was a high schooler. He’s less assured than he was. That could be it. Louise is almost certainly different than she was then, but even now she still hates his guts. Maybe some things don’t change after all.

Notes Transcription

Main Episode Outfit Variations

Louise would be into layering, I think. She’s multifaceted, practical, and resourceful. Harsh structure in conjunction with more layered pieces; tendency towards color blocking, but she keeps it sharp. She’d be into casual, pragmatic clothes. If not very structured, she has loose-fitting, draped fabrics like sweatshirts or heavy pants (cargo material, corduroy, denim?)—draped and bulked, but not baggy. Something easy to run and move in; sneakers or combat boots.

Not opposed to dresses. Keeps it compact, simple lines. No frills but does lean into triangle shapes or rectangular blocks. Color blocking => neutrals will take up negative space, highlight colors are accented.

Sticks to main colors (green and pink) for consistency, but relies on neutrals like beige, black, and brown. Less cool-toned than Tina, either spring or autumn coloring. Bright colors are muted with exception of a highlight, usually pink (hat or laces). Green varies from lime to olive to sage to forest, etc. whichever tone is appropriate.

Occasional purple or blue in reference to the snowball fight/sled episode with Logan (he was in blue, Louise was in purple). Louise could lean into purple (imposing, mysterious, feminine but still intimidating) for off-episodes. Not frequent, though; too similar to Tina’s color palette.

Hairstyle options include braids, pigtails, or just loose. I’m growing partial to braids; they feel utilitarian, almost boyish, useful. Could emulate the bunny ears under the cap.

Beanie vs. Baseball Cap. I like the beanie, but to me it lends to this aspect of laziness? Not the worst, but i like the structure and sharpness of the baseball cap. Also obscures the eyes occasionally, or could be worn backwards.

Timeline + Basis

Loosely, 9 years post-canon timeline (ambiguous). Louise is 18, Logan is 25. The age gap is too big for them to feasibly be in high school together, so the second storyboard shot by the lockers is him visiting the high school for some errand (maybe Cynthia needs him to deliver something, maybe he’s got a younger sibling by now?), Louise passes by him in the hallway and doesn’t move to accommodate him (almost slams into his shoulder) and he almost looks back at her but continues on. He recognizes her when he visits the diner, which he later frequents because it’s one of the closest places in town that has good food that’s affordable and keeps him out of the house.

That’s one of the reasons, anyway. He isn’t conscious of it, although Gene picks up on it early on an often gloats to either Louise or Logan, both of whom are baffled or irritated at first. Linda is overly supportive of the idea to the point of humiliation, Bob doesn’t want to think about it and refuses to see it, and Tina writes extremely detailed romance novel drafts about it.

Logan becomes ‘aware’ in the following year, then feels really gross about it and avoids the diner for months until confronted (member of the family is up for debate). Realistically, nothing ‘tangible’ happens between them for three years (kiss? Weird face touch? Jealous outburst? Freudian slip? Something fun, idk [Louise: 22, Logan 29]).

I think Louise regresses at this point, and tries to distance herself like that episode of iCarly when Sam realizes she’s in love with Freddy and literally institutionalizes herself in a mental ward. Very much LALALALALALALALALA I can’t hear you, that didn’t happen. Logan is not feeling great at this point. Heart-to-heart with Bob snaps her out of it.

One more year of slow burn, actual relationship starts (Louise: 23, Logan 30).

Logan gets married, eventually, in his early thirties. Gene is an unintentional omnipresent narrator.

Additional Notes

Keep Logan in primary colors (mostly red or blue), but keep him out of dark neutrals/monotones (no black or charcoal gray), because it’s too heavy of a countermeasure against Louise’s color blocking—too unbalanced.

Decent height difference, although it varies depending on Louise’s shoes (sneakers or platform boots, she’s usually in sneakers in the restaurant). She’s right over his shoulder (?)

Concept comparison of them both around the ages 14-16 are for comparison only. Their ages do not coincide.

Occasional pet names, always mockingly derogatory.

Montage shots of her leaning over the counter while they talk. He used to sit in the booth seats but eventually began sitting at the counter instead. No reason. It means he can talk to her more easily and bother her with less effort.

They’re the kind of couple who publicly argues over the pronunciation of ‘egg’ type beat. Bickering keeps it exciting for them, but they make it a point to apologize in any serious disagreements, usually by the end of the episode. Similar difficulty in admitting when they’re wrong, often attempt to compromise by sharing/taking on blame in some equal capacity. Sometimes this is healthy, sometimes it’s more de-facto.

Mother-in-law beef goes crazy

[redshoes-blues]

It’s sooo fascinating, and by that I mean suspicious, that we see the fire entirely from Osha’s POV, confirming what she has told us about the fire, and putting the blame entirely on Mae. I mean, when Sol rescues her and they’re running through the room with all of the witches, they’re just…there? Dead in that room, no sign of fire. And sure, the reactor went off (how?!) but clearly there’s something else going on here.

It reminds me of the ambiguous timeline jumping we saw in ep 2, when Mae persuaded Torbin to take the poison. The way it’s cut together, it seems like Mae is there just before Osha, as if they’re about to run into each other or catch her in the act. But then we learn that all of that happened before they even arrived. So this seems to be playing with a similar editing style, where we’re clearly following just one side of the story to make us think one thing, while an entire other section has been omitted. That section being the POVs of Mae, the Jedi (aside from Sol, who we see rescue Osha), and the other witches.

Because that’s now my main question about all of this: where were the other Jedi, and what were they doing? We see them before the fire, and then not again until they’re on the ship. Very convenient. And the thing with Torbin being possessed feels so much like a Chekhov’s gun that I wouldn’t be surprised if it came back eventually.

For now, if we believe that what we saw is the entire story, then the four Jedi have immense guilt because the witches died in their presence, or maybe because they went there in the first place and triggered the events that would lead to the fire. Which kind of makes sense, although Torbin’s reaction seems very extreme if this were the case. He was just a padawan, after all, and from what we’ve seen, none of what happened is his fault whatsoever. So, why the guilt? We know that Jedi are compassionate, of course, and this tragedy is bound to leave a scar on them no matter what. But the way Torbin spoke to Mae in ep 2 makes it feel like something more happened that we haven’t seen yet.

[wariowaretrans]

i saw the tv glow spoilers

one of the details in I Saw the TV Glow I'm obsessed with are that the memories Owen cites as evidence that his life is real are not things we see happen or be referenced in any capacity. "playing in the snow" - if it snows in the town they live in, we never see it. every scene, no matter it's place in the timeline, seems to happen in the same ambiguous springtumn weather. "driving to baseball games with my dad" - owen does not play baseball. owen's dad does not watch baseball on the tv. certainly the few moments owen and his dad share together do not imply they have the kind of relationship he is implying they have here. even discounting thst, there is no other reference to baseball in the film besides this one. "cooking with my mom" - again, owen does not cook. owen's mom does not cook. i mean they're adults so you can infer they know how and do, but this does not happen on screen and she does not reference cooking with him in their conversations. it's extremely easy to believe maddy when she says "those memories were put there to distract you" when the aforementioned memories literally did not happen in text