#Based on the slightly cut off label at least

[stick-by-me]

Inching along 🐛

[cheesec4kee]

hi lovely !! i loved your angsty fic with charles. i wondering if you could write a charles x reader based off the the song casual by chappell roan xx

much love

Is it casual now? ⸺ CL¹⁶ ୨୧

you’ve always wanted for it to be more, for it to be a serious relationship. you’ve dreamt of it, but it may be far from ever being serious. it seems like it’ll always just be labeled as ‘casual’.

[ warnings ! ] : gn reader, angst-ish ??, use of y/n like once not proofread

[ a/n ] : words cannot describe how HAPPY I was when I got this req omg, I was giggling n kicking my feet !! thank u sm for this req, I had so much fun writing this !! I hope you like it <33 I’m so sorry if it’s too short (reblogs very much appreciated !!)

⸺ angst under the cut

“remember baby, no attachment.”

his words would ring in your head, loud and clear. and you’d prefer to forget them, you’d very much prefer so. you would’ve much preferred that he never said those words at all, even.

you thought you’ve hit the jackpot, managing to even befriend the monegasque. he was a popular man, a good looking one at that— surrounded with women everywhere he went.

you felt foolish for thinking that the relationship would last, you felt foolish for thinking that he would think of you better. for thinking that he’d consider you as someone he couldn’t lose.

forming a relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly easy. you didn’t know what the two of you were. friends? partners? you were confused, to say the least. you’re still holding onto the relationship, despite hearing so many rumors— that you were just a ‘friend that he bangs on the couch’.

you’d remind yourself every day, every night that the two of you were never together, and never will be. we’re not together, you tried to remind yourself whenever you two kissed, and it hurt, it hurt knowing you weren’t his first priority. you would let the words bounce in your mind as he kissed your cheek, and your forehead occasionally— we’re not together, you’d remind.

and yet, he’ll still brag you to his friends at the pier, he’ll still take care of your needs, eating you out like a starved man in the passenger seat. is it really casual now?

he talks about you to his mom, and you would’ve taken that as a good sign, as his mom invited you to her house on Long Beach— but it pains you knowing that he’s not even committed to the relationship, that’s he’s not even seeking for it. he knows that he’s just using you, and he expects you to do the same— but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it pains you knowing that he’s talking about you to his mom only for the sake of keeping her happy that her son finally ‘found’ someone.

you’d find yourself dreaming about the two of you, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would have a shared apartment, decorating it accordingly together— make it feel like home.

and now the two of you are making out on the couch, your arms looped around his neck— his lips pressing onto yours, but his lips tasted bitter. feeling his body pressed against yours made you feel uncomfortable.

he trails down sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, finding their way to your hips.

you knew what would happen. the two of you would share an intimate moment, but as soon as it’s over— the two of you a panting and sweaty mess, it always will be “no attachment”.

and so before this would escalate any further, before you would be left with your heart aching— you mustered up the courage to ask him the question.

“..what are we?” you whispered, watching nervously as he lifts his head from your neck to look at you, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise on the sudden question.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you sighed, pulling your arms away from his neck, shifting slightly on the couch. the silence was deafening, you needed a answer.

“please. what’s our relationship?”

“you know what it is, y/n.” he sighs quietly, his hand cupping your face— his thumb caressing your cheek, a weak and bitter attempt to comfort you.

“no attachment, baby. it’s casual.”

“then get off of me.”

[laundryandtaxes]

I think it's bizarre to believe that one approach to any problem (especially problems we know to be partly biologically mediated or constituted and partly socially mediated or constituted) is likely to universally fit every single person impacted by that problem. And I think there are many situations that have revealed that plenty of people really do prefer magical thinking and lack of any scientific knowledge if they are able to garner some hope from a perspective that is based entirely or mostly in magical thinking. I don't even think this is necessarily a problem, or at least a solvable one- it's essential, as I see it, to the continued existence of religion in humanity, which even I cannot claim has never done any good for any person or for people as a group. So long as this tendency doesn't win out on a large scale as a meaningful approach to problem solving, I don't exactly think it's a threat to humanity.

One of the most interesting examples to me, largely due to my work background and the prevalence of alcohol abuse within restaurant workers, is how absolutely vitroilic a lot of abstinence-only recovering alcoholics become when they make any contact at all with individuals who are trying to lower but not eliminate their alcohol consumption, especially in a systematic and controlled way. It is not just that they claim it is irresponsible to promote programs other than abstinence-only programs to active alcoholics (and even that I find nonsensical- less alcohol is almost always better than more alcohol, because we know for a fact that a lot of the negative health outcomes from alcoholism are a direct result of too much alcohol itself, regardless of whether it was consumed alone at night or while binge drinking at parties, which tells us that the obviously important social element itself does not mediate the biological damage) but that they often claim that it is universally the case that someone who finds themself problem drinking will only ever become more of a problem drinker until they quit entirely. The reason this is so especially striking to me is that it is so obviously and easily proven untrue by experiences which many people have outside of the bubble provided by abstinence programs. It is simply not the case that every individual who drinks more than they're comfortable with during a certain time period is destined to develop cirrhosis if they don't put down alcohol forever, and most people know several individuals whose alcohol use patterns obviously disprove that theory. Almost everyone who drinks knows someone who drank too much for their own personal comfort at one point and had to reel their consumption back in. But, of course, when most people know that someone is an alcoholic, they limit how often they talk about alcohol or their consumption of it out of respect or a desire not to trigger that person into craving alcohol, and the end result is that many alcoholics find themselves just totally cut themselves off from the alcohol use perspectives and experiences of anyone who isn't currently trying to be totally abstinent or doesn't believe that abstinence is the only way to deal with alcohol abuse. And I suspect this will only become more sparkly apparent as doctors begin to try, for instance, off label use of the GLP-1 agonists along with other medications to try to lower the desire for alcohol in patients, etc, or as more and more slightly science-backed but ultimately still pill mill or subscription peddler programs pop up aimed at helping people lower their alcohol consumption. I'm excited to see new perspectives become mainstream, and I think a lot of the pushback is quite literally an attempt to ostracize new perspectives by presenting them as irresponsible, cruel, dangerous, etc.

[traveling-historian]

...Ah~! Here we are...

It's been a while since I've used one of these.

Ahem.

Hello, you may call me Vee~ I've moved fairly recently to Castelia City for a bit of a fresh start. I'm a bit...new to "social media" so do extend some patience, aha~

I'm rather fond of history, more specifically mythology, and am constantly in search of more knowledge.

It seems to be popular to include more information regarding yourself down below.

He/him and they/them are my pronouns and I'm currently 29 years old. I'm fairly tall, I believe around 190cm last I checked.

Originally from... Sinnoh.

My current team consists of:

Spiritomb ♂ - Seneca

Roserade ♂ - Amnon

Togekiss ♀ - Eden

Hisuian Arcanine ♀ - Eris

Lucario ♂ - Malachi

Garchomp ♂ - Ramiel

Eevee ♀ - Bliss

((OOC NOTE: Please read before interacting!!

Hey hey! Welcome to my Pokémon rp blog. On this blog I will be pretending as if the world of Pokémon is 100% real. This being said, I will be including pkmn rp tags in each post that fits that description as a warning.

Friendly reminder that if you try to engage a plot with me or any kind of offscreen rp experience without at least discussing it with me first, then I will likely not respond. Even if you do approach me with something in mind, there is no guarantee I will engage. Also I tend not to interact or engage in any big events. They tend to become overwhelming for me and you’ll most likely never find me becoming a part of them. Please don’t send in asks regarding big events.

If you are looking to interact with my muse, and your muse is tied to some potentially triggering topics, I would prefer if you discussed potential interactions with me first. This is for my own comfort, so please keep this in mind.

That being said, this blog will likely contain some triggering topics, such as religion, religious guilt/trauma, paranoia, dissociation and other things of this nature.

Admin is an adult! If this makes you uncomfortable then move along.

This is an RP blog, however this specific version of Volo is CANON DIVERGENT and based off an au of mine. For more information regarding this specific au please read the brief summary below:

Volo is a time traveler who's recently fled from Hisuian era Sinnoh not long after the events of PLA. He ran away via space time distortion, which sent him to modern day Unova. He's adopted the alias of "Vee" and will deny any sort of relation to "Volo" or Cynthia.

Volo is not originally from Hisui and has spent a majority of his life jumping through timelines, so he's fairly familiar with the modern day. However he's spent quite a while in Hisui, so there will be a bit of a culture shock. His grasp on current events may be a bit dated as well.

He labels himself as a historian who specializes in mythology, however his intent is to learn more about Arceus and other Pokemon deities. He carefully hides any malintent behind a slightly unsettling mask of friendliness and sociability.

ONCE AGAIN this blog will contain some POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING TOPICS such as religion, religious guilt/trauma, paranoia, dissociation, and other topics that relate to Volo's experience as a religious man with an unhealthy obsession with "god" who also deals with paranoia and other mental issues.

Please be aware that when I am talking as Vee (Volo), he may appear unsettling or not in touch with reality. If you are uncomfortable with this, it may be in your best interest to move along. If something ever comes off as rude/mean, it does not reflect how I actually feel and is just how I believe Vee (Volo) would react.

This blog is SFW, save for vaguely suggestive topics. Anything that is deemed as explicitly NSFW will be deleted on sight.

Another warning. This blog may often be involved in long RP threads. I won’t be using any programs to cut my long posts short. If this bothers you, I would recommend skipping this blog or blocking the tag “long post” or “rp thread”.

Also! I follow and like from @ripoff-robbie-rotten.

HERE IS A REFERENCE I MADE FOR MY VERSION OF VOLO.

DNI: Proshippers, TERFS, and NSFW blogs))

[anonymouspuzzler]

miscellaneous Bugsnax doodle dump!! featuring, among other things, comics inspired by @incorrectbugsnaxquotes prompts, inexplicable RE8 crossover, and my Grumpus OC Puzzly Softpaw who I've never properly finished a ref sheet or bio for! yipee!!!!

(alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A comic featuring several Bugsnax characters. On top, Gramble, in a round highlight panel, nervously bumping his paws together and looking offscreen, says, "My girlfriend is too tall for me to kiss her. What do I do?" Several other characters, standing in a line, answer. First, Floofty, wearing medical gloves and holding a slightly withered Grapeskeeto, says, "Punch her in the gut, and when she bends over you can kiss her." Snorpy, attempting to demonstrate by kicking a leg into the air (while Chandlo, holding a basketball, looks on in concern), says, "Kick her in the shins." Wambus, leaning on his gardening hoe and tipping his hat, nonchalantly says, "Tackle her." Beffica, one hand on her hip, smirking as she checks her nails, says, "Dump her." Finally, Wiggle, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, shouts, "None of that!! Just ask me to lean down!!"]

[Image 2 ID: A two-panel Bugsnax comic. In the first, Filbo, looking very concerned and pointing offscreen, says, "Guys, I promised Lizbert we wouldn't do anything stupid." The second panel cuts to reveal a screaming Cromdo dangling from an elevated hook in the middle of town, which Chandlo is trying to scale to help him, reaching out and yelling. Below Cromdo there is a Bunger reaching up to try and tackle him, being barely held back by a screaming Gramble, who in turn is being held back by Wiggle, being dragged along the ground behind him both. In the background, Triffany is looking on in horror with her hands over her mouth, Shelda is waving her arms in the air and yelling heretically, and Floofty is leaning back with a comically large butcher knife in apparent preparation to cut Cromdo down, being barely held back by a frantic Snorpy. Beffica is standing off to the side smiling, recording the whole thing with her camera. Off to the side in the foreground, Wambus looks back over his shoulder at an offscreen Filbo, saying simply, "Why would you lie to her like that?"]

[Image 3 ID: A two-panel Bugsnax comic. In the first, Gramble, wringing his hands nervously, is looking up at Wambus (leaning down on his hoe), Filbo (anxiously rubbing one arm), Wiggle (posing with a smile), and the Journalist (face hidden behind a speech bubble). Gramble says, "Can you guys at least try to see things from my perspective?" The second panel shows all four crouched down around Gramble, who is unamused - the Journalist still hidden behind a word bubble with only ellipses, crouched with their hands up like the in-game motion; Wambus with a serious expression and arm resting on one knee, still holding his hoe with the other; Filbo with his hands on both knees, smiling anxiously; and Wiggle completely lying on the ground with her head in her hands and legs kicking up, smiling warmly with little hearts around her.]

[Image 4 ID: A drawing of Beffica, Cromdo and the Journalist, recreating a screenshot from RTFD's Sonic Adventure 2 dub. Beffica and Cromdo are both in the foreground of the image, looking back over their shoulders in mild concern as the Journalist walks up stiffly, face hidden by their camera, shouting, "What are you two GRUMPING talking about?"]

[Image 5 ID: A three-panel comic of Shelda, based on screenshots from Brian David Gilbert's "Unraveled". She is in front of a board with multiple strips of paper labeled "TENETS OF THE MOTHER'S WILL", and goes from looking unsettled to downright screaming unhinged as she says, "Then either the Bugsnax are a god, or could KILL god, AND I DO NOT CARE IF THERE IS A DIFFERENCE"]

[Image 6 ID: A drawing of a flying Lollive with a heart behind it, with text in a U-shaped arch underneath it reading "I WANT TO BELIEVE".]

[Image 7 ID: A drawing of a flying Buffalocust with flames around it, surrounded by text reading "i refuse to believe."]

[Image 8 ID: A drawing of Wiggle cosplaying as Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil 8, with (from left to right) Floofty, Triffany and Beffica behind her cosplaying as her daughters.]

[Image 9 ID: Drawings of (from left to right) Gramble, Cromdo, Wambus and the Journalist cosplaying as, respectively, Donna Beneviento (with Sprout in his ball as the doll), Moreau, Heisenberg, and Ethan Winters.]

[Image 10 ID: A drawing of Puzzly, a roundly-built, short pink grump with long legs, big round eyes, a tiny round nose, buck teeth and a blue ponytail with a cowlick, wearing a purple striped scarf and pink glasses. She is walking with her arms bent at either side and a vapid grin, with text next to her reading, "boy I hope I don't have to confront my DEEP SEATED ISSUES today".]

[Image 11 ID: Two drawings of Puzzly. In the first, she is rendered in bright colors, smiling warmly with sparkling eyes and her hands up near her scarf, surrounded by hearts and cursive text reading "Live~". In the second, she is in duller colors, grimacing with tiny pupils, fur standing on end and claws out, with jagged text next to her reading "kill."]

[Image 12 ID: A two-panel comic. In the first Gramble is looking nervously back at his ranch, which is covered in Snakpods. He bumps his paws together and says, "Boy!! You sure are, um. Donating a lot of Snakpods lately". The second panel cuts back to Puzzly, deeply exhausted and unamused, a bunch more Snakpods under one arm and another in the Snakgrappler in her other hand.]

[knightprincess]

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 23

Words: 1.9K Warning: This one is a little heavy - mentions of depression, PTSD and Torture (Reconditioning) Pronouns Used: She/Her - (use of Y/N) Note: I am having trouble accessing the series masterlist. I will link it as soon as I can.

5 Months Later

(Y/N) wandered around her lab on Tantis, a depressed sigh escaping her as she continued her repetitive routine—one she hated as much as she did the empire. Snap should have been happy, even hopeful Omega had escaped the secret scientific base with Crosshair, but instead, she felt the opposite: terrified. The empire had discovered how valuable the young clone was and would hunt her down as if she were their prey. 

"We have a new subject for you," came a demanding voice from behind (Y/N), the voice of a female scientist. Snap hadn't bothered to learn her name, as she hadn't expected to be there for so long. The plan was to get as much information as possible within a four-week period, and then she'd be extracted. (Y/N) turned, nodding silently, before retrieving her datapad, if only to find out who the poor soul she had been charged with tormenting this time was. She preyed on the maker. It wasn't another clone she knew, a prayer that was quickly rejected as her heart sank the moment her saddened eyes found the identification number. CC-3636. 

"Wolffe," quickly whispered Snap, as her voice became trapped in her tightening throat and the familiar anxious feelings of the walls closing in around her and being trapped reared its head again. She'd hoped to see the Commander again, but not like this. She still hadn't forgiven herself for turning Tech into a Shadow, one of the many operatives at the empire's beck and call. She knew Wolffe wouldn't be as terrible, but it wouldn't be easier either. He was a friend, a brother to her, and now she was tasked with turning him into another of the empire's shadow assassins. 

(Y/N) soon left her quiet lab, and with dread clouding her mind, she headed toward the large round room reserved for the reconditioning she was to put all shadow operatives through. The torture room as she had unceremoniously labeled it. Ever since Omega and Crosshair had escaped, security had been far tighter; Mistress Nala Se had been locked away in a cell as punishment for her part in the breakout. Where as Emerie Carr had been promoted to head scientist of Project Necromancer. The base seemed colder and grew colder the more the empire strangled the wider galaxy. 

The moment Snap entered the rounded room, she was met with silence. Two TK Troopers stood guard over Wolffe as if he were a dangerous criminal; the Commander himself at least seemed peaceful. There was little doubt in (Y/N)'s mind that he'd been dosed with something before being transported to the secretive scientific base. 

"You may leave," spoke Snap, her voice cold and sharp as it cut through the silence and ricocheted off the durasteel walls. Both plastid-clad men seemed confused by her dismissal of them, sharing a glance before turning their attention back to her. 

"Negative, Ma'am," replied the taller of the two, shaking his head as if to convey the message quicker. "We have orders to stay for your safety. The clone is a dangerous insurgent," he uttered; the unnamed soldier had expected to see fear flash across (Y/N) features. Instead, her expression remained neutral, even more so as she buried the truth she knew. Wolffe wouldn't hurt her, although she'd admit she was terrified he was there. She questioned whether Tarkin had figured out where Wolffe's loyalty truly lay or if the commander had done something to earn the wrath of the empire. 

"That was not a request," replied (Y/N), her bottled-up anger and self-hatred slipping through ever so slightly. "If you wish to stand guard, then do so outside the room. Being within will only distract me from my work," she added, turning her attention back to the datapad as she walked over to the small office and storage area, retrieving the medical supplies needed to complete the first of many tasks. 

Wolffe seemed to regain consciousness as Snap went about the assessment. His sight blurry as he glanced around the room, but as it began to focus, the commander panicked, even more so upon becoming aware he was in an unknown place, a laboratory of some kind, restrained by the wrists, ankles, and several other areas, including his head. He'd been able to yell out to be let free of the restraint demand even when (Y/N) came into view, reaching to release the restraint around his head and loosening those around his torso and wrists. 

Although some relief had washed over his clouded mind, it was quickly overcome with concern. (Y/N) was before him now but far different than he'd observed her to be in the past. There was no warmth to her now; she had closed herself off completely as if to protect herself and what remained of her fractured heart. Her touch was still gentle but didn't have the same comfort as before. It was as if the empire had broken her down and molded what remained into something else. As they did with his slowly disappearing brothers.

"(Y/N)," whispered Wolffe, wanting to reach out to her but found it impossible with the restraints. "Snap," he called, thankful that she had turned her attention to him. She quickly moved to wipe away the stray tear running down her cheek as if rubbing away any sign of weakness the empire could exploit. But despite her best efforts, she couldn't suppress her true self when someone called her by the affectionate nickname. 

"They want to repurpose you," whispered (Y/N), a ragged sigh escaping her as she tried to recompose herself long enough to explain what she was tasked with doing. "I'm supposed to recondition you and ensure you're loyal to the empire. You'll become a shadow like Tech and Cody," she added, unsure how to feel when Wolffe had understood so quickly what that meant, what he'd be put through to achieve the goal. 

"Were they successful?" questioned Wolffe, digging for even the littlest shred of hope. (Y/N) only nodded, Cody had been one of the first she'd succeeded with, he stopped fighting after she took over from Rampart. Tech had been successful, too, although his deviant nature had yielded some interesting results and a slither of hope. "Remember Wabani?" asked the commander, resigning himself to the fate ahead. He would have fought tooth and nail to escape if it were anyone else. He would have made things as difficult as possible. Snap was different. Only now did it truly resonate with Wolffe the meaning behind Gregor's words. Snap was the weapon the empire had against the clones. 

"Forgive me," voiced Snap, gently squeezing his hand before the interrogation droid floated closer. Just like with Cody and Tech, she intended to botch the reconditioning, if only so it could be reversed. However, it didn't bring her any comfort, knowing each of them would remember the torture, the agonizing pain, and the scary after-effects of it all. Like Crosshair did, although (Y/N) wondered if the sniper had realized he was the key to finding the secret scientific base. 

The reconditioning had only partially worked on Crosshair; his deviant and defiant nature had prevented most of it from sticking. Although the torture had left its mark, the nerve damage was a constant reminder, as were the flashbacks and nightmares. Upon realizing nothing wouldn't permanently stick with the sniper, Snap had taken a leap of faith, implanting a small microchip with the information she'd recovered and the coordinates of the base. Crosshair had everything, even if unknowingly. Even if she were caught, her mission would succeed the moment those fighting against the empire recovered the information. 

"Mistress," voiced CX-2 from beneath his helmet, his voice mechanical and unrecognizable via it. With his return, Snap knew he had successfully retrieved Omega. The civvi medic knew why he'd come to her. All Shadow troopers knew to find her upon return to undergo a medical evaluation. 

"Are the others okay?" questioned Snap, adverting her eyes away from Wolffe's torture. His screams and howls of pain would haunt her, just like the others before had. CX-2 could only nod, moving to block her view of the interrogation droid and Wolffe helplessly strapped down to the operating table. As if shades of his old self shone through, the shadow operative reached for her datapad, turned off the droid with little hesitation, and completed the actions that Snap was paralyzed to do. 

Carefully, he nudged her to the small lift, the round observation tower servicing as her medical bay for all the Shadow Operatives. Upon perching on the end of the examination table, he removed the black helmet, placing it at his side, his vision turning blurry now, only outlines of objects and shadows moving across the room. (Y/N)'s presence being the clearest thing there. 

"Your injuries are almost healed," spoke Snap, her voice calmer now as her gentle hand traced the scars scattering his face and neck. "Is there any pain? Your eye, neck, or cybernetics?" she asked, detecting Tech's inner struggle. His deviant nature had prevented the reconditioning from permanently sticking but had resulted in what was equal to two worlds colliding within his head, essentially doubling his suffering and pain. "The migraines, are they any better?" 

"Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause," Tech commented in response, focusing his blurred vision on her. His miss-matched eyes were similar to Wolffe's now. One is golden brown, and the other is a cold, clouded silver. "There is little you can do to fix my vision, Cyare. My goggles shattered the way they did, and the shards from the train did more damage than I care to admit." 

"And I did further damage with the reconditioning," replied (Y/N), stepping back in an attempt to regain her slipping composure. She'd reached her limit weeks ago but forced all her feelings into a little box and buried them at the back of her mind to try and fix those she was forced to break. She did this to pull off a facade of confidence and hide the true terrified little girl she truly was inside. 

"CX-2," called Hemlock the moment he entered the tinted room. As per usual, he had a calm and reserved aura about him, yet his eyes glistered with anger, even malice—an unusual sight, to say the least. "Take her into custody. Ensure she's properly secured in a cell," he ordered, ignoring the confusion and fear appearing across Snap's features. Instead, Hemlock's attention turned to Wolffe, helplessly strapped to a table, in and out of consciousness as he tried to order his scrambled thoughts and senses. The recent call with Tarkin only proved to shake Hemlock's trust in those around him, even more so if the admiral's theory was correct. (Y/N) was working with the tormented commander and against the empire. 

"It's only until my investigation is complete. Admiral Tarkin brought a concerning theory to my attention," reported Hemlock, cluing the civvi medic in and alerting her to her dire situation, even more so when it dawned on her that her time for escape and rescue had passed. The only way she was likely to leave the facility was if the empire wanted her to. 

Series Masterlist

[katkat030]

YOU HAVE A FANFIC????

GIMME GIMME GIMME

(a man after midnight--)

You are in for the ramble of all rambles >:D

Okay I am smiling from ear to ear right now prepare for me to talk (type?) your ears off

it’s. yeah it's Ethubs. (ding ding! you got it *finger guns*)

I'm writing a fic based on the DBHC au (Detroit Become Hermitcraft au) story/comics by Shepscapades here on Tumblr! If you're not familiar with it, I highly recommend you check it out! I have SUCH brainrot and the storyline and art are so compelling.

Here's the masterpost if you wanna check it out once I'm done rambling!

I also want to stress this isn't my au - only the explanation and snippets of my little story is my own work. :) All credit goes to Shepscapades for all that and the brainrot

- DBHC spans Hermitcraft (seasons 8 and onwards) and the Life Series (note that all androids were absent from Third Life due to not being created yet)

- It makes use of the android mechanics from the video game Detroit Become Human <- don't worry about that part just yet though :)

- Most major post-Season 7 events seem to still be canon here, and there's a lot of other things going on in each of the androids' - and hermits' - lives (and trauma. </3. yeah. Etho and so many others are Going Through It), often as a consequence of those events.

Anyone new to the au should probably have a look at this illustrated guide post You don't have to read all of it, but I strongly suggest at least checking out the "Guide to Androids", "Deviancy" and even the "Interfacing" sections for proper context!

rambles under the cut >:) I promise I'm keeping it to a minimum. and then some snippets!!

(edit: the cut isn’t cutting, I think)

BASICALLY At some point around Season 8, Xisuma designs androids (like Mumbo, Etho, Impulse and Doc) to assign to some of the hermits (Grian, Bdubs, Pearl and Ren to name a few) for help with everything from building to terraforming. Everything goes relatively smoothly, up until... the androids begin to deviate. <- hence why I linked this post earlier!

This isn't entirely necessary for anything other than understanding the characters and the overarching narrative a bit more, but if you do want further context + cool art + a small break from my rambles, here (1), here (2) and here (3) are really good comics that sorta explain how DBHC Ethubs' relationship starts, and here (4) is the first part of Etho's first deviancy! uh. So like things happened here. Don’t worry about that being labelled first. Or it not being at all normal for an android to deviate twice. Or what situation caused it. Uh. Yeah. :’)

Otherwise you're welcome to just read on!

I'm writing an incredibly fluffy (and there's angst now too hehe) oneshot on the two of them.

They've been planting saplings for Bdubs’ Season 10 forest (Etho was originally designed to help with terraforming and that, after all) and it's late afternoon, so, Bdubs being Bdubs, he's tired.

And tired people are clingy, they let their guard down a bit, they start giving in slightly to things they don't have enough energy to fight.

Like the urge to reach out and go hey, come back, I actually want you to play with my hair, I want you to lie with me in the sunshine, I want to listen to the sound of your android heart (thirium pump) because it's a reassurance that even though my eyes are closed you're still nearby, I want you here, and I'm going to hang on to you because I don't ever want you to leave again.

I half-wrote that little summary of my fic a little while back as a proof of concept but. Yeah.

This is Bdubs talking, if it isn’t clear:

>:) Not sure if you're familiar with how Bdubs' Last Life ended, and how it could have been avoided. Or how much I'm allowed to say on what happened afterwards until we cross over into spoilers territory. But uh. Yeah. Normal and fine and not at all insane over this. <- that's a blatant lie

Don't worry though!! I said fluff for a reason; I don't think this quite crosses over into "crack treated seriously" territory (only saying that because I'm sorta working on something Ethubs-related that 100% DOES hehe) but the second half is panning out to be incredibly silly. I just think they deserve it after everything they've been through (this post makes me all levels of insane.)

Aaaaaanyway, snippets :D

Something I want to add: he isn’t entirely human. Like as much as he acts and feels and functions like one… yeah.

Tired 👏people👏give👏into👏things👏they👏don’t👏have👏the👏energy👏to👏fight

Bonus: a friend tried grabbing my phone from my hand while typing a little while ago and… this happened

OH I nearly forgot! It has a title :)

“home, home again (i like to be here when i can)”

song lyrics from Time by Pink Floyd (beware loud bells until about 40 seconds in)

I’ll publish it on ao3 under katkit03 when it’s done! May cross post it to tumblr for convenience :)

please lmk what you think, this is my first time writing a fanfic!!!

[seven-thewanderer]

Okay after a lot of stress of doing this, I made this drawing!!!

and here's a version w/out the darkness:

And there was supposed to be a version that was just the bg, but...

that leads into why I got stressed

I'll explain, but I'll put it below a cut so people aren't forced to see me ranting

So rant below:

The combination of Kleki + my often-glitches chromebook is a free helltrip.

So, as I've explained probably in June, my tablet is not working, forcing me to use my Chromebook to interact, and Kleki, this random drawing site, to draw

And Kleki is already not preferred by me, since:

It has a limit of 16 layers (sure, it used to only have 8, which was worse, but I'd still prefer more layers)

It doesn't really have a blur tool (sure, it has a blurring edit labelled Tilt Shift, but it doesn't work really like a blur tool would)

You can't select a specific part of a layer (example: Say for the drawing above, I put two heads: One is SunBun's, one is Moonpie's. However, Moonpie's isnt where I want it to be! It would be simple to just... select Moonpie's head, right? Nope!! You can't select one of them, you select the whole layer!! I've at least found a cheat of duplicating the layer, removing Sun's head on one & Moon's on the other, and then moving the layer that only has Moon's head. However, ya cant do that when you already have 16 layers, can ya??)

You can't select & recolor a part of a layer. (this is something I honestly use a lot if I'm drawing Sun and/or Moon lineless. I select the head, and then draw the cresent, with no worry of having to erase the outer lines. However, this one doesn't do that, and that upsets me slightly, but it's not too big of an issue.

No folders for layers (I don't usually use folders w/ layers so this doesn't bother me, but I found out from someone who I won't name that folders can be helpful when drawing, and this site didn't have that, so yeah for any folder users or anyone who needs a lot of layers then good luck using Kleki)

Trying to undo something and hitting the Share button by accident (this annoys me so much. I make a mistake, try to undo it, and have to deal with seeing "Kleki.Com says sharing not supported" over and over again like I KNOW!!! SHUT UPP!!!!)

And probably many more issues that I just can't think of rn

Of course this is just how I feel about it, and most of my issues towards it are based off of how I used IbisPaintX (what I would draw with on my tablet), but Kleki just makes me wish my tablet gets fixed quicker...

Cus honestly drawing would be easier for me on IbisPaintX than on Kleki...

But that's not it...

Since at the start I said the combination of Kleki & my often-glitches chromebook, right?

I've explained Kleki, what about my Chromebook?

well...

the screen will randomly go black.

when you least expect it.

Like some examples:

Writing something? A story, or an assignment, or something like that? Boom, black screen.

Watching a video? Boom, black screen.

Looking/scrolling through something? Boom, black screen. (or sometimes it just freezes, but that's only happened if I'm scrolling mainly...)

Drawing? Boom, black screen!!

But for that last one, that's not just it!!

so to finish that little equation?

Kleki plus my often-glitches Chromebook equals....

Your drawing is now lost to the void!!! Yippee!!! (<- /s)

But yeah I was drawing (and I've learned almost every step you gotta save it), and while I was working on the oven & wall of the bg, it glitched & I lost it

And I had it stepped out like this:

Sunbun & Moonpie

Roller

Dough

Sugar jar BG

Table BG

Oven BG

Wall BG

I reached the oven, but started working on the wall at the same time, and it did the thing!!! And since I saved after the Table, that meant 1-5 were all now 1 layer, and I couldn't have a separate bg image anymore, since the sugar jar & the table was meant to be a part of the BG!! Yippee!!!

So yeah, though I'm glad it didn't glitch while I was drawing Sunbun & Moonpie (since I would've just given up then), I'm still pissed.

But that's enough ranting, cus I don't like ranting. ...at least, I don't like me ranting.

[davisexplainableart]

May 25, 2018 (Half-O-Ween 2018):

*a coffin is shown in front of a fake graveyard*

*the coffin's door slowly opens, and I.M. Weasel (dressed as a vampire) rises up from the casket*

I.M. Weasel (in a slightly harrowing tone): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I am Count Weasel, and welcome to Fridays. It is Friday, May 25th, and that means it's almost time for Half-O-Ween!

*Weasel laughs evilly as the headlights off camera flicker to resemble lightning, while lightning sound effects play in the background*

I.M. Weasel (speaks in his normal voice again): *looks back at the camera* Oh, but don't worry about Tommy and Tara, they're taking the week off. Not to worry, everyone, we'll be able to make do without them, at least for this week.

*Weasel steps out of the coffin*

I.M. Weasel: As you may already know if you saw last week's show, we're preparing a little game show for you viewers at home tonight. We have teamed up with some animators and copyright owners from Burbank, CA to give some lucky winners a chance to go trick-or-treating early this year.

*footage of this game show appears onscreen*

I.M. Weasel: Every half hour tonight, one of you lucky viewers will get a chance to go on a 40-second scavenger hunt. There will be 6 different house, but choose carefully! Some of them are filled with prizes for you to keep as your own, but others will be home to the scariest creatures you'll have ever laid your eyes upon!!!

*cuts back to Weasel as he laughs again*

I.M. Weasel: But not yet, of course. We've still got a night of Fridays to enjoy. But stay by your phones as you watch tonight's shows. Those who submitted texts and/or post cards and memorized our caller ID must be dying to get the opportunity of a lifetime. For now, however, let us commence with tonight's brand new Stick Friends, because we can't actually play the game until the episode is over...

..........

I.M. Weasel (drops character): Also because this isn't the costume I'm going to wear. I-I'm going to be wearing something else after the break...

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

While Fridays did do something Half-O-Ween related for May 31, 2019, I was more interested in including a segment from this night instead because of how interesting it is.

Here's what happened, as part of a collaboration between Great 5 Productions and Nickelodeon, we were given permission to utilize one of their Halloween events from the 90s for ourselves.

In this case, we were allowed to utilize the format of a call-in trick-or-treating game show, where players had 40-seconds to search for prizes (it's explained at 0:25 in this video).

Back when it was first created, the event was part of a yearly Halloween event/contest that Nickelodeon held known as "Nick or Treat".

We decided to remove every mention of Nickelodeon's name (including the "Nick or Treat" name) from the packaging for 2 reasons:

Some of the higher-ups were worried that the inclusion of the Nickelodeon name would be a bit too distracting on Cartoon Network.

Well... the original name sounds like... yeah, you know...

Now, how exactly did we do this call-in thing without the trademark... name...?

Well, what we did was give out a phone number and caller ID (I believe it was "CN Fridays" or something) on May 18, 2018 for people to write down and memorize. Viewers who texted "Half-O-Ween" to that phone number were asked to label that number with the ID that was featured on Fridays. The viewers would know that they won based on what the caller ID was.

Oh yeah, and we managed to get a hold of the original game show's music, as well as a non-music version to prevent musical confusion with sound effects during the game. That was weird because when TeenNick's "The Splat" brought back the game show thing for Halloween 2015 (a few years before this), they apparently didn't have the original track with them. Not sure what happened there.

For this Fridays show, 2 games were played every hour of the block. Each hour was hosted by different Cartoon Cartoon characters (while Tommy and Tara had the week off), each wearing costumes that were similar to (or exactly) the ones they wore during the CCF Halloween Party.

I can't quite remember all of the hosts, or what order they went in, but I believe Dexter (as Courage) and Blossom (as Eddy) were 2 of the ones who appeared (as well as Weasel of course).

As for why the Halloween CNF logo is here despite being May? Well, since we forgot to use the logo in October 2017, we decided to make up for that by using it here.

Alright, that's all I got for you guys. Happy Half-O-Ween, everybody!

[yourbestpalpercy]

(ACK!! Update: I forgot to mention!! Eira and Dianica are my IRL Friend’s ToonTown Ocs! Same friend who made April, May, June and wrote 7 in Hush btw. She’s been a great help writing my stories! She’s also in the same place as me, working with what information we have on games like ToonTown and Splatoon.)

Everything was going pretty alright with the teacher’s assistant job. This was about 2 weeks after Prethinker had been kicked out of the School’s Basement. Weirdo. Making plans in the school basement…

Leaf had a good amount of Gags now. And in case you’re wondering, no, still not allowed to fight Manager Bossbots. However, they had softened up a little, allowing her to speak to them to try to avoid conflicts. I guess having a neutral could be useful to The Resistance, avoiding pointless fights. Admittedly, she had made a few more friends and hey! Holly (Gatekeeper) had invited her to a DnD group. Leaf couldn’t’ve been happier!

Tonight she had a meeting with The Resistance. Apparently, Melody had heard from a Cog she was fighting, that new Bots were being introduced. Not by choice, interestingly. This quickly led to a side mission where a different toon (That same deer that called Leaf an Oillicker) was told to sneak in and record everything.

“Harold Lesser is dead. He lost control of that…Toon Cog experiment he was creating. It destroyed him beyond repair, destroyed his database too! It’s gone rogue and is converting the other Cogs in the area into…Mediabots she calls them. It’s worrying. …She’s on the side of the Toons, at least in her mind, we’re worried she’s coming for everyone in her database.” The recorder murmured. Leaf fumbled with her hands. Chances are, Flippy would send her to try to reason with the experiment. She had been labeled as the Peacekeeper after all because she was good with reasoning.

“That monster won’t…” The speaker was cut off by the Chairman. “Big Fish. That’s enough. Please leave. I need a moment to think…” There was a clear sound of a door closing before- “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! Wh-WH-WHAT ARE WE G-GOING TO DO!?” There were sounds of someone running about and panicking. “G-Get all the suits in here! EVERYONE! This is a red alert!!” “Sir. I-I don’t think this room can..f-fit everyone?” “JENNIFER GET EVERYONE IN HERE OR ELSE YOU’RE FIRED!!” Leaf had to cover her ears! Normally she never had to do that!

The deer just smugly said, “It was louder in real life, anyways.” Flippy quickly paused the recording, “You could’ve warned us, Ronald…” Flippy mumbled under his breath. “Anyways, whatever this…experiment is, we’re gonna need to see if we can settle it…maybe? Leaf?” Leaf raised her head, uncovering her ears. “Yes, Flippy?”

“We’re sending you and Melody into this place, you’ll need to find a place in the back to sneak in through, we have no idea if the experiment is like the other places and we cannot take risks if she has Manager Bossbots in there. If things go south, Leaf, is your speaker done?” Leaf took out the speaker and stared at it for a bit. “...I’d say so, it has to be if we’re going to fight…”

So now Leaf was here…helping Melody pry a hole into the base.

“I’m still worried about this, Melody…y-yes, I’m a smooth talker b-but this is a straight up murderer!” Leaf whispered to Melody just as they pushed their way inside the base. “We’ll be fine, I promise. You’re a master at reasoning. I mean- you managed to reason with…which one was it? Chip?”

“No, I wasn’t allowed anywhere even slightly close to Mr. Chainsaw Face.”

“Uhm…oh right! It was Witchhunter.”

“The man could shoot fire, no way I was going to be allowed around him.” Melody was about to name another until, “Pacesetter. I was able to reason with Pacesetter. Graham.” Leaf looked around the base a little, being careful not to knock anything over or make a sound.

Didn’t matter though because, rather quickly, Leaf heard the sound of Melody yelling and trying to attack something. Leaf looked panicked and ran to where the noise was coming from. Melody was hanging upside down before a large computer.

Leaf panicked before throwing a Drop gag at the wire. A flower pot. She just had to hope it would land.

And it did!

A screech came from the computer before Melody was dropped and Leaf was grabbed. Without a second thought, she was thrown high into the air. Before she hit the ground, another wire grabbed her. “Who threw that!? Attacking Cogs!?” The voice stopped, holding Leaf upside down by the leg before that large computer. Before it was a large, mostly white dragon. Her face was nearly entirely rainbow. “Wait…are you-?” Another wire suddenly punched Leaf in the side. “Y-You’re not made of metal…y-you’re not a Cog! Oh my gosh!! What are you!?” The dragon started to excitedly shake Leaf about. “You’re absolutely adorable! S-So tiny a-and–! Oh wait, that’s because I’m big–! But still! Look at your green hair- Aw! You even have a leaf shaped pin in your hair! A-And your adorable little backpack!” Another wire grabbed Leaf’s backpack from her and squished her face. “You’re so squishy!!!” Her attention then turned to the backpack.

“I wonder what’s in here…” The dragon murmured and went near the bottom of the screen to look into the backpack. “Aww! You’ve got little gags! And they're Sound ones! Y’know, I’m a singer! I’m shocked not a lot of Toons know about me! I’ve released songs and yet- nothing! But you…you’re new! A-And something I’ve never seen before! Sooooo, I’m Iris! Iris Lovecake!” Iris flew about the screen for a moment before gently setting down Leaf. “You look fragile so :).”

“I-Iris huh…? A-And you must be the Toon Cog that’s causing serious panic for the Cogs?”

“That would be me! :P! And I’m a Toon. Just a Toon. Maybe an artificial one but still a Toon. I have no idea where the term ‘Toon Cog’ comes from!” Iris stuck her tongue out with a giggle.

“Sorry…i-it’s uhm..never mind,” Leaf approached Melody and helped her up, giving her support. “W-We’re here on behalf of the…the Toons to…convince you not to murder everyone?” Iris placed a wire over her mouth before she could continue. “I murdered 1 person and he totally deserved it! He was going to delete me!” Iris spun onto her back with a giggle.

“W-Well…I-I’m here as proof that there are good Cogs out there-.”

Iris let out an exaggerated yawn. “You’re on the Toons’ side? Who cares about a few dead Cogs? Especially when they’re ALL awful!” As Iris said ‘All’, her rainbow face shot bright red before it faded back into rainbow. “Well, I guess there are a few exceptions..”

“S-See!? Uhm-.”

“No. I don’t want your peace talk. I don’t think I made this clear enough…” Iris pinched her muzzle. “I don’t want “peaceful” mumbo jumbo. I want revenge!” Iris grinned at the thought, her eyes filling with black tears as her pupils changed to skulls. Her frill changed to bright yellow. “So please, if you’re going to yapping, I’m gonna have to remove you from the premises..” Iris smiled sweetly, folding her talons.

Melody looked back and Leaf could feel her freeze. “...Leaf..” She weakly pointed, causing Leaf to look back. There was a large cog right behind them. Its head was a stylophone. It didn’t seem to speak. Instead, it only buzzed to Iris. “Yes, yes, I know it hurts but you’re much better like this, Virtuoso,” Iris used her wires to gently cup the Cog’s face. “Now, if they mention another word about peace between Toons and Cogs, throw them out,” Leaf squealed, feeling the cold hand of the Cog.

“Look, it’s simple,” Iris said, still rubbing her muzzle. “Cogs and Toons will never get along. If they do, one or both of them are crazy. Cogs are too snotty! Just a buncha- blecks…” Iris rolled her eyes. “So, I’m eliminating them ALL!” Iris looked away from Leaf, only to reveal her tainted eyes once more as she grinned at Leaf.

“Th-They’re not all bad! Th-There’s Misty..a-and Holly–...”

“Well duh! I’m going to spare them. I’m going to turn them into Toons! I would do the other Cogs I like but…I couldn’t imagine them any other way…bye bye Mouthpiece…” Iris feigned (? Leaf couldn’t tell) sadness as she said this. “Poor Deep Diver too..a-and Flint…”

“Y-You don’t have to kill them! Cogs and Toons can-!”

“And that’s how Melody and I got literally thrown out of the base,” Leaf groaned, placing her hands over her eyes. “Believe me…I tried to reason with her but she’s convinced that she’s helping the Toons!” Leaf placed her head on the table. “I don’t know what to do…I-I’m also going to need a new backpack.”

“How lucky for you that you’re not the leader,” Mac chuckled, looking proud of himself. Leaf only lifted her head slightly to glare at Mac. Flippy just cleared his throat to quiet everyone down. “Ronald. Stop, Leaf, do you still have your speaker?” Leaf just..slowly took it out. “Hm…Iris seems more stubborn than we had expected…never thought The Resistance would have to stop a Toon from causing harm…” Flippy murmured. “Rocky? Do you have any opinions?” Flippy started. The tan dog looked to be thinking hard.

“...I think it’s only a matter of time before the Cogs come knocking at our door, begging for help.”

Dianica was tinkering with the MedPak 2.0 when she heard a soft buzz. She cleared some papers and picked up her phone, answering it. “Hello, this is L.A.B.S, Dianica speaking. How may I assist you?” On the other side was Flippy, the mayor of ToonTown. “Hey Dianica. We’ve got a…a big problem. Rocky theorizes that the Cogs will be knocking at the door soon, begging for our help.”

“What? Why would Cogs want our help?”

“Simply put, they were making this…Toon dragon thingy…and it turned against them. Normally, that would sound good, but…it’s kinda about to start going on a murderous rampage. Rocky also theorizes that’s not just going to be the Cogs she’s going to go after…”

“Oh, that sounds bad… I’ll be there in a bit, I just need proper equipment.” she farewelled Flippy, hanging up.

Leaf just sighed, “So…who was that?” Leaf asked, still sulking a little about the failure. “It’s an ally. Dianica. I’m shocked you don’t know her, her daughter goes to the school you’re an assistant at. She’ll most likely be here soon enough…” Flippy sat back down at the table and folded his hands. “Until then, we can try to think about-”

There was a light knocking at the door, and Flippy answered it. There stood Dianica, panting, with a weird metal backpack-looking thing. “Hi, did I arrive in time?”

Looking at her, she was clearly a Toon, but… She looked more like a Cog, with her skin color being silverish. Her eyes were reddish pink, and her tail looked like a cord of sorts. But, the most odd thing about her was the hole in her face, about where her nose would be, if she had one. A soft steam was drifting out of it, and her horns were slightly glowing green. She wore a lab coat that was torn a little, and streaked with mud near the bottom. “I came as soon as I could.”

Leaf sat up, looking at Dianica. She looked…a little- well, she definitely gave off…vibes. Vibes that made her a little uncomfortable. “Hi, y-you must be Dianica,” Leaf said, hoping it wasn’t too loud. She had a bit of a habit of talking loud due to her deafness.

“Hello, um, I believe Eira talks about you, but I’ve forgotten your name! Tsk, sorry, dear, I-I have a lot of things on my mind all the time, so I can be horribly forgetful. What was your name? Something related to a tree… Stem? No, Sapling? Probably not… Oh, wait, is it Leaf?”

“Yeah, but you can definitely call me Stem and Sapling, I don’t really mind.”

As Flippy turned away and guided Dianica to sit back down, there was a much rougher sounding knock at the door. Flippy’s expression changed to that of slight worry before he opened the door again. There stood one of the most terrifying Cogs Leaf had ever seen! He looked like a twisted fire fighter! Leaf grew tense before ducking under the table.

“Uhm..h-hi…is this The Resistance?” He spoke softly. Almost too quiet for Leaf to hear.

Flippy looked a little surprised too! He didn’t know for sure how to respond really. “Uhh..”

“Fl-” Dianica stopped herself, as if she didn’t want anyone to know she knew him.

“Y-Yes,” Flippy answered quickly before shaking his head, “I-I mean–...is this about the ToonCog?”

The firefighter just nodded. “...Is she…okay?” The firefighter asked, pointing to Leaf hiding under the table.

“Oh uh, that’s Leaf,” Flippy checked under the table. “Leaf?”

“...Y-Yes?” Leaf was shaking.

“What are you doing under the table?” Flippy asked.

“...Scary…” Leaf murmured.

The firefighter tilted his head and slowly pointed at himself.

Leaf responded with a nod.

“...Oh! You think I’m…well…I guess I look…” The firefighter looked himself over. “A little scary…”

Dianica just stared curiously at him. She then sighed and pulled something out of her bag, and a few tools, and started tinkering with it quietly.

“I’m Flint,” Flint smiled at Leaf and held out his hand for a shake. “...” Leaf just did the light shooing motion.

Flint looked immediately troubled. Flippy jumped in just in case, “Oh yeah, she does that when she’s scared. Don’t take offense to it, she did it to me too,” Flippy explained to Flint who nodded.

“Shockingly…I’ve never had erm…a-anyone be scared of me, Graham keeps telling me I need to…stop letting Toons walk all over…me…” Flint went on before noticing Dianica. “O-Oh! Dianica…I-I had no idea you…worked with The Resistance…”

“Yes, shockingly,” she said dismissively, “Good to see you again, Flint.”

Flint just nodded before anxiously standing off to the side. “O-Oh…! Right, I-I’m here to deliver a message from The Chairman of The C.O.G.S (as he insisted I referred to him as…)- We need your-”

“Help with Iris Lovecake?” Rocky finished for Flint.

He jumped a little, muttering, “I-...It has a name…?”

“Yes, it has a name. It- I don’t know where- I think H. Lesser named it. Don’t really know though. So.”

Soon, Leaf climbed out from under the table, retreating to the very back of the room and far away from Flint. “We uh…already tried talking to…it…”

“She stole my backpack…” Leaf added while slowly crossing her arms. “I lost all my gags but at least I still have my speaker,” Leaf refused to look Flint in the eye.

“She- we were afraid that- she would take over our lab, too. Uhm-...”

“So what they’re saying is, we accept helping the Cogs-” Rocky was cut off by Flint.

“O-Oh! Thank you-!” Flint smiled happily.

“On one condition,” Flippy said, holding up a finger for ‘1’.

“Oh,” Flint paused, looking a little more settled.

“You stop trying to take over ToonTown or at least stop attacking whatever Toons you see.”

Flint tapped his foot on the ground, processing the information. “...Should I go tell The Chairman of The C.O.G.S (as he insists I need to refer to him as) that? Y..Y’know, relay info…?”

Leaf nodded, finally making eye contact with the terrifying cog.

“Got it,” Flint nodded before leaving the building.

“Oh, and I’m almost finished with the MedPak, by the way,” Dianica cut in, adding a few finishing touches.

“Good, thank you Dianica,” Flippy nodded.

“Yes, I figured you’d be grateful for that. You’re welcome!” Dianica replied, then muttered, “Surprising that you all haven’t figured it out yet…”

“Figured out what yet? What, that you have connections to the Cogs?” Leaf asked with a slight giggle, she was teasing Dianica lightly because she was like a Cog. Now that Flint was gone, Leaf felt much better.

Dianica looked shocked for a moment, then masked it with a warm smile and a laugh. “Maybe!” she joked back- it didn’t really seem that she was joking, though.

Leaf picked up on this and-...never mind. “We need to discuss more about this..Iris problem,” Rocky spoke up.

“Indeed.” Dianica agreed. “I can’t wait to study her! Must be so fascinating, being a Cog that looks like a Toon. Wonder how that works…” She grabbed out a notepad and started scribbling notes into it- at least, Leaf guessed it was notes.

“She’s also dangerous, Dianasaur…” Mac hissed, glaring at Dianica. “You’re crazy if you think you can just-.”

“Oh get off her *ss, Mac! Seriously, are you ever happy? You’ll turn into a Cog at this rate!” Leaf suddenly hissed, glaring at Mac. Mac wrinkled his snout, “Says you, Boltsmoocher!”

Flippy groaned and abruptly separated them both. “Enough yapping! Not everything has to be a fight!”

“It is intriguing when it is a fight though,” Dianica muttered. “Also, Ronaldo, my name, for the LAST TIME, is DIANICA!!”

Upon hearing Ronaldo, Mac actually stopped talking, causing Leaf to just…stand there silently. “Oh my god…you silenced him. Thank you, peace on this world at last!”

“Oh, it was nothing. That always works for me! He’s a snowflake around me, kind of.” Dianica snickered at the look on Mac’s face.

“I AM NOT A SNOWFLAKE!! YOU’RE A SNOWFLAKE! SCREW YOU!”

“Ha, no, fu…frick you.” Dianica flipped him off. “Just SHUT UP already, your pettiness is boring me.”

“BOTH OF YOU. Stop it now.”

Dianica subsided obediently, but Mac was still scowling at her.

Flippy sighed. “We’re going to need help. Ronald, you go to that base and monitor Iris.”

“What? Why shoul-?”

“No complaints, you’re the best at stealth here, now get going please.”

Dianica grabbed a rather large thing out of her pack- a bit too big for the pack, actually. It was a robotic spout-looking thing.

Leaf tilted her head and got a closer look at the sprout. “What’s that, Dianica?” Leaf asked, holding her hands away from the robot.

“It’s a mini Robo-spout!! Very handy, if you need water in a rush." She reached back in the pack and pulled out a glove, put it on, and set down the spout. She pressed some buttons and clenched her fist. She moved it up, and the robot looked up.

“A handmade squirt gag! Just like my speaker,” Leaf excitedly pulled out her speaker. It looked rather unassuming, just being a black box with some lights on it. “I’d give it a test but for all I know, it’s incredibly loud, maybe loud enough to make me fully deaf!”

“A gag? It’s not…” Dianica glanced at Flippy. Flippy was talking to Rocky about what to do about Iris. “I mean- of course it is! Ha ha, yeah, I’m good at making stuff. Need something? I’ll make it for you!” she improvised quickly, even talking fast with a nervous undertone to her voice.

Leaf tilted her head, “A makeshift gag is nothing to be ashamed of, again, LOUD is right here,” Leaf picked up her speaker, giving it a light shake. “Are you not very good at using Gags?”

“I build them, not use them- not very often, anyways. Normally, I can just control them using this.” Dianica gestured to the glove on her hand.

“That would explain it, some of the gags are hard to use…”

“I… make the ones that are easy to use.” Dianica clarified.

“Wait, did you make my horn?” Leaf showed Dianica the heavily used horn. It was decorated in stickers and various other things. It was given a nice life so far.

“Yes, sort of. I helped with it, mainly the sound it makes!! Pleasant to Toons, not very with Cogs!! Fun, ain't it?”

“Dang right!” Leaf cheered and gave it a mighty, powerful honk.

*HONK!!!*

“Ehehehe!!” Leaf started laughing before tossing the horn for Dianica to give it a try. Dianica joined in, honking it again.

*HONK!!!*

“Love this sound!!” she cried.

“Definitely the best noise ever…” Leaf chuckled.

“Yeah, the Cogs can’t stand it!” Dianica giggled, passing Leaf the horn. “Anyways, I should get to work on this little guy.” She picked up the small spout-bot. “Exactly why it’s the best thing for sure!” Leaf kept bouncing up and down.

“As adorable as you two weirdly are, we need to focus on the Iris situation, unless you two want to go discover your twin souls somewhere else,” Doe chuckled. Doe! Leaf completely forgot about Doe! Leaf loved the yellow deer, she was so nice!!

Leaf quickly turned towards Doe, “We need to focus on the Iris situation. We’ll also need the strongest Cogs if Iris is as powerful as everyone suggests they are.” Flippy nodded, “That’s correct,” He then turned to Doe, “And I think we know one who is a perfect 1st option…”

“No, no, Flippy, we cannot talk to him. He nearly took your head last time…” Doe murmured, immediately worried at the thought, “And we cannot risk Leaf getting hurt. His face is a chainsaw.”

“Then Rocky and I can go,” Flippy said nonchalantly, he didn’t really mind if he lost his head.

“...I-I don’t have to come along, I think we can also talk to Misty. Iris is a computer, she’s probably extremely weak to water and who better than Rainmaker herself?”

“Then that’s the plan. Me and Rocky will go grab the Chainsaw Consultant, you and Doe go get Misty, try to recruit any other Cogs you find on the way too.”

The meeting broke apart quickly afterwards with everyone separated.

[atendersun-archived]

Trauma Bonding: An in-depth glance at the impact and integration complex trauma has within Muu's interpersonal relationships and love languages.

Disclaimer: Even though there are numerous studies even at present, and with psychology always changing, this post will only be dealing with the five most recognized love languages and how they fair in Muu's every day life / core values.

Gift Giving: The least of all the love languages that Muu will often willingly participate on. Even with all the years that have past, he still so vividly can recall the heartbreak of watching items he both worked on and poured his love into be dismantled or discussed in a disgusted manner in his late teens / early twenties that he actively goes out of his way of letting history repeat itself as much as possible. To receive a gift from him is one of the greatest indicators that he finds one's company to be a safe haven, but know that right can and will be revoked at any time the opposite has been even slightly announced to him.

Physical Touch: Another one low on the pole until he is most certain physical and emotional harm is off the table, this one too carries with a heavy burden from the past. It is to be noted that around the time in which his name took on the label of being a predatory individual, he had both already endured and would go on to experience more trauma of the sexual nature that he had no clear cut idea of how to go about handling at an already lonesome and abandoned time in his life. Even kissing, an active of love he so wholesomely gave out at every whim of a merry heart back in the day is solemnly acted upon in his adult age.

It aids him no further that he carries the added hinderance of feeling as though both his body and his touch are grotesque. That he would perhaps injure those around him with an experience akin to being burned on the surface of their own person should he have unwisely connected their livelihoods without properly assuring such a thing was the right and available thing to do. He's never the one to make the first move in a dance of affection, and yet it is the starvation of his soul that leaves him as the last to let go.

Words of Affirmation: Unsatisfactory moments in time proved to taint this one as well over the years; however, in some twisted manner Muu would feel appreciation towards many down the line. He is not one to state 'I love you' so simply. Instead choosing to suggest such a manner of thought in a way that is very personal and unique to the individual he is professing towards. He grew to hear himself being referred to as being a flatline-- one in which that made all in his life feel so uncannily the same in terms of importance ( or a lack thereof really) that it grew to be no surprise when love turned to sour resentment and hurt across the way well down the line. Fearful of being thought as being that once more, the male is plenty guilty of applying what studying he can into ensuring his recognition of those around him are based not on what they do for him, but instead the value they bring to his life for no reason other than the admiration he holds for them as a soul within a person he's so thankful to have met.

Quality Time: There is something to be said about a young man who knows so much of being made to feel like an unsatisfactory blip in someone's life, and yet knows no bounds in wishing for greater success for his own worth time and time again. Muu is not oblivious to the fact that his fearfulness and tremendous lack of self esteem makes him not only a bore in comparison to far more exciting people to be around, but that it also comes with the added work of having not only tolerate time spent with him, but to also manage it as well. And while it can be so easy to adjust to the idea that little can be gained from settling with someone who, at most, might only exchange the words 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' to you with little else between as he resides so heavily in survival mode even in the least of threatening company, know that beneath that all he is so hopelessly ecstatic at being chosen that every little bit of nurturing that goes on within those moments will and can build up to a time well spent with the joyfully authentic version of a heart waiting to envelop you in every glimmer of love it is plenty capable of radiating. There's a worthwhile person in there underneath all the timid chatter and tears, he promises.

Acts of Service: The go to. The umpteenth 'perhaps this one will make me good enough' attempt at hopefully giving him the clearance to be loved unconditionally after many years of feeling anything but. He'll happily clean, cook, tend to, and be present at every beckon and call if it so means he'll be doing something right. At twenty five years of age, Muu holds no value to his personhood whatsoever. One can very easily acquire from him the belief that he is not on par with dirt, but rather one step below. It has become integral to his safety that he holds such strong negativity towards his existence, because any complaint in the past only drew forward more pain from those that implanted such an idea in his influential mind in the first place. Hold no hesitation in turning his acts of anxiousness back at him. Persistently inquire as to whether or not his helpfulness is rooted in genuine care for their wellbeing, or perhaps he is acting on the instinct that to do otherwise would be asking for danger to befall on his own.

This love language, in the case of Muu at least, is a trauma response. He's helpful because he's scared. He's compliant because he's already imagined enough situations for what could occur to him if he decides not to be just that. He's been beaten, neglected, abused, assaulted, and bullied for so much of his life by people that he continues to be accessible to as they do not exist within the two dimensional. These are people on the platform that I did not create-- nor can I take them away. The only thing you can really do is say the same thing maybe a hundred, thousand, or even a million times over: you are loveable and you are safe. He's not going to believe you for a long, long time. But when he does, there is a beautiful person tucked well beneath the rubble of a grieving and frightened young man that even now still lashes out at a world he strongly believes shunned him first.

[ekebolou]

Academy Days: Routine, pt 2

'officorial' isn't a word, yes I named him Kevin Kevinson, no I won't be elaborating on what was probably a quick and messy set of mutual handjobs in a random hallway, and no I didn't label part 1 properly because I dunno titles are hard

thank fuck I won't have to type 'Esras' nearly as often anymore

~3,600 words

A cloud slipped, pushed by the wind, and Esras Cole turned to plunge his face into sunlight as if into water. Oisín’s conversation dropped off into a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh, ignore it,” Finanin said, turning himself to the light and pulling the collar of his shirt down to try to catch some of the light on his pale chest. “He’s always been like that.”

Finanin had no idea what Esras had always been like. Oisín could figure that out, or not, and because they were roommates, he probably would, whether he stayed with this group or not. Esras wouldn’t blame him if not, it had been clear when Maoilín was deciding who to elect to get the rest of them lunch Oisín had been on the list. Little Aibhne (the braile-breith Stone), having only just brought the fifth and sixth plate of options from the Hall, sat on the grass still catching his breath. Esras secured Oisín’s invite; it was up to him to secure his place.

“Trying to connect up your freckles?” Maoilín said, watching Finanin. He stood in the pitiful shade of an ankle-thick sapling, just strong enough not to bend under his lean. “That’s all you’ll get out of sunlight.”

“Maoilín has also always been like that,” Cruvcrudiach said, almost in time to stop Finanin’s self-conscious wilting, as he walked nearer the seated group. His opponent in their makeshift, stick-based sword practice remained puffing on the field of battle, a rise of slightly shorter grass away from the new stand of trees. His name was Neasán or something. Esras had never quite, in his head, stopped calling him Porridge.

Spring still fought for dominance over winter, though all that was left of that was a chill breeze that occasionally threatened them with a late snow. In as few as two weeks he could be crawling for shade, but for now the sunlight’s unmatched warmth was welcome. Something other than the sufficient but indifferent warmth of the dormitories, where it seemed one couldn’t escape the fact that that their warm air was less a clean fire and thick walls than the trapping of a hundred bodies worth of human heat. This fixed in the wide, felted loops of their awkwardly cut blankets and – fed by a fearsome lack of windows – promised a difficult summer.

Still, the fortuitous bolt of sunlight and Cruvcrudiach’s return from the bout combined to draw down the anger rising in his chest at just the right time to ignore it. Else he might have sounded as petty as Maoilín, which was at least reason to keep such pettiness around. Until the rankings came out, such reasons were good as gold.

Of course, he saw the cadet running towards them across the field from Founder’s. He got up, selecting a good stick from the ground, and walked to Cruvcrudiach to hear his review of the bout, one ear on the larger conversation, one eye on the running cadet. Cruvcrudiach wasn’t much of a talker anyway.

“I don’t see why the food hasn’t improved already,” Maoilín said, holding up a thick strand of beet-dyed pickled greens between finger and thumb.  He flicked it at the ground the way one might rid oneself of something sticky. All he wanted to do was snipe and complain, and he was going to have to come up with a new strategy if he wanted to retain this group. Or maybe he was relying on Esras to provide the glue – Fate knew he would surely tell him if that was the case.

Or, maybe, he was growing impatient of their overlords, waiting for them to do some real sorting before he put much effort into retaining any company. Esras sympathized; until rankings, Maoilín’s strategy for gathering good company was excelling in every class, and excelling in classes was difficult, wearying, and probably not entirely wise. In ranking, classes were the broth – an undifferentiated, perpetual, omnipresent test – where special events – the Cogadh, bivouac, tourneys, and class-level exercises – were the meat. Maoilín was living off broth; Esras was living – partially – off Maoilín. Maoilín’s overt effort and ambition was the tide beneath the boats around him, and Esras was happy to rise with it. He was sure the bill for that would come soon, but for now, he was content. The timing didn’t feel right to strike out with his own strategy, and he was discovering a great deal of benefit came from being perceived as the ‘relaxed’ one (so much ambition was required to even be here, it was ridiculous to perceive any of them as relaxed).

Both reason and luck suggested the Lists should be released any day now. A cadet would only run so fast for a few reasons, and Esras suspected something like that must be driving that grey blob he saw running towards them across the field.

“The premise, I think,” Finanin said, shaky but determined not to concede to Maoilín’s suppression – but, of course, he had only half an inkling of what Oisín and Esras had been talking about, “the premise of the inquiry is faulty.”

Which was at least a good rhetorical gambit, if you had no idea what to say.

“The seed of the issue is that we’re deliberately kept in the dark about things to make us wrong,” Oisín said, generously taking them back to the start of the conversation. “I don’t see how it’s a useful lesson to be wrong because you haven’t been given full information. I don’t care what she says about the tactics of losing – I know enough about losing not to need tactics about it – I don’t think it’s useful.”

“Oh, I don’t think the two are related,” Finanin said.

“Oh,” Porridge said, walking over himself and trying vainly to stop his breath from heaving (speaking of ambition, any combat, no matter how informal, against Cruvcrudiach was apt to have that effect), “I would like to know why.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong all the time if you weren’t so ignorant,” Maoilín said, his attention by now on the cadet – Enda – running up to them. He had put his plate down on the ground. “And maybe you shouldn’t be so proud of being a loser.”

Had Enda not been so close, Oisín might have had time to act on the fury evident in his face, which would have been foolish. Maoilín was head of their pack for a reason; Oisín would get his ass kicked. And, in picturing it, Esras thought he would be forced to take Maoilín’s side, which he really didn’t want to do.

Fortunately, Enda was close, though he jogged to a halt and had to bend, hands on knees, to catch his breath a moment.

“They’re out.”

Everyone but Esras and Cruvcrudiach straightened; those two threw the sticks they had been comparing grips on down.

And because there were two choices, and because their eyes fixed on him, Enda was able to force out, “Cogadh.”

Everyone who could simply started running for Founder’s Hall. Esras, as tempted to run as any of them, caught Enda’s eye to nod – Enda waved away the thanks, nodding in return. They must not have been matched for a team, then; no doubt something would have to be said.

Like Oisín, Enda was a good one to keep around. Certainly capable, he was also a steady one personally. Having proposed a liaison, he had taken Esras’ gentle rejection well, seeming, at least on the surface, to understand. He didn’t really, but it didn’t matter as much as the firm answer did – and Esras was firm. He was simply not doing it this time. In a year or two, they would open the gates and he could get whatever physical satisfaction he needed by visiting the Families. In the meantime, he should spend his energy on gaining and keeping rank. Relationships – even casual ones – just fucked all that up. They were always added complications. He didn’t want to have to consider others when he should have his own ambitions front and centre; it put a hold on you, like bridle, no matter what, and anyone, not just your partner, could grab that bridle. And he was tired of it. There was no way it didn’t end badly, somehow.

Jogging after the rest, he put a hand down to Aibhne, who seemed unsure whether Esras meant to bite him or help him up.

“Dump the food on the ground, if you’re worried about the plates,” Esras said, pulling him up (ridiculous how easy it was). “Animals will eat it. None of these,” he pointed with his chin to the group, now far across the field from them, “will care to return for it.”

And the punishment for not returning the plates would fall on Aibhne, of course. If he didn’t take care of himself, no one else would.

*

Such news for classes of cadets was always pinned to a wall by a particularly spacious joining of corridors between Founderhall and the buildings surrounding the base of the Tower. Predictably, even for so wide a space, the posting wall was blocked by an impossible crowd. Luckily, it circulated quickly, as cadets pushed to the front to read for their names and then retreated before they were crushed. Esras wondered if that was actually why the upper classes didn’t participate in Cogadh; they would just crush the lower classes to death to read their team assignments. As it was, the lists of Second Year teams was pinned to the wall as far as possible from the First Year lists without being in another building entirely (not that this stopped some of the Second Years from getting their shot in on the way).

Esras looked at the scrum, and the distant patches of paper on the wall. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited where he was. He was pleased to see Aibhne, who had darted ahead the moment he was able, using his stature to its greatest advantage, shoving a hip-height path through the morass to get his team assignment and squeezing out the side by the wall like a pebble under a wheel. It took longer to find the others, and he was also pleased to see that they enforced something like a bubble of calm in the line as they made their way to the papers, though primarily by sacrificing some of their weaker hangers on to defend the edges. Still, it wasn’t a quick process.

Maybe he should join? But he was already behind, and he could probably just have asked Enda, who surely would have looked for his name if nobody else’s, and, really – wouldn’t they tell him, when they came back out of the crowd?

Eventually, he grew tired of standing and walked to an outcropping in the wall to lean on it.

Some of the urgency was leaking out of the crowd, as more and more people showed up and groups could start to coalesce. Part of the problem is that they wouldn’t all know each other; a name on a list was just a name on a list if you didn’t have classes with him. There was a whole half of their year that they hardly interacted with; surely some names would cross that line.

Finally, having monopolized the position directly in front of the lists for several minutes, Maoilín raised a hand and signalled that they were leaving (only a few straggled to search out their own names, not having been a priority for him). Esras thought about raising his own hand, to call them over, but refrained. Anyway, he could see Enda entering the hall in the distance.

Maoilín’s eyes found him and he walked over, the rest of the group trailing.

“I suspect they don’t want to overload the teams,” Maoilín said dryly.

“We’re not together?” Esras smiled and Maoilín smiled back.

“Maybe they want to test top leadership,” Cruvcrudiach said, face serious.

“You would see a test of our liking for pork if they served a roast two days in a row,” Maoilín replied.

“Doesn’t mean he’s wrong,” Esras said, even though he saw the coldness in Maoilín’s gaze. He hadn’t wanted that supposition voiced; he did tend to think everyone else was too stupid to notice even obvious things, though.

They all nodded to Enda as he, still panting, joined the group.

“I’m with you,” he said to Maoilín, who nodded, letting the slightest smile grace his face to indicate it pleased him.

“I’m with nobody,” Aibhne observed to the floor, grimly.

“Not nobody,” Oisín said stubbornly. “Just unknown.”

“Who are you with?” Esras asked, hoping it would distract Oisín from the look of disgust on Maolín’s face.

But Oisín’s face reddened. “I don’t know,” he said, casting a look back at the crowd around the wall.

“I know one,” Enda said. “I was looking for him. Brahn Innrachtig, went to Prep. Bit of prick, but not an idiot. Useful if you can stand him. He’d have been a good add.”

Enda was worried – so he had neither Esras nor anyone from this group on his team?

Maoilín ‘tsk’ed. “We’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Well, they would be fine, in terms of success. Whether it would be at all enjoyable…

He gave Enda a sympathetic glance, only to catch the eye of a cadet he didn’t know across the hall. He was tall, though he slouched – when the group he was talking to pointed in Esras’s direction, he straightened. He had to have at least a full head of height over Esras. Esras watched his face go from a kind of genial curiosity to a flash of dismay then – just as they saw one another – that dismay washed away with inundating pleasure.

Did they have a class together? He looked sort of familiar, but not very familiar.

The group around him was still conversing. Esras added small noises of attention, but was watching the cadet approach.

So he wasn’t THAT tall. He had maybe four or five inches on Esras, at least when they were both standing properly.

Maoilín said, “Your team is a bunch of nobodies, too.”

The perfect interruption; Esras could turn his gaze away. A few in the group were protesting, or adding their opinions on the members of his team. It amounted to a susurrus convening on mediocrity. They all kind of knew somebody, who kind of did well, on some kinds of tasks.

This was perfect, though Esras wasn’t going to tell them that. He wanted that mediocrity. It was harder to lead excellence, and he wanted to lead.

“Oh, hopefully I can make up for some of it,” Esras said in genial jest. In the corner of his eye he was still observing the approaching cadet.

“You may actually have to start doing something,” Maoilín said. Ah, yes – the bill come due. Of course he had noticed Esras’s coasting.

“It may not be as bad as all that,” Esras said, to a few scattered laughs. “Any match we lose will just be tactical.”

He directed this at Oisín, who in addition to appreciating the buoying of his point from earlier was to the right of where the approaching cadet broke into their group. Enda was on left. As a result, they were all smiling when the new cadet shouldered in.

“Hi,” he said. He had a nice voice, too. One that had settled early and settled deep. Or, Esras suspected, he deepened; it was probably a very smooth tenor.

He was staring at Esras, and holding out his hand, which Esras took with just enough of a wait to make it clear he was waiting for more. More didn’t come, though it seemed like he had every intention for it to follow in a timely fashion.

Finally, he said, “You’re Esras Cole?”

“I am,” Esras said, and Maoilín followed with, “For what it’s worth, he is. And you are?”

But the other cadet wouldn’t let his attention be grabbed away. “Sorry, what a fool, I’m Caevanoch, and because my mother was not very creative, I’m Caevan Caevanoch. We’re on the same Cogadh team.”

Caevan had one of those faces that had squared off early (something Esras’ own had been frustratingly slow to do), meaning he lacked the touch of baby fat many of the other cadets still carried. This and his height made him seem mature, which in turn, made Esras want to explore various questions like: how did the thick, straight hair on the top of his head feel like? Did the rest of his body look so admirably mature? His grey eyes were light and dancing in a way that suggested perhaps, but not quite – at least, not quite enough that he was willing to just as confidently lean over Esars on the wall as he had butted into the group. A balanced confidence, with enough bashfulness to still be intriguing.

“Well, as long as we’re not matched against Cruvcrudiach, we’ll have them for height,” Esras replied, smiling.

“You’re in my Grappling class,” Porridge said. “Oof, you’ll have to watch his reach.”

Fortunately, Cole did want to watch his reach. Very much so.

“Well,” Caevan said, “we’re on the same team, so…”

“We’ll put that reach to good use,” Esras said.

Caevan did have long arms, though not disproportionate to his body. He was lanky, and though it was hard to tell under their uniforms, Esras could easily imagine there was muscle under there; perhaps built since arriving, perhaps refined, but it had to be there in some form.

“Tits,” Maoilín said, grimly, recognizing a battle lost. “Let’s see if any of us can dig up our teammates. We can’t all be so fortunate as to attract them like flies.”

They had been staring at each other; Esras knew they had been staring, but he hadn’t wanted to break the staring, though one part of him arguing vehemently at how rude it was the rest of the group. The other part truly and deeply didn’t care. A third part watched Enda from the corner of his eye, and the confusion that passed into hurt that passed into resignation on his face.

“Sorry,” Caevan said, finally breaking eye contact to glance after the departing group and looking down before he faced Esras again – it was so hard for a taller person to manage to look up at someone without hunching ridiculously, but he was managing it, and Cole appreciated that very much. “I should be one to comment on names, but is yours really ‘Esras’? Where does that come from?”

Esras resumed leaning against the wall, just to add to the challenge of being looked up at, though he smiled as he did it. “My mother was very well read, and not very attached to tradition.”

“Take it from me then, that’s for the best.” He laughed, and revealed a slightly crooked front tooth. It would definitely catch against his tongue.

“Perhaps I will,” Esras said. “We’re going to be teammate after all.”

Caevan’s smile widened. Some of the tension drained out of his limbs, and he straightened his back slightly.

“Look,” he said, glancing down again, “since we are going to be teammates, I’m not sure I can manage ‘Esras’ – I realize I’ve got a clunker, but what else do you go by? My friends call me Van.”

“Van?”

He shrugged, some of his self-consciousness returning, but let out again with the next breath, as he said, “If you please.”

It gave Esras a second to think. “How about just ‘Cole.’ Neither is a long name, you know – it shouldn’t be difficult.”

“A bit officorial, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t that the goal?” Esras replied. “We’ll all be officers one day. Might as well start thinking about it now. And if it makes things easier…”

They exchanged a smile, as Van contemplated it, running a tongue over his teeth as if savouring the attempt to say it. Esras had said it on whim, but as usual, his whim produced a fully formed thought: it made him seem undisguised, honest and revealing to Van, but in fact it elevated his personal life to another field of play. This way, he could be comfortable with it. This way, there was one less deprivation to contend with, and he could buy the butter and keep his money, hold the snowflake still to see it – if he was smart about it, and he was always smart about his ambitions.

“Fair enough, Cole,” Van said. He hesitated, still looking down, before he turned back to Cole and smiled again. “I don’t want it to seem too easy, though.”

“Why ever not?” Cole asked. Yes, he was at least mature enough to know what Esras was talking about – and he was amenable, at least as amenable as eager.

“We’ll have to work together, you know? And I’m sure there’ll be disagreements. And it won’t be forever.”

“The head and heart seat different Kings/ and neither can be humbled/ neither can immortal be/ nor kingdoms kept from crumbling.”

Van tilted his head, eyes narrowed, a colour rising up his cheeks from the edges of his jaw kept carefully at bay. “What’s that from? Don’t tell me you just come up with that stuff. I’m not sure I can handle that.”

“Then let’s call it a fluke, just this once,” Cole said, as he pulled himself up from the wall, slowly enough Van didn’t pull back, leaving them quite close together. “Until we learn what we can handle.”

Van smiled. Cole smiled back.

“Classes are going to start soon. There’s only a few minutes,” Van said.

“Let’s not waste them, them.”

[dlbanalysis]

Linear Regression

So in my first proper post i'd like to talk a bit about Linear Regression.

In the Data Science course I am studying, we are given an example dataset (real_estate_price_size.csv) to play that contains one column with house price and another with house size. In one exercise, we were asked to create a simple linear regression using this dataset. Here is the code for it:

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

import numpy as np import pandas as pd import matplotlib.pyplot as plt import statsmodels.api as sm import seaborn seaborn.set() import unicodeit

data = pd.read_csv('real_estate_price_size.csv') #using the data.describe() method gives us nice descriptive statistics! print(data.describe())

#y is the dependent variable y = data['price'] #x is the independent variable x1 = data['size']

#add a constant x = sm.add_constant(x1) #fit the model, according to the OLS (ordinary least squares) method with a dependent variable y and independent x results = sm.OLS(y, x).fit() print(results.summary())

plt.scatter(x1,y) #coefficients obtained from the OLS summary. In this case, the property size has the multiplier of 223.1787 and the intercept of 101900 (the constant) yhat = 223.1787*x1 + 101900 fig = plt.plot(x1, yhat, lw=2, color='red', linestyle='dotted', label='Regression line') plt.xlabel(unicodeit.replace('Size (m^2)'),fontsize = 15) plt.ylabel('Price',fontsize = 15) plt.title('House size and price',fontsize =20,loc='center') plt.savefig('LinearRegression_PropertyPriceSize.png')

plt.show()

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And here is the scatter graph of the data with a regression line!

So overall I'm very happy with this. After a bit more playing around i'd like to be able to sort out the y-axis so that the title isn't cut off!

But what does that code actually do?

A couple of things in the code that I'd like to explain:

The first 7 lines (i.e the import numpy etc) are for importing the relevant libraries. By stating something like 'import matplotlib.pyplot as plt' means that each time you want to call on matplotlib.pyplot, you only have to write 'plt'!

The next line of code, "data = pd.read_csv('real_estate_price_size.csv')" is using the pandas library and syntax to load in the real estate data (in comma seperated value [.csv] format).

By using "print(data.describe())" we can see a variety of statistics as shown below:

4. After this, the next lines of code are declaring the dependent variable (y) and the independent variable (x1). With regards to the '1' after the 'x' - it's a good habit to get into labelling them in this way (we will see later that we can make our regression more sophisticated [or in some cases not!] by using more than one x term [i.e x1, x2, x3,...,xk]).

5. The next bit is slightly more complicated - so it's probably worth taking a step back. Remember that a straight line has the equation: y = mx + c, where y = dependent variable, x = independent variable, m = slope and c = intercept (where the line cuts the y-axis). So now imagine that we're trying to fit this line to some data points - we want a constant term c that is non-zero.

A bit of a digression here - but hopefully this will make sense. Imagine that we are trying to predict someones salary based on their years of experience. We collect data on both and we want to fit a line to this data to understand how salary changes with experience.

Even if someone has zero years of experience, they still might have a base salary.

So in regresison analysis, we often include a constant term (or intercept) to account for this baseline value. When you add this constant term to your data, it ensures that the regression model considers this starting salary even if someone has zero years of experience.

This constant term is like the starting point on the salary scale, just like the y-intercept is the starting point on the graph of a straight line.

x = sm.add_constant(x1) will add constants (of 1) as a column next to our 'x1' which in this example is 'size'

So this column of ones corresponds to x0 in the equation

y_hat = b0 * x0 + b1 * x1.

So this means that x0 is always going to be 1, which in turn yields

y_hat = b0 + b1*x1

So now that we've got that cleared up, it's on to the next bit. This is the following section of code:

results = sm.OLS(y, x).fit() print(results.summary())

sm.OLS (Odinary Least Squares) is a method for estimating the parameters in a linear regression model

(y,x) represent the dependent variable we're trying to predict and the indepenedent variable we believe are influencing y.

.fit() this is a function that fits the linear regression model to your data, estimating the coefficients that best describe the relationship between the variables.

results.summary() returns this:

6. The next section is relatively straightforward! This is the bit where we actually plot the data on the graph!

So first of all we have plt.scatter(x1, y) - which is fairly self explanatory!

Next, we declare a new variable yhat. The highlighted sections in the previous image give us the values we need for the equation. So we have 223.1787 (this is our Beta1 that is multiplying x1) and we have 1.019e+05 (which is 101,900) which is our Beta0. I suppose we could have arranged it (so that it is in the same format as the diagram) as yhat = 101900 + 223.1787*x1

So the next bit - I have to be honest - I'm not entirely sure of the arguments and their order, but essentially it looks as if

fig = plt.plot(x1, yhat, lw=2, color='red', linestyle='dotted', label='Regression line')

is determining the attributes of the graph (i.e the variables for the x and y axes, the line width (lw), colour, the style of the line etc).

The next 3 to 4 lines are quite straightforward. Essentially just giving the axes a title, specifying the font size, giving the chart a title and using the plt.savefig() method to save the image!

[galacticwildfire]

Looking at your grades and realising the time to write your original novel and pray you find success is only running out by the day and becoming more necessary because fuck academia man

Slight rant below

A man who would hopefully be jailed in 2024 has a dream or produced drug fuelled thesis based on no evidence but his own perversions and it’s seen as fact, it holds the status of bible within its discipline, but I have an idea that slightly deviates and I’m a heathen

I mean fuck it, at this point I’d be better off devoting my time to writing five novels and praying one’s picked up rather than spending five years suffering through further study that I can’t afford and probably won’t get into at this point considering I had to drop a few units due to chronic illness and couldn’t get the penalty removed.

How the fuck am I meant to get documentation for bpd and pill induced permanent disassociation when they refuse to actually give me a paper diagnosis (because my doctors hate putting labels on things as much as my last situationship) but will still happily throw sedatives at me for it while telling me I have bpd but still refuse to give me documentation or a paper diagnosis.

Although considering I had a full ultrasound searching for pcos where they saw that my ovaries were covered in cysts, very clear pcos, and they didn’t even feel it was worth mentioning on the report I shouldn’t be shocked. How the actual fuck does a person who looks at ultrasounds for a living see the 14 follicles the technician pointed out on one ovary and write on the report that everything is normal. Cut to almost a year later and hormone testing told me yep, definitely pcos.

Thank god I have a new doctor now and am off those pills (Seroquel saved my life but also gave me a literal chemical lobotomy. I legit can’t remember shit and spend probably 80% of the day in a state of dererealisation and have worse comprehension skills than I did at 13). Not to mention the twenty kg weight fluctuations from going on and off it from 16-21.

As much as I dreamed of being a historian it looks like a masters ain’t gonna be happening with my gpa. I mean finding success in academia is just about as rare as finding success as a writer, at least this way I can save myself from going into even more debt because fuck Australia has some of the most expensive university fees in the world. And they decided to double the fees for humanities because “oh no, we need more people in agriculture and teaching” despite probably half of high school teachers doing a humanities degree and then a diploma of education.

With a bachelors I can still write history for public consumption I guess, non academic articles and all that along with books you’d find in public libraries, and considering academics absolutely fucking hate people in the public history sector I’m fine with that.

God it’s hard having always dreamed of going overseas and doing a masters degree and going into academia and then realising that the cost for living past the age of sixteen would be your intellectual capacity. I know I have brilliant ideas, and I can get them across in writing fiction, but academia would probably be the death of me.

At this point I’m seeing if I have the gpa to complete an honours, I have probably 8 months left on my bachelors without it. Considering I’ve written probably close to 300k words in the last year I’m aiming to get my own original manuscript done this year since they prefer beginner novelists to have between 80-100k for their first book. I’ve got a couple ideas but it’s time to decide on one and get it done. I’m debating between a sapphic tragedy and my own mythological story that would be part of an asoiaf like universe. I’m thinking the smaller project first since it would be a stand alone and to go from there. Turns out I also have 14k words worth of poetry when I compile them all into a doc so I’ll see what I can manage with that.

[inkdemonapologist]

for crashing (?) the Contest Of The Arts in the last cthulhu session we didn’t actually have to dress up too much, but, y’know, it IS a snazzy event and Sammy was planning to sign up as a contestant in order to get backstage, so he was a little fancier than usual. also suspenders jack is important to me....

Out of context quotes from our Slightly Eventful Contest Experience under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] I am sleepy today… so maybe I will be in character,,, [Jack] I am also sleepy. [Henry] … I actually just took a nap before game started. [Sammy] Ah. So Henry, as usual, is the only one that’s well-rested; yeah, that sounds correct.

*someone posts a gif of Beans the cat labelled “BEANS HEAVEN NOW”* [Jack] This is a tangent, but I’m imagining Jack doing the “We can’t keep doing this” but saying that to Beans, and it’s really cute, [Sammy] Except instead of yelling “shrimp heaven now” it’s just Beans going “MWOW! MWOWWW!” [Jack] OH NO, THATS REALLY CUTE….. [Joey] Sorry, I’m going to tangent back more: for some reason, forever entangled in my mind is “shrimp heaven now” and also the “chips” bit? So now I’m thinking of, [Joey] “Prophet keeps going into the cupboard, and eating handfuls of raw pasta, and calling them… chips?” [Sammy] “How do I make him STOP???” [Sammy] I can’t decide whether this is better if Joey is the one making this complaint, or Sammy [Sammy] *laughing* Sorry, I’m just thinking about Sammy like, waking up to find all his pasta with bites in it like “Not again,,,” [Joey] “We can’t keep doing this,”

[Sammy] Don’t teach Beans magic! Bad influence! [Henry] Beans already knows magic. [Sammy] *startled laughter* tHAT’S AN EXTREMELY CONFIDENT STATEMENT,

[Jack] Jack’s also going to be sleeping with the light on, so, Pete, I hope you don’t mind the light on! [GM] Well, that actually works out well for him, because then he can see all the papers he’s laid out around the place when he’s astral projecting! [Jack] PETE NO,,,, [Sammy] Well! It sounds like everyone’s really, definitely, using the evening time for sleep like they’re supposed to! [GM] You told Peter to make sure Jack didn’t wander off! [Sammy] YES…. WELL THAT’S IMPORTANT, [Jack] He can’t do that while sleeping! [GM] He can! He can. [Jack] He can’t do that while SLEEP-sleeping [GM] Okay, that’s true.

[Jack] All of Jack’s boyfriends are functional people. [Sammy] Jack is the only functional boyfriend. [Jack]......I’m not sure if that’s true anymore

[Jack] You’ve ruined a perfectly good lyricist is what you did, look at him, he’s got anxiety! [Sammy] Me @ The Masked Messenger

[Joey] And Joey might also make calls to Timothee and………..other guy,

[Joey] Hopefully he won’t make his intelligence check! [GM] How smart are you, Leon? You’re a doctor…. OH he might make this check, he has a very high intelligence [Sammy] Well good, we need at least somebody with a braincell, so that’s great actually.

[Joey] Does Joey have a good idea, based on what Sammy and Norman know from scoping out the hotel, about how they should maybe be dressing for this event? [Sammy] [Sammy] …you expected Sammy to be paying attention to that…? [Joey] I said Sammy and Norman,

[Joey] Joey knows who Bertrum is, because he’s just a fan of theme parks [Jack] He’s just a nerd [GM] Theme park nerd… [Joey] OH NO… Joey would be one of those youtubers who rides rides and then gives them critique… [GM] Luckily, he doesn’t have a platform to do that, so Bertrum hopefully doesn’t hate him! [Sammy] “LUCKILY, JOEY DOESN’T HAVE A YOUTUBE” applies to so many things [Joey] *laughs* [Joey] [Joey] Yeah,……………..

[Sammy] Are we just looking to grab them, and drag them off?! [Joey] dO YOU HAVE A BETTER PLAN,,,

[Joey] Do we actually have to get backstage, or can Norman just… shadow walk back there

[Joey] Sammy and Norman can sneak backstage, because Norman is good at sneaking, and Sammy is… good at doing things… without, others’ agreement,

[Sammy] If Wally’s here – Wally needs to not be here. I don’t want to think about Wally Franks while I’m here.

[Joey] If you throw that request on Joey last minute, he’s not going to take that well, he’s got so much on his mind right now – [Sammy] If Joey doesn’t want to get him ink, I can ask Bendy, like, that’s fine, whatever! [Joey] I mean, if you wait long enough, Bendy and Joey is the same person – you can’t go to the other parent!

[GM] Is Norman going have to borrow an instrument case to put this RIFLE in?

[Sammy] And y’know, if any of the Muses show up early, maaaaybe we cannnnn just– [Jack] –kidnap people, live, in front of a crowd! [Sammy] I MEAN, WE’RE DOING THAT EITHER WAY,

[GM] You guys get to the Ravenshall hotel, and ballroom adjoining, around 6pm! [Sammy] *nervously* Alright… here we are… [GM] *cheerfully* It’s close to the beach, there’s a pool outside-! [Sammy] We’re going to get arrested, [Henry] Or worse. [Jack]..... eXPELLED?

[Joey] If we are taking two cars, I think we should park Henry’s more hidden in the crowd, in case someone shows up who might recognise Henry’s car. [Joey] Though admittedly… cars are not really… recognisable,... in this time period, [Sammy] All EXACTLY THE SAME CAR, [Joey] YEAH, there’s exactly the same car, in many different colours. [Jack] It never got brought up, but Henry actually painted Cool Flames on the side of his car,

*after several minutes of retconning various preparations* [GM] Okay! You are at the front doors. [Sammy] Thren like YOU ARE HERE NOW. BE HERE. STOP GOING BACK.

[GM] Jack probably also recognises the band that’s hanging out to the side of the stage… or at least three of them! [Sammy] Is that… the musicians, from… [GM] The saxophonist is new! [Joey] *starts cackling*

[GM] You do see one of the lines on the sign-up list just says “Alice.” [Jack] I don’t know if that’s cute or concerning…

[Joey] If Norman and Peter, can sneak back right away? If Norman’s going to blend in with the other staff – [Sammy] What actually happens is, while Pete is showing his press pass, Norman just walks in. No one notices. I don’t know if he’s actually that stealthy, but that’s what’s in my heart. [GM] It might,,, be that way,,, because I’ve been rolling some dice, and what it looks like happened is that Norman tried to talk his way through and rolled a 90-something and did not know what instrument case he was carrying OR SOMETHING and did not get in, but then Peter did, and made a good persuade roll, and then Norman got a 15 on Stealth! So, that sounds correct. [Joey] Perfect! [Sammy] Norman just like, “I’m here to play sax,” and they’re like “That’s a violin case.” “Well, you know, I’ve always kept my saxophone in a violin case, I don’t know about you, that’s just what I’ve always done!”

[Sammy] Trenchcoat is not allowed to touch any of my banjos.

[Joey] They could also sign up under alternate names, [Jack] SAMMY FAIN AND JACK LAWRENCE…

[GM] Timothee does say he grabbed some stuff from his mom! And has a handful of charms. [Sammy] What do they do? [GM] One makes you better at getting out of the way of things, one that makes you sneakier, and there’s one that helps with guns, apparently. [Jack and Sammy] *giggling* [Joey] *also giggling* LOVE THAT GOOD OL’ ANCIENT GUN CHARM! Passed down for generations– [Jack] You say “gun charm” and I’m just imagining like… a phone charm, but for a gun.

[Joey] Henry’s going to get one of the “not get hurt as much” charms– [Henry] Okay! [Joey] –I don’t know if it’ll work if he hurts himself, but! We can hope. [Sammy] Henry tries to overexert and the charm just STOPS him and we’re like “*gasp* he needs to have this on all the time…”

[Sammy] Just passin’ out charms in the hotel lobby, it’s fine.

[Joey] Timothee and Henry are both the most well-armed, and seem to be the most ready to… [Sammy] Kill a man? [Joey] … plow into a situation and change it if need be. [Henry] AKA, kill a man.

[Joey] Jack is the extremely charming polite boy, who has attracted a lot of not-so-charming/polite boys… [Sammy] Yes. That’s true. [Joey] I guess Joey is the most charming polite boy, compared to Jack, out of all of them, and he’s… less polite, and more charming, [Sammy] Joey can be polite when he wants to be. Joey’s flaw is his personality. [Sammy] That’s also Sammy’s flaw; he just has several other ones as well.

[Sammy] Susie, like me, has distinctive hair, so you might be able to pick her out of a crowd-- [Joey] Joey will describe her – sorry, I’m retroactively adding this – back at the meeting, Joey will describe her in WAY too much detail, like she is a famous actress. [GM] …and then Norman will get a photograph. [Sammy] YEAH, THAT’S SMART, [Jack] Sorry, I’m – I– if Norman has a photograph of Susie, is, like… I’m just picturing it as a like, best friends selfie. [Joey] YEAH no I was immediately like, Norman & Susie Best Friends Selfie please! Even though I don’t know if you could actually do that at the time, but. It’s in my heart now. [Jack] If anyone would know how to, Norman would. [Joey] THIS IS TRUE…

[GM] He is at the buffet, eating sausage rolls on toothpicks! And talking, very loud, to people! [Sammy] Okay, so we IMMEDIATELY know where Bertrum is at ALL TIMES, got it

[Joey] Joey doesn’t have the thing that my D&D character has where I can just SENSE magical objects in the room… [Sammy] I can sense Exactly One magical object!

[GM, as Nichole] They can’t do anything to people in a public venue like this! They’re not going to be sacrificing people on stage! [Sammy] I’m not so sure about that– [GM] The weird thing is – OH wow, okay – yeah, the weird thing is, it is insanely convincing, what she’s saying. [Sammy] …………. o..kay!! um, alright – [Joey, who spent the entire game with an impossible-to-fail boosted fast talk skill] OH NO, is SHE the muse with Fast Talk?! [GM] YES!

[Sammy] Because this makes perfect sense! And Sammy has made a good judgement call!

[GM] Nichole’s not competing, so– [Joey] NICHOLE, IF YOU’RE NOT COMPETING, then what kind of a “go out with a bang” is this?!? THERE’S ONLY TWO OF YOU! [Jack] She’s gonna go out with a different bang, she’s gonna have a LOT of alchohol for this.

[Joey] *very seriously* As amazing as the work Bertrum has done for Coney Island is, he does not care about this. [Joey] He only cares about the teeny sausages.

[Sammy] This is fast talk, right? This is not an ACTUAL thing – [Joey] I do believe, that in Joey’s heart, he absolutely believes this, because he is assigning them all positions in this scene, and he has given himself a Willy Wonka position at this moment,

[GM] Bertrum lets everyone applaud a bunch, and thanks everyone for the energy, as if it is for him,

[GM, as Peter] Oh, this guy. I don’t even live here anymore and I’ve heard he’s a chore to interview… or, to stop interviewing. [Joey] Please imagine that Joey gets this information, and his eyes do the little anime SHING! thing

[Henry] Henry is probably fluent in Joey, he’ll know what to do.

[Henry] Henry is going to assume it’s Plan B time, and just pick up Susie, and run! [Jack] *nervous singsong* We’re gonna get arrested for kidnappinggggggg...! [Sammy] We are gonna get arrested, we knew that going into this. I thought it was gonna be me, but then I got talked down, [Sammy] We really just shoulda sent Prophet into this, honestly. He wouldn’t have put up with this foolishness.

[Sammy] And also, Sammy does vaguely know how to fight; Jack does not. So there’s that, as well. [Jack] He’s soft and warm, like mashed potatoes. [Sammy] Well, that’s why we gave him a charm, so he can be a speedy mashed potato. [GM] Fast potato……..

[Joey] I do need to share this thought first, of like, this gun has gone off and people are panicking, and Bertrum is STILL talking, but the moment Joey moves the spotlight off of him, he’s like, “WHAT is going on?!” [Joey] “WHO!!!! HOW VERY DARE YOU!!!” [Sammy] I feel like he MIGHT react to the shot gun– [GM] *laughs* I’m being told that he would yell “Bloody scamper!” and yell at everyone to run, which is helping with the panic! [Sammy] *cracking up* tHANKS GIANDARK!

[Sammy] No sanity damage for Sammy right now. [Jack] Samity damage. [Sammy] Hm. [Jack] Samity Samage.

[buckysbabygorl]

Hello! Idk if you’re currently accepting requests right now and if you aren’t, feel free to ignore or delete this! If you are, I would like to request a fluff oneshot with the reader (who possesses the ability to fly with wings) is practicing with their ability outside of the avengers compound one afternoon and standing in the field is Bucky, just watching them with pure adoration. 🥺

I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE LENGTH OF THIS REQUEST 😭

Flight Risk

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

~

“MOTHER FUCKER!”

Y/N fell once again as she took lift off.

At least she had manage a few feet this time.

Holy hell was this hard.

She looked to the clouds from her position in the grass, admiring the fluffy clusters above her. When she was younger, her mother told her they were made of the fallen feathers of angel wings, accumulating in soft mounds throughout the sky.

She reached to touch the end of her own wings, though they weren’t white, she liked to think that’s what the clouds above her felt like.

She knew they didn’t, in fact they didn’t feel like anything. Just cold, moist. Or so she had been told. She hadn’t felt them herself yet.

Her wings hadn’t been operational that long ago: DNA splicing experimentation and strenuous surgery had only produced these miraculous appendages on a  whim, she had been the only successful subject. There could have been more, but thankfully the Avengers stepped in once hearing that Zola’s previous experimentation had influenced a small group of mad scientists to use similar technologies. Kidnapping thousands of travellers throughout the decades and only recently been finding themselves successful in their results. They attempted to give people gills, fins, horns, hooves... and in Y/N’s case, wings.

They couldn’t send Y/N back into society; they knew she wouldn’t be accepted or be able to live a normal life. She was free to return to civillian life if she chose, but the team made her aware that she was more than welcome to join them.

So she did.

She surprisingly had proved herself to be a usefull asset, wings aside. She was strong, fast, cunning, high above the rest (both literally and metaphorically). She was a superhero now.

But unfortunately, she had no capabality of flying.

“I can teach you,” Sam said, “It’s not that difficult.”

“Your wings don’t count,” Y/N said, “Yours are mechnical. Mine are natural.”

“Well, as natural as science experiments can be.” Bruce said.

“Shut it,” she teased.

Technology aside, Sam had seemed like the only one with somewhat similar experiences to teach her some minor details.

He gave her the basics, but she was alone now.

Huffing, she lifted herself from the ground and dusted her clothes off. She shook out her wings, adjusting her shirt so that they didn’t bunch at the shoulders.

“Come on, you got this. Just bend, brace, expand, flap--”

She tried again, shooting up with wings narrowed. She then unfurled them as she rose higher into the air, but as another gust of wind came she found herself faltering and tumbling back down.

Bucky took out his earbuds as he jogged by. He hadn’t noticed her before, adjusting to the early morning hadn’t left him very observant of his surroundings. He watched as her wings spread, her eyes on the sky above. He couldn’t help but chuckle as she struggled to stay up, frustration scrunching her face.

“You okay? He called out.

She rested her hands on her knees, looking up at the voice. A small smile breaking her thoughts as she realized who it was.

“Yeah.” She called back.

He jogged to her place in the open field, slowing as he neared her and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Flight practice?” He asked.

“Not really,” she said as she crossed her legs, “It’s more ‘breaking for impact’ practice at this point.”

He laughed softly, bending to sit beside her as she checked her knees for scrapes.

“I take it Sam didn’t really give you the best advice.” He said, reaching out to run his thumb over a small bruise on her shin.

She sighed, “Well his heart’s in the right place but--we’ve got different mechanics. I don’t think he can relate to this. Not that many people can...”

She ran the back of her hand along the length of her wings, flicking upwards as she reached their soft end point.

Bucky admired the light brown color of her wings, reminding him of the sparrows that sometimes stopped on the windowsill of his bedroom. 

He was never really subtle with his staring, Sam had actually labelled it as his biggest problem. She wasn’t an exception to that; he often found his eyes chasing after her as she exited rooms, her expansive wings encompassing her figure. 

“One day she’s gonna catch you staring,” Sam warned, “you better hope she doesn’t kick your ass. She could get the wrong idea...”

Bucky didn’t like that her phrased it that way; as if he was gawking at her. He wasn’t looking at her like she was some freak, or a circus sideshow. It was more like... admiration.

She was beautiful.

He thought she was beautiful.

If anyone had taken a glimpse into his mind, it would be easy to understand that he wasn’t looking only because the wings were breathtaking, he felt she was too.

“Can I?” He asked.

His hand was held out in a loose open palm, just above the bed of feathers.

She nodded, and he ran his knuckles slowly along the length in the same way she had before.

They tickled slightly, the nerve endings in his fingers seemed to buzz. His hand shook slightly as he flicked upwards at the point, and she giggled quietly.

“It tickles when you do it.” She said.

He smiled, “Same here.”

He gently picked at blades of grass that had stuck to her wings,  “How long have you been out here?”

She looked up at the sun, noting its change in height.

“A few hours I think. I didn’t want anyone to see.”

“Well, sorry for the intrusion then.” 

She shrugged, “It’s alright. I like having you around.”

A blush creeped up his cheeks, and he ducked his head more, pretending to really focus on pulling out grass.

“So--uh, where do you think you’re going wrong?”

She chuckled at his bluntness, only further embarrassing Bucky.

“I don’t know. In my lift off I can’t make it stick. It just doesn’t feel natural.”

“Alright”, Bucky wasn’t sure how to help her, it wasn’t like he had any personal experience himself. “Well, what does feel natural?”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back to lie on the grass, hands cradling his head as he looked up.

“I guess--I mean, when you look at birds, they just start flapping. That’s natural for them. Humans don’t fly; Sam’s wings are mechanical…”

Y/N realized early on in their relationship that Bucky had a tendency to ramble; though he liked when others were “to the point”, he lacked that quality himself. But she knew if she was patient, he’d get there eventually. And truthfully, she quite enjoyed listening to his tangents.

“...so Sam’s advice is based off what the wings are designed to do. Maybe you need to try testing it out the natural way. Move your wings in a way that feels right. Does that make sense?”

No, it didn’t.

But she smiled anyway, “Kind of. Like, don’t think about it and see where my body takes me?”

He chuckled, “That’s a weird way to phrase it, but yeah, something like that.”

Suddenly she stood up, making Bucky jump slightly.

She was no longer looking at him, only closing her eyes and expanding her wings.

He liked that she was a “0 to 100” type of person, out of nowhere she’d get an idea and then it was all action.

She let the wind ripple through her feathers, and she tried to gauge the current off her wings.

Don’t think about it… what feels right?

She couldn’t put it into words; but as she focused on her surroundings, feeling the breeze… some kind of instinct came over her.

Wait…

Bucky intently watched as she inhaled; steading herself as her wings unfurled.

Wait…

As the sun gleamed behind her, leaving him completely consumed in her shadow. 

It was breathtaking.

Her eyes snapped open.

Now.

The sudden flap of her wings threw Bucky back, the hard beat shooting her upwards and leaving him in the grass.

Each stride she took was with purpose, and before they knew it she was flying higher than she ever had before.

Bucky stood, laughing and smiling in awe as she soared along the current.

The wind roared in her ears, so loud she could barely hear her own laughter.

She was amazed, she was flying.

She let the wind pull her, ducking her wings and shooting off in another direction.

Bucky spun around in circles as she flew around him, trying to catch her figure against the blinding sunlight.

He was dizzy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Jesus Christ,” he said to himself. He cupped his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice, “You’re flying!” He screamed.

“I’m fucking flying!” She screamed back.

Just wait ‘til Sam saw this.

But then she got cocky, dipping further than she should’ve.

She caught a draft that clipped her wing.

It was too late to catch herself before she was fluttering to the ground.

“Shit!” She screamed.

“Shit.” Bucky muttered.

He started running in her direction, arms reaching out like he was catching a football.

“I’ve got you,” he cried, “I’ve got you!”

He caught her just in time, bracing for impact as they both crashed into the ground.

Hair windswept and cheeks red, Y/N screamed out in happiness.

“Oh my god, did you see that? Did you see me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head as she dramatically recounted the experience, his arms firmly holding her against him.

“And then I was like whoosh and the wind came and it was like AHH and then--”

She was cut off by his lips on hers.

His lips were soft, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a gruff man…

Her eyes closed and she pressed further into him, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away, leaving her more shocked than the flight had.

“I’m sorry,” He started, “It’s just--”

He looked into her eyes, unable to explain it all. How could he? She was just...

“--I think you’re amazing.”

She smiled back at him, “Oh I’ll show you amazing.”

Her hands wrapped around his collar as she pulled him back in for another kiss.

Bucky would have to remind himself to interrupt flight practice more often...

~

I hope you enjoyed @halietigges this request was so fun to make!

Taglist: @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @dumb-ass-writer @cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @emmabarnes @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins