#an idea instilled...

[heph]

Did Ford know how distracting he was in booty shorts 😐

[lesbianjackies]

i did NOT just see someone complain that s3 is “reducing lottie to her mental illness”……….. oh my fucking god two episodes in and the horrible takes are already rampant

[whatwooshkai]

Lucky Number 7!

"Designation?"

"Chase."

Chase keeps his finials pinned flat against his helm, doorwings wide and fanned to keep the bot behind him from getting too close, which they have been for the past five minutes.

He has a vibroknife in his subspace. He'd rather not use it- you can only make a first impression once.

The femme flips through a datapad until her optics go wide. "Oh," she murmurs, the dangling jewelry from her finials making a loud ting! when they flatten to her helm. "Oh, you're one of those. Hang on."

Chase's optic twitches. He is normally very good at keeping his emotions in check, and no one who knows him has ever seen his temper, and that's the way he wants to keep it.

But if one more bot refers to him as "one of those" he's going to do something stupid.

Chase hates doing stupid things.

"Okay, I got you right here!" The femme gives him a sheepish smile as she hands over a pair of keycards. "There was an issue with organizing the dorms this year. Normally you'd be put with other bots in your track but you ended up in the randomized group, so you'll be staying with a few bots from other tracks. That's not a problem, is it?"

Chase's finials lift slightly away from his helm. "That is fine," he says, accepting the cards. That is... probably for the best, actually. "Thank you."

"No problem!" the femme says brightly. "So you're in room 704. Elevators are on your left. Next!"

Chase shuffles away from the table, readjusting the bag he has slung over his shoulder, eyeing the key cards in his hand.

Primus, when was the last time he met new people?

The elevator is blessedly empty when he steps inside, and so is the hallway as he follows it down to his room. Well, he was in one of the last groups to check in, so that's expected.

The door has four slots for name tags, as all of the ones in this hallway do. Only two have been filled in so far, for mechs "Boulder" and "Heatwave". Both have little drawings on them, one better than the other's. However, both seem to have identical handwriting... interesting.

So it seems only two have checked in. Maybe he'll have a choice of berth, then.

Chase swipes the key card and gently opens the door.

There's two sets of bunk berths, a desk in front and behind each one. None seem to have been claimed, but on the left, there's a bag tossed on the top bunk and a few posters plastered up already, and some blankets and pillows piled up. And on the right, there's a bag on the bottom bunk, and-

Oh. He's being glared at.

"Another one?" the mech mutters, green optics narrowed at Chase. He's orange a white, with a scar cutting down through one optic. He looks about Chase's age. "'Oh, we'll get you your own room, Blades'! my aft. Mechs walking in every five minutes," he huffs.

Chase frowns. "The attitude is hardly appropriate," he says, and the mech's optics suddenly go wide, as if he thought Chase couldn't hear him.

He mutters something unintelligible and then turns over on his side, revealing a pair of rotors. A flight frame, then.

Blades. His name wasn't on the door.

Chase looks around at the other bags. So his choice has been made for him, then. As usual.

He sets his bag down on the berth to the left, projecting his calendar up on the wall. And then he sits.

He's not really sure what to do now. Conversation is not really an option, what with the less-than-warm welcome, and he has no need to explore the city he grew up in.

Well, that’s a bit of a stretch. He mostly grew up in various facilities around the city, but he spent enough time out on the streets to know it.

Besides… he’d really rather not risk running into his batch. Not alone, at least.

Even though his coding cries for them, his frame hurts without them, he couldn’t get out of berth for several days after they were officially separated-

He’s better now. He has to be better.

He’s never had to try and make new friends. He’s never had to make friends, period. Chase can’t remember the last time he met someone new before this week.

But it can’t be that hard, can it? Sure, this Blades is… hostile… but maybe the others are a little more friendly!

Speaking of- someone decides to kick the door open at that very moment.

Blades looks up, and slight relief teeks through his field as he lies back down. So one of the mechs on the door, then.

Heatwave, he imagines- only because the mech is hot.

He stops a few feet from Chase once he lays optics on him, but Chase can feel the heat he gives off from here. That has to be unnatural, surely. Even Ultra Magnus, the largest mech he’s ever met, did not give off that much heat.

Beyond the odd temperature, the mech looks friendly enough. He’s red, with bright and warm yellow optics, and twin scars cutting up one cheek. In his arms are a plethora of cubes and energon sweets, several shoved in his mouth as well.

He mumbles something Chase can’t make out around the food in his mouth, then tosses a cube at Blades. The flight frame mutters some kind of thanks, and the mech turns back to Chase.

He shuffles his items into one arm and offers a hand to Chase. He once again speaks, presumably introducing himself, but Chase can’t understand a word he says.

He takes his hand and shakes it. “You really shouldn’t speak with your mouth full,” he says.

Yellow optics narrow at him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps. There’s a thick accent there that the universal translator is doing its best to suppress. “I asked for your name.”

Chase’s doorwings flick and the mech’s optics only follow them for a second before training on Chase’s face again. “Chase,” he says. “I will have to ask you for yours again, I did not understand you. Also, please let go of my hand.”

“Heatwave.” A correct guess, then. Chase’s doorwings raise slightly, but Heatwave’s gaze doesn’t shift to them again. Instead, he keeps his optics trained on Chase’s face, who looks away from the optic contact. He does release Chase’s hand, though. “You should check out the mess hall,” he says, moving his quarry back to both arms. “Never seen so much fuel in my life.”

Chase watches him in mild fascination as he figures out how to climb the ladder of the bunk without dropping any of the cubes, and from there Chase can’t see what he does with them.

So he’s expected to go collect his own ration. Good to know.

…He should be trying to make more conversation, right? Blades might be a lost cause but Heatwave at least introduced himself.

He just… doesn’t know what to do from here. Should he ask what track Heatwave is in? He can guess, from the paint job, but would Heatwave even entertain that? He’s sure he knows what Chase is here for, and has thankfully not said anything derogatory about it… yet.

It’s not wrong to expect it to happen eventually, right?

Then he realizes something. “Where are the washracks?”

Heatwave leans out over the top of the bunk. “Hallway.”

Chase frowns. “Why?”

“What, never been in a communal wash rack before?” Heatwave asks, an oddly aggressive tone to his voice. “This ain’t no prissy enforcer academy, Chase. You’ll hafta get used to other mechs in your space.”

Oh, that accent is really coming out now. Chase wishes he could place it. “It is not a problem,” he growls, though it is… not ideal. The idea of sharing washracks with anyone other than his batch makes his plating crawl. He doesn’t appreciate the attitude, though.

“Whatever you say.” Heatwave leans back.

Okay. So far, his roommates are violently antisocial and rude. Wonderful.

It is now that the fourth roommate decides to show themselves, and Chase braces himself for the worst.

They gently push the door open, holding a datapad. They’re green and far more heavyset than any of the others, though Heatwave comes close. Blue optics widen at him. “Hello,” they say, in very thickly accented Common.

No universal translator, then. Interesting.

“Hello,” Chase says back, offering his hand. “Chase.”

“Boulder.” So that’s all four. Good. “I am… stop by for my datapad. Good to meet you.”

“And you.” Primus almighty, Chase wishes he’d met someone who wasn’t Iaconian before today, because all these new accents, and he can’t place a single one. Maybe if he knew what their mother language is, he could speak to them better? “If you speak in your native language, I can still understand it,” Chase says, tapping his throat.

“I know,” Boulder says. “But I like to make the effort.”

“Okay.”

Boulder turns away from him and grabs the datapad from their bag, before offering everyone a wave and leaving again.

Chase sits down on his berth again. Boulder seems nice.

…This might not be so bad.

[kozionogin]

Yes Love, My Soul Is Black

[deusvervewrites]

Extraterrestial x Instilled Idea: That device Midoriya was supposed to use to erase Ashido's memories offers a wide selection of options to affect the mind. It is also small enough that she might or might not have stolen for pranking and/or studying purposes a few times.

Midoriya you can't leave that shit unsupervised

[arty-cakes]

horribly curious because I've seen lots of different takes on this and I'd like to know what the general consensus is

[qoldenskies]

Is the lamp incident more traumatic than the docks to Donnie?

i mean despite both incidents being violent i'd say they're too drastically different to properly compare, but i kind of started it by saying the ch11 is Up There, so im gonna go with a reluctant yes.

and i'd mostly say that because the whole thing in the hallway is up there is something insanely traumatic too, and he woke up from that resurfacing memory, immediately broke something, and in a daze believed they were going to HURT him for it. and then they started screaming and pounding on the door, and raph broke it down (there are several reasons that would absolutely terrify him to see), and they held him down as he was bleeding out and begging for them to stop. he actually remembers it pretty clearly. it was just as horrible for him as it was for everyone else.

the moment on the docks was very brief, enough for him to be able to get back up and continue to keep fighting. in the moment he was only shaken and winded, it only set in afterwards how close he was to death as he looked back on it. it was so big to him because it was the first time he really confronted this fear head-on (well, it was mentioned in CL that he had existential terror very young, he didn't handle it well when he realized he was mortal cause a lot of people have that moment when we're kids. but the docks makes him confront how that relates to crime-fighting and the perpetual danger they're in now. it made it all feel so real) it influences a lot of how he acts in CL because of his shame for being traumatized-- it's more about the realization of the danger he was in overall, and how fragile his life actually was, not a particular fear of the shredder or belief he was going to be hurt exactly like that again.

at least in the whole three day fight, he knew he had his brothers to lean on. it was terrifying but he knew he had people in his corner that could defend him when he couldn't defend himself-- even when he had passing doubts (bpd moment, theyre inevitable) it was easy to rationalize it away. but when it comes to almost everything that happens in cc? he was alone. and even if he wasnt, and they were trying to help, he barely processed it. and when everything with the lamp happened he only thought they were breaking down his door to kill him.

[spinnysocks]

was genuinely so confused when i first heard about jaywalking in america. over here we cross a road anywhere and if you step in front of a vehicle that's on you 😭

[acediaedeus]

he was a punk, she did ballet typa story with grimmichi, but both of them are punk, and both of them do ballet.

this one is an AU where they're just humans, but Ichigo is still a weirdo who sees ghosts, cause why the fuck not. also, long-haired Grimmjow.

in Ichigo's case, it's that he did ballet. why? let's imagine Masaki sending Yuzu to ballet classes when she's four because the girl is fascinated by the beautiful women dancing in white tutus on TV in one of her mum's shows. Masaki is afraid her small, gentle, and shy daughter will have a hard time making friends with all the new kids, so she tries to convince Karin to go with her sister, at least for the first few classes, but the girl is unwavering in her refusal. she would hate to pressure her children into anything, so accepts, and as a last resort goes to her older son. young and filled with the desire to protect his family and please his mother, Ichigo says he'll go with Yuzu.

and so on top of his karate, Ichigo also does ballet for a while, so his baby sister will have an easier time adjusting. he actually likes it too, but then mum dies, and the beautiful women dancing on TV she used to watch no longer bring fascination, only tears. so they no longer do ballet and that is that.

everything else after that is much the same: Ichigo gets bullied, puts the karate classes to use and becomes a delinquent. all is well until one day Yuzu comes to him, timid and unsure, putting Ichigo on high alert, fearing someone has hurt his sister (a big mistake they'll regret and learn not to repeat), but all she says is that she wants to try dancing again. he, of course, encourages her to try.

like the good older brother Ichigo is, he comes along for her first class as moral support. Yuzu is amazing, as expected, and he definitely feels some water in his eyes watching her dance, which no one needs to know that. BUT, there's this guy, who seems to be his age, training on the opposite side of the room. beautiful and mesmerizing, and so ethereal Ichigo can hardly look away. the way he moves is enchanting, his long blue hair swaying and spiralling into a snake with each spin. he leaves with a happy Yuzu for their little sibling celebration with Karin, filled to the brim with confusion.

time goes on, but he simply can't get the guy out of his head, and one evening he comes to walk Yuzu home (he is not about to let his baby sister walk alone in the darkness of winter). he's a little early, so the class is yet to finish, but oh wait, there's the guy standing outside. one thing leads to another aaaand... they're fighting. positively rolling on the ground like children. and like a child Grimmjow (cause that's his name apparently, which Ichigo doesn't even remember when he was told that) bites his hand, so like a child Ichigo tugs on his blue hair. it's soft and nice, and he's getting distracted. but then Yuzu is yelling at him, calling him a foolish boy (and he won't even argue, because he really is a fool).

so yes, turns out they both were punks and both did ballet.

[dgaftilwedie]

nothing pisses me off more than thinking about how charles was such a dick to mallick for being rich (and was a dick in general to the rest of the fatal five) DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE TOOK MONEY FROM MALLICK'S DAD TO KEEP HIS MOUTH SHUT.......... like buddy........ you are NO BETTER than everyone else........ stop acting like you are just because you're a Journalist for The Herald ☝🤓

[stellamancer]

hellow and welcome to ideas I probably won't write— just a x reader where you are taken in by gopher wood to basically be groomed to help spearhead his intent to force order on the universe... only to be thrown away when he decides sunday + robin are better suited for it only for you to return much later as an adult with a desire and plan for revenge. or something like that.

[araraito]

A game just like Sims but dark and gloomy would be extremely good... Something like living in a town run by a cult or demons and just trying to live a normal life... Or we could choose to get involved or save the town or make it better or destroy it entirely...

[uncanny-tranny]

A lot of people may scoff at the notion, but when you truly start learning more and more, you realize the binary between "you are disabled and I can recognize you as such" and "you are barely disabled, if that, and I can tell" are false dichotomies.

You will never completely understand the intricacies of somebody's disability, and even the most simple of disabilities ("simple" in the ableist way) can easily become life-threatening to a person, and vice versa. There's this glorification of the self for so many people that's done in such a way that their word feels like law, even if it robs others their own words.

[deusvervewrites]

Blood And Bone x Instilled Idea: Izuku eventually figures out that giving someone his blood not only lets him use his quirk on them in the expected way, but also makes them more open to subtle suggestions from him while the quirk effect lasts.

Checks out

[noivern]

im weeding and taking them out one at a time (cant supervise both while distracted) and lyra got ages of dirttime and still looks deeply aggrieved now pan's out

[cosmicheartz]

psychonauts au where everything is the same but Crystal and Clem swap personalities with eachother so Crystals the cynical one who puts on a happy facade and Clem is the one who still has hope and wants to be happy but is struggling to