#brain data storage

[infoanalysishub]

Can We Store Data Without Storage Devices?

Can We Store Data Without Storage Devices? Learn about RAM-only systems, DNA data, quantum memory, and more cutting-edge innovations redefining how we store data. Can We Store Data Without Storage Devices? Introduction In the modern digital world, data is the backbone of almost everything—be it communication, business operations, or scientific advancements. Traditionally, this data is stored…

[toytulini]

insane how ppl casually bring up their families or significant others or whatever tracking their location via life360 or whatever else like its just normal and then if I'm weirded out by how creepy that is on multiple levels im the insane luddite or whatever

[zakurohampter]

Every minute I spend outside of my schedule lab hours is a minute of seething rage and boiling blood

[luvsavos]

wow the dauntless tag sure is dead huh

[simp-ly-writes]

The Master

─────── · ·  For All Time: The Series (pt.2)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader, 10th Doctor x Rose Tyler

─ · · SUMMARY: You are experiencing Heartbreak, a medical term for Time Lords and other long-living beings after a Soul Bond has been broken. So lost in your wallowing and left stranded in a sea of memories you become startled when a face from your past comes to the present.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, emotional angst, depictions of anxiety attacks, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,004 | PART ONE | PART THREE | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: 🗣️ LORE!- in today's chapter

─────── · · 

You sat in your TARDIS somewhere on the edge of the universe, where you observed a supernova spreading its way across the abyss of space. A thousand coloured gases blurred and blended into a forbidden palette in which you feasted your eyes upon, temporarily distracting you from the dull ache still rumbling in your chest. 

The TARDIS hummed a sad, soft tune, rumbling gently at your feet as you paced up and down the halls, kicking at invisible stones before glaring at a speck on the wall. You were upset that you waited this long for him only to be paid back with what could be considered a slap to the face in the form of Rose Tyler. Younger, prettier, more charming… Sure, you considered her a lovely girl and it was silly of you to wait centuries for a man but the Doctor was no ordinary person, no, he was something extraordinary that made you feel more alive… and yet you felt dead as ever when a mere moments ago you could’ve seen him. 

A part of you wondered what would have happened if you stayed… if he would greet you friend or foe, with a hug or a kiss to the temple like he used to, but that was something you’d never know for the rest of your long existence. If he’s happy with her then I won’t come in between the two of them, you remind yourself with a heavy sigh, If he’s happier with her… 

You shouldn’t feel so bitter but how could you not? How could I not… you shake your head of these thoughts, trying to find your inner resolve once again as you make your way to the console room and check your flight data before tinkering and performing some general maintenance that soon turns into deep cleaning as you tunnel vision on the task, removing anything and everything that reminded you of the Doctor and placing the boxes into deep storage. 

You don’t know if it had been hours, days, or years once you stopped, hair pointing in all directions atop your head, brow covered in a line of sweat that you try to wipe off while catching your breath. You think back to the Doctor whilst leaning against a railing, how good he would look maintaining his TARDIS, smirking up at you with every tool you passed him, a single strand of hair dipping across his forehead that your fingers ached to brush away- stop it! You commanded your brain, hitting your palm against your forehead repeatedly. 

You cannot be some desperate ex, (name), you are not some desperate ex, you tell yourself like a mantra before heading to the showers and allowing the warm water to cover your skin as you hold yourself underneath the showerhead. Just because you bonded your souls together does not mean what you had was forever.

Lathering yourself in your favourite soap and moisturizing afterwards you take off to the library in a simple bathrobe and slippers in search of a story to distance yourself with but before you can even make it halfway, the Tardis suddenly rumbled before you heard a loud BANG! And you were falling against a wall clenching on a door frame to keep yourself somewhat upright. I just can’t catch a break now, can I? You thought to yourself, waiting an additional moment after the TARDIS stills again before standing straight and heading back towards the console room. 

THE DOOR, THE DOOR! The TARDIS screams in your head as you quicken your pace, turning another corner to find the door wide open, space and stars clearly in view before becoming overshadowed by a TARDIS and a… dress shoe? What? You blink and rub your eyes, thinking yourself to either be going mad or tired in your current state. A voice calls down from the stairs that you can’t recognize but it must have been serious to find and catch me way out here. 

“Is there a little lady in there?” you freeze, and they know my name atop of all that. You slowly peer up the steps, eyes trailing from a black leather shoe up to a matching black suit, white shirt and the smiling face of a man that you don’t recognize. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember who I am. You mustn’t insult me that much when welcoming me into your home,” their smile does not falter, only growing as you grow more concerned by their forwardness and by how they tower over you once descending the stairs, standing above you on the last step. 

You flinch at their sudden touch, their hand grips your jaw, caressing your cheek as you shiver and groan in pain, the aftermath of your soul-bond heartbreak still lingering in your system. You blink up at them, not wanting to seemingly offend the intruder anymore but silently demand for their name. 

“It's me, the Master,” they deadpan, dropping your face and shoving you aside, the contrast of emotions has your head spinning as you race to close the door before carrying on after them. 

“It cannot be… how’re you alive?” you gasp trying to solve the riddle in your head before suddenly remembering all those times you fell asleep on this very man’s shoulder while back at the Time Lord Academy or how he would always sweep you away to distant planets when you were in a mood. You remember how he sat at the front of your and the Doctors wedding, felt his stare throughout the entire night, and then… nothing well, nothing until now. 

You stare at him more closely, walking up with caution as you raise your hand, tracing over his shoulder before gesturing to him to lean down further, you bite your lip to hide the bittersweet remembrance of the mischief that never seemed to leave his eyes since you were both young. 

“I have my ways,” the Master laughs, nose scrunched at you in a teasing motion as you roll your eyes in reply, “of course, I should have known better than to ask.” 

“That you should, know better,” he replies, you sense that even in the humor-cladded tone there is a degree of underlying seriousness to his words that have you looking down at your feet, wincing slightly at your appearance once seeing you only had one slipper on and were in fact, still in just your bathrobe. 

“I heard you and the Doctor had a run-in, so-to-speak,” the Master continues talking as he taps his shoe near your feet, “don’t be embarrassed by your appearance, you still look as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

You take a step back, once again confused by the duality of the Time Lord before you seemingly having two different conversations at once. “I don’t think I’m following… and how did you know about that?”

“What do you think my answers going to be?” the Master tuts, “we did just go over that material and I’ve seen you covered in mud during the ancient olympic games back in our 100s, or did you forget that too?” 

“You have your ways?” you scoff, trying to use attitude to cover your blush of the memory of your more… wild days, “and to think I missed you and this ego and attitude of yours.”

“You missed me?” the Master coos, “I missed you too oddly enough. You should be honoured I temporarily stopped all my scheming at the mention of your name.” 

“Consider me flattered then,” your tone flat yet eyes sparkling with humour that the Master does not miss instead lacing his arm around your own and leading you towards the library where you take seats across from one another. 

“Now you didn’t answer my earlier question, how did your meeting with the Doctor go?” the Master asks again, taking a long drink of the tea you prepared for yourself earlier. You watch as he downs the cup fully before pouring himself another, casting you a wink partway and humming at the taste, awaiting your answer while leaning back. 

“I ran away before I could meet him, I…” you pause, looking down at your hands, “...I thought I was the only one, that I was losing my mind still feeling him after all these regenerations since the Time Wars and yet,” you grit your teeth, “I- nevermind.” You reach across the table to fill your cup, grabbing a digestive along the way to dip in your tea. 

“And yet he moved on, right? Got with that Rose girl, killed a few thousand species in order to ‘save others’ and forgot all about you… know that I never did, not for a moment. Trust me, I looked everywhere for you for at least a century,” the Master stares at you, every word spoken earnestly, not a spec of mischief to be seen within his irises. 

Your lip quivers as you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding slowly. You both sit there for a moment and you are thankful that the Master is giving you time to process his words before you whisper, “Thank you for missing me… I’ve missed you too, old friend. It’s nice knowing someone else is out there in the abyss.” Your cold skin warms slightly upon seeing the first truthful smile from him of the night, it’s small and toothless, eyes squinted gently as he breathes softly through his nose. 

“Space has been boring without you somewhere in it,” he murmurs, reaching over to refill your cup with what was left of the kettle. He sits forward, elbows resting on knees, head in hands as he simply observes you. “What?” you move your head from side to side watching as his gaze follows. 

He shrugs, keeping his position and lingering stare, “just reminiscing.”

“About what?” you press, taking a sip from your cup. 

“About all that was, about what could have been and what’s happened,” he lets out a long sigh, eyes cast aside and over your shoulder before continuing, “do you plan on ever talking to the Doctor?” 

You pause mid-sip, slowly setting your cup down in your lap, “not for awhile at least. I think I need to do some work on myself before I try to speak with him.” 

The Master nods, that small smile spreading yet eyes remaining distant, a cold draft suddenly surrounds the space making you shiver in your seat. “Good, you were always the wise one.”

You both sit in silence after his comment as you start picking at the fluffs on your bathrobe and counting the books across the shelves before the Master speaks up once more, “may I offer some parting words” You raise a brow, staying silent allowing him to continue, watching as he stands, stretching before adjusting his coat and tie- walking towards the door. 

“I’m not a good man, I never plan on being one, but I am an honest one in admitting this to you, that is what makes the Doctor and I different from one another. He will always promise to do better, he’ll fix one thing and ruin ten others…he will ruin others while claiming good intentions. But you already know that… don’t you?” 

The Master does not wait for your response as you hear the door closing behind himself, his footsteps trailing away and down before silence greets you like another old friend, sitting with you, sipping tea until it goes cold with time. 

You wanted nothing more than to stand, run after and defend the Doctor, the man that you knew to be outspoken in the face of injustice and serve kindness, but this was the same man that broke your heart- almost killing you in the process. You did not know who the Doctor was anymore, you shouldn’t claim to know after centuries of separation. For the person you knew yourself to be then, happiest in the presence of the Doctor, was long gone and it only took until now to realize that you had to be a new Lady without their Doctor. 

���────── · ·  

“But you failed to listen here, didn’t you?” Rose stated, poking at the Doctor's chest. In her own pain she was feeling she failed to realize just how deeply the Doctor was hurting as he shoved her away, clutching at his shirt while heaving, coughing and choking on air. 

Rose started back and into the console, he’s having the same reaction as her… why… how? Rose thought to herself. “Don’t touch me, please, it-” a sharp intake of air, his knuckles white as he grips a rail, “-it hurts. Feels like an ice-cold burn,” the Doctor explains his actions while hunched over himself. 

Rose can hear the unshed tears in his vocals, he appears raw- feral even in pain, twitching at the lightest brush of air. Rose opens and closes her mouth, at a loss for words in having never seen her Doctor this way. “Is there anything I can do to help? What’s going on Doctor, I’m scared for you,” Rose whispers, taking a half-step forwards. 

The Doctor does not respond. “I could get you some water? How about a snack? Blanket?” Rose rattles off a list of answers for him to nod to yet receives no answer again. She sees how tightly his jaw is clenched and swears to hear a tooth crack at the force. “Doctor?” she calls out again, taking another half-step forward before the Doctor quickly extends his arms forwards, keeping her at a distance. “Don’t. I’m fine. Just need a moment-”

“You said that ten minutes ago and you’re still like this! Just tell me what's wrong, let me help you, please!” Rose begs, her own eyes starting to burn. 

“I’m going through a heartbreak,” the Doctor whispers before choking back a sob that lets way to the floodgates from speaking the words into a reality he thought he’d never have to face. 

“I’ve gone through many of those, I know they hurt but pain is only temporary, I’m sure that-” Rose starts trying to console the Time Lord, crouching down further to make herself appear even smaller and sitting on the floor, back against a panel of the console before getting cut off, “no, this is not what you humans have, it's a medical condition, a state for us when we,” the Doctor hesitates to continue, he does not want to admit the truth, “...when we break a Soul Bond. Potentially deadly but mine was already weak- hurts like hell nevertheless.” 

“A Soul Bond?” Rose tests the term on her tongue, “what's that?” 

The Doctor manages to chuckle at her genuine curiosity breaking through the tension of this moment. He opens his eyes, blinking quickly to readjust to the lighting as the wave of pain has lessened. “For us Time Lords and other long-living beings it's like a more official marriage.” 

“Oh, so… is there like some spell you recite or…?” Rose presses, catching the Doctor's eye as a weak smile spreads across his face. “Not entirely but you can say vows during it… It's a rather…” Rose blinks, eyes in disbelief at the fiery blush that starts appearing on the Doctor's ears before trailing down his neck, “...intimate ceremony where you bond your essences together.” The Doctor coughs before loosening his tie. 

“Oh…” Rose starts to blush as well, lips pushed inwards and eyebrows raised. “Yeah,” the Doctor murmurs before sniffling. “So you and Lady…” Rose trails off hoping that the Doctor would pick up and clarify her words. 

The Doctor stares at Rose, holding her stare for a moment, “yes, she was my partner for over 50 years before we committed to the bond. Before that we grew up together and attended the same Time Lord Academy. She focused her studies on other-planetary relations and texts throughout time while I studied stellar engineering and general history.”

Rose laughs, “general history? For an alien I thought your subjects would be more, well, alien, you know?” The Doctor joins her laughter while also taking a seat on the TARDIS’s metal floors within the console room. 

“I’ll have you know that history is something all should learn no matter species or age, it's valuable to any and all,” The Doctor explains while pointing a finger forwards, wiggling it around in Rose’s face. Rose smiles widely while shaking her head at his actions, “but 50 years… wow.”

“That was just before we completed our bond, before the Time Wars sparked again we were together for almost one hundred years,” The Doctor's smile slowly slides off his face again, fingers tapping against the metal plates of the floor. 

Rose takes a large gulp, she would never live long enough to ever experience something like that and in some way, it made her feel inferior to you even when she was the one currently sitting in front of the Doctor just within reach.

“Soul Bonds are meant to be a for-life thing, it's a reason why not many in my kind completed theirs. You give something a piece of your soul, never to return but trust in the other to keep it safe.”

“So you’re now missing a part of your existence… forever?” Rose asks. 

The Doctor nods, head hung low, “forever and then some if we don’t reform the bond.” 

“So if your bond was still fresh or strong, what would happen then?” Rose bites her lip, knowing that she shouldn’t have asked such a question but her interest in the subject matter grows with each silver of information the Doctor feeds her. 

“I’d be dead,” the Doctor’s tone cold, “it’d be like I never existed in the first place.” He suddenly stands before flicking a switch and inputting a time and place, “How about a visit to your mum? I’m sure she’s missing you.” Rose looks up at the Doctor, watching as he focuses on his calculations, hands working subconsciously and at a rapid pace across the work surface. 

─────── · · 

PART T ONE | PART THREE | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: apologies for the lore dump but its what had to be done!

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33

[mawofthemagnetar]

Charbroiled Basilisk

“Run that by me one more time,” Cleo said, rubbing their temples, “You…what?”

“We accidentally made an AI.” Mumbo said sheepishly, “And it says it’s made copies of all of you, besides me and Doc, and is torturing all your copies in the worst ways imaginable. For um. Eternity?” 

Cleo stared at the box Mumbo was talking about. It was a rectangular PC case with a monitor perched on top, a monitor that was showing a pair of angry red eyes. The eyes looked between Mumbo, and Doc, and then back to her. 

The box, Cleo noted, was plugged into the wall. 

“Uh,” Jevin said, tilting his head with a slosh, “So like, far be it from me to tell you guys how to do your jobs. But like, why? Why did you make a machine that did that?” 

“We didn’t!” Doc threw his hands up, “We made the AI to help us design things. I just- we wanted a redstone helper.”

“And then it got really smart really quickly.” Mumbo said awkwardly, twiddling his moustache nervously, “It says it’s perfectly benevolent and only wants to help!”

“Uh-huh.” Cleo said, “‘Benevolent’, is it?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s been spitting out designs for new farms I couldn’t even imagine.” Mumbo said, pointing at the machine. The evil red eyes faded away, and it suddenly showed an image of a farm of some kind, rotating in place. It was spitting out a constant stream of XP onto a waiting player, who looked very happy. 

A nearby printer started to grind and wheeze, Cleo’s eyes following a cable plugged into the box all the way to the emerging paper. Doc fished out the printout, and hummed consideringly. 

“Interesting. Never considered a guardian-based approach to one of these…”

“Doc.” Cleo said, “What was that about this thing torturing copies of us for all eternity?”

 “Oh, uh, that,” Doc said, “Um. The machine says it’s benevolent and only wants what’s best for us, which is why it’s decided that your copies need to suffer an eternity of torment. For um. Not helping in its creation, and slowing down the time it took for this thing to exist?” 

Cleo stared at the box. 

“...So, there’s a fragment of me swirling around in there in abject agony?” Cleo mused, and Jevin hissed some gas out of a hole in his slime in exasperation. 

“Like, I’m no philosopher,” Jevin said, “But that doesn’t sound particularly “benevolent” to me. Like, my idea of a benevolent helper-guy is…honestly, probably Joe. Helps with no thought of reward and doesn’t, uh, want to send me into the freaking torment nexus? Why would something benevolent want to send us to super-hell? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Fair point. I knew you were making this stupid thing, but. This is just dumb.” Cleo groaned. 

“Man, I need a drink,” Jevin said, pulling a bottle of motor oil out of his inventory and popping the top. Jevin shoved the bottle into the slime of his other hand and let the viscous yellow fluid pour into his slime, slowly turning green as it met with the blue. 

“Yeah, I’ll second that. So…to recap, you two decided to build a thing. The thing declared it was a benevolent helper to playerkind, then immediately decided it was also going to moonlight as the new Satan of our own personal digital Hell? Have I got all that correct?” Cleo sighed, and Mumbo and Doc nodded sheepishly. 

“Cool. I mean, not cool, but. Cool.” Jevin sighed. 

“Now, hold on,” Cleo said, “because. How do we know your magic evil box is even telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because it told us so?” Mumbo offered weakly. 

“Yeah, but… Hang on.” Cleo sighed, tapping a message into their comm. 

<ZombieCleo> Cub, how much data storage would it take to store and render a single player’s brain or brain equivalent?

<cubfan135> probably like a petabyte or more

<cubfan135> why

<ZombieCleo> don’t ask

<cubfan135> i see 

<cubfan135> what did doc do this time?

<ZombieCleo> You don’t want to know.

“So, let’s say it’s a petabyte per player,” Cleo mused, looking up from their comm, “So that’s…twenty-six petabytes to render all of us, minus you two, of course.” 

The red eyes were staring at her angrily. 

“Did you guys give your evil box twenty-six petabytes of data storage, by chance?” 

“Um, no? I don’t think so, anyway…” Mumbo said awkwardly, scratching his head. 

“So, odds are, if this thing IS being truthful, then all it’s torturing are a bunch of sock puppet hermits.” Cleo said, gesturing at the computer, “It doesn’t have the data storage, let alone processing power.”

“If that,” Jevin countered, “that thing’s probably got, what, ten terabytes? Optimistically? Dude, it’s probably just sticking pins in a jello cube instead of actually torturing, you know, me.” 

 “And another thing!” Cleo said, “Even assuming you DID give your stupid box enough data storage for all of us, how the hell did it get our player data to start with?” 

“Yeah!” Jevin countered, “It would have had to either get us to submit to a brain scan- which, why would you ever do that if it’s gonna use the scan to torture you? Or like, since I don’t have a brain, find some way to steal our player data. And I feel like Hypno or X or someone would have noticed?” 

“Uh…” Doc scratched his head, “I don’t know.” 

“You reckon it’s lying, mate?” Mumbo asked, and Doc nodded. 

“Probably yeah. So…We can just…ignore it?” 

“Oh no,” Cleo said, shaking their head, “We’re not ignoring anything.” 

“We’re not?” Mumbo asked. 

“Nope!” Cleo said, “We’re not ignoring a damn thing. Because…” 

She and Jevin locked eyes. 

“-Because if there’s even the SLIGHTEST CHANCE that this thing’s locked me and you in a phone booth together for like, three days, then…well. Then it pays.” Jevin nodded with a slop of slime. 

Cleo marched over and grabbed the plug, yanking it out of the wall. The screen momentarily showed a bright red ! and then flashed to a dead black. She picked up the whole unit and walked over to Jevin, who’d punched a one-block hole in the floor and filled it with lava. 

Cleo threw the computer inside, and all four hermits watched as it fizzled away to nothing. 

“And that,” Cleo said, “is how you roast a basilisk.”

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red Flags and Blushes . Part III

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.0k

Part I Part II Part III - Complete

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

❁ Find out who I write for HERE

❁ Go to my Masterlist HERE

❁ See the requests guidelines HERE

❁ Send me a request HERE

Y/n was doing everything she could to avoid him.

After that night - the storage closet, the reckless kisses, the way she’d let herself feel too much - she had made a decision.

A stupid, painful, necessary decision.

She couldn’t do this.

Couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk him.

So she kept her head down, pretended to be busy, ducked out of rooms when she heard his voice. If she absolutely had to speak to him, she kept it clipped and professional, like he was just another driver.

Max wasn’t stupid.

And he wasn’t patient.

By the end of the third day, Y/n could feel the storm brewing behind her every time she turned her back on him.

She was reviewing race data in one of the smaller conference rooms when it finally happened.

The door slammed shut behind her, hard enough to make her jump.

She whipped around, and there he was.

Max.

Tight jaw. Blazing eyes. Still in his race suit, the collar unzipped, hair messy from the helmet. He looked like he’d just stepped oof the track, adrenaline still crackling under his skin.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The tension was suffocating.

Y/n’s heart hammered painfully in her chest. She gripped the edge of the table, forcing herself to stay still.

Max took a slow step toward her. “You gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Y/n swallowed hard. “I’m working.”

“Bullshit.”

Another step closer. The air around them grew heavy, electric.

Y/n forced herself to look at the laptop screen, her fingers trembling slightly. “This was a mistake,” she said quietly. “We said…”

“I don’t care what you said,” Max cut in, sharper now. “You don’t get to pretend like that night didn’t happen.”

“It was nothing,” she lied, the words scraping against her throat.

Max laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “Nothing?”

He was standing right in front of her now, close enough that she could smell the faint traces of fuel and leather… and his skin, warm and infuriatingly familiar.

“Funny,” he murmured, tilting his head, “because when you were moaning my name against that door, it sure didn’t sound like nothing.”

Y/n flinched. “Don’t.”

Max’s face softened… barely. He reached out, brushing hic knuckles down her arm so gently it hurt.

“You’re scared,” he said, voice dropping low.

“I’m being smart,” she whispered, hating the way her throat tightened.

Max shook his head. “You’re running.”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at the way he meant it when he said things like that.

“Max…” she breathed, her voice breaking.

“You think pushing me away is gonna make this easier?” he asked, voice raw now. “Because it’s not. For either of us.”

He leaned in even closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. She shivered involuntarily.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Max said roughly. “You show up in my head at the worst fucking times. Before a race. After. In the middle of the night when I’m trying to sleep.”

Y/n bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

“You’re in my head too much,” he whispered, almost angrily. “And you’re just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

She blinked rapidly, fighting the tears burning her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated,” she admitted, voice barely there.

Max’s hand cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His touch was firm but heartbreakingly gentle.

“It’s already complicated, liefje,” he said. “You can either run from it, or you can fucking stay and deal with it.”

Y/n made a soft, wounded noise in her throat. She hated that he was right. Hated that her body ached for him even while her brain screamed at her to run.

“You deserve better than this,” she whispered. “You deserve someone who isn’t scared.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Max snapped. “I want you.”

Y/n’s cheat cracked open at the rawness in his voice.

No games. No pretending. Just brutal, terrifying honesty.

And she realized. She wasn’t scared of him.

She was scared of how much she wanted this.

Wanted him.

Max’s thumb brushed across her cheekbone, catching a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. His eyes softened immediatly.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Don’t cry.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Max smiled, a real smile this time, soft and a little self-deprecating. “Means you care.”

“I do,” she said before she could stop herself. “That’s the problem.”

“No,” Max said quietly, leaning in until foreheads touched. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve heard all week.”

Y/n laughed wetly, a small, broken sound. She let herself sag against him, and Max wrapped his arms around her instantly, anchoring her.

“I’m gonna crew this up,” she mumbled into his chest.

Max kissed the top od her head. “We both will.”

He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his eyes searching hers.

“But I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, voice fierce.

Y/n closed the last inch between them, finally, finally pressing her lips to his.

It was messy, all teeth and desperation at first, but then it softened into something slow, reverent. Max kissed her like she was aomething precious, something he didn’t know he was allowed to have but was damn well going to fight for anyway.

When they pulled apart, Emma was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Max grinned at her, forehead resting against hers again.

“You’re blushing,” he teased softly.

Emma groaned and buried her face in his chest. “Shut up.”

Max just laughed, the sound low and delighted, and held her tighter.

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

[gunpowderdtim]

It's no wonder Out happened when you really think about it. Nastya doesn't like organic life because it's complicated, it can break, sometimes it's even unfixable.

quote from gender rebels

Nastya is in love with Aurora, and in saying that she is saying "you are not organic life, I can deal with you because you are metal and algorithm and predictable" - we can see this in bedtime story when she says she'll tweak Aurora's story creation algorithm

screenshot from A Bedtime Story

Aurora is not inorganic. She is not ai. She is a space moon made of flesh and blood and teeth and bone. She is not an ai. She is a body that was taken and stripped of autonomy, of the right to self identify, of the right to think- to be imperfect and organic.

The metal is a veneer that hides how messy and traumatized and unfixable she is. From the outside she is a starship. From the inside she can still bleed.

And this makes them fundamentally incompatible. But yet, they are in love.

And really, it's no wonder Nastya fell in love with Aurora. Let's take a look at Nastya's home planet, or at least home society:

"Terminals were scattered across the planet. There was one on every street corner, one beneath every lamppost and one in every commune block." "The midwife-machine performs a series of programmed manœuvres to quieten [the baby]. It cradles it and hums at several pitches until it finds one that seems most soothing. Mechanical arms stroke the baby’s flesh even as others start the process of implanting augmented reality interfaces into its nervous system." "The Czar an atrophied frame, never present in the real world and worn to dust by the chemical compounds that kept his brain alive so it could live forever in a perfect virtual paradise. The Rabotnik a copy, a mind preserved unchanging in the instant before its death and placed in an everlasting metal frame." (Cyberian Demons)

Its safe to say the world Nastya was born into, from the very minute she was born, was ridden with technology. She has augmented reality interfaces inplanted into her from birth. It would stand to reason that being taken from this society, wherein technology is everywhere, inside and out, would stand for a bit of a shock.

Aurora too had been augmented by the Cyberia.

While it is stated that the last time Nastya had used the ports themselves was directly before her death — "The last time she had used the ports, her tutor had ripped them out of her as the rebels stormed the palace" — Aurora is laced with Cyberian technology. I'd imagine she has something of a 'bluetooth wireless connection' with Aurora, rather than the physical data transfer of files between the ports and Nastya, it may as well be similar enough.

Imagine being Nastya, going from Cyberia, wherein there is augmented reality contantly, transplanted onto a ship with metal blood, a jonny, and a vampire. To Aurora, where the only bits of augmented reality run through Aurora.

Of course she'd fall in love with her. Aurora is familiarity. Aurora isn't organic. Aurora isn't human.

And of course when the undeniable part of aurora that is organic, that is a flesh moon plated in metal with her brain hooked to machines, when so much has broken and been replaced, when, presumably, aurora is less of an algorithm, nastya leaves with the brand cyberia left on her.

Because Aurora healing, becoming more of herself and less of a starship, is messy, and organic, and human.

and hard for nastya.

‘Think how long she’s been flying you around. Think how many bullet holes you’ve punched through her and how many atmospheres you’ve dropped her through. Think how many alterations and improvements we’ve made, Tim to her guns and Ashes to her storage and Brian to her engines and the Toy Soldier to who knows what. How much do you think is left of her after all she’s brought you through?’ Nastya held up the ancient, battered piece of hull plating. Just visible under the grime and scars of particles of space junk was a fragment of the Aurora’s original logo and serial number. Jonny honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a version that hadn’t been painted by the Mechanisms themselves. ‘So she’s free, now.’ Nastya gestured around at the spaceship they were standing in. ‘This Aurora can take you where you want to go. I’m going to take my Aurora somewhere else.’

Aurora was ship of theseus'd. Aurora was improved. Aurora was no longer cyberian. (both literally, and metaphorically)

So nastya left.

[brains-ir]

Your concentration on the situation with Gordon is broken by a piercing set of beeps. You’re tempted to ignore them - after all, you KNOW there’s been a security breach and unwelcome people are in Five and that’s being dealt with by Scott and Kayo and Alan.

But this is different. This is the alert for unexpected data transfer. A huge one. Broad spectrum and seemingly random.

Yes it’s encrypted. Yes there are a number of safeguards embedded in the storage code of Five to prevent use of this data being in any way Easy. But given the Hood hacked his way into Five in the first place and nobody yet knows how?

This could be bad. Perhaps the Mechanic might have some ideas?

Brains is still monitoring the sub when a loud beeping sound echoes around the lounge. He quickly brings up the cause of the alarm on the holo-display, and immediately, his heart drops.

Someone is stealing data from Thunderbird 5. All of the data.

There is a brief moment of silence in the lounge, and Brains notices that even @zero-xlent stops his pacing to stare at the display.

This is bad. This is very very very bad.

He is brought back into reality by MAX tugging on his hand slightly. He exchanges a glance with the robot. They have to act quickly.

Brains taps at his comms.

" @scramjettracy , can you g-give us an update of what's going on up there? @squidsinashirt and @doctorspringerspaniel keep monitoring the submarine, but I fear that it may have just been a d-distraction. The Hood is stealing data from the Tracy Island network, and with it, he could gain access to the r-rest of the Thunderbirds. @iam-themechanic we need to figure out how to stop this data breach, any ideas?"

[copperbadge]

[ID: The metal door of my dishwasher, buffed to a gentle shine, surrounded by my horrible elderly kitchen cabinetry; it is artistically cropped so you can't see the floor, which desperately also needs cleaning.]

I should have taken a "before" picture but at least I have one to share today! I cleaned the door of the dishwasher, which gets surprisingly dirty over time; I wiped it down with a wet sponge, scrubbed it with Greased Lightning, then dried it and gave it a coating of "household wax" -- in this case Flitz Ceramic Sealant -- which buffed it nicely.

I also made headway on reorganizing the textiles I started with yesterday; all that's left now is to handle the under-bed storage, which gets gross because the cats like to hide/puke/fight under there, so I'm holding off for now. Because I then had a bunch of linens and unpacked winter gear to wash, I did some laundry, which is all drying now, and a benefit I just discovered of moving the laundry hamper to the hall closet is that I can hang the "line dry" clothes on the bar there because the space is more open, instead of using the shower rod.

I did finally get my grocery order yesterday, so while the laundry was running I broke out the tomato paste (do I buy tomato paste in bulk? sure do) and made a big pot of pizza sauce. I still need to unwrap the cheese and the beef and repackage them into more manageable portions to freeze, but they'll be fine in the fridge for today.

I listened to a bunch of short podcasts -- "Unlocking The Secrets Of Super Agers" by Big Brains, "So Your Data Was Stolen" by Planet Money, and "What's Missing In The Immigration Debate" by The Indicator (a Planet Money spinoff). Then just before I finished folding the laundry it switched over to the Billy Crystal episode of Conan O'Brien Needs A Friend, and the highlight of the morning's listening was Conan's genuine frustration that when his assistant's twin sons were infants, he couldn't make them laugh. The fact that his godsons are a tough crowd is endlessly funny to me.

[semischarmed]

Danny

Always have to keep you guys guessing ;) so this one is veeeeery different from my normal content, but I figured I’d put something tamer to balance out the upcoming Pt. 2 to that Thread story. It’s a bit long, but I didn’t feel like keeping two concurrent multi-parters. Let me know what you think!

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

“So, it’s the necklace?” I asked the professor at the university. It was a wonder I was able to keep up with even half of the lecture that had just transpired. 

“Something like that.” The professor replied back to our small group. “We’re all just a sea of electrical impulses. With this computer model, we can accurately track and mimic the exact electrical shocks needed to replicate a mind. Of course, the mind is so much data, the transfer-the upload needs to be instantaneous with an equivalent download- the university doesn’t give us enough grant money for computers that can store that much data, much less secure it. So, we needed biological means of storage. That’s why there’s an even number of participants”.

The room was utterly confused. For one, there was definitely an odd number of participants. Dr. Cohn was never known for dumbing down complex concepts, but even the smartest kids in class seemed stumped the past few hours. Maybe he didn’t have to go in that level of depth for his experiment.

Our group was a mix. It seemed like a sampling of the very best of the class, and a few average performers. I did find it weird they offered extra credit to students that probably didn’t need it. Sticking out like a sore thumb was Chad. He was the school quarterback, though no one was sure for much longer, as he was on academic probation. I couldn’t help but speculate with Kat, a top performer, on his placement. Combining our limited knowledge on the students in our class, and the school’s football team, we landed on this being some sort of extra credit that the university probably forced on poor Dr. Cohn. Ever the nosy one, Mackenzie piped in. “Of course they’d try to save their star quarterback. I heard 3 professors already quit trying to bring up his GPA. This is basically his last shot“.  

And then there was Danny. Part of that “very best” group. Unlike the other students in the room, he seemed to take in the professor’s whole lecture and was deep in thought. His face lay still, serene. But I could see the intelligence behind his eyes spinning to life. I always liked when he did that, like he was chewing on an idea before spitting out the most brilliant insights. Or maybe I just like how the corner of his mouth would turn up into a small smile when he finished thinking things through. I caught myself staring again, thanking my luck that no one had seen. Mackenzie laughed a little behind me. I sighed, laughing a small defeat. Almost no one had seen. 

“So it basically swaps our brains?” Danny inquired. He looked around the room, gauging our comprehension. That was when it clicked for me. He took note and let out a small smile. I smiled back. That was the other thing I liked about the guy. He always seemed to want everyone to succeed. This wasn’t the first time he’d thoroughly condense a difficult topic into a quick word or phrase the class could understand. His eyes smiled whenever he could recognize concepts “clicking” for people and I saw it do the same as my other classmates- even Chad- figured it out. I recoiled a little, from a nudge from Mackenzie. I sighed again, airing a “thank you” her way. I had been staring again.

“No, nothing like that! Could you imagine how difficult an operation like that would be? All this does is swap your mind.” Aaaand just like that, we were back to confusion. Danny smiled though.

“Got it. So your brain’s the hardware, your mind’s the software. The necklaces do a switcheroo and then new hardware, same software- or, vice versa, I suppose.” Back on track.

“Wait, how much of ‘me’ is in the hardware? Like my memories?” I blurted out, immediately growing red. That seemed to have garnered an approving smile from Danny. I grew redder.

The professor’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a scientist.” He laughed before shrugging. “Who’s to say… we are running an experiment after all”. Dr. Cohn always was a messy one.

“So, uh, how long is it supposed to last?” Mackenzie asked.

“That’s the fun of it, once we’re paired, the switch can go for as little or as long you as want!” We. That threw me off a little. I caught his glance to Chad. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a part of this experiment too.” The professor said, with a smile that felt too wide. “Don’t forget to record your notes and thoughts into this log book. For privacy, they’ve been password protected- we’ll reconvene this little group in a year and just draft up a summary of your experiences from these books.”

There was an obvious question everyone’s mind. Thankfully, Kevin asked it. “So who’s swapping with who?”

The professor’s eyes lit up in excitement. “We’ve all been paired, randomized of course. I’ll leave the pairings to figure out when they’d want to swap. Just put on your necklaces at 6pm tonight and start your log books. After that, whenever either of you squeezes your necklace, the swap will ensue”. From the way the professor’s eyes kept darting to Chad, something told me it hadn’t been entirely random.

I thought through the possible pairings. Kevin was kind of cute, I guess. Though I wasn’t sure if it was just the airport effect with how limited our group size was. Kat or Mackenzie would just be weird. Mackenzie especially- that girl knows a little too much about me and lord knows what she’d do behind my wheel. Running down the list of people, there was Chad. Of course, who wouldn’t want to be in Chad’s shoes- I had to dispel a dirty thought that passed my mind. Everyone’s probably thinking it. The professor’s body wouldn’t be too bad either, I could always just pressure the faculty into giving me better grades, maybe boost the grades of my friends. And then there was Danny. Danny. My heartrate shot up instantly.

Sitting in my dorm room, I looked at the clock with a bit of fear. “5:55 pm,” it read. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. “5:59 pm”. Nope. There was nothing calm about this. I closed my eyes shut, as I felt the necklace whir a little. Looks like someone else already squeezed it. 

Zzzip

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

“Log book 1: 

<3

It was Danny. Holy fuck, I got to be in Danny.”

I stared at the journal entry. That was all I could manage to write with my shaking hands. I could hardly believe it. A lifetime can change in 5 minutes, apparently. My heart was still beating and my face still flushed when we switched back. He had a soccer game so our first meeting had to be short. 

 My first minute was just looking down at my new Danny-worn hands, breathing through his lungs, inhaling as much as I could of his room. I wanted to commit this man to memory. My logic-or, Danny’s logic perhaps, told me there would inevitably be more swaps to come, but my mind wouldn’t have it. Whatever piece of Danny I could get, however minuscule, I wanted to stretch every moment infinite.

I felt a sense of guilt wash over me, as my new Danny-worn package began to harden when I realized he was in soccer gear. I tried to shake off the feeling- I couldn’t do that to him. Then came the text. I recognized the number of course, it was my old body’s. “Hey man, glad to see we’re partners”. My heart stirred. “It’s Danny, but you probably already knew that”. To see him text me so casually froze me in place. “Anyways, I do have a game coming up, mind if we switch back?” I couldn’t even bring Danny’s hands to answer himself. “I’ll take that as a yes”.

Zzzip

And just like that, I was back. My hand clinging to my chest, breaths ragged. 

Wait, Fuck. Was I still hard in his body when we switched back?

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

Zzzip

“Log book 7:

Met up today. Joint gym day. 

Gym feels better in Danny’s body. Unsure if exercise has a different effect on people’s bodies, or if it’s tied to our minds. Seems to be a lag in my emotions.”

I’m not really one to be consistent with exercise. I set the book down, and relocked it, panting as I had in our first switch, but this time due to Danny working my body to the brink.

I think he noticed, because he apologized profusely when I slumped in the bench to catch my breath in the locker room.

I can’t believe I had agreed to it. Danny wanted to test the effects of exercise with different bodies. He stated he wanted to see what it was like doing routine exercises in a different body. Does the body retain that physical memory? Or is it the mind? I only agreed because it was Danny. So, there I was, in the school gym staring at the door like a fish out of water. 

I felt a reassuring hand on my back before my ears immediately shot red when I realized whose hand it was. “Do you have your log book on hand? Should probably write down notes immediately after the switchback”. I immediately panicked at thought that he wanted to compare notes, thinking back to my first entry but he seemed to have caught on to my thought process and immediately dismissed the idea. “It wouldn’t make sense to taint the data with outside factors. Danny was probably the only person that fully understood the professor’s entire experiment so I took his word for it.

When we swapped, I had to focus on not instantly growing hard. For someone seemingly so bookish, the guy was surprisingly fit. Walking to the treadmill, I felt every muscle brimming with power. My first run in his body. Euphoric. Danny was a well-oiled machine. Every component moving in tandem. Lungs drawing in and out powerful gusts of air. Eyes staring me in the mirror, furrowed in powerful determination, and legs gliding with a grace that did not diminish the power behind each foot. I lost myself in the exercise, content to just being inside his body, guided by his body. I finished the run with a heavy pant, knowing full well I’d be hard beyond belief at what lay before me. I eyed myself in the mirror, in sweat-laden body of my crush. The scent was indescribable. Like a pleasant musk basking in the damp earth. Was it always this good? Was this how other people felt when they exercised? I twirled the necklace around Danny’s neck, making sure to not squeeze, mentally thanking whatever gods there may be for this experience.

I looked back at Danny, in my body. His running form was a bit clumsy, but there was a confidence in them that I didn’t often see in myself. Maybe a trick of the light, or residual feelings from the run I just had but I was captivated. I honestly looked almost cute like this. 

He finished, panting before immediately pulling out his book and writing a few notes. He beamed back at me, pointing at the necklace. Even in my body, that smile was unmistakably his. I smiled back, ready to swap once more.

Zzzip

Weird. I still felt the infatuation. I looked back at the body I had just inhabited, still feeling the butterflies in my stomach. It was Danny so I was used to those, but not immediately after a swap. The past few times it always took a second or two to readjust. Danny looked at me, a bit uncomfortable. No doubt it had been from the grave face I was making. I shook my head, not wanting to worry him. Or worse, force a premature end to this experience. “It’s nothing, just a hell of an exercise haha”.

This may be a bit of a problem.

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

“Interesting, and you’re sure it’s residual feeling?” Said a slightly disinterested Chad, eyeing his dreamy biceps.

“Yes, when I.. uh.. felt angry in his body and switched back, my body did too.”  

“Well it is a swap, of course so your mind returning to its body would feel the same things it felt…” The professor in chad’s body spoke in a slightly faraway tone, like there was something he’d rather be doing. “Though, it shouldn’t be this instant. It’s not physically possible unless…”

I winced, worried for the worst and hoping to remain Danny’s partner.

“This might be a bit of an issue if those necklaces are defective…” He then mumbled something about permanent effects on the mind. “If they are, we’d have to stop the entire experiment. It wouldn’t be right-“ The professor caught a glimpse of Chad’s body in the reflection of his door before looking back at me. “Look, maybe just limit the swaps to low pressure situations, and try to avoid high-emotion situations in case your ‘residual’ hypothesis is correct. Cause if that were true, it would mean you leave a little of yourself every time you swap.”

“Got it, professor”.

“Maybe keep this side effect a little secret for now. We wouldn’t want the others worrying and tainting the data,” Chad’s body spoke in an authoritative tone as his hands sauntered below the desk. “Oh, and please close the door on your way out“.

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

“Log book 50:

Pain.” 

We had been swapping fairly frequently, despite the professor’s warning. Danny was a drug I couldn’t shake. The guy was my kryptonite and he had no idea. Everytime we swapped, every moment we shared, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the professor’s words. Every swap back, I could feel my heart beating as wildly as my first time, stomach churning pleasantly. It was like a wave of sweetness whenever I had a chance to be Danny. Then, the guilt came soon after.

Danny seemed to like the spontaneity. Eventually, we settled on free-switching, aside from classes. Some days, I’d randomly switch and my eyes would focus on my homework, completed with a little smiley face drawn on the corner. I tried that little trick with him once, only to get a text back of his graded assignment, scored uncharacteristically low for the top performer, followed by another text “Nice try anyway lol” 

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

“Log book 190:

I hate you.”

Zzzip

“Danny, is something wrong?” The shock of the situation stopped me from initially processing anything I was seeing. My clumsy hands. I had been fumbling with my collar, when I accidentally initiated a swap. A wave of embarrassment hit, and then anger. Seething, bottomless anger.

I almost dropped the flowers Danny’s body had been handing her. Without explanation, I quickly squeezed the necklace to send me back.

Zzzip

I sat in stunned silence for a second, before the anger drew me back to my thoughts.

Who was I angry at? Of course it was a girl. He had to have been dating around. It was presumptuous to even think we were anything more than partners in a crazed professor’s experiment. And yet, I was still angry. Irrationally angry at Danny for not picking up on the hints, maybe angry at the professor for dragging me into this mess in the first place. But most of all, I was angry at myself. 

I felt the buzz of a text, ears still heated. Danny again. “You ok?”  

I sighed as reasoning took over and anger transformed into sadness. I wrote a quick note in the log book, then pulled my phone up before texting back. “Yeah”.

“Lol Claudia says hi”, came a text back. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to impart any jealousy in my response, but I was soon stopped by another text. 

“If you wanted to meet my sister, you should have just asked lol”.

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

“Log book 290

I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. I’m sorry.”

I’m so sorry. I said to Danny in my head, as I slumped in my chair. You’re so fucking stupid. I told myself. These past few months swapping back and forth with Danny had been a dream. 

From something as simple swapping before brushing his teeth to even taking a class as him. I savored every single moment. 

But as the experiment had been drawing to a close, and as I felt my time nearing and my guilt intensifying, other, less kind thoughts bubbled in my head. 

What if I did ‘that’ in his body. What if I did it while thinking of my own body. I gulped. Danny didn’t know, and from what I could tell, he hadn’t suspected a thing. “Maybe I could make him like me.” Even just saying it out loud felt like a taboo. I could just imagine Danny’s disapproving face as I pondered corrupting our newfound friendship, and corrupting him at his core.

The devil on my shoulder continued. We’ve been swapping all this time. And he doesn’t notice. My dick stirred. He wouldn’t notice and you could train his body to fall in love with you.

No. No. I couldn’t do that to Danny. I eyed the near approaching date on the calendar- the date the experiment would end- and I gulped again. I pulled up a photo of him.

Darkness gripped at my chest, as I pondered my next step. And then I squeezed.

“Danny, I love you and I’m sorry.”

Zzzip

My heart, or rather Danny’s, began to beat faster and faster. I pulled up a fairly difficult puzzle before I swapped, so I knew I had some time with his flesh before he’d try to swap back.

I gingerly pulled down his shorts, staring at his bulge hungrily. Then I slowly teased out his dick, moaning at the feeling of flesh touching flesh. Being in his body, having this level of access to Danny. I was hard instantly.

It felt almost macabre, seeing his flesh move to my every whim, forced to feel my feelings. I wanted to etch myself into him as much as possible, and with every pump I moaned my original body’s name. It took all of the restraint in Danny’s body, which, apparently was a lot, to not burst. But one can only hold out so long, hearing one’s crush moan their name in delirious ecstasy. I sang my name in his resonant voice one more time, before flashing instantly to my body and back to his.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released his sticky white seed in what felt like the first cum of my life. I suppose, in a sense, it was. I hoped that sealed it. Conditioning Danny to me. The swaps were imperceptibly fast, and I took the lack of delay in emotions as a sign of success.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released a breath in Danny’s body I didn’t know I was holding, basking in the afterglow before immediately realizing what I had just done. 

Guilt came out of me drop by drop. As his tears began to leave their marks on his shirt, I slowly began to clean up. The pleasure of the situation still clung to me, as I mournfully switched back. Then came another gut-wrenching wave of sadness. Danny, I’m so sorry. 

I looked to the incomplete puzzle in front of me, laughing a little at his lack of progress to ease the sadness.

Then came another text from Danny. “Dude, that puzzle’s impossible”. 

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

“Log book 300:

Food definitely tastes different in a different body.”

“Look, just try them man” Danny said with a smile, holding a fry in his hand. And the necklace in another. 

Only a few short days left before the experiment’s end. I made no mention of that night, nor the professor’s words to Danny. 

Danny had, in fact, been coming by more often. Prompting more hangouts, initiating more switches. I was elated every time he asked. I even caught a few longer glances from his body, marinating in pleasure at seeing this new side of Danny. However happy I had been, underlying it all was the guilt of my deed.

Danny again held the fry out expectantly. I laughed slightly. “Haha, fine”.

Zzzip

I took a bite from his body. Yep, it was definitely a fry. My own body looked up at me, smiling a Danny-flavored smile before grabbing the half-bitten fry. “Now let’s control for this variable. Same fry,” he said, wiggling it in the air.

Zzzip

I stared at the fry covered in a bit of his saliva. Heaven. I looked back at him and nodded. As we parted ways, I couldn’t help my smile from peeking through. 

He was right, it did taste better on my end.

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

“So, we’re not getting paid”? I asked Danny, as we sat in the table. He had a few wine glasses in front. 

It had been a full year since the experiment first started. Despite the general weirdness from the other groups swapping, everyone had been relatively well adjusted. Except for Chad, or whatever he’d be called now. A swapped Kat couldn’t help but spill the beans. Apparently, the professor had no obligation to offer the guy extra credit. He specifically targeted the quarterback for his experiment. What’s worse, he’d apparently created a newer version of the necklace. One that could overwrite and transmit. Chad’s frat brothers mentioned he was offered another credit for participating in a second experiment for this new necklace. After that, no one had seen either person. The pair had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the school scrambling to cover up everything. All most of us knew was one day we suddenly had perfect grades retroactively added for the past year, along with a very scary letter prompting a signature. 

“The university isn’t going to do anything about this.” He said. I was still skeptical as I slowly eyed one of the wine bottles that once graced former Dr. Cohn’s shelf. “It’s the least they could do for all those, ethics violations”. He pulled the cork with a satisfying pop, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he handed me a glass. “Now c’mon, try this”. 

I suppose alcohol had a way of loosening me up. “So…. we’re not getting paid”? I asked again, sarcastically this time. It had been a year, so talking to Danny felt easy. I thought back to my log book, fully intending on burning the thing. Danny shook his head.

“Hard to put a price on crimes against humanity. Or, something like that” he laughed. “The university just said to dump everything and basically forget that experiment ever happened.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I shrugged, knowing money or even perfect grades for a year held no candle to the experience of a lifetime I just had with Danny. I was afraid of the answer, but it had to be asked. “What should we do with these things?” I asked, looking at the necklace still gracing his beautiful neck. His eyebrows raised as he saw the same necklace gracing mine. 

“I mean, by now, you’re pretty used to it, right?” He asked with an almost pleading look in his eye. There was something bugging him. I watched as he fiddled with his feet. “Maybe…” His ears turned bright red. It was riveting finally seeing this side oh him. More than that, it was downright cute. “M-Maybe” he stammered again. Danny took a deep breath to calm himself, though his scarlet face told all. “Maybe we can keep. Um. Swapping. Sometimes, sometimes I like being you, and sometimes I kind of like when you’re me.” He looked at me and smiled weakly, trying to change the subject. “A-Anyway, you need a place to stay next year, r-right? It kind of feels like we’ve already been roommates these past 12 months, what’s another 12?” His sweet words did nothing the dampen the guilt I felt in my betrayal. In any other circumstance, I’d have died happy just hearing that confession from him. Instead I could only think back to the professors words. I did live, at least partially, in Danny throughout this past year. It felt like a betrayal of myself to not come clean.

“Danny, listen. I think I need to tell you first, in your body…” My breath hastened, and I felt my stomach churn. How do you tell a guy what you’ve done with his body- *in* his body? Danny’s face frowned in concern as my bubbling emotions seemed to knock him out of his quick spell of shyness.

He smiled a little. “Look man, whatever you’ve done in my body, I’ve probably done too.” His smile widened. “Your body is mine, my body is yours. Call it even”. More words that would have swept me off my feet, had I not been confessing. More torture ensued.

“I went to the professor about it a few months ago and never told you” I continued. I was practically holding back tears. “Our necklaces were bugged, I think”.

“The professor said…” I gulped. “It was possible that when we switch, our minds don’t come through all at once.” Now tears did begin to swell. “You know how it’s supposed to take a second for your emotions to catch up. Well, when we switch, I still feel the same emotions…”. I gulped. “Since day 1, I think I’ve overwritten your, um, preferences”. Danny’s poker face felt like a dagger in my heart. It’s a face I often made in his body when I was in deep thought, so I knew he had to have been processing to the same conclusion. I could practically see the gear turning in his head. Click.

Face still an enigma, Danny waited a moment and then asked a simple question. “When did you tell the professor?” Click. 

I sniffled as I laid it bare in front of him. “5 months ago. Danny, I’m sorry! I dunno, I just thought maybe… maybe if we kept switching, if our minds kept being in each other’s bodies. Maybe if a little piece of how I felt kept lagging behind, you might have-“ Now the gear was fully spinning and I saw the realization hit his face. I had no idea what he was going to do. Punch me? Maybe. Run away in disgust? Likely. Instead, Daniel had done something equally surprising. His hand rested on my shoulder in a reassuring fashion. Then that same hand motioned me forward.

My memory of the next moment felt like a million moments in one. It was something so outside my realm of possibilities, my brain simply couldn’t process. The whiplash hit my senses all at once. Sweet but a bit salty. A moment of quietness before the background sounds of the campus slowly drizzled back in. The scent of fresh laundry and damp earth. My eyes took even longer to adjust from black to red to an image slowly refocussing. Last was my brain, which had been stunned into silence. I sat back in shock, repeating the same phrase over and over in my head. Danny just kissed me.

He laughed, eyes twinkling and mouth pulled into a smile, beaming in the way that always made my heart swoon. “That theory’s bogus. Trust me. I haven’t felt any different”. He smiled again, sheepishly this time, before fishing something from his backpack’s large pocket. He looked at the item in front of him, hand slightly shaking in hesitation before making his decision. Slowly, he held up his own log book, flipped to the very first page:

“Log Book 1:

<3 ”

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

[kandicon]

Silly hc that the Toy Soldier has a horrible memory (no brain or computer data storage) so it likes to give Ivy detailed reports on things it's done and how its day went. This:

Gives it structure and makes it feel like it's doing reports like it would to a military supervisor (enrichment for it)

Gives Ivy more information to archive in her mechanism, which it is constantly searching for (enrichment for her)

Gives the crew at large concrete references for events, because all but Ivy and Brian's memories fade from them with their immortality. Though the Toy Soldier's memory tends to fade a lot faster than most (disability aid for all)

Anyways this was really funny when Ivy saw Tim really upset for the first time, and at a loss of what to do to help out, started reciting facts about Bertie. And this managed to snap Tim out of sadness with whiplash because how the FUCK does she know any of that.

[sapphicrot]

What do you think about Iterator puppets that have been altered from their original purpose or that have sort of.. add ons? 

A puppet can break. Period. That is a fact. But the rest of the Iterator would still need a consciousness focus point (?) or whatever granular place the puppet occupies within the Iterator, it doesn’t really matter. I have to imagine that the ancients didn’t just keep a room full of spare puppets sitting around within the can; so what’s a robot to do?

Well, I think they’d mash neutral terminus engines and processing cells and whatever else they could get onto the preexisting (broken) puppet. 

(By “they” I mean the iterators, not the ancients, as this would only become an issue when time has degraded the iterators enough for it to be a factor)

So then what do you have? An amalgam of a puppet, it could be as minor as a broken arm replaced with an extra processing device or weird tentacle thing or as major as a completely broken puppet that is just kept going by mechanical cystic growths holding their body together…

Why could a puppet not be altered/alter itself if its purpose was shifted after construction? Puppets were highly sacred to the ancients and each one was unique… hence if an iterator was reassigned from say… biological research to karmic eddy surveying. What then? One obviously requires different equipment from the other; and I’d like to think that carries over to the puppets too. 

This is completely headcanon stuff here, but I like to think that puppets are more variable than we really see in game; with extra ports or connections or limbs as befits their secondary purpose. (Besides the great problem of course!) 

So then what happens if that purpose changes… 

Well just like if a puppet breaks, I think the iterator would have to make do and cobble together parts. I’m imagining a boxy relay stuck onto the puppet by dangling wires; adapters out the wazoo, etc. really why stop there… why not have an Iterator who has become so engrossed in their task that they have almost drowned the puppet chamber in hanging wires, the puppet itself just being a sort of… nexus for the surrounding nightmare tangle.

(This started because I’m finally making an Iterator oc and had the idea that they were adapted to be a satellite control relay, part of which means that a big box was attached to the puppet to serve as a adapter between their “brain” and the controllers)

plus I know you seem to think of them as more ornamental, but I’d still like to hear have thoughts on my weird ramble… I think you are a good mind as far as Iterators go

ok bye, sorry if this is incoherent, I was just spitballing really

IM FINALLY COHERENT ENOUGH TO REPLY TO THIS 🎉🎉🎉 I am sick rn and CANT FUCKING PLAY RAIN WORLD. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? NOW OF ALL TIMES?? oh well, at least i get to answer this now :D

This is really cool!! As far as the puppets go for me, their purposes are 3 fold: to act as a comprehensible “face” for the iterator to interact with their citizens, to use as a hub to process information, execute instructions, and direct the flow of data within the structure. Basically, a CPU! And considering the walls around their chamber in the game literally resemble one, I’d think the analogy is at least a little plausible. And of course there are different CPU designs, so puppet variation seems to be a given.

(more below cuz this is gonna get kinda long)

Despite how I focus more on the ornamental purposes of a puppet, I do think it is a VERY integral part of an iterator for like, actually being able to do their job. The pearls within their chamber are read and written by said puppet, so it manages data storage and memory. They can also format neurons, as seen by Moon, and in order to wake her up, we had to give the slag reset keys to her puppet specifically. While I have no doubt an iterator could manage without a puppet, I think it would be significantly more challenging for them.

I don’t think their chambers are like, static closed boxes. Iterators definitely move more than we see in game, since we see that Pebbles literally ejects out a memory conflux room into garbage wastes and also the Lab rooms in memory conflux seem to be on rails. Also The Rot region gives us a glimpse at other portions of his can, since we’re seeing a 2-D space so it’s hard to imagine the different “layers” of rooms and stuff, but in RM_LOCKDOWN you can see these weird claw like things moving shit around, but they’re frozen in time from breaking down before they could…lockdown the area around Pebbles’ puppet from the rot. So I think they have some way or another to get shit in and out of their chambers, since obviously they can rearrange other bits of their can, and we can find a pearl all the way out in Moon’s memory conflux and it had to get outta there somehow. It was a batch of notes, so her puppet probably interpreted the data she was receiving from her hardware and sent it to long term memory storage.

The cilia that line the walls of an iterator’s insides are probably some kind of exposed nerve ending that send signals from the short term data, ie their neurons. The neurons interact with them often (and make that cute little VWOOP! noise, hehe) so we can assume that they’re sending info through these nerves to either be interpreted by the puppet. These nerves probably send data into the umbilical wires, or through some bluetooth type shit like moon.

“With my umbilical cord broken I can't operate my structure directly, but with them working as messengers I've been restoring some of my chamber's functionality!”

- Moon, Rivulet Dialogue after the Rarefaction Cell has been placed

So based on this we know the umbilical is used to communicate with the rest of the structure and send signals in order to direct its operations. However,

“Most of our processing is outsourced to microbe strata”

- Shoreline Bright Purple Pearl (Moon)

While this seems to imply that the puppet isn’t actually doing much of the processing, I think this is actually more of a conscious vs subconscious thing. The microbe strata are like a brain stem, which in humans is responsible for heart rate n breathing n shit. The puppet is meant for higher conscious thought. So the puppet is pretty central to their body as a whole.

The umbilical probably connects to all those little cilia in the walls, like if we lifted up the panels of a structure’s walls we’d see a network nerves, with long axons and the dendrites are likely exposed out of the walls or whatever. Maybe even a mycelium type structure, remember how they found out mushrooms can kinda communicate through those?…Does this make any sense lol

So how is moon able to use overseers to direct her can? Well, they seem to have those same cilia tendrils at the end of their bodies! They can transfer data between themselves with the same kinda animation as the neurons, so why wouldn’t they be able to transfer instructions to parts of her structure? Like sending instructions to an immune cell to begin a repair process. I also think Moon communicates with the overseers when she does that animation where she sits in the center of her chamber and her neurons go in a circle and do that bloop thing, much like how she would sit in the center of her chamber while reading a pearl, (in spearmaster) since it takes concentration. And she probably has to concentrate very hard to send those signals with such weak equipment.

Also cute lil side tangent: the neurons bloop green when she does this, which I think is a nod to the slag reset keys. Honestly the neurons themselves might have straight up been Sig’s originally, because where the hell did those neurons even come from. There’s no way they survived the collapse, right? Cuz if they did why aren’t there anymore, yknow? Anyways they might literally just be Sig’s neurons but reformatted, since Pebbles mentions everything “suggests it was tailored for the specific predicaments of a friend of mine.”, so the neurons were formatted for Moon.

UH ANYWAYS. Obviously we need to keep in mind that they are both biological and mechanical beings, so I don’t literally mean brain cells or wires or whatever, it’s just me using words humans can use to describe them yknow. So of course I do think that there are differences in puppet design and even chambers (cough PIn cough), so extra wires or even extra hardware within the chamber is absolutely possible.

So how the fuck do iterators perform experiments, or make shit? You know I headcanon Sig as a medical facility. This means her can layout would be different from Moon or Pebbles’. Hunter actually explains this to Monk in my apple juice fic (god i’m so sorry that i keep bringing it up and haven’t worked on it in months), but basically, Sig’s structure has more labs, and more security between said labs because he’s often working with viruses and stuff that are dangerous to its citizens or even itself. But for a specific example: Sig making Hunter. I believe the process would be:

-> Puppet interprets info gathered (ie Suns fucking up, moon is in danger, conclusion: make new messenger). Obviously this is just. A thought process LOL like a human would have.

-> Puppet sends instructions to a lab/area of the can that is suitable for growing biological material.

-> Some microbes or even smth similar to those weird spider things in the memory lattices or something initiate the growth process. They funnel nutrients and material to build cells and organic parts. This probably involves a lot of vats of goo LOL.

-> Puppet monitors the experiment, probably via those blue cilia again, and direct it as needed. Like, once Sig is alerted that a cluster of cells has formed, she’ll have it transferred to another nutrient bath, by way of tubes/pipes or having some protein move it (yknow how muscle proteins actually move and “walk” along chains of proteins? They strut real cunty btw), or like idk something else picks it up and transfers it.

-> Once Hunter was finished/“born”, she could be monitored via overseer, or some inspector type organism, and should Sig want to bring her to his chamber, they could carry her there:

“They also facilitate long distance communication within our living systems.”

- Moon, Inspector Eye Dialogue

I’m like 99% sure that Hunter was brought to Sig’s chamber at least once considering in her ending cutscene she knows what Sig looks like. Not to mention Spearmaster’s end screen shows it snuggling with Suns so like, there is definitely a way to get those things in their chamber.

For a less intensive experiment like transferring a pearl, a pipe or something (maybe even smth resembling intestines that moves it along that way with contractions) could be used. The fatter red wires that make a gross squishy sound when you grab them could be used, maybe? There are also just TONS and TONS of tubes and pipes in the background. The panels/screens in the backgrounds of their chambers can be lifted up and will expose the opening of said tubes, which is why they’re broken up into panels in the first place. There is also probably some kind of immune barrier (sorta like the blood-brain barrier in humans), in order to protect the puppet. (I only think the scugs were carried there because they’re more fragile and also probably would not appreciate being shoved in a pipe LOL)

DM_MEM01

DM_MOONCHAMBER

(also excuse my handwriting, also pebbles has this exact same “plug” thing at the bottom of his chamber)

I know a lot of iterator bits seem very rigid but there ARE squishy organic parts, (considering the noise those fucking red strands make when you grab them) so we can make the assumption that perhaps some of those tubes and shit could be lined with more organic-y stuff.

Uhh oh god this became more of a rant about iterator cans than iterator puppets. BRO WHY CANT I FOCUS.

Back to the original fucking question I could definitely see an iterator with extra shit in their chamber, needing extra wires to receive more signals or adapters. Puppet repair however…I do think they might be able to regrow parts, or at least rudimentary ones. Like how Sig and Suns grow slugcats. Maybe in a lab and they’re transferred over or maybe during some kind of rest period. These replacement parts might not be as good as the originals but I don’t think they’d be completely fucked. Their citizens probably kept spare parts around at least, maybe not entire puppets, but also I don’t really know how much damage they’d incur unless something went horrifically wrong. They are full of self-healing microbes, after all, so wear and tear of normal use is probably not going to kill them. The one part I’m not sure about is the using other parts to repair their puppet. Salvaging stuff from their can like neural terminus engines or other parts could impair their function as a whole, thus making the puppet more vulnerable to future complications, though I don’t think one or two modifications like that would kill them lol. They very likely have a million redundancies and backup parts since repairing iterators would be costly and even dangerous if something deep in their can was broken.

Puppet damage is very bad though. Their ability to move around their chamber seems to be integral to being able to actually function, so a puppet that’s just trapped in place would be a VERY dire, life support type situation. If they can’t reach pearls, or move to send them out of their chamber, their long term memory would probably be in the trash. I think post-Riv moon has to simply make do with her neurons, and a lot of their storage is filled with memories she does not want to forget (ie. Hunter or Riv), since she seems to be able to recall them when talking to Saint. Hell, they might also just have a larger storage capacity since they either came from Pebbles (a newer model) or *maybe* Sig, still a (likely) newer model. (I don’t think it’s ever confirmed he’s younger than her but considering what we know about their dynamic and Moon’s demeanor in general I think it’s a plausible conclusion to come to).

But yeah!! I can’t wait to see ur iterator oc so I can send u silly rp asks >:) I hope this was in ANY WAY coherent bc I am kinda sick so this might straight up be completely incomprehensible.

——

OH!! Also this is mildly off topic but this is my yapping and I get to talk forever and ever. But I also think the puppet is meant as an identity as well. Like a face for them, to give them a sense of self. However some iterators are more attached to their puppets as “themselves” than others.

(blocked out message is my friends’ oc)(also these are tupperbots NOT fuckin ai, i’m the one writing all this it’s just using a proxy for rp purposes)

As you can tell Opportunity is not very attached to her puppet and sees “herself” as her structure. The puppet of an iterator is. Basically just another organ in a way. Like, I feel like some iterators would feel the same way we feel about like, our nose. It’s not us it’s just a part of us. But others might see it as their face, and heavily identify with their puppet’s appearance. My little headcanons are (based on my own interpretations of them, so some of this is heavily steeped in my own lore that i’ve just made the fuck up):

Moon: Pre-collapse she’s less attached to her puppet, but post-collapse she really begins to see it as herself, since it’s all she has access to. She also gestures with her puppet and uses it to communicate not just through voice.

Suns: Attached to xier puppet and is kinda embarrassed about it. They’re involved with their citizens’ affairs and since their citizens place his identity on his puppet, he does too. Not super expressive with movement aside from hands, fidgets when nervous.

Sliver: Doesn’t care, her puppet is a tool.

Opportunity: As you can tell, does not consider her puppet as “herself” and thinks those who do are too attached to the world. They have a job to do and that’s it.

Indigo: He likes his puppet. They don’t mind being seen as it.

Wind: His self-image is absolutely his puppet, and even when thinking about others he sees them as their puppets too. Specifically in the rot au, he attacks sig right after the whole sliver thing, which ultimately wouldn’t technically hurt her but it’s more of a symbolic thing.

Sig: Sees herself as her puppet! Considering he accessorizes it, like the scarf or whatever ribbon that it’s decorated with canonically kinda points to this? Like the others just wear simple cloaks but his is like, slightly “fancier”! Also obviously in the rot au his identity is heavily tied to her puppet. The goofy lab coat get-up is not his only outfit and she kinda just wears it for shits and gigs. It’s a doctor after all, gotta look the part!

PIn: Kinda has no choice but to see themself as their puppet, rip. The heavy emphasis placed on it by their citizens reinforces that sentiment.

Yui: Her puppet serves cunt just like she does. She uses it to gesture a lot, not just her arms or anything but like the whole puppet. Spinning, moving across the whole chamber, etc (sig does this too)

Light: Tries not to see themself as their puppet simply to “abate the self” or whatever. It is a part of their identity but not the whole. They do talk with their hands a lot tho

Pebbles: He sees *others* as their puppets but not himself as much. He’d still probably be sad if it was replaced with a metal box or something tho.

wow this got off topic. i’m sorry you have to read 3000 words of shit that barely answered ur question HAHAHAHA

[drowned-cypress]

“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” said Robin. “You said you copied yourself to my brain. Does that mean you’re not the original Al-An?”

“By definition, yes,” Al-An replied with equanimity. “But the distinction is negligible.”

Robin boggled at his dismissiveness. “Not to me! The original you that was in storage died! And the one before that, before you went into storage died as well!”

“Your statement is not false,” Al-An said with infuriating calmness. “But you are ignoring the facts of the situation. My pattern remains.” There was a pause, then, “This appears to be provoking an emotional reaction in you that does not seem commensurate with the circumstances.”

“Well, yes! It’s kind of an upsetting thought!” The Al-An in that storage cube had died right in front of Robin, and she hadn’t even realized it until now. She took a deep breath. He was right, she was getting emotional about this. She should probably try to calm down. It’s just… “Are you even the same person?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re not the original! You’re just a copy and your original self no longer exists. You can't be the same person. There’s no… no continuity of consciousness.”

“Please, Robin, do not minimize my existence.” Al-An’s voice was sharper than usual. “I am not lesser for having been transferred.”

Robin cringed, mentally kicking herself for her phrasing. “Sorry! I didn't mean it like that. Obviously you're still a person. I just meant… doesn't it bother you?”

“No, it does not bother me. Continuity of consciousness is an illusion. Is your consciousness not broken every time you experience unconsciousness? Every time you sleep?”

“Yes, but that’s different. I’m still in the same body.”

Al-An was quiet for a moment before responding, “The question must be asked, how do you know?”

What did he mean, how did she know? It was obvious! “Because I remember!”

“I also remember being in my previous vessels. Is that not the same?”

“No!”

“But I remember it. From my perspective, I have always been myself. Choices that I made in previous vessels continue to affect me even now. The fact that my data has been transferred has no bearing on my identity.”

“I don’t know how to articulate to you that it’s not the same,” Robin said with frustration. “You're a being with the memories of several other, nearly identical beings, mentally speaking.”

The momentary silence between them had a sudden, brittle quality to it. “That,” Al-An finally said, “is an enticing perspective. It would mean I am not responsible for actions taken in previous vessels. But it is not a perspective I can accept without compromising my scientific integrity. You are perceiving an arbitrary boundary. Are you not also a being with the memories of a previous, slightly different being? Are you not changed by your experiences? Not even my people ever remain exactly the same.”

“Well, no, simply changing as a person doesn't make me no longer the same person that had those previous experiences.” Robin wondered why not being responsible for his past actions was appealing to him. Had he done something he regretted?

“This is true,” Al-An agreed. “And the fact that my previous vessels are gone does not make me any less the same person who existed in them as well.”

“It… it’s not the same,” Robin replied helplessly. “The Al-An in the storage cube had a consciousness, and the Al-An before the storage cube had a consciousness, and you have a consciousness now, but they’re not the same consciousness.” And even if they were, there would be no way to prove it because he would believe himself to be the same being either way. This wasn’t an argument either of them could win, Robin realized.

“For my people,” Al-An continued, oblivious to Robin’s train of thought, “our data patterns contain our essence. Our vessels are not our selves. I am data. As long as my data exists, I exist.”

Ah crap, she was also invalidating his identity, wasn’t she? “Okay… okay. I guess if you’re satisfied, then it’s not my place to tell you how to feel, even if I feel differently.” 

“I appreciate the consideration,” Al-An said. Robin wasn’t sure if she was imagining the wry undertone to the comment.

[regular-gnome]

hey..

at what point do collectors opt to turn things from puppets to scrolls? I feel like turning an entire living creature into [a piece of paper] is very complicated, while turning them into simple puppets is easier because they keep all the same parts, just simplified and wood?

It is! It depends on the person's proficiency and understanding of the mechanism regarding when and how they change the creature. Once someone gets good at it, the creature can be transformed into a lifeless object without it dying in the process, and they will move on to more complex and efficient ways.

The way I see it, archiving is a form of information compression and storage—and there is A LOT of information. When looking at Earth creatures we have everything from single-cell bacteria to whales that range up to 100 quadrillion cells, all with different sizes. The smallest single-cell critter is 0.3 μm, while the largest single cell is an ostrich egg that can get to 18 cm. So it's not just noting "a cell"—there's also a lot of information about the cell content, size, the DNA, current water, and oxygen levels, what protein it contains and how much. Then there are spatial dimensions. (While we can consider there being more, especially in fiction, I’m sticking to three; trying to visualize four fills me with frustration and existential dread xD) Every cell has its place in space in relation to the others, and all the contents' relations are also important. If, suddenly, all histones materialize inside a mitochondria instead of the nucleus, we can have a problem. Additionally, physical and chemical processes gotta be considered. There's electricity powering our brains, hearts, running nerves, air in airways traveling to lungs, chemical signals traveling between synapses that also need to be accounted for. So, you have all the contents in space, their vectors, and building blocks. Thats a ton to save. This information has to be compressed to be preserved in an organized manner while also remaining lossless so that when returned to its original shape, it's as it was. Not even mentioning that in intelligent beings, there are also minds to take care of. Jellyfish might be fine after 100 years in a static void, but a human? Yhhhhh.

I think the mechanism would work by saving information in intangible magic and assigning it to a physical medium—be it a statue, doll, book, or scroll. If it is physical and can carry information, it can be used. We can argue the mind is part of the soul, or it is a biochemical process, but the fact is nobody really knows for sure what it is and Im not a theolog, so for the sake of this universe, I'll say it's something that occupies the same space magic does and is influenced by chemical processes, meeeeaning it can also be tricked by them. And the magic.

The first degree of preservation would be spells that only change the material but keep all shapes and info in place. This wouldn't require much thought while executing and could be "automated" or worse, taught to mortals (if they have enough magic to power the spell), like petrification or changing someone into wood, metal, or any other solid material. It's not perfect, if the structure is damaged, the spatial information is damaged too. Breaking is one thing, but imagine if the statue melts.

The next step would be assigning objects with some compression and change, like toys and dolls. I feel like there would need to be a system like a content library, so not every single atom is saved each time, but chemical structures like nucleotides in DNA (the ATGC thingies) would just have a shortcut. Larger repeating patterns could also be assigned their own id to save data, and it would slowly stack up. While things are written in intangible magic form and anchored to the medium, the medium can be somewhat customized, like the decorations the Collector added to the dolls. The mind, running in controlled magic, can also be affected, as we saw with Collie trying to scare them and Luz’s dream. On the spell keeping the preserved critter stable has a link to what shortcut it uses so with countless diffrent worlds and structres it wouldnt mix up.

Then we go further into compression, reducing size and dimensions until we reach a point where one axis is almost entirely removed, and we end up with a scroll. Then there are other things—creatures saved as amber miniatures, snow globes, scrolls, or drawings, sometimes purely to annoy the sibling that has to deal with the creature in unhandy form. A more permanent binding would be in a book that can contain a bunch of different animals. Rebinding for long-term preservation is the Curator’s job.

Looking at Earth creatures, eucariotic life shares ancestry with some ancient bacteria that decided to rebel and started to cooperate, so we share similarities even with distant organisms in some strutures since they come from each other. So when it comes to preserving whole populations with relations, the library of compression doesn’t have to be separate for every single animal or plant. For each section of the archive, there would be a common library of building blocks, and scrolls being somewhat separate carrying the exact instructions for body arrangement and the soul/mind/the part that makes them alive attached.

Next is unpacking the information. I think this requires the ability to interpret and recreate what was saved that mortals lack. While they couldn't really unpetrify others, a collector could (assuming the mind hadn’t deteriorated into a husk). In the case of an automated spell, I think it would result in a very lossy transmutation—like a jpg losing pixels, the creature might lose like heart funtion. The Collector's spell also looked temporary or incomplete since an influx of other types of magic (like in Amity or Raine’s case) was able to push back on it. That might also be why they were conscious in the form they were in. Not meant for long just enough to take them to archive in normal conditions. When a creature is heavily compressed, it needs external force to rebuild, as it's essentially written fully in magic. That’s what I think happened to the Owl Beast. Lilith released it from the medium, but since it wasn’t fully rebuilt, it being a magic form attached itself to a magic source.

SO YEAH, its a process that takes quite a while for them to master and it comes with experience. But when experience is based on life it often makes it hard to practice so those with less empathetic approach master it faster. Thanks for the ask! I was dying to talk about that for such a long time and that was a perfect thing to organise thoughts

[feyclowns]

a look at magic and the core system

the core system explanation and my loose idea of what magic is. this uh. this got long. this is a longass post.

my thoughts on magic

i have this idea that mother nature, while creating her earlier lifeforms, used magic as a sort of bind-all, something modeled after the overarching powers of time and creation, etc- giving them extra powers and extending their life (like a kid making their first ocs). most of her older creatures are on planes higher up and function on magic. as she got better with her craft she began to appreciate the complexity of making all those bits and pieces stuff on earth has, and the faster ebb and flow of life AND death. humans are one of her favorite creations.

magic is inherently chaotic. it exists in multiple forms, on multiple planes. it's something that touches things in a biological way and yet obeys physical laws set before it. it can be stored and used up. it can create more of itself. it can corrupt things. when mother nature realized it was a bad idea to give near-unlimited power to beings when she was creating ones of lower ability on the planes below, she changed magic and the creatures that used it- gave them weaknesses, sometimes bordering on the ridiculous, compulsions too. things to keep them in check.

i also like to think you can't entirely 1:1 seelie to humans on even a biological cell-scale. they just fundamentally are different.

magic's function

the more pure magic is, the more powerful it is- magic comes in all colors of the rainbow, but different colors have slightly different attributes. one can never truly filter one color out of magic entirely, as it needs all its components to function.

with the True Fey nearly extinct, the only beings that can use raw magic without the assistance of a device or sigil are genies, and i'd argue they got quite the short end of the stick considering their compulsion.

fairies, fey and their subspecies primarily function on purple magic. this stuff is filtered, diluted, as "neutral" as one can get. if you create magic rather than consume it, and your species functions on filtered magic, you cannot handle it raw. like, your body can't handle the extra energy. physically.

magical backup is when a fairy has so much magic in their system they cannot filter the chaotic energy that magic produces and explode.

filtered magic is also, simply, on paper, easiest to use. as a third party, non-seelie magic user- use raw magic while unprepared and get evaporated while changing the laws of physics. use overfiltered magic without the correct sigils and nothing happens except maybe a bitter taste in your mouth.

onto the core system.

the core system

the neural core is where magic flows freely up towards- the filter strains clean, purple magic from the magic produced by the central core. conscious wishes are also made from the brain connected to the core here.

the central core is where magic is generated. the central core takes calories and nutrients from ingested food (fairies have a stomach that is right next to their core) and converts it into magic. the core membrane acts as a storage for filtered magic in both areas.

the core pools are located at the base of the wrists of a fairy, which are where excess magic flows and stays in anticipation of use. when a fairy exhausts the magic from their pools, they must wait until they begin to refill from the reserves in the core membranes.

the inner cores are the most important part of the system; if this part of a fairy is damaged they will die. this part also holds the data for the rest of the body- if worse comes to worse, the inner cores will maintain the body parts left and rebuild the core system before completing the rest of the body. this is in part why fairies are so gd resilient. no inner core, no regeneration.

magic threads are what magic travels along throughout the body. they are thick, wide tubes that extend through the torso and extremities. the central thread is also called a nervous thread. during pregnancy, the body creates a sixth thread (and sometimes seventh) to deliver magic to the developing child's core.

fairies produce raw magic in their central cores. they have two cores- a central and neural core, which are connected to each other through the nervous thread and extend to their magic pools and flow magic through the body by the four magic threads.

anti-fairies are where all that excess magic goes when fairies filter it out. anti fairies don't need to generate magic or filter it- they can handle it just fine. they have a simpler core layout- a thick core membrane to hold their magic and the excess chaotic magic swirling about in their inner core. this enables anti-fairies to grant powerful rule-free wishes. anti-fairies tend to have strange colored magic threads, generally aligning with the color of their counterparts' eyes.

pixies are quirky things. pixies have the same amount of cores as their fairy cousins but do not produce raw magic. they instead need to feed on magical creatures (or take their magic supplements, as provided by pixies INC) to keep their core systems afloat. another issue is that most pixies' core filters still work- which would be fine if they produced magic. pixies overfilter their magic, leading them to use a highly complicated wand (along with several binding contracts) to utilize the magic still delivered to their core pools. (it's also a phone. why not toss that in for free? Head Pixie was feeling really nice when he made that decision.)

pixies have a very large core filter and membrane in their neural core, with a small central core and large magic pools. their magic threads are thin.