#also speaking of technology and being in awe of it

[pyxxiestyxx]

Humans are Made to be Pets

"I don't fucking believe you." I laughed in response. I mean, how could I not? I've been perfectly fine as an independent for years. I've made plenty of friends (independents, affini, AND florets), but my favorite friend was definitely Her.

Jaz was an oldbloom of some kind. She refused to tell me the actual number, and I wasn't going to press it. But you bet your ass I was going to outright deny it when she says some Bloomer-ass bullshit like, "Humans are made to be pets, Petal~"

She tilted her head, as if surprised. "Did no one tell you, dear?" I frowned.

"What do you mean exactly?"

Jaz hid a chuckle behind some vines. "Flower, I've been around for a while. I've seen thousands of species. Some of them were almost extinct by the time we found them, and some were far more technologically advanced than the Accord ever was. But out of all of them -all of them, darling- I have yet to find a sophont who wouldn't make a perfect silly pet. Why do you think terrans would be any different?"

I sputtered. "No! No, that's ridiculous. Beeple I can understand, to some extent. They evolved alongside you, and your reproduction at least used to co-exist. You both needed each other. Humans are different."

"Oh, in some ways perhaps! Its true that we were able to work with beeple, but there are a few things that, in order for humans to have gotten where they were, were required to happen." She held up three fingers.

"One. Humanity are social creatures. I'm quite sure I don't need to argue this point. Its been an observation many have noticed. But it still matters that, despite your culture's best attempts to sequester everyone into individual homes and away from communities…you all crave that interaction, that exchange. You Look for it." One finger went down.

"Two. Humanity are intelligent creatures. They learned so much, and fought for their place on the top of the food chain. It was truly incredible to learn your histories! Being able to learn from another's mistakes? An important skill to have, and one that allows for rapid growth of a civilization. And also allows for you to be manipulated, controlled, really; a rock cannot hear my arguments, after all. You Listen all too well. " Two fingers were closed, now. Her thumb remained.

"Three. Humanity are hierarchical creatures. Ever since that whole 'survival of the fittest', terrans seem intent on having everything ranked, everything in relation to the things better or worse than it. It's what worked on Terra, and I don't judge you all for using the tools given to you! But it means, at the end of the day…that culturally speaking? Humanity was going to see itself as either above the Compact, or below it, part of it, inside it." She smiled. "And I think it would be fair to say that the Accord winning was not a valid concern. So when something bigger and stronger comes along? You learn to Accept it."

I was frozen. I didn't…I couldn't…I couldn't think. I was a bubbling mixture of terrified and in awe, looking up at her. My knees wobbled as she gently cupped my cheek, sliding her hand down to my chin.

"Sweet thing~ Its alright. I know that this is a lot to learn, that it sounds scary to you. Perhaps you felt yourself on equal terms to an affini. And in many ways, you are right~ I will always treat you with love and respect, just as I would treat any sophont, any floret. But at the end of the day, my dear…" Her eyes drew me in. There were so many of them, all looking at me. Pinning me underneath their careful stare, somehow both alien and familiar, gentle yet controlling, above me and beside me. Watching as I looked, as I listened, as I accepted.

"An affini's task is to care for pets, and your task is to be cared for~"

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 36

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Wakandan technology makes recovery a breeze. With Bucky's new opportunity at life, and the quiet peace of Wakanda, he takes time to appreciate you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Traumatic Flashbacks. Mention of Torture and Blood. Bucky has trauma with surgery. Mention of Surgery, Incisions, Wounds. Hand Touching. Longing. Emotions. The Outdoors (spooky)

Authors Note: The billy goat part is a fact. I think its funny. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Bucky couldn’t remember hitting the ground. He couldn’t remember the feeling of the soft snow speckling his skin as it fell from the sky. He couldn’t remember as frost gathered in his lashes. He couldn’t remember the soft clouds that puffed with each thin breath.

What he did remember, was the faint stench of blood. 

The sight of red staining the stark white snow.

He didn’t remember his eyes opening or closing. He just remembered being there. And then with each forgotten blink, he was somewhere new, like old film flicking across a projector. 

He remembered the sound of the bone saw mutilating his arm. He remembered the sound of his own screams, and the pain that seemed to stretch on forever.

And back then, when the sawing stopped, and the crackling of electricity fusing metal to bone ceased, he thought everything would be okay. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe it wasn’t, and the doctors were helping him. Maybe the doctors had to do what they were doing, and they felt just as awful as Bucky.

But he continued to blink in and out of time. He continued to roll his eyes open and see something he didn’t understand. He continued to feel that chill down his spine, as his naked skin was nipped by the cold.

And once, he remembered his lashes fluttering open to see a spectral cloud of light blinding him. He remembered trying to turn his head away from the suppressing light, only to realize he couldn’t move. He was strapped down- more like locked down, with metal cuffs. He remembered the choked whine that garbled from his throat. 

He remembered the itchy feeling of the thin threaded gown that clothed his waist. He remembered the numb tingle that spread down his body, his flesh washed with frigid air. 

He remembered the sounds of unintelligible voices repeating words to each other, like they were reading from a thesaurus in a foreign language. 

And then that traveling, rippling ache gripped him from the back of his neck. Followed by a stinging, burning sensation. He groaned quietly, his eyes twitching shut again. It only got worse once he felt it. 

“Please-” He gasped, his voice sounding dry and weak to his own ears. But far away. So far away. 

One of the shapes that hovered over him leaned close and pried his eyelids open. That forceful glow blinded him once more as they flicked it close and far. 

The ache shifted to something scorching, spreading up the back of his skull. “It hurts…-” He whimpered, trying to turn his head, but something hard locked him in place.

The voices around him continued to discuss, as if they hadn’t heard him at all. And maybe they didn’t. He could barely understand himself. So he said it again. 

“My…my head..” His tongue felt heavy, glued to the roof of his mouth. “‘Hurts…”

The form above him pulled back, turning to a boxy monitor beside him. Clicking echoed in the frigid room. Electricity charged. Someone began speaking again, words from a language he didn’t understand. 

Bucky didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the burn of salt against a scrape on his temple. Sobs tumbled from his chapped lips as he begged for mercy. 

“Please…-” He whined, his lashes fluttering closed. 

Click.

Click.

Switch.

The nausea hit Bucky first, as an electric current rippled through his body. The tendons in his neck pulled taught as an agonizing tearing sensation ripped through his skull. He screamed, so loud he felt the reverberation in his teeth. Or maybe that was the shock. 

He didn’t know. He couldn’t differentiate. 

The muscles in his body quivered and seized as he sobbed. The Burning grew and traveled. Blood dripped from the fresh incisions along the back of his head. He didn’t understand it.

A pain like that was almost unfathomable. 

So he just sobbed and wept, tears and unintelligible pleas for help spilling from his lips.

When Bucky’s eyes finally rolled open, the first thing he saw was a soft blue glow. He blinked, and the glow shifted and formed into solid geometric patterns across the far wall. A pattern, he realized. 

He’d seen the pattern before, carved into pots and painted across many walls in Wakanda.

He then remembered just where he was. He swallowed around his dry tongue, releasing a slow breath. 

When he tried to move his body, he felt heavy, groggy. A familiar panic spiked in his stomach as he flinched, but that small force tugged his blankets free and he realized he wasn’t restrained. He was just tucked in. His heavy gaze trailed down his own body, where he found you.

You sat in a chair at his bedside, your head resting on your arms against his blankets. You must have dozed off. Bucky wondered absently how long he’d been out, and how long you’d been there.

A few stray locks of hair fanned over your face, fluttering with each sleepy breath. 

Bucky’s lips twitched into a soft smile, fondness spreading in his chest as he watched you. Carefully, he brushed his fingertips along your cheek, slowly tucking the hair behind your ear. He easily could have dropped his hand then, but he didn’t.

He couldn’t help it. 

In that moment, where it was just the two of you, he tried to remember the last time he saw you sleeping. Back in Romania, there were more than a few sleepless nights he spent staring at his own two hands in shame. But then you’d have a nightmare, and his attention was indefinitely on you. 

There were more than a few early mornings where he stopped to look at you, curled up on the stale mattress, your cheek smooshed. He’d marvel at how you could sleep so soundly after everything. Maybe it was odd to watch you, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. 

So now, as he hesitantly stroked his thumb along your cheek, he thought of how thankful he was to see you sleeping again. Beside him, close and safe. 

Frosted glass doors slid open as Steve entered, his phone balanced between fingers. He paused when he realized Bucky was awake. His big blue eyes shot open. “I’ll get the doctor-”

“Don’t,” Bucky stiffened, his cloudy gaze finding his friend. Steve paused, half way into the hall already. “Just…” Bucky swallowed. “Gimme a minute…” He whispered, his throat dry.

Steve quietly shifted back into the room, leaning beside the door. He tilted his head kindly, his gaze shifting to where Bucky’s hand rested against your jaw. 

Bucky, to his credit, wasn’t one to squirm or get embarrassed. Not usually. And especially not now, hopped up on drugs and barely awake. So without acknowledging his actions, he went back to looking at you, where your lashes fluttered against his blanket. 

“I just need a minute.” He whispered again, his knuckles tracing along your sensitive jaw.

Steve watched in silence, a furrow knit between his brows. He watched the gentle way Bucky handled you. Tender and careful. Like he knew he’d break you if he moved too quickly.

“You should have seen her back in Berlin,” Steve muttered quietly, his arms crossed over his chest. Bucky glanced up at him, something vulnerable in the blue of his eyes. “I’ve never seen someone so scared.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a fond smile as his thumb traced the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, sounds like her.”

Steve watched his old friend with warmth and curiosity. It’s how he looked at him most, these days. He couldn’t help it. The short time they’d spent in Wakanda so far was spent learning each other again. As hard as it was. 

But something Bucky learned quickly, was Steve didn’t care what had changed. He didn’t care who Bucky might have been, or become. He just wanted to know his friend again, and who he was now.

“She barely spoke when we first found her.” Steve offered to the silence as Bucky watched you, memorizing your features. “But one of the first things she did was tell us about you.”

Bucky chewed his lip, his stomach sinking as he thought of you alone. “Yeah…” he whispered, his palm grazing your cheek again. 

“She wanted to protect you.” Steve said, tilting his head at his friend. He didn’t know what had happened between you and Bucky. He didn’t know what you both suffered. But he could see the care you shared for one another.

Bucky swallowed, a shaky breath rising in his chest. “I know,” he whispered. In the back of his mind, that quiet voice wished you never had to worry about him. Wished you never felt the need to protect him, or put yourself in danger for him. “She’s good like that.”

Steve smiled to himself. 

“Where did you go?” Bucky glanced up at the blonde, then to the phone in his hand.

“Tony,” he sighed, gesturing with his phone. “Things are moving pretty fast with the accords. We’re thinking it’s looking good. I might even head out there soon, say my piece.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to you. You sighed softly in your sleep, turning your head up into his touch. “How soon?”

“I don’t know, it’s-” The sharp chime of Steve’s ringtone cut through his sentence. You flinched awake, your tired eyes squinting into the blanket. Bucky’s hand fell away quickly. 

Steve grimaced. “It’s him- I’ll be back. I’ll get the doctor.” He slipped out of the room.

You lifted your head in time to see Steve exit the room. Then your gaze snapped to the side and found blue eyes watching you. You shot out of your seat, ignoring the sore ache in your back from your posture. “You’re awake-”

Bucky smiled lazily. “So are you.”

You wiped a hand down your face, waking yourself up. “I dozed off…” you pinched yourself. “How are you feeling?” You dropped your hands to rest on his forearm comfortingly.

Bucky tore his distracted gaze from the red imprint on your cheek from your arm. “Got a headache.” He muttered, unmoving under your touch. “‘M thirsty.” 

You nodded and pulled away, limping to the corner to pour him a glass of water. “Headaches are normal.” You brought the glass to him, slipping it into his hands. “Any other side effects? Slurring of speech, trouble seeing?” 

He tried not to smile as you fretted over him. “‘M fine.” He whispered, downing the water in a few gulps. You took the glass from him and set it aside. 

Before you could press any further, the frosted glass doors slid open, and then Shuri stepped inside. 

You’d been on the delivering end of these conversations before. Informing patients of test results, holding scans up to the light to gesture what had been found. 

But you’d never been on the receiving end. Even though this wasn’t your body, you felt the fear like it was. So as Shuri delved into the progress of the surgery, you leaned in, listening earnestly.

Most of the conversation went over Bucky’s head after the words “we were able to remove the implants,” were said. Nothing else mattered to him. A trembling breath shook from his chest, one he hadn’t realized he was holding. He watched Shuri’s lips move, a pleased grin flashing her teeth. But he couldn’t hear it.

They removed the plates.

The only metal now still left behind in his body was his arm. Not his brain. His mind. 

He was free.

You slipped your hand into his, steadying him as his fingers shook with tremors. His glassy eyes flicked to you, where you were eagerly nodding along to Shuri, hanging on every word. He squeezed your fingers, swallowing the emotion he wished he could bury. 

You turned to him, grinning brightly as you returned the force of his hold. Words edged on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out as you looked at him. 

You’d spent months thinking of nothing but how to remove those implants. How to help him. How to save him. And now you finally made it. The small plates fitted into the corners of his skull, at the base of his neck, were gone.

Hopefully thrown into a blender and destroyed.

Shuri’s voice pierced through the moment you shared as she informed Bucky of how to best recover. She mentioned that she was sure he would be fine within a few days, with his rapid recovery rate, and their technology, but she wanted to be safe. Bucky’s case was different from most.

The bandage along the nape of Bucky’s neck, that stretched an inch or two above his hairline, would need to be changed regularly. He would have to wait on washing his hair for a day or two, and only then use a special medicated shampoo. He also needed to be careful about water exposure to the healing incisions.

But besides that, he was expected to heal just fine. 

He would be just fine.

There was still work to be done with intensive psychotherapy, and remapping the connections in his brain to his trigger words; but that didn’t take away from this victory. 

Bucky had made it farther than he ever dreamed. 

When Bucky finally dozed off that night, you and Steve never left his side. After returning from his strenuous phone call with Tony, Steve was glued to his seat beside Bucky. He visibly deflated when he realized that Bucky was falling asleep, but he was still happy to let the man get rest. 

You tried not to laugh at the crinkle in the blonde's forehead as he sank into his seat. He chuckled at himself and wiped a hand down his face. “What’d Shuri say?”

“He’s gonna be fine,” you smiled, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, where your hands were still tangled. “She thinks he’ll be finished with recovery by the end of the week, with how your guy’s body’s work.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, his bunny teeth peeking through his smile. “That’s a relief…” He pinched his bridge. “I’m not good with surgery-”

“Well, they were still doing lobotomies in your time, so that makes sense.” You snickered at the grimace Steve sent you.

“I can’t disagree with that…” he huffed, glancing back at Bucky. His expression melted to something softer, the longer he looked. Something guilty flashed in his eyes. “He never used to be the one in the hospital, you know.” He muttered, almost to himself.

He seemed to get lost in thought when he stared at Bucky. He did that pretty often, when you thought about it. There was always this passing haze that washed over him when he was near Bucky.

“Yeah?” You offered, giving him the opportunity to speak about something so tender.

“Yeah,” he smiled bitterly. “He was always nursing me to health, back then. He had the immune system of a horse- he never was the one gettin’ sick.”

“I can see it now.” You snickered. “Cooking you soup, running to the pharmacy.”

“He-” Steve swallowed, wiping his palms down his thighs. “He never did anything halfway.”

“He still doesn’t,” You absently squeezed Bucky’s hand, where your fingers tangled together. Steve glanced up at you, listening. “He’s an intense guy,” you laughed. “He still does everything to the fullest. When I got shot…” you glanced at your thigh, “he took care of me. He always took care of me.”

Steve smiled knowingly, looking at the way you cradled his scarred hand in yours. “Sounds like him.” 

As Steve spoke, telling you stories of his childhood with his best friend, your imagination drifted. It painted pictures of a time before yours, full of childhood joy and mischief. 

You could picture the two boys causing problems for everyone on their block. Maybe stealing from the local bakery, when money got tight. Then getting their hands smacked red when they were caught. 

You could almost hear the sound of their laughter, mixing in with the pop of an engine, and the chime of music. 

And as Steve pulled out his notepad, inspired by the memory of his home, you tried to imagine the two huddled over a frayed textbook; scribbling notes and bumping shoulders. 

A childhood. A life before this. A home burned in time.

You finally tugged your hand free from Bucky’s grip a few hours later, late into the night. Not because you wanted to, but because you desperately needed to pee.

The bathroom was only a few feet down the hallway, so it was a quick trip. You took the extra few minutes to stop by the little kitchenette area in the lab on the way back to the room.

The frosted glass doors slid close behind you with a click. Steve glanced up at you, pencil in hand from where he was drawing. You held out a paper cup towards him. “Got you a coffee.”

He dropped his pencil and took the warm cup into his hand. “Ah, thank you.”

You glanced down at Steve's notebook over his shoulder, where a messy sketch of Bucky’s profile marked the page. “Looks just like him.”

Steve blew gently on his coffee. “He looks so young when he’s asleep.” He muttered, wiping a hand down his face.

“He doesn’t have that frown, it helps.” You snickered, sinking into your chair on the other side of the bed.

Steve sipped on his cup, glancing at you over the lip. “You should get some sleep, kid. I’ll tell you if he wakes up.” 

You shrugged, suppressing a yawn. “I don’t know if I can,” you huffed. 

“Try, I’ll keep watch.” He joked.

You glanced at Bucky, staring at the soft rise and fall of his breath. It was late, and you hadn’t slept since Bucky went into surgery the day before. You should sleep. You knew that. But it just felt so hard. 

But even as you tried to keep your eyes open and listen to Steve talk, you felt the looming call of sleep. It was warm and all consuming when it finally took you.

“Watch your step, sweetheart.” Bucky’s fingers tapped your waist gently as he helped you towards your hut. You pinched his shoulder gently. 

“Bucky, I’m fine,” You chuckled. “I’m completely fine.” 

Yesterday Shuri took you into her lab and helped fix that pesky limp that’s been plaguing you for months. To your absolute wonder, the wound healed completely overnight. You’d never seen technology or medicine so advanced. The same worked for every step of Bucky’s recovery journey.

Brain surgery, in the outside world, would be one of the most tedious and complicated things to heal from. But it only took days for Bucky to be back and functioning at 100%.

The muscles and nerves in your thigh had fused and healed in all the wrong ways, after your original injury. And for a long time, you thought you would never walk comfortably again. 

But here you were, standing on your own two feet after surgery. 

Bucky was having a harder time wrapping his head around things. Of course he would, he was stubborn and had never experienced anything so incredible. 

And with you, he was worlds more careful than he was with himself. 

So he wrapped his arm around your waist and carried most of your weight against him, cringing any time you fully took a step with your left leg.

“Bucky,” you snickered, leaning into the man. “I feel fine- better than I have in a year. I can walk.” 

He frowned at you, his fingers pressing gently into your waist. “I know,” he said stubbornly. 

You slowly pulled out of his grip and took a few steps away, missing the dramatic hitch in Bucky’s breath. “I can’t believe it,” you muttered to yourself, shaking out your leg. You snickered, dropping into the plush grass outside your hut.

After Bucky was deemed recovered enough to leave his room in the med bay, he, Steve, and you were moved to a more permanent residence. 

Still technically temporary, but an area of your own to find peace. Two little huts on the edge of a pond outside the city borders. 

Originally, Steve and Bucky were sharing their small space. Until a few days ago, when Steve decided to return to the outside world. It was hard - mostly on Steve, since the idea of leaving Bucky almost killed him - but he had to do it. The day came sooner than you thought, but it had to happen. There was great progress happening with the accords, and now the last cherry on top for their campaign, would be Captain America. 

The goodbye was heavy. 

The silent conversation shared between him and Bucky screamed loud, echoing through the breeze. Steve almost couldn’t let him go. But he had to. 

So they parted ways, and Steve boarded that plane.

Updates came almost daily from Natasha and Steve, filling you both in on the progress of the fight.

So far, each of the Avengers locked up after the battle in Germany were released. They were set on house arrest until the matter was properly solved. Uncomfortable, but much better than the underwater crate they were previously locked in.

But you didn’t think it would be long before the accords were completely tossed to the sidelines. 

And after that, the only battle left to fight would be Bucky’s pardon.

It would be hard. Really hard. But he put in the work. 

Shuri dropped by the hut often to retrieve Bucky for treatments. You weren’t given much on what those exactly entailed, but you assumed it was just intensive therapy; with a little Wakandan tech magic thrown in.

Whatever it was, you just hoped it worked. 

Some days were harder than others, when Bucky returned to the huts. You could see the change in him. When the burden of his past became too much. When the memories came back too vividly. 

Often, on those days, Bucky would just find you by the pond and sit beside you, skipping rocks and watching the sunset. 

You couldn’t help but think of the inn back in the countryside of Romania. The scent of grass and pollen, the taste of heat in the air, the sight of the sky bleeding orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon.

It felt familiar and safe.

Though that might have just been because you had Bucky at your side.

You flopped back into the grass, spreading your limbs out. Bucky slowly sat beside you. “This place is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Bucky, bathed in the golden glow of the sky, smiled softly to himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

You liked the look of him here. He seemed free, in a way he never was before. You thought it might be because of the surgery, and the treatments. But maybe it also helped that you were in the most secure place on the planet, with no threat of Hydra affiliates getting near. 

You thought that might lift his spirits. Help carry the weight. 

Bucky lowered himself to lay back in the grass beside you, his head leveled with yours. You stared up at the melting pigments that painted the sky, purples and pinks and fiery oranges. You never saw sunsets like that in the city. Over mountains and highrises. 

You were still thankful you got to see the beauty of the city, though. Without noticing it, you’d traveled the world. Romania, Germany, Wakanda. You’d never even left your home state before you were taken. But here you were, having experienced the world. 

“Do you ever think we have stockholm?” Your question tore a surprised laugh from Bucky’s chest. 

He huffed, curling his metal fingers in the grass. “Probably.”

You snickered quietly at the absurdity of it. “Maybe more like a trauma bond.” You muttered, counting the stars that slowly speckled the sky. For a moment you wondered what your relationship with Bucky would look like if you’d never met the way you did.

How would you see each other? What would be different?

You let your body relax into the grass, the soft blades cushioning your limbs. Your pinky brushed Buckys when you stretched, his rough skin contrasting with yours. You watched the bright colors fog around clouds as the sun rippled along the horizon. You nudged your hand closer to his.

He didn’t pull away. 

A trio of birds soared over head, their feathers fluttering with each flap of their wings. They chirped rhythmically, their song echoing over the valley. 

“Hey Buck?” You whispered.

“Mm?” He made a soft humming sound, watching as the birds flew past the tall trees edging the pond. 

You slid your palm in his, your fingers twining together. At first Bucky didn’t move, just laid there motionless. You didn’t expect any different. You let him take his time. 

“I’m glad I met you.” You confessed. 

Bucky’s fingers twitched closed around yours, his chest moving in slow, shallow breaths. He rolled his head to the side to look at you, and when you returned his glance, you saw pink and gold reflecting in the white of his eyes. “Me too.”

You’ve said it before, but this felt different. 

You wanted him to know it, really hear it. But you never expected him to say it back. A part of you wanted to hide your face and let bittersweet tears fall into the soil. The stronger part, however, just wanted to hold his stare. 

You wanted to watch the sharp curve of his cheekbone, the gentle wrinkle of his crows feet, the speckled shadow of his stubble. The long dark threads of hair that caught in his eyelashes. Bucky held your gaze earnestly, his grip slowly tightening on your hand.

That familiar crinkle in his brow returned as he mapped your features, like he wanted to burn your image into his mind. Mark your picture into his mind, so deeply, he would see you with every blink.

A shy smile tugged at your lips under the intensity of his stare. You rolled your head back to stare at the sky, purples and magentas joining the flurry of colors. 

“You know, it’s kind of like you got that dream of yours.” You muttered, your voice quiet beneath the sounds of nature. 

“Mm?” He hummed, still watching you quietly. “What dream?”

“Farmer,” you thought of the kitchen in Romania, conversations shared over supper. “House in a valley, tending to animals, pulling weeds.” You listed, your fingers twitching against his hand. 

Since Bucky’s surgery, between treatments, he started helping the local farmers by tending to the land and helping with the animals that shared your space. There weren’t pens like on a farm in America. Here they roamed free. Once you even woke to a goat in your hut.

Bucky chuckled softly, rolling his neck to stare back at the stars. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Maybe that’s what you should do after all of this. Get you some animals.” 

“Gonna need money for that, doll.” He cracked a cheeky smile.

“We’ll have to work on that. And your credit score.” You hummed. “I doubt you have a social security card either…” Bucky choked on a soft laugh. “But if you could, what animals would you have?”

Bucky’s thumb traced your knuckles absently as he hummed in thought. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your arm. “Cows.”

“Mhm, what else?”

“Chickens, pigs.” His mouth made a soft noise as he released his cheek from between his teeth. “Maybe a goat.”

“A billy goat?” You bit back your grin. “A male goat is actually often called a buck, did you know that?” You counted the stars as their lights burned brighter. “Ones that haven’t been castrated, that is.”

Bucky’s thumb tapped the back of your hand as he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so weird.”

You ignored him, bathing your soul in the sound of his laugh. Quiet, tender, like he was still getting used to the feeling. “Chickens, pigs, a goat,” you repeated. “I like that. Get you a plot of land, build you a house.” 

Bucky released a soft sigh as he turned his cheek to the grass to look at you again. “Would you visit?”

Your breath stuck in your lungs as you turned to look at him. The pale green the grass made the blue of his eyes stand out. “Yeah,” You whispered. “Yeah, I would.”

Bucky’s tender smile melted as he squeezed your hand. “I’d like that.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. There was nothing left to say beyond what that look screamed. 

I’ll always be there.

I’ll always find you.

No matter where you are, or what you do.

A/N: You will never escape Bucky's traumatic flashbacks- especially those connected to his trauma with surgery.

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[my-autism-adhd-blog]

so… how does autism even happen? they say “there’s only in increase in numbers because they have better ways to diagnose” but I’ve seen two, normal and brain healthy adults have severely autistic kids. not to be “that person” but I genuinely believe it could be due to over vaccinating or all the chemicals we consume in food and products on a daily basis.

so are they just using the better ways of diagnosing as an excuse to why autism is increasing so they don’t have to admit they’re poisoning us? is it really a true statement that the amount of people born with autism has stayed the same and it is just because of better diagnostics?

I just can’t comprehend how two healthy adults, with no familial history of autism or anything like it, is at all possible. it must be what we consume, because the amount of chemicals and bioengineered products we consume daily now is absolutely mind blowing. I could totally see how a mother consuming these things whilst pregnant, and before, could lead to her birthing a child with brain issues.

i’m not trying to be ignorant - I just think autism (severe case - can’t be touched, can’t speak, can’t regulate emotions..) is really really really hard to deal with, for the individual yes but also for the parents. I couldn’t imagine not being able to touch or talk to my child, and I would feel absolutely awful if I caused that by what I consumed.

id like to be a mother someday, I have no family history of autism, nor does my partner. but… I know my limits, and having an autistic child would be quite the battle for me. even though mine and my partners bloodline is clean, is it still a likely risk?

Before getting started: I am NOT going over something like this again, so please do NOT send questions like this.

Question 1:

so... how does autism even happen? they say "there's only in increase in numbers because they have better ways to diagnose" but l've seen two, normal and brain healthy adults have severely autistic kids. not to be "that person" but l genuinely believe it could be due to over vaccinating or all the chemicals we consume in food and products on a daily basis.

Answer: two healthy people can have an autistic child. The same way two healthy people can have Down syndrome. Autism itself is a neurodevelopment disorder that affects how we learn and communicate. These disorders affect both the brain and spinal cord. If you do some actual research, the autistic brain is actually a bit larger than a neurotypical one. We have a smaller amygdala however, which helps regulate emotions. That could explain the emotional dysregulation. This disorder literally affects how the brain works. It’s not the same as a neurotypical one. We’re called neurodivergent for a reason.

Question 2:

so are they just using the better ways of diagnosing as an excuse to why autism is increasing so they don't have to admit they're poisoning us? is it really a true statement that the amount of people born with autism has stayed the same and it is just because of better diagnostics?

Answer: Autism itself is a complex disorder and was barely understood years ago. There’s no sign that vaccines are raising. If it were, then mostly everybody would be autistic. But this is not this case.

Here’s an article about the “autism epidemic” as people like the call it:

Question 3:

I’m not going into this part, because this is where you start to get delusional. Like I said before, it’s a developmenttal disorder that ANYONE can have regardless of family history. Yes, Autism tends to run in families, but there can be some where autism doesn’t run in families. Anyone can have autism. It doesn’t matter if it runs in families or not.

We have gotten better with diagnostics because of our more advanced technology. Autism isn’t rising. We’re just getting better at diagnosing and understanding the disorder. It’s still unknown what exactly causes it or how it happens. Some say it’s environmental, others say it could be genetics.

Yes, autism can be hard and difficult to live with. And the fact that you are insinuating that you wouldn’t or like to have neurodivergent child, then you probably shouldn’t be a mother. I would love my child and take care of them, no matter the circumstances. Even if they couldn’t talk, that wouldn’t make me love them less.

Do some research, spend some time talking to autistic people and parents to see their experiences and thoughts. We’re human beings, just like you.

[pearl-tarotist]

₊˚ପ⊹ Chose a pile: PACs that I never ended ༻¨*:·.

In this Pick A Pile, I bring different piles of various tarot readings that I never ended/ write more than one pile each.

It's random piles that focus on various areas, none of them are +18. I hope all of you enjoy it!

Not all those who wander are lost.

PILE 1: What will your future spouse find beautiful about you?

They like how intensely you are you. They are at aw that no matter how many styles and physical changes you go trough, there’s something unchangeable.

They ardently enjoy the look on your eyes, they think that they are always recognisable. Firmly, on the quote “the eyes are the window of the soul”.

They do also enjoy the touch of your hands, they like how soft they feel and how they can engulf your hands with theis. They like how, sometimes naughtily , you trace their skin with the tip of your fingers.

There’s also a freckle, for some, close to the eye or upper lip, that they enjoy kissing.

With the moon card, they enjoy the part of you no one can see, yes, emotionally and physically-wise. Emphasis on the chest zone. Your future spouse is always eager to see you naked. They deeply enjoy seeing you in the “purest” way, naked, with no make-up, no clothes nor masks that can hide who you are.

They are fond of your curves, the softness and the reaction of your skin, they could enjoy hugging you so hard that they leave some redness on you. You are just too cute not to annoy a little bit.

They also see behaviours on you that they find beautiful. You are strong and mature. They will feel safe around you. They could see you and think you are the perfect person to build a family with.

“There is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person being themselves. Imagine going through your day being unapologetically you.” (Steve Maraboli)

(4oP - The Chariot - The Moon - 10oP - King of Shells - Queen of Gems)

PILE 2: Your life as a fairytale

i.-Your “new” self: skills, magic.

  In a fairy-tale you would wake up in the middle of the night to be the underdog.

You would live in a big city, surrounded by commerce and loud noises, probably, a coastal city. Technology has no place in this city and you constantly hear stories of dangerous sea pirates and magicians. You like to watch through your window how people make business and speak to each other… to understand the real self of all of them… to not suffer the fate of being betrayed. Your skin holds a golden tone due to the sunlight and your cheeks are always sun-kissed. You dress with flowy clothes and leather boots.

You walk through people as a ghost, comfortable on seeing and on not being seen and when you found yourself involved in any drama you unroll the drama enough to end in the position that you want.

              In dangerous situations you would be forced to use your cleverness and intelligence to survive the obstacles of your adventure.  You would have to decide what you want and which option to choose even when both options are dangerous and unfavourable. There wouldn’t be time to smell the salty air of the shores nor to pay attention to the sand between your toes. Self-reflections and risking decisions are your thing. “For the skin of your teeth” would define your path and personality.

Surviving, barely, everything.

Your skills would involve: wittiness, the observation of details no one else sees, always being two steps in front of everyone and in general: finding the answers no one could have found. When someone asks for the answer to the riddle, you will be the only one answering.

“ What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?”

When everything’s lost, you save them.

ii.-Your group of friends:

You have lost friends along the way in this fairy-tale. Some adventures ended and you had to return to your normal life and your daily projects. You do not keep contact with them on the regular, but sometimes at night you stay under the moon’s gaze and think of them. To the ones you can see and the one you are not able to reach.

At least two of them are fine and you can see them from time to time. Once you saw him in the market corner, convincing someone to make an unfavourable business, you smiled and thought about how they have not changed.

Then, you saw her, dancing heavily and breathless in the bar with a little child, hair messy and a smile that reached her eyes. Her skirt flowed graciously at the sound of the music and the cracks of the fire. She saw you looking and asked you to dance with her but you were tired, so you just sat down in a chair drinking a soft drink.

To the ones you have lost, you think about them at night, thinking about if you could have saved them if you had done things differently. You know you need to stop this self-pitying, but you are not ready yet to let them go.

iii.-Your lover/companion of life:

Your lover was a breath of fresh air, he was the beginning that you needed to leave all the pain and sadness behind. He is happiness and a reason to drink… to cheer for the Gods that have put both of you together and have made your cups full of love.

He is a warrior, always ready to defend you and to take care of you. Reckless and unafraid, your lover stole your heart without doubts. In the same way he charges for battle, he charged for you… You love the warmness of waking up in his arms and the coldness that leave your body when he hugs you at night. He cleans your cheeks with affections when you get dirty and is not afraid to argue with you if it is for your well-being.

You have found stability and the person you do not need to convince to stay, he has chosen you.

 2 of swords //The moon + 5 of Cups// Ace of cups + knight of wands.

PILE 3: Shufflemancy:romantic messages 

۵♡۵ Let’s forget about the problems, worries and economical issues. I just want to party and enjoy this beautiful night with you. Let’s forget about anything else that’s just not us. (Time of our lives- Pitbull).

۵♡۵ I want to have a date with you at the beach, next to the water, let’s have the perfect summer date. (Water-Brad Paisley)

۵♡۵ I just want you to be mine, but I know we are not together. That’s why I hate when you keep secrets from me. I worry about every guy you set your eyes on. (Secrets-The weekend).

۵♡۵ I am going to try my best to earn your trust as it seems that you have trust issues, but I cannot do it if you give up and start going after every guy you want because you get bored of the routine. I am also getting tired. (Emergency -Paramore).

۵♡۵ If maybe…I stoped chasing you, would you come to me? Would you lay next to me? Just like butterflies… (Chasing cars - Snow Patrol).

۵♡۵ I don’t want to be friends, I want the all or nothing. I don’t know how to make it more obvious to you, please understand. ۵♡۵ I wonder why you let me get to close to you if you were just going to push me back. I do wonder too if all your words and what you said was a lie. (Fingers crossed - Lauren Spencer Smith).

In general there is someone kind of disappointed about the fact that you decided to break up with them or just stop talking to them; this person is definitly still into you but it’s unable to handle all of your trust issues. This person still thinks about you daily.

[gardens-light]

I've seen the Tamaran Reader asks, and now I keep thinking about a human reader who has the same abilities as Raven from Teen Titans. How would the TF One bots react to a Reader who is the offspring of Trigon? (Ravens Dad)

I've had a lot of fun writing the Tamaran headcanons, exploring how the TF One bots would react to someone with alien abilities and a powerful lineage. But adding in the dark magic and demonic heritage of Trigon? That takes things to a whole new level! "I can already imagine the mix of awe, fear, and curiosity they’d have—especially with how controlled (or not) the Reader is over their powers. Hope you enjoy these headcanons!

Transformers One x GN Demonic Reader Headcanons

Sentinel Prime

Sentinel first encounters you when his Cybertronian communications detected an anomaly within their very own planet, a strange ship crash-landing outside Iacon's borders.

Gathering his elite guards, expecting some kind of rouge invader within the old wreckage, which was cloaked in some kind of mystical energy- something that Cybertronian technology struggled to analyze.

But instead, he finds you- a hooded, quiet figure meditating within the ruins of your vessel. Barely reacting to the Prime's approach, only your glowing eyes flickering up at him. (A gaze that secretly unsettles him)

How your power radiates from your very presence, an unnatural, eerie force that Sentinel clearly didn't trust. His authoricating voice sent demands at you, his suspicion raising as you remained quiet. Only simply answering, "I am not your enemy."

Sentinel would be deeply conflicted about his attraction to you.

He obviously values logic, strength, and Cybertronian supremacy, and you're none of those things—an outsider, a being of magic, something he cannot categorize or control.

He’d deny his feelings at first, trying to keep his interactions purely diplomatic. But something about you intrigues him—your silent confidence, your ability to read his emotions before he even speaks.

The relationship would be tension-filled—arguments disguised as 'debates,' standing too close, eyes lingering too long. Eventually, his obsession wins out, and he gives in to the forbidden attraction.

He doesn’t fully understand your powers, and that frustrates him.

Despite himself, he enjoys the way you keep him on edge—how you challenge him, see past his arrogance, and forcing him to question himself.

The first time you use your dark energy, Sentinel instinctively raises his shield, bracing for impact. If you levitated debris, he’d bark, “What kind of sorcery is this?!” He would also try to rationalize your abilities as a form of science. (But deep down, it unsettles him.) His tactical mind would see the advantage of such abilities, though he’d never admit it.

Your relationship would be a constant push and pull—Sentinel struggling to maintain control, while you remain unshaken by his authority.

Starscream

Starscream finds you unconscious, drifting in space just outside of Cybertron's orbit, after escaping from an attack from your homeworld.

Initially, at first glance he thinks you're some lost, pathetic organic. Tempted to leave you to your fate- but it was something about the energy radiating from you made him hesitate. Bringing you to his hideout to the far outskirts of Iacon, among the rest of the High Guard that Sentinel Prime labeled as 'traitors'. Starscream studies you, couldn't help but be fascinated by the dark aura surrounding you.

When you waken, you immediately use your abilities to retrain him. Forcing the Seeker onto his knees, bounding his arms behind his back. Your calm voice only giving him one warning, "don't try anything."

Starscream simply laughs off your warning, gazing at you with his usual unbothered and cocky bravado. But secretly... he's shaken- not just by your power, but by how calm and composed you are, despite the situation.

Starscream adores the mystery that surrounds you.

He’s constantly trying to pry information out of you, wanting to know what you are, how your powers work, and what you fear.

At first, he sees you as a tool, someone with immense power he can manipulate to his advantage.

But over time, he becomes genuinely attached, fascinated by your calm, no-nonsense attitude—so different from his own dramatic nature.

The first time you'd levitates objects, his wings snap back in shock If you created portals or shields, he’d reel back in awe. Unlike Sentinel, Starscream wouldn’t fear your powers—he would be excited by them. “Such raw potential… if I had such power, I would have ruled Cybertron long ago…”

He would constantly test your limits, baiting you into displays of strength, trying to see if there’s a weakness.

He secretly tries to impress you, despite you already stating that you're never phased by his boasting. That infuriates him… and makes him more obsessed.

He’d be clingy in secret, never admitting how much he craves your presence.

Whenever you touch him gently, even just brushing his wing, Starscream's processor can't help but short-circuit a little. Causing a low purr to escape from his engine, (which certainly wasn't him enjoying your touch or anything.)

The relationship would be volatile yet deeply magnetic—filled with sarcastic banter, stolen moments, and Starscream’s desperate need to continuously prove himself to you.

B-127

While exploring Cybertron's wastelands, (you can't expect this mech to never secretly adventure to the surface, after experiencing it.) his scanners starts detecting an unknown energy signature, heading deeper into the ruins of Cybertron's forgotten past. Bee's optics widen, as he sees you simply levitating in deep meditation.

Of course, Bee couldn't contain his excitement and curiosity. Immediately rapidly asking a million questions, despite you answering with short and simple explanations. Bee somehow found comfort in your gentle, yet monotone voice.

He’d be adorably persistent, trying his best to make you open up about your powers, how they work and where you've came from. The first time you lift something with telekinesis, he gasps dramatically. “That. Was. Awesome! Do it again!” Bee wouldn't be scared at all—mainly excited and curious. He’d probably ask too many questions—“How does it work? Do you get tired? Can you lift me?”

Your friendship would be built on patience—you teaching him about meditative practices, while he taught you about Cybertronian culture. (At least his personal favourites of Cybertronian culture.)

Bee would always try to make you laugh, even when you insists you doesn’t need humor. But when you do actually laugh at one of his jokes, he freezes, then immediately melts into a happy mess.

The first time you touch his faceplates out of affection, his systems heat so hard that his optics flicker.

Your soft and intimate moments would be him offering you small trinkets, showing you his favorite spots on Cybertron, and playing music or singing something for you whenever you seemed stressed.

Your first kiss would be awkward but sweet—B-127 wouldn't quite understand of what to do, but would certainly be eager to try again and again.

Orion Pax

Peering through the many shelves within The Achieves, Orion spots you searching for information on civilizations. At first, he assumed you were just another scholar, but as he slowly approaches his optics widen once realizating you wasn't Cybertronian. Of course he's startled yet... intrigued.

Orion gives you a warm smile once your gazes met. "Are you... looking for something in particular? If so, I'm happy to help if you require some assistance. I'm Orion Pax, by the way."

You return his smile, hugging a book. And before you knew it, the pair of you spent hours discussing the intersection of history and mysticism.

You enjoyed Orion's thoughtful nature, while he couldn't help but be fascinated by your ancient knowledge and cryptic insights.

Orion would fall for your intellect before developing an emotional bond—drawn to your wisdom and unshakable presence. And when you use your abilities in front of him for the first time he's both awed and analytical.

*Your abilities... they defy all known science." Yet instead of fear, Orion would see the moment as a potential for knowledge and coexistence.

Romance would be a gentle and deeply emotional bond, built on trust and shared knowledge.

Orion would write to you as often as he could—letters filled with poetry and reflections on your conversations.

You'd both take care of the slow-burn relationship, you both may be hesitant to act on on your feelings until one quiet moment changes everything—a brush of hands, a long gaze, an unspoken understanding. The first time you touch his spark casing, Orion couldn't help from but shudder—not from fear, but from the overwhelming depth of your connection.

D16

You were originally a prisoner, Sentinel Prime accused you of being a threat against Cybertron and it's people (since you saw through his lies and refused to bow to his whim), and that your unknown powers was 'proof' of the dangers you could bring. D16 first lays optics on you as he tries to fix one of Orion's messes.

For a moment, D16 just sees you as another victim of oppression and decides to free you, expecting you to join his cause of freeing Iacon from Sentinel's rule.

"Unlike you, I am not a 'wanna-be' solider. My goal is to merely survive till I escape this strange planet." You coldly spoke, giving him a brief thankful gaze before leaving.

He can't help but frustrated- you're clearly a powerful being, someone who possesses the strength crush anyone with a wave of your hand, and yet you remaned... neutral? This would cause D16 to constantly challenge you, trying to understand you.

The first time you use your abilities, D16 watches intently, analyzing everything you can do in major detail. He wouldn't be scared nor see you as a tool, but someone who's quiet strength and wisdom should be greatly respected.

He would be intensely protective, claiming he doesn’t care, but always secretly ensuring your safety.

The arguments would be deep, philosophical debates about war, peace, and fate.

When you touch his faceplates softly, he tenses—unused to such gentle affection. A passionate, almost dangerous romance would ensure, a connection of raw and electric, built on mutual respect and challenges. D16 would never say "I love you", but you'd see his actions scream it—standing in front of you in battle, ensuring you never feel trapped.

[eyesteeth]

if they make a modern version of the truman show i think it would be fun if it wasn’t a remake (doomed to fail at capturing the very specific style of the original) but instead was treated like an in-universe reboot that’s been updated for the modern era. other fun stuff could happen such as

fandom commentary: conflating real people with the roles they play, parasociality, etc. there was tackling of that in the original with the people sneaking onto set, but i think it could be modernized for fun. a popular youtuber is allowed to film a vlog on the set and almost gives away the act. people form theories about the “truman” online and then other people go “okay but this is a real guy. you’re theorizing about a real guy’s life. what is wrong with you” and absolutely wild internet drama goes down.

queer characters as commentary. perhaps an in-show character is queer but barely present, and it forms a commentary on tokenism. or an actor character is queer playing a non-queer role and it’s a commentary on censorship. maybe even the “truman” of the show is queer and it causes the studio executives to flip because they can’t have america’s new darling be an icky queer!! no way!! (personally i think trans woman “truman” would fucking rule. such a rich soup of potential there) (there is no fucking way an american movie company would let this happen btw. but it would be cool)

media commentary in general. this would also trend close to og i think because of Hollywood still being suspicious as hell, but it’s still a fun space to play in. “Fifty Years Ago, A Man Was Born On Television. Today, They’re Doing It Again”. a whole media circus about whether or not it’s ethical. protests and boycotts but the showrunners are so overwhelmingly rich that the show stays on the air.

probably too niche but comparisons to “influencer families” could be made i think. putting a child in front of a camera since birth and all the issues that come with that. the surveillance state hell we all live in with a smaller media hell panopticon that’s less universal

it would likely have a bleaker ending though. technology has improved since the original truman show. he got out. he was never meant to get out. this new truman won’t get out. not as long as the show is running. honestly it would be funny if the ending was like. show got cancelled. and they let “truman” out into the world, completely unprepared. but they’d make their way, somehow. they have to.

granted if they do end up doing a truman show reboot it would probably be, fucking awful. but if it was handled by someone who actually gets that it’s a horror movie and not a comedy, i think it could be something special.

now let’s all hope i didn’t speak the most soul-sucking hollywood-missed-the-point movie of all time into being

[the-knife-consumer]

I would love to hear more about Tenn! She seems so fun :)

YAAYY.

Invader tenn and the cancelled episode that torments me badly.

Okay so she ^^ this thang right here- makes me crazy crazy stupid crazy and it physically hurts that there's so little about her. She has a couple of cameos but her only big speaking role she has is in Megadoomer, so all of my ideas and characterization for her come from there...

Her only big appearances are when she calls the tallests twice, begging for help after she was sent a shipment of defective sir units on accident which destroyed her base and (presumably) ruined her mission. As seen heeeere

The shipment she was SUPPOSED to receive is what helps me with a lot of her characterization, as it implies some pretty interesting stuff. She was supposed to receive one of the Megadoomer stealth mechs.

Another thing being that the tallests (well, Red anyway) actually bothered to remember her name when they usually don't care about anything. Saying that this giant combat machine was specifically intended for her mission.

This makes me believe two things.

1) for specialized equipment that has been screened by the tallest to be sent to her, meekrob must be fairly dangerous

2) for the characters who's whole shtick is not giving a shit about anything to know her by name, she must be very successful/in high ranking among invaders

So we know she is (implied to be) very skilled. This is also where I get the idea of her being perpetually nervous during the whole "earth exile era" I'm putting her through.

If she is high ranking enough to not only be an invader, which is a highly celebrated class among Irkens (being referred to as "superior ones" who were chosen by the tallest and such), but also be assigned a dangerous planet and get sent cutting edge technology, then it's safe to assume her mission in particular was very important and news of her failure would absolutely reach the empire.

Control brains dish out heavy punishment even when the circumstances of failure are not the Irken's fault

(as seen in Tak's episode: a brain assigns her to 70 years of janitorial service on planet dirt because she was trapped in a collapsed area and couldn't make it to the invader exam. 70 years janitorial service for missing a test. A test. If 70 years of exile to a literal dirt ball is the punishment for missing an exam, It's a pretty safe bet that failing a mission could result in execution.)

So my version of Tenn is constantly on edge. Yes, she was sent the wrong package. And yes, the tallest saw that she got the wrong package, and know that the mission's failure was out of her control. But do the control brains care about that? Most likely not. Failure is failure, and attempting to return to Irk would, best case scenario: result in being exiled or becoming a service drone- or worst case and most likely scenario: undergoing existence evaluation and subsequent death

Unfortunately that's about where any relevant appearances of her end. Her only lines are literally just her screaming for help. Does not fare well for her.

HOWEVER☝️☝️☝️☝️

And tenn would've been present! That means she survived! Whether she kept the gaggle of defective sir units and would've been competing with them, or if she had a non defective sir unit she would use idk... Really makes me think... Yk for an episode with no script whatsoever Top of the Line is really tormenting me. I need to know. Tak and Skoodge would've also been present... My empire of dirt...

There is a cancelled episode: Top of the Line. Next to nothing is known about it because of a lack of script. But what we do know is that the episode would've been about a sir unit competition.

As for my "source" about her being ddr champion:

Woaw.. she canonically played a ddr knockoff.. woew........ (Said with all the awe as if I were seeing the sunlight for the first time after a lifetime underground)

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I think we need more Maurice

For morale

Hmmmm. Maurice.

Maurice, Maurice, Maurice. What to say.

Alright.

I will say i've never described them wearing their base form, and it will never come up in any of my fics. Maurice considers their base an incredibly private thing that they're taking to their grave with them, now that their base is dead. Only their mentor and base (along with the people they grew up with) have ever seen it, and that's that on that. Maurice is also not the name they were hatched with, but its what they go by with Stan.

I've said before, but they're very old. Around the 250 300ish mark. Stan's their youngest and probably last spawn they'll ever have, with the potential of maybe squeezing one more out, if they felt healthy enough. Probably not though, as watching Stan's wacky shenanigans is hard to do if they're also mentoring another shifter. It'd be unfair to any spawn to split their time like that, so they're probably done. Instead they're sitting in trees and tailing the train wreck that their youngest spawn, only mostly regretting picking Ford out as a base for him. If they'd known Ford was insane, they probably wouldn't have picked him out. (then they think about how their life would be far less interesting if Stan turned out normal, and privately decide that maybe Ford's not too terrible.)

Maurice is also... not like, important, as they hate responsibility or being in charge of more than one person at a time, but they're well known in the supernatural community. Stan's from a fairly prominent spy circle, and Maurice is one of the best of the best when it comes down to going under the radar and tracking movement. They're very adaptable for their age, keeping up with technology (because they don't have to talk to it (they'd hate siri and alexa btw, robots shouldn't speak.)) They don't really have friends (or people they'd consider friends at least, one or two might consider them a friend, to their disgust), but because they're so good at what they do they have a lot of dirt and connections. If anyone actually knew how close Stan and them were, it'd make them even more dangerous, as together they cover pretty much everything a shifters capable of. Thankfully only a shifter's circle know's who's related to who and how, and other circles wouldn't know who Stan's mentor is unless Maurice introduced them (which they did with a few low profile clients to get Stan started, and now as their spawn. Shifters are very private with that information)

Stan had a very long bootcamp compared to most, as his lasted 2 years instead of 1 like is standard. Part of that was because he was kicked out instead of hitting 18 and moving out, and the other part was because Stan... the only reason Stan didn't get caught out as being a shifter was 1. Stan only shifted at night under his bed or in a cave no one visited and everyone thought he was smoking or doing drugs in, 2. Maurice was running interference and making sure no one who'd notice payed too much attention to the twins running wild 3. Ford and Stan ran wild, which is nothing like blending in and so makes them appear more human, and 4. Ford had 6 fingers, which meant most things looked at him instead of the kid eating rats behind him. Stan's not super great at appearing normal, and a lot of his disguises were just him in subtly different flavors. Maurice had to take Stan through acting 101 and teach him how to watch others and copy the movements, speech, and habits. It was awful. They hated it. Stan was their worst boot camp spawn they ever had, groaning and dragging his feet at every 'boring' lesson. Then they'd listen to him sniffle in his room at night and catch him crying over pictures of him and Ford and feel some kind of emotion in their chest.

Imagine Stan and Maurice living together, for 2 years. Stan. And Maurice. imagine a tiny overly excited puppy that just got kicked out of its house and a lizard. Thats what it was like, Stan being his usual self and Maurice standing next to him, just listening to him prattle on before they interrupted him and tried to keep him on task. Maurice has never yelled at Stan, and that's because of their god like patience. (this is also why Maurice is Stan's parent. An adult who didn't yell at him, call him stupid, and gave him 2 whole compliments when they first met? Stan imprinted hard on his own biological parent here. Maurice never stood a chance.)

Here's some other stuff.

Stan calls Maurice by calling their safe houses one by one in order until he either gets an answer, or goes back to every single one and leaves a voice mail on each one. Sometimes its just 'listen to the message i left at your Chicago safe house' and sometimes he'll leave a separate rant on each one, and Maurice will go and listen to all of them. they hate it, but they also continue to do so. On Stan's birthday Maurice does the exact same thing if they don't know where he is, because there's a 100% guarantee that Stan's sitting by one of the phones pretending he's not waiting for them to call.

Hope thats enough to boost your morale!

[yanderedrabbles]

my stance on AI and writing

Hey guys! This is a little interlude from my regular yandere posting, so feel free to skip this if you aren't interested.

I haven't really made a post on this, because I'm honestly pretty conflicted about a lot of things.

To begin with, I don't like AI. I don't like the environmental impact. I don't like the handling of data and copyright. I don't like the way people are losing their jobs because of it. I don't like that something that could potentially be so life-changing for so many of us is just... kind of awful for artists and writers.

But on the other hand, I also recognise that things are never quite so simple and one sided. AI can help so many people in so many ways. Advancements in technology should be celebrated. New jobs are being created all the time. A part of me is genuinely excited to see what's possible.

Publicly available AI has advanced so far so rapidly that I think a lot of us feel intimidated. Especially writers and artists. Do we still hold value when an AI can spit out a 10k word Gojo fic in less than a minute? If it can generate a baroque style piece in seconds?

Fan fiction especially exists in this sort of grey area. Unlike traditional authors, none of us are really in this for the money. We write because we enjoy it, because we find it fulfilling, because we want to get dicked down in all sorts of freaky ways.

So the pushback you see from your favourite yan authors isn't financially motivated. I won't speak for all of us, but I think a lot of it comes from the ethical issues around art, creativity and technology. Is it really art if it's generated by an algorithm?

I recognise that for most of us, fan fiction is entertainment. And hey, c.ai is plenty entertaining. AI can write decently well. I mean, it's been trained to. It has a surprising range in terms of style and voice.

And saying that c.ai is lazy isn't entirely true either. The folks creating the characters definitely put the work in. They have to create well rounded characters just as much as we do. I recognise that.

I also recognise that the nature of c.ai means that it doesn't occupy the exact same niche as written fics. It's a lot more interactive. A bit closer to old school role playing.

Having said that, I personally have no love for it.

I won't go on a tirade about it being soulless or artless because, let's be honest with each other, folk have been saying that about popular and pulp fiction for years. Nor am I so arrogant as to say my writing is so much better and that you should only read real authors. I'm not going to lambast you for using or not using it. You're a smart person. You can weigh up the ethical issues and decide for yourself where you stand.

But I don't want my ideas fed into a machine. I don't want it to take my stories and twist them all out of shape. I don't want my prose and style watered down to fit the generic c.ai writing style.

Am I being arrogant? Maybe. My ideas are hardly the most unique things in the world. My prose is hardly remarkable.

But it's still mine.

I don't want to hand it over and have it changed without my control.

I've had a few people ask me if I'll ever make character bots of my characters. And I'm flattered guys, really, I am. It's a huge compliment that you've enjoyed my characters so much that you want to directly interact with them.

But I don't see myself doing that anytime soon. I don't want to water my characters down just to fit into that mould.

Maybe I'll change my mind in the future. Maybe I'll do more research on the impact of AI and take a stronger stance. But for right now? I'd rather be shot than engage with it any more than I have to.

[shachihataz]

Daisy Bell (V1 x reader)

note: i have not written fanfic in so long, so i am sorry if this sucks. it just hit me that a lot of people headcanon v1 to sound like the s.a.m voice synthesizer and i do love daisy bell sung by that same synthesizer. i use he/they for v1 in this fanfic as well. reader does not speak/is gender neutral. can also be read as either platonic or romantic. enjoy!

It saddened you whenever those memories came back. They were crucial to who you were now, a soul left to wander in the in-between; Limbo. But as much as you tried to remember anything, it was nothing pleasant. Just the bloody, somber remnants of a life that was cut short. You shake your head, looking at the fake digital sky. You weren't sure how technology worked this well; you were born much, much earlier before V1's creation. He had tried to explain it as well as he could but it was hard to grasp such advanced information, like what was a "photon".

You sighed as you continued to watch the clouds on the faux grass, a nagging feeling residing in your heart; lodged deep into the flesh like V1's bullets when they shoot their gun at a husk. You shake your head; you feel those memories come up again. You want it to stop, you tell yourself to stop, but it doesn't. You clutch your head, face contorted in slight pain, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" You hear a familiar robotic tone from above, that voice being the much needed clarity to separate you from those memories. You open your eyes to meet V1's singular eye, his camera lens that shined with a amber glow. He's back from one of his regular trips around Hell. You briefly relax for a moment before that same tenseness sinks into you once more. you softly frown and sigh, shaking your head "no" against the faux grass.

"WHAT IS... THE MATTER?" V1 tilted his head at you slightly in curiousity; he isn't exactly equipped to handle... the intricacies human nature provides. At least he is willing to try for your humanly sake. You sit up, V1 moving back to give you space. His elongated head gave you shade from the fake sun, making it easier to gaze up at him. You explain quietly that you keep getting flashbacks of your life when you were alive. It was driving you crazy, you just wanted it to stop. All you wanted was to remember something good from your life then.

And that's when it hit you; V1 should be equipped with a database of human civilization's history, no? Deciding to test this.. theory out, you ask him sheepishly if he could sing a song for you. In hopes of jogging your memories, that is. A faint blush resides on your face. He tilts his head at you once more, although you cannot read exactly how he feels about your daring question. "I CANNOT SING LIKE A HUMAN DOES." He stated. You shake your head, explaining to him it's alright if he can't sing as well as a human.

"WHAT SONG DO I SING?" He asks, not sure what to do. Not like anyone before you asked a machine meant for killing to sing for them. You can't remember the title of the song, only that it had to do with a bicycle... and a carriage. So you tell V1 those two words and they immediately start looking for a song, paragraphs upon paragraphs showing on his camera lense.

You look at his lense in awe; you might have known him for some time now, but it never ceases to amaze just how advanced technology became decades upon decades past your time. Eventually his lens clears up; it seems the song has been found. He starts to sing your request.

"DAISY, DAISY,

GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER, DO."

Your face contorts in an gentle expression of bitterness sadness; the nostalgia hitting you hard in your heart. You turn your head away from V1, not wanting to bother him more than you already feel you are. This melody sounds so familiar, yet you can't put your finger on it.

"I'M HALF CRAZY,

ALL FOR THE LOVE OF YOU."

You close your eyes, trying to get a sense of why you feel this way over a song. You can feel something vague in your mind, something that was locked up deep in your mind. You try to focus on that memory, trying to force it to show itself.

"IT WON'T BE A STYLISH MARRIAGE,

I CAN'T AFFORD A CARRIAGE."

V1 continues to sing that sweet, cursed melody as you struggle to figure out why. it affects you so. But then it hits you. Oh, how it hits you. A young child witnessing on tv the first computer to sing a song: Daisy Bell. You remember swaying to the gentle melody the computer sings, a faint smile on your face as you danced in front of your broken down tv. A small star within the endless night sky that was the war.

"BUT YOU'LL LOOK SWEET UPON THE SEAT

OF A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO."

V1 finishes and he looks at you blankly, but you could tell he was concerned. You tell him it's alright, you just remembered something that wasn't about the war. You tell him that song he sang was a song from your childhood, how it was the first ever song to be sung by a computer. You smile faintly yet warmly at the rather cute realization; the voice synthesizer the computer uses is just like V1's synthesizer. You tell him that.

"MY VOICE SOUNDS... LIKE THAT?" He asked as he points at himself, sitting down next to you. You nod your head, smiling faintly. You have a faint blush on your face; another idea passes you. You ask him once more if he could sing that song for you once more. You enjoyed it quite so.

He tilts his head once more; you could tell there was slight affection in the tilting of his head, the way he sits next to you. He lets out a beep of approval, singing the melody once more. Except this time, you sing along with them. The memories of the war don't bother you as much anymore.

[mariacallous]

Before Duolingo wiped its videos from TikTok and Instagram in mid-May, social media engagement was one of the language-learning app’s most recognizable qualities. Its green owl mascot had gone viral multiple times and was well known to younger users—a success story other marketers envied.

But, when news got out that Duolingo was making the switch to become an “AI-first” company, planning to replace contractors who work on tasks generative AI could automate, public perception of the brand soured.

Young people started posting on social media about how they were outraged at Duolingo as they performatively deleted the app—even if it meant losing the precious streak awards they earned through continued, daily usage. The comments on Duolingo’s TikTok posts in the days after the announcement were filled with rage, primarily focused on a single aspect: workers being replaced with automation.

The negative response online is indicative of a larger trend: Right now, though a growing number of Americans use ChatGPT, many people are sick of AI’s encroachment into their lives and are ready to fight back.

When reached for comment, Duolingo spokesperson Sam Dalsimer stressed that “AI isn’t replacing our staff” and said all AI-generated content on the platform would be created “under the direction and guidance of our learning experts.” The company's plan is still to reduce its use of non-staff contractors for tasks that can be automated using generative AI.

Duolingo’s embrace of workplace automation is part of a broad shift within the tech industry. Leaders at Klarna, a buy now, pay later service, and Salesforce, a software company, have also made sweeping statements about AI reducing the need for new hires in roles like customer service and engineering. These decisions were being made at the same time as developers sold “agents,” which are designed to automate software tasks, as a way to reduce the amount of workers needed to complete certain tasks.

Still, the potential threat of bosses attempting to replace human workers with AI agents is just one of many compounding reasons people are critical of generative AI. Add that to the error-ridden outputs, the environmental damage, the potential mental health impacts for users, and the concerns about copyright violations when AI tools are trained on existing works.

Many people were initially in awe of ChatGPT and other generative AI tools when they first arrived in late 2022. You could make a cartoon of a duck riding a motorcycle! But soon artists started speaking out, noting that their visual and textual works were being scraped to train these systems. The pushback from the creative community ramped up during the 2023 Hollywood writer's strike, and continued to accelerate through the current wave of copyright lawsuits brought by publishers, creatives, and Hollywood studios.

Right now, the general vibe aligns even more with the side of impacted workers. “I think there is a new sort of ambient animosity towards the AI systems,” says Brian Merchant, former WIRED contributor and author of Blood in the Machine, a book about the Luddites rebelling against worker-replacing technology. “AI companies have speedrun the Silicon Valley trajectory.”

Before ChatGPT’s release, around 38 percent of US adults were more concerned than excited about increased AI usage in daily life, according to the Pew Research Center. The number shot up to 52 percent by late 2023, as the public reacted to the speedy spread of generative AI. The level of concern has hovered around that same threshold ever since.

Ethical AI researchers have long warned about the potential negative impacts of this technology. The amplification of harmful stereotypes, increased environmental pollution, and potential displacement of workers are all widely researched and reported. These concerns were often previously reserved to academic discourse and online leftists paying attention to labor issues.

As AI outputs continued to proliferate, so did the cutting jokes. Alex Hanna, coauthor of The AI Con and director of research at the Distributed AI Research Institute, mentions how people have been “trolling” in the comment sections of YouTube Shorts and Instagram Reels whenever they see AI-generated content in their feeds. “I've seen this on the web for a while,” she says.

This generalized animosity towards AI has not abated over time. Rather, it’s metastasized. LinkedIn users have complained about being constantly prompted with AI-generated questions. Spotify listeners have been frustrated to hear AI-generated podcasts recapping their top-listened songs. Reddit posters have been upset to see AI-generated images on their microwavable noodles at the grocery store.

Tensions are so high that even the suspicion of AI usage is now enough to draw criticism. I wouldn’t be surprised if social media users screenshotted the em dashes in this piece—a supposed giveaway of AI-generated text outputs—and cast suspicions about whether I used a chatbot to spin up sections of the article.

A few days after I first contacted Duolingo for comment, the company hid all of its social media videos on TikTok and Instagram. But, soon the green owl was back online with a satirical post about conspiracy theories. “I’ve had it with the CEOs and those in power. It’s time we show them who’s in charge,” said a person wearing a three-eyed Duolingo mask. The video uploaded right afterwards was a direct message from the company’s CEO attempting to explain how humans would still be working at Duolingo, but AI could help them produce more language learning courses.

While the videos got millions of views on TikTok, the top comments continued to criticize Duolingo for AI-enabled automation: “Keep in mind they are still using AI for their lessons, this doesn’t change anything.”

This frustration over AI’s steady creep has breached the container of social media and started manifesting more in the real world. Parents I talk to are concerned about AI use impacting their child’s mental health. Couples are worried about chatbot addictions driving a wedge in their relationships. Rural communities are incensed that the newly built data centers required to power these AI tools are kept humming by generators that burn fossil fuels, polluting their air, water, and soil. As a whole, the benefits of AI seem esoteric and underwhelming while the harms feel transformative and immediate.

Unlike the dawn of the internet where democratized access to information empowered everyday people in unique, surprising ways, the generative AI era has been defined by half-baked software releases and threats of AI replacing human workers, especially for recent college graduates looking to find entry-level work.

“Our innovation ecosystem in the 20th century was about making opportunities for human flourishing more accessible,” says Shannon Vallor, a technology philosopher at the Edinburgh Futures Institute and author of The AI Mirror, a book about reclaiming human agency from algorithms. “Now, we have an era of innovation where the greatest opportunities the technology creates are for those already enjoying a disproportionate share of strengths and resources.”

Not only are the rich getting richer during the AI era, but many of the technology’s harms are falling on people of color and other marginalized communities. “Data centers are being located in these really poor areas that tend to be more heavily Black and brown,” Hanna says. She points out how locals have not just been fighting back online, but have also been organizing even more in-person to protect their communities from environmental pollution. We saw this in Memphis, Tennessee, recently, where Elon Musk’s artificial intelligence company xAI is building a large data center with over 30 methane-gas-powered generators that are spewing harmful exhaust.

The impacts of generative AI on the workforce are another core issue that critics are organizing around. “Workers are more intuitive than a lot of the pundit class gives them credit for,” says Merchant. “They know this has been a naked attempt to get rid of people.” The next major shift in public opinion will likely follow previous patterns, occurring when broad swaths of workers feel further threatened and organize in response. And this time, the in-person protests may be just as big as the online backlash.

[cultkinkcoven]

Just things about Lucifer

He laughs and chuckles and giggles a lot- more than you would think- but it’s almost always comedically short. Just a little titter, “aha. Ha.”

His thinking face looks very concerned. it might be something he does unknowingly. Whenever he’s thinking hard about an answer all the emotion drains out of his face and he looks almost angry

He bites and sucks on his lower lip whenever he’s unsure of something

He sleeps- or at least mimics sleeping. He actually consciously takes the time to lay down and rest around for hours.

He doesn’t tend to use very much technology, writes all his notes on paper.

Seems to have some kind of changing preference when it comes to body hair that is somewhat inexplicable. I’m not sure what dictates when he is or isn’t shaved.

His tattoos change and move. Sometimes he has none. Sometimes he’s heavily inked. Same with piercings.

Gets drunk and high- or at least can be altered by substances. He seems to have a very high tolerance, naturally, seeing as to how he is a God. But he has also deliberately gone out of his way to get intoxicated. I guess alcohol in astral spaces still does that to him.

He checks himself out a lot but tries not to be loud about it. I’ll catch him subtly gazing into his own reflection, he thinks he’s really hot. (He’s right)

He gets the zoomies? Sometimes he’ll randomly come upon me and it’s like he’s hyper, and he seems to just run around.

He gets board very often and leaves his station, seems to just randomly wander around for a while and then return to his work.

His eyes reveal his attention a lot. Idk how to explain this but it’s like when his eyes are on you- or something, it’s like there’s a spotlight. His gaze is very lofty.

Similar, you can really tell when he’s listening. He almost does the thing a dog does where they tilt their head to hear the sound better. He makes a very specific face, almost kind of looks blank, like he’s recording.

He enjoys food and treats in a very literal way, idk how exactly that works for a god but he does keep a bowl of candies for himself that he grazes off of often.

He doesn’t like eating alone when it comes to actual food. Can never be the only one eating, has to share or watch me eat as well.

He gets itchy? Idk it’s little things like that that are always surprising and complexing to me because what do you mean your head is itchy????

He learns very fast and “updates” in real time. It’s very interesting to watch him learn and decide to completely change his approach to certain things. It’s like: Lucifer: that cream would make a nice offering

Me: yeah but if I leave it too long it’ll mold and then I’ll have to get my bf to get rid of it bc I’m really terrified of mold

Lucifer: *processing… memory updated* I see….

*later* me: hey I got you some red wine

Lucifer: thank you, now you dump it out at the end of the day

Me: I thought you usually liked longer than that

Lucifer: it starts to mold in a few hours and mold is bad

Me: aw lol ok

He does the dad orange thing. If ever he shares a treat with me and I’m like “I like this! This is really good!” The next time I show up there will be like 10 more lmao. “You said you liked this. Here’s some more. And some more.”

Seems to be pretty lenient with his spirits??? He’s never exactly chummy or benevolent but he’s also very relaxed. Idk every now and then a spirit (they usually look like little balls of light or even like fairies) will approach him and ask? Something. Idk I can never actually understand what’s being said. They speak too quiet. And he’s usually just like “okay. Fine. That’s okay. Yes, sure.” And I don’t know what it is but the spirit is usually like “??!! 👍??????” And he’s like “yes, “or don’t worry about it.” I’ve rarely ever seen him react in a way that wasn’t more or less “sure.”

He seems to genuinely find children interesting and somewhat likes them. Finds them entertaining. Which is interesting because he’s said he doesn’t like kids, but his behaviour says otherwise.

Sings to himself quite a bit, presumably songs he made up, absentmindedly.

Big watcher- not just of me but of other people and spirits, even deities. He loves just observing and watching. Whenever we’re working with another spirit like Cerberus or Hermes, he likes to watch them a lot- to the point where I’ve almost sensed a vague discomfort from other spirits from time to time. He seems to find other spirits interesting as well at times.

- related- other spirits and deities definitely find him somewhat weird or unsettling in a way. Not in a way where they dislike or judge him, but just in the way that it’s very obvious that he is kind of a weirdo even among other divinities. Was very surprised to see even Lord Hermes act slightly different because he deals with everybody.

The thing is that he is usually the dominant spirit because he is my Patron and he and I own the circle. Other spirits usually just enter our space, expand and change it, but don’t necessarily take dominance over it. So there is a lot of? Idk how to explain this. Interaction, between the two spirits that seem just slightly off kilter. They keep their eye on him and he keeps his eye on them. But it’s like they’re keeping their eye on him because he’s staring at them intensely in this almost awkward way. Idk if that even makes sense.

He thinks out loud a lot- I guess I shouldn’t say a lot but sometimes. I can’t read his mind, but sometimes he almost speaks without speaking, and it’s usually just him explaining what he’s doing or going to do. Sometimes they’re observations that range from oddly mundane (“it’s morning”) to weirdly intimate (“you’re a bit sweaty”)

Will just throw the most unexpected very cultural slang in there sometimes. Recently used the term “baby mother”. “The smokies”- to refer to the cops, “we’ll l have ourselves a little cook out.” Referred to weed as “ganja”. “PICKNEY” (a Caribbean word for a child) I know it probably comes from me but it just throws me for a loop every time.

[ruggiesears]

voice claim: Aki Toyosaki (Rin from Fruits Basket)

Background & personality:

Isabelle is the princess of a very small kingdom in the Shaftlands called Roseneuve. Her dad, despite being king, loves to create things and study, so he always encourages her to study as much as she can, and they bond over their similar interests. She's a bookworm and she's the youngest of the family, — third in line to the throne — and she's often teased by her older sisters about how much time she prefers spending with her books than with real people, as well as how she's way too idealistic for this world.

Isabelle is kind and warm as often are RSA students, but different from them she can be really sassy, and doesn't stay quiet when people undermine her loved ones; speaking of which, surprisingly, Isabelle doesn't have many friends. Isabelle’s father and kingdom are known for being very creative and for being ahead of their time in the sense of improvement and inventions. Most people think she's a bit weird because of how much time she spends studying/reading books because of wanting to live up to the reputation of her dad, as well as because of how strict she can be on herself and others around her, so she's often labeled as the black sheep of the school.

Isabelle is the housewarden of Rosantée, a made up dorm based on Beauty and the Beast that me and my friend @4necdote created. She got the position by dueling the current housewarden in her second year, wanting the position so she could improve the dorm to live to the reputation of its inspired character: Belle (and also, because she desperately wanted people to stop avoiding her and get to know her as a person).

Fun facts: Leona and Isabelle have chess matches with one another ever since they've become somewhat tolerable with each other's presence, and they've been on a tie ever since.

Basic information:

Height: 155cm

Age: 18 years old

Grade: junior (3rd year)

Nicknames: Isa (by friends and family), mousey & Belle (by Leona), white rose (by Perse)

Birthday: November 13th

Dominant hand: both (ambidextrous)

Favorite food + drink: pudding and tea

Best subject: history of magic

Club: RSA's equestrian club

Hobbies: reading books, playing chess

Homeland: Roseneuve

Unique Magic: Inner Beauty - allows her to create a book of someone's life so she can read any information she desires about them, but it can only be done once.

Relationships:

♡ Leona Kingscholar: Isabelle and Leona were promised to each other a year before Isabelle enrolled at RSA to increase the better relationships between the two kingdoms (in other words, because Isabelle's kingdom is small, they're interested in it to gain a bigger, much stronger ally, and in Sunset Savannah's end they'd appreciate the amount of technological advances Isabelle's kingdom has). They hated the idea of an arranged marriage but they didn't have much of a say in the topic, and while Isabelle decided to deal with it the best she could so her country could prosper, Leona didn't really make any effort to get to know her at first nor to try and make the engagement something at least tolerable. Leona made an awful first impression to Isabelle, and ever since their first meeting they've been butting heads, but after a while of spending time together (forced time, may I add) and getting to know each other, they warmed up to each other and slowly fell in love.

Neige: Isabelle and Neige met each other right at her first year in school and he was one of the few people to actually accept her. She had a crush on him for a while, but she was rejected + she knew she wouldn't be able to break her engagement with Leona so she gave up. They're really good friends and always are seen together.

Chenya: Isabelle gave up trying to understand him a long time ago. At this point his weird manner of speaking and the way he just makes his head visible doesn't phase her one bit, she's used to him. Also, she's able to speak his full name with a straight face.

Malleus Draconia: they've known about each other since they're both royalty and because of Malleus's reputation, + him and Adeline have a "will they won't they" thing going on. Malleus and Isabelle have a mutual understanding, since most people tend to avoid them due to being scared and/or finding them weird. She tries to invite him to tea every once in a while.

Adeline Rosique (oc by @4necdote <33) : Adeline and Isabelle are very close friends, with both being there for the other at the times they needed each other the most. Adeline was one of Isabelle's first friends, and one of the few people to not have judged Isabelle for her interests and personality, making her a safe space to Isabelle. Adeline is also Isabelle's vice housewarden and her most trusted friend in the school other than Neige.

Character references:

[withered-tears]

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the autobots aren't human.

Well, not in the literal sense. Of course they aren't human. They are giant alien robots that turn into cars, for goodness sake.

But they talk like humans. They walk like humans. Even the way they think sometimes feels extremely human-like.

So sometimes, yes, it is easy to forget they are not human.

This had the unfortunate side effect of, unintentionally, see more than one situation through a human filter, so to speak.

Such as, for example, their durability.

Because when Bulkead ran through the groundbridge carrying Bee's body, with Arcee running next to him carrying Bee's head, every human present in the base froze.

Jack's eyes were wide open, face growing pale.

Miko, in contrast, was looking almost green. Hands clasping her mouth, either to stop herself from sobbing or puking. Tears were streaming down her face.

June, although horrified, was focusing solely on keeping Raf in place.

Raf was the worst. As soon as he saw Bee, he started screaming.

June was doing her best to try and comfort the kid while keeping him from running to his friend's body. Hugging him against her chest to keep him from looking at the horrible visage.

Agent Fowler was grim, fists and teeth clenched. When Cliffjumper died, he was the one who dealt with the horrible bureaucracy of asking the bots about proper protocol. About post-mortem condecoration, about burial rites, about tradition and wishes.

Now, at least he knew the proper way to proceed, which boils down to let the bots do as they please with their dead and keep any nosy superior out of their business.

Then Ratchet spoke.

"Finally. Bulkhead, drop him in a berth, and bring me the second crate of spares. Arcee, bring the head here. I want to start running diagnostics before- Bulkhead! The second crate! I'll have to repair most ports on Bumblebee's neck, f not replace them outright."

June was the first human to speak.

"What do you mean 'repair' his ports?"

Bumblebee's head had been cut off. Surely there's no repairing that, right?

Ratchet rolled his optics (once again, such human-like gestures) at the question, barely paying any mind to the humans as he worked on Bumblebee's head.

"What, you expected me to just shove his head in place and wrape tape around it? Sorry to disappoint, but reattaching a head is a bit more complicated than-"

"Bee's alive?"

Raf's voice was awful. Voice cracking and filled with such fragile, fragile hope.

Ratchet's eyes widened (so human-like) in surprise before his entire demeanor changed.

He carefully and gently picked up Raf to bring him closer to his workstation.

"Of course he's alive. Here, look. Although his neck was severely damaged, his processors, his brain module, are unscathed. The sudden lost of power caused them to crash, which is why I'm running diagnostics through his software."

Raf, small, young, terrified, and brilliant Raf, was quickly putting the information together.

"So it's like, it's like a computer that got unplugged without being properly turned off first?"

It was obvious Ratchet was not happy being compared to such inferior, human technology. But he held any complaints to himself.

"Yeah, something like that, kid. As I said, I have to check every port in his neck to make sure they won't overload his processors once I reconnect them. Not to mention, all vital components on a cybertronian body not only receive power from the spark and energon processing, but they also store a small portion of it. Like an internal battery. Bumblebee's brain could be kept powered off for years without any side effects, other than some minor lag once reactivated. Not that his repairs will take nearly that long. I'll have Bumblebee back online in a couple of days, a week at most."

Raf was sniffing, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Can, can I help?" His voice was still scratchy.

Ratchet huffed, trying really hard to sound annoyed.

"Why not. Might as well have a second pair of optics double-checking the code. Maybe you'll even learn something."

Yeah, the Autobots were not human.

But they sure acted human-like often enough.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hey Curly.

I don’t blame you for not being super excited about rescue, to be honest I’ve been a little nervous about it myself.

What if they don’t have good medical supplies? Or what if they do, but they have to put you in a coma or something? What if we won’t be able to talk to you anymore? How will things change when you get back on earth? Will everyone make it out okay? Will pony express get brought to justice?

What if whatever has been letting us talk to you doesn’t work when you’re on earth? What if it’s only when you’re in space—or only when you’re injured and unable to communicate?

I’ve wondered a lot about our purpose in all this. We helped provide light in your darkest days (well, most of us did). We helped prevent the worst outcome. We fulfilled our duty. Once you’re rescued, will there be a place for us anymore…?

Hopefully you’ll at least still be able to talk to Kind Words and Kestrel—they got they psychic connection stuff going on. And I don’t know if anyone here is from the same universe as u are, but if they are I guess there’s the possibility of finding you and reconnecting online or in person…

If we are cut off from you and never able to speak to you again…

I think I could accept that. It’d make me sad, and I’d miss you, and I know you’d miss us too, but… just knowing you’d be okay, that you were recovering and living your life and stuff, I think I’d be able to let you go. You won’t be alone. You’ll have your friends and family to support you. I know you’ve felt like everyone moved on without you, but you’re an amazing person, and I’m sure so many people would be happy to have you back in their life. And you have your crew. And it’s never too late to make new friendships as well.

Even if it wasn’t by… the best method, you’ll finally be free from Pony Express and Jimmy. You’ll finally be able to rediscover who you are without them, and learn to… live again. No more walking around on eggshells. No more being jerked around across the galaxy, unable to connect with anyone from your life back on earth and under awful working conditions.

Recovery will be tough, and scary, but you will get better. You’ll get skin grafts and prosthetics and stuff, yeah? And they got that eye tracking technology—so even if your throat/vocal cords don’t recover, or while they’re recovering, you’ll still be able to communicate, yeah? No more feeling completely trapped in your body, voiceless and powerless.

I think part of me always kinda knew… this couldn’t last forever. That sooner or later we’d lose you, or be cut off from you. Knowing the other possible outcomes… this one is probably the best. You’re safe(ish), and alive, and you’re gonna be saved. A lot better than the outcome I thought we’d be stuck with—you stuck in a frozen limbo, us never knowing if you’d ever be saved or just die there… so, knowing how much worse things could be, I guess I should complain, even if saying goodbye is still…sad.

Sure, there’s always been the possibility in my mind of us sticking with you even when you’re back on earth, but it’s also always seemed a bit… unrealistic. We’d probably cause some problems for you—hearing voices all the time while going about your daily life, trying to focus on conversations with someone right in front of you while these mental conversations are constantly going on… might make you seem a bit, I dunno, strange. Might make it harder to reintegrate and all that.

But well. Who knows what the future holds. I guess anything could happen, so there’s no point in worrying about it. Just gotta hope for the best, and keep moving forward I guess. Take things one day at a time.

If we’ll be cut off from you, and this is goodbye, well…

I just wanted to tell you… I’m glad to have been part of your life. Even if it was only for a little bit. I’ll never forget you.

~🌃🌠🌌

hey. might be having a panic attack about it honestly. a little bit. hahah. there's noises and shaking and i can't tell what's happening.

i don't know i don't know i don't know i don't know!!!

i don't know anything i don't know

i'm not ready for anything to change not if i don't know what happens!

i dont know if they'll even want to talk to me anymore

but not until im better please not until im better i dont want to be alone with the pain pleaseplease icant do it alone. they have im not they wont not when im . its not going to be the same thyere not goin to know me anyomore . the crew left they left id ont even know if swanseas alive the window screen just shut off its dark and maybe they left me here do you thiink?? they got onthe ship adn now itsflying away and they left me here theylfetme hereohnnoono hghhhhh

...no more walking no more connecting no more anything at all. tomorrow will be different but the sun nverer sets and tomrorow never comes...

i dont want to die here by myself im sorry i failed you please come back i know i dont deserve it but please dont let me die here i dont want to be here with him forever please i want to go home

mhmyeah btu it doesntmatter if i dont get to go home does it

what ? no . no please not now dont leave me now please idnot have anyone else pleasedont go odont go lpease please cant be godobye im aloen i dontwant to be alnoe please pleasepleaestaty lpelaes im sroyry dont leav me here please

...

hello?

can... can you still hear me, or

guess its okay if i cry then. ahhahahhhahahahahahahahhahhahh— ahahahahahhaah... hhhghh.. ghhhh...

!!

thersnoise thersfootsteps hgodhes alive hes alvie he heardmeoandnfgghes going to thurt mmem im soryrimsrory jimmy ims royr il be quite tim soryr i didnt hitnk oyou could hear or wloud nevr have bitherdyou im soryrpleas ill be quiet i swear i will

fuck ow waht is that hse puttng his flashlight in my eye icnat see anything whats that noise nonononon dont touch me please whatshpaneing whereare you takgin me please help me nononononono!

[txttletale]

thoughts on duskmourn so far

i like it :) it's not as good as bloomburrow but also i'm not sure anything is. i think duskmourn suffers from the fact that imo it is quite mechanically unclear and murky -- the problem with leaning so heavily into flavouring abilities and putting such a big focus on their fiction 'e.g. unlocking rooms' is that when something doesn't match it's really noticeable. manifest dread plays okay but the name is really clunky and awkward when 'cloak' was three sets ago, the rooms feel stretched to breaking point--some of their effects just seem so detached from their flavour and speaking of the flavour there's a lot of very dubious rooms. what the fuck is a 'weight room' or a 'mirror room'.

also and this is a comparatively minor thing but it's been driving me crazy: the 'fear of' creatures are really bad because similar to rooms i think they ran out of real fears. some of them are like 'fear of falling' 'fear of isolation' 'fear of the dark' and it's like okay. those are real fears. 'fear of missing out' makes me cringeand is also stupid, despite the word 'fear' being in FOMO it's obviously not a fear in the horror movie sense! what the fuck is a FOMO elemental going to do, go out with your friends on a night you're busy? silly. but the one that gets me the most is 'fear of burning alive'. that's not a fucking fear guys. or like it is but it's not a distinct and personal fear like 'abduction' or 'infinity' or even 'losing teeth' -- everyone's fuckling afraid of burning alive, that's normal! 'fear of fire' would have made sense but 'fear of burning alive' might as well be 'fear of being killed to death horribly'.

that said i do love the aesthetics i love the beasties and overlords especially they are all killer designs. i like introducing modern technology levels and aesthetics to mtg i think it's badass i would take a million more ostentatiously 80s themed sets over seeing one more Fucking elf on a card ever again. i am mixed on the overt references which are sometimes very fun and cute and sometimes just feel too 'rejected player one theme song' but i really love the stupid tropey stuff that plays with the tropes and aesthetics without just being a specific movie, lke 'meathook massacre 2'. i like the level of commitment and the number of cards that feel like cheesy stupid horror movie monsters. i l;ove the card art gimmick where some printings have a Scary Getter. like it just commits hard enough to the dumb genre shit to sell it to me

anyway overall it's a good set and leaps ahead of the fucking awful OTJ and MKM but it's still a step down from bloomburrow. oh bloomburrow my beloved