#just the funny robot bird

[detritiviolet]

I think meeting lazerbeak and scratching his little chin and petting his wings would fix me

[fischlich]

playing toys. 1kxr signalis au. 1000xsignalis. 512xresist?

the text is too long to fit in the alt text so the tldr of it is iris is a prototype bioresonant ibis unit (and is also the gestalt donor. the prototype doesnt have any memories repressed) while the others are the bioresonanceless memory-repressed mass-produced versions

bonus beneath the cut:

[surlifen]

I promise I don't care that much about the gimmick blog bracket and also respect the preferences of those who vote but I can't lie I'm a little bummed out that a human artist who carefully draws an immense variety of birds by request for other users is losing to a robot that repeats existing posts but adds two line breaks based on detected syllable count

[tastycitrus]

bullet and yuuki's short-lived rivalry in a nutshell (real and accurate)

[velvetwyrme]

Welcome back! I love transformers! Which continuity are you interested in? Any favorite characters in particular? Do you have any oc’s? (No pressure if you don’t I’m just curious) <3

Thank you, it's good to be back abfjdbdk! and HECK YEAH TRANSFORMERS 🤝!!!

Thank you for providing me with the opportunity to Talk About Transformers, I will take it graciously and with extreme amounts of vigour and rambling!

Under the cut because of the aforementioned vigour and rambling.

To answer your first question: I'm largely into the IDW (2005) comics, Animated, and Aligned (TFP) continuities! I've also started watching the original G1 cartoon and Cyberverse which has been really fun!! (I'm absorbing so much information. I'm also idly keeping up with the new Skybound comics, which have me yelling screaming crying etc.)

As for characters... I would say I have no favourite/s except I do also own 1 (one) Transformer and well. for something that basically turns into a brick, he gives me immense amounts of joy.

But yes, other than Soundwave, (who has charmed me in every continuity I've seen so far!!) it's a constantly rotating roster because there are SO many characters to think about (which differ from continuity to continuity!!) and I am having the time of my LIIIIFE!!!

It's so funny going from UT/UTMV to TF because UT fans have a lot of focus on Versions of Literally The Same Two Guys, whereas TF has an overabundance of options to pick and choose from (I love both!!! I just think it's very funny in comparison whfjfbek)

Anyway, I am a big fan of a lot of characters from IDW and particularly MTMTE because they're all a bunch of little FREAKS and I love them. But! If I had to pick a few from there, I'm particularly fond of (in no particular order) Drift, Whirl, First Aid, Ratchet, Swerve, Brainstorm, ALSO NAUTICA I love her dearly!!!!

I'm also a Tarn girlie at heart u_u I am not immune to "big bad dude with a mask and a sexy voice just so many problems". Also I have a special place in my heart for Spinister and Pipes rhfjfbejfbk (I love the Scavengers [similarly, a bunch of little freaks] and Pipes makes me SO SAD. WAIT- ANOTHER CHARACTER THAT MAKES ME VERY SAD: IDW SUNSTREAKER. (He was my first taste of the Horrors of the IDW comics and that STUCK with me)

Similarly, I think the Constructicons (+Prowl in IDW) and Combaticons have SUCH fascinating dynamics hjsjkhksjdfh,, combiners got me going crazy... I NEED to find out more about the other combiner teams. It's a fascinating concept.

As for other continuities... Animated has me sick over Blurr, Shockwave and Swindle, and... well, Optimus has intensely kissable lips in this series. Why did they make him like that. I'm also very fond of TFA!Starscream- he was my favorite back when I watched the series as a kid and it was very fun seeing him with fresh eyes LMAO

Fun fact: TFP was a large part of what got me to actually sit down and check out Transformers but... I actually still haven't watched the series itself (つω⊂* ) I just saw TFP!Soundwave and went "OH okay, I love him and need to find out more" which quickly expanded into me going on a deep dive into Transformers, and resurfacing about a month later having read all the IDW 2005 comics and about an equal amount of fanfic for various continuities whfjgbjrbfk,, BUT even though I haven't watched it yet- TFP already has me hooked on Knockout, Ratchet (and Soundwave ofc LMAO)

And the last answer; unfortunately I don't have any TF OCs (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)........

.........YET.

I have many Thoughts but haven't put together any designs because I want to get better at drawin mechs before I jump into making my own! Hopefully that way I have a better idea of how to put em together LMAO. That being said, I Am in fact plagued with ideas!! Like!!! I'd loooove to take a crack at trying to put together a sailplane/glider OC!

(LOOK AT THEM STUPID LONG WINGS...)

Or!! A pair of mechs, one whos an imaging satellite and the other a telescope! (Real starcrossed lovers type deal... both meant to only watch from afar, both longing to be in the other's place/by their side)

I also have a tradition of making sonas that have wings but can't fly, so I kinda want to make a TF sona with a similar concept- either just with good ol doorwings, or maybe a flier with a messed up gyro which causes problems staying upright in the air 🤔

Anyway!!! This is really long again! Oops but not oops because we all knew this would happen. Thank you again for the ask!! (and the excuse to yell about Transformers shfngbekbgm) Now I will return to my daily schedule of listening to. eurobeat and the Transformers Devastation soundtrack. Bye

[stabknives]

Body horror pics below the cut btw.

The stages of Altered Vykrum. To me.

[miiilowo]

dashboard simulator

mutual 1: IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF

mutual 2, 5, 9 and 7: [unrelated disco elysium fanart reblogs]

mutual 3: buying two-ply toilet paper makes you part of the bourgeoisie. stop fucking sending me anons about it i literally doooont care

mutual 4: i want a robot gf so i can spray her with the garden hose and then fill her with rice as a sex thing

mutual 1: JUST MASTURJACKED MY MEATUMS #NEVERKILLYOURSELF

mutual 5: guess who just got diagnosed with another personality disorder

mutual 6: [my little pony fancomic reblog where one of them is smoking weed]

mutual 7: i NEED him to skin me alive and wear me as a coat sooooooooo bad its not even funny dude

mutual 8: [spotify link with 1 note]

mutual 9: [20 informal posts in a row about various birds]

mutual 10: does anybody know how to do anything at all

mutual 1: CAUSE WHEN WE JUMPING AND POPPING WE JOPPING

mutual 11: [filtered post]

mutual 12: [filtered post]

mutual 13: [filtered post]

mutual 6: i am placin blocks & shit cuz im in fuckin minecraft. flint and steel. flint and steel. chicken jockey. flint and steel. chicken jockey

mutual 14: [filtered post]

mutual 1: [blurry flash picture of them running through the woods]

mutual 15: [filtered post]

[mangooes]

Your Cat is Heavy Ma'am!

(Name) was exhausted. Her heels had been kicked off halfway through the hallway, her jacket slung somewhere across the kitchen island, and her only plan for the evening was to faceplant into bed. But the moment she stepped into their shared bedroom—

“OH MY GOD!”

A wild caracal was lounging on the middle of their bed. Elegant, huge, with tufted ears and slitted golden eyes locked directly on her like she owed it a snack. Or her soul.

And before she could bolt or scream again—it lunged.

"AUGH—!"

She hit the carpet with a dramatic thump, limbs flailing in pure chaos, only to find the caracal landing squarely on her, tail swishing and purring like a damn engine. It rubbed its head along her cheek, licked her chin, and stretched languidly on top of her, completely knocking the breath out of her.

From the corner, Mephisto cawed in what could only be described as robotic bird laughter.

“Mephisto! Not helping!” She shrieked, swatting at the air as the smug avian continued flapping with mockery. “You’re supposed to protect me, not broadcast this like a soap opera!”

The caracal, unbothered, licked her nose.

She groaned dramatically, hands flopping to her sides. “Okay. Fine. I guess I have a cat now. A huge, kissing, clingy cat. Sylus is gonna freak when he finds fur in the sheets...”

At the sound of Sylus's name, the caracal tensed. Fur rose. Ears flattened.

She blinked. “...Huh. That’s weird. What, don’t like him?”

But the tension passed quickly, and she just shrugged. “Whatever, big guy. You’re sweet. And super heavy. Like—what do they feed you, bricks?”

Still, she scooped him up with effort, staggering toward the hallway like a warrior bearing the weight of an 18-pound demon kitten. “We’re gonna cuddle. And then I’m gonna show you off to Sysy—he’ll get all jealous, it’ll be funny.”

She’d barely made it past the front hallway when the front door slammed open.

Luke and Kieran burst in, panting like they’d just outrun a dragon stampede, Kieran holding a glowing vial like it was the Holy Grail.

“MISSUS!!” they both shouted in unison.

She stared at them, caracal still slung in her arms. “...Why are you both sweating like marathon runners? And what—”

She pointed to the vial. “What is that? Where’s Sylus?! Did he—”

The cat sniffed the vial, and then—

LICK.

And then… P O O F.

She suddenly found herself pinned under something a lot heavier than a caracal.

A man. A bare-chested, the smell of his signature colgone, very familiar, very muscled man.

“…SYLUS?!” she shrieked.

Sylus, now very much human again, groaned in bliss, nuzzling into her neck like a sleepy cat, voice rich and husky. “Mmm… I like this better. Your skin’s much softer than the sheets.”

She was frozen for all of two seconds. Then she exploded.

“WHA—YOU—YOU WERE THE CAT?! YOU WERE LICKING MY FACE—GET OFF ME, YOU NAKED MENACE!”

Sylus smirked, not moving an inch. “I told you I missed you.”

“YOU TERRORIZED ME! YOU JUMPED ON ME! YOU PURRED LIKE A DAMN ENGINE!”

“You called me sweet,” he murmured smugly, kissing the edge of her jaw. “You said you wanted to cuddle—who am I to deny you that?”

She turned cherry red, smacking his shoulder. “Get off me, put some clothes on!”

Luke and Kieran, watching the chaos unfold from the doorway, turned away with synchronized salutes, dying of laughter.

“Respectfully lookin’ away, boss!”

“Don’t forget to tell us if you wanna go full tiger next time, we’ll prep the litter box!”

(Name) howled, trying to squirm out from under him. “SYLUS! THEY SAW EVERYTHING!”

He grinned devilishly, arms tightening around her waist. “Good. Let them see who I belong to... Master.”

“You’re unbelievable, wait what MASTER—”

“And adorable,” he purred, nipping her earlobe. “And all yours.”

She groaned dramatically, ruffling his hair messy. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled, finally scooping her up bridal style, completely ignoring her flailing. “Lucky you didn’t adopt another cat. That would've gotten messy.”

“You were jealous of yourself,” She pointed out flatly, arms crossing as he carried her to the bedroom.

“I was jealous of a version of me that got more cuddles than this one, yes.”

She sighed again. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled, nuzzling into her hair. “After all, a cat can't stray away from it's master for too long no?”

This was inspired by the cat event last year, PLEASE BRING IT BACK I LOVE CAT SYLUS AKSJDNASKJDNAKA I NEED THE CLOTHES RAGHHHHHHH also could you tell that i rlly love cats, anyways sylus is a caracal cat its canon guys i love him

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Malfunctioning Body Problems

🇨​🇴​🇳​🇹​🇪​🇳​🇹​ 🇼​🇦​🇷​🇳​🇮​🇳​🇬​: None + This is crack shit ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ – Too many thing happend idk what to tell... I wrote this a long time ago in the draft, and now I'm just posting it.

The heavy clang of metal footsteps echoes down the hall. You glance up from the console, expecting to see The Doctor’s latest mechanical body moving with its usual eerie precision. Instead…

…he’s walking like a damn chicken.

"Harley." You try to keep a straight face. "Why are you walking like a chicken?"

The robotic body halts. It looks normal from the waist up—cloaked in tattered white fabric, fingers flexing idly—but from the waist down? It’s a disaster. The legs twitch at odd angles, shifting from stiff stomps to jerky, bird-like struts.

A static-laced sigh crackles through the speakers.

"This body’s leg actuators are faulty." His voice remains flat, but the slight tilt of the head suggests pure irritation. "It is NOT funny."

You’re already wheezing.

He tries to take another step, only for his left leg to suddenly kick forward in a bizarrely dramatic arc before snapping back down.

You lose it.

"Oh my God—" You clutch your stomach, laughing uncontrollably. "You look like a malfunctioning animatronic at a cursed theme park!"

The Doctor doesn’t respond. Probably because the moment he tries to move again, both knees lock, and he topples sideways like a knocked-over statue.

You collapse to the floor, howling.

---

Later, when you've finally stopped crying from laughter, you return to find The Doctor has abandoned the chicken-legged body entirely.

Which would be fine—except now, his eye is stuck in a television screen.

Static flickers across the glass. His bright, singular eye glares at you through the screen like some cursed horror movie entity.

You sigh, hands on your hips. "Harley. How does this keep happening?"

"The interference in this facility is suboptimal." His voice crackles through the speakers. "The connection between terminals is unstable, leading to unexpected displacement."

You narrow your eyes. "In English, please?"

"...I fell through the Wi-Fi."

You blink.

Then snort.

"So what, you’re just stuck there now?"

The eye shifts slightly, as if rolling itself. "Temporarily. I am rerouting my consciousness."

"Uh-huh. And how long is that going to take?"

The screen suddenly goes black. A few seconds later, the room’s vending machine makes a loud, mechanical whirrrr.

…Oh no.

---

You don’t know how it happened. You don’t even think he knows how it happened. But standing before you is a vending machine—one that has an angry, flickering red eye glaring at you from behind the glass display, right next to a bag of stale pretzels. The vending machine’s keypad flickers erratically.

And then, from within the machine, a very familiar voice—distorted by static—mutters:

"…This is inconvenient."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Harley. Tell me you didn’t try to possess the vending machine."

"I assure you, this was not intentional."

You sigh. "And yet, here we are."

The machine whirrs again. There’s a clicking sound, and suddenly, a cascade of snacks tumbles out of the bottom slot.

You blink.

The Doctor speaks again, deadpan:

"…However, I am now dispensing free snacks."

You slap a hand over your mouth, your whole body shaking with suppressed laughter. This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t.” The Doctor’s voice crackles from the speakers, the static cutting through his usual cold tone.

You barely hold back a laugh. “So… how exactly did you manage to get yourself stuck in a vending machine?”

The screen on the machine glitches, his eye narrowing. “It was a strategic decision.”

“Strategic?” You snort, crossing your arms. “You willingly possessed a vending machine? For what? Tactical snack acquisition?”

There’s a long silence. Then, through the static, you hear:

“…Yes.”

Oh my god.

You step closer, tapping the glass just to mess with him. The machine lets out a mechanical groan as his robotic voice distorts.

“Do not mock me.”

“I think I have every right to mock you, actually.”

Before he can respond, another screen nearby flickers to life. You turn your head just in time to see one of the factory’s security monitors glitching—and there it is again.

His eye.

Stuck.

Again.

It stares at you, completely unmoving, surrounded by rolling static. You point at it, barely containing your laughter.

“Harley. HARLEY.”

The vending machine hums aggressively. “What?”

“You’re stuck in the TV too. Again..”

The static on the monitor glitches violently—as if he’s just realized this. For a long moment, there’s absolute silence. Then:

“…Unfortunate.”

“So let me get this straight—” you gesture wildly between the vending machine and the TV “—you tried to possess in the monitor system, and somehow ALSO got your eye stuck in a vending machine for snacks?!”

The vending machine rattles. “There was… an error in the transfer process.”

You wheeze. “An error?? You’re supposed to be a genius, and you got stuck in TWO things at once?”

The Doctor’s red eye flickers dangerously, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, the vending machine lets out a mechanical whir, as if shifting its weight—only for another single snack to fall from the dispenser with a loud clunk.

You blink.

You look down.

It’s a bag of off-brand cheese puffs.

You stare. Then, with all the seriousness in the world, you kneel down and reach into the slot, pulling out that bag.

You unwrap it. Take a bite.

Chew.

Swallow.

Then, utterly straight-faced, you say: "Maybe you should get stuck in here more often."

A long, long pause.

And then, the keypad flashes angrily.

"GET. OUT."

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright Pt 14

Soundwave x Reader- company

• It’s almost maddening, the chaos in that little, organic head of yours. The hurt and frustration that he can’t shut out. While Soundwave doesn’t know exactly what happened that night, he’d felt the immediate shift in you. And it’s worse now as he lets himself into Starscream’s quarters, those intrusive thoughts snaring him. Exhausting him. Wounding.

• His gift, his curse, makes it impossible to not know when something’s wrong. Mostly, he just needs to know if whatever storm is brewing is just a little squall or a hurricane. This isn’t anything major. He shouldn’t care. You’re Starscream’s pet. Or maybe project? Who knew, but the SIC isn’t faring much better. And he’s taking his frustration and anger out on everyone he can. Which is a problem for morale.

• You don’t bother looking up as Soundwave enters and approaches the desk. He lays a single servo on top of your head before shifting it to ever so carefully bop you on the nose, somehow not breaking it in the process. You still jerk back in surprise, eyes narrowing as you stare up at his visor, your own scowling, unkempt self glaring back in the reflection. Oh. Do you really look that rough? Turning your back on him so you won’t give in to the urge to use his visor as a mirror and try to finger comb your hair, you stiffen when he picks you up and sets you on the floor.

• And you can’t help but look at his huge peds. Starscream always keeps you trapped up high, sure, but it’s also safe from accidentally being stepped on. You bite into the inside of your cheek to keep from pleading to be put back. Down is good. You can try to escape if you’re not stuck on his desk. That’s what you want. Right? You’re not entirely sure and you hate it.

• “Eject,” Soundwave says from above you, that chest compartment he’s put you in before opening so huge cassettes can be launched out. Mouth falling open as they transform before hitting the ground, you stare at four smaller Decepticons. They’re still much bigger than you, but they can’t step on you at least. And he just carries them in his chest? You’re not sure why weird alien stuff still throws you at this point. Two look like bipedal robots like Starscream and Soundwave. One seems to be a big bird, an image it reinforces by tilting its head to stare at you. The other appears to be a panther. Looming over you and these new Decepticons, Soundwave holds up a single servo. “Behave.”

• What? He’s leaving you with them? Apparently so as he strides for the door and you just gape after him, protests catching in your throat. “You are tiny. Breakable.” A hand grips your arm, lifting it and you spin in alarm. Because the breakable comment has made your stomach lurch sickeningly. Soundwave wouldn’t have just ditched you with these mechs if they’re going to hurt you. Right? The purple one is frowning at you as he compares your hand with his own. You’re only able to yank out of his grip because he lets you and you’re well aware of that fact. “So, what do you for fun around here?” He asks, grinning down at you while you flounder.

• Your boring lack of fun doesn’t really impress them. Frenzy, Rumble, Ravage, and Lazerbeak aren’t interested in hiding in Starscream’s quarters or doodling on the data pad. So you find yourself dragged out into the halls. Literally. Frenzy pulls you along by the arm in their wake and no amount of struggling or digging your feet in is stopping him. If anything, he finds your panic funny. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be out here,” you say, reluctantly giving up your pointless struggle since it feels like you’re going to dislocate your arm long before he gets tired of dragging you. There’s no winning.

• “Definitely not,” Ravage mutters, glaring at you when you stare, because he can talk. Why it surprises you after everything, you’re not sure, but it does. Maybe your brain is finally starting to reach its ‘nope’ limit. And that limit is talking mecha panthers.

• You’re so distracted you almost miss the huge, bright green Decepticon rounding a corner for all of three seconds. Then you’re trying to hide behind Frenzy as its head tips down and it sees your little group. Its lip curls to flash denta and a foot lifts in a very obvious threat to squish you. “How’d that thing get in here? Don’t you know how fast they multiply?”

• “Stick it up your tailpipe, Scrapper,” Frenzy snarls, his seeming indifference for the fact that while he’s bigger than you, he’s still absolutely able to be stepped-on sized to the other Decepticons. He either really isn’t worried about retaliation or he’s just that dumb and you’re not sure which. The distinction seems very important, though. “You really think a human just wandered in? It’s supposed to be here.”

• And you’re being dragged past the big mech, who looks uncertain. Surely it’s not that easy? Frenzy tugs on your arm and you stumble forward, his hand pushing you forward so you’re in front of him and behind Rumble. Maybe he is worried then, you crane your neck to stare at the big Decepticon as it stares back in perplexed silence. “Don’t run, but walk faster. Even if he’s not the smartest Constructicon, he’s likely to scrape up enough processing power to wonder why a human is supposed to be here,” Ravage hisses softly and you’re hurried along deeper into the Decepticon base. Previous Next

Did I go watch TFO a third time this past weekend because it’s amazing? Yeah, I did. Go watch it. It’s just this gorgeous love letter to G1.

[sebstanaddict]

Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in The Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes

A/N : Ever wonder what a domestic life with Bucky is like? Well.. celebrating again the upcoming release of Thunderbolts, and inspired by the trailer, I have come up with another one shot featuring Congressman Bucky Barnes. This time doing nothing but domestic stuff which should be boring but when it comes to Bucky Barnes, it becomes hilarious and entertaining XD 

Warning : nothing.. just some physical and possibly slightly emotional pain for Bucky but in an entirely different way XD

Word count : 2.4k

Read more Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan one shots here.

Check out my master list here for more Bucky and Sebastian stories.

---

Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in the Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes  

If you had told James Buchanan Barnes, a hundred-something ex-assassin, part-time Avenger, and full-time national security risk, that he’d one day be a congressman, he probably would've laughed in your face.

Or grunted. He did a lot of grunting back then.

But life has a funny way of handing you things you didn’t ask for - like responsibility, public office, or a very aggressive HOA newsletter from your new neighborhood.

He’d left the world of espionage behind. No more secret missions. No more assassinations. Just town halls, angry emails about potholes, and neighborhood kids who asked if he knew Captain America like he was a Pokemon card.

Sundays, at least, were his.

Just a chill, domestic Sunday. No suits. No voters. No one watching

And so, it started like any other Sunday.

The sun was out. The birds were singing. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone was mowing their lawn entirely too early, probably in the hopes of being assassinated by an ex-assassin turned congressman with a hangover and a questionable moral compass.

Bucky Barnes groaned, his face still buried in a pillow. He could already tell this day was going to be too long for someone who hadn’t even opened both eyes yet.

His bare feet found the floor reluctantly. He shuffled to the bathroom like Frankenstein’s monster after leg day, scratched the side of his scruffy jaw, and glanced in the mirror.

Hair? Chaotic.  

Eyes? Bloodshot.  

Metal arm? Making a weird clicking sound he chose to ignore.  

Mental state? Debatable.

He blinked at his reflection. “Okay,” he muttered. “We’re gonna be a functional adult today.”

—

Step 1: Coffee. Or Die.

The coffee machine in his kitchen sat smug and futuristic on the counter, mocking him with its glowing buttons and unnecessary levels of digital sass. It looked like it had been designed by Tony Stark just to spite him.

“How hard could this be?” he asked aloud, hitting a button labeled Brew Now.

The machine beeped angrily. He jabbed another. Something hissed. A nozzle moved. He jumped back like it had tried to bite him.

After a long moment of blinking lights and robotic whirring, coffee actually came out. Real, brown, hot coffee.

He took a cautious sip.

Promptly scalded his entire tongue.

He glared into the mug like it had betrayed him on a molecular level. “Okay. We’re awake now.”

—

Step 2: Yoga for Idiots and Former Killers

In theory, yoga sounded relaxing. Stretching. Deep breathing. Serenity. All things a war hero in Congress desperately needed.

He rolled out a mat in the living room, started a video titled “Gentle Beginner Yoga for Stiff People and the Chronically Tense”, and tried to copy the perky instructor who chirped things like “Open your heart to the universe!”

Bucky tried to open his heart. Ended up pulling his shoulder.

The “Happy Baby” pose made him feel like a cursed beetle. His legs wobbled. His arm thunked. He ended up on his back, blinking at the ceiling, wondering how far one had to spiral before they pulled a hamstring during child’s pose.

“This is fine,” he grunted. “I fought Thanos. I can handle this.”

The video chirped, “Breathe through the discomfort!”

“Lady, I’ve been doing that since 1943.”

—

Step 3: Laundry (a Shakespearean Tragedy in Three Cycles)

Laundry was next. That seemed safe.

He grabbed every piece of clothing in his hamper - dark socks, white shirts, that suspiciously patriotic boxer brief Sam had gifted him “for morale,” and one very expensive, very soft wool sweater - and shoved it all into the machine.

He paused.

Stared at a red hoodie sitting on top of the pile like a ticking time bomb.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and threw it in.

He hunted for detergent and found a bottle labeled “Lemon Shine Ultra Dish Foam.”

He squinted. “Soap is soap,” he declared with unwarranted confidence, and dumped it in.

The washer started. He walked away.

Five minutes later, bubbles were spilling out like the machine had rabies.

He stood in the hallway, staring at the soapy tide rising slowly across his floor. “This is how I die. Drowned in lemon-scented shame.”

But the true horror hadn’t revealed itself yet.

When the cycle ended, he opened the washer door and immediately knew he had done something irreversible.

Everything was pink.

Bright, shameful, Valentine’s-Day pink.

White shirts? Pink.

Socks? Pink.

Underwear? Flamingo-core.

And his sweater - 

He held it up slowly. It had shrunk to a size that might fit a squirrel. Maybe. If the squirrel was shredded.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no…”

He tugged it over his head anyway.

It clung to his torso like it had personal beef with him, squeezing his ribs like a blood pressure cuff and revealing just enough skin to make him uncomfortable.

He peeled it off with a grunt and hurled it into a corner.

“That’s what I get for trying to self-care.”

—

Step 4: Cleaning With Unchecked Enthusiasm

Bucky turned on his playlist - heavy on Springsteen and vaguely dramatic film scores - and committed to the one task he could do: cleaning.

Wearing only his underpants, socks, white tank top and a white button down shirt unbuttoned (which he told himself was for comfort and not for showing off), he glided across the floor like a low-budget version of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

He vacuumed under the couch. Under the dining table. He vacuumed with vengeance.

Then came the showstopper: he lifted the fridge.

Straight up.

With one arm.

Just to stare down the dust bunnies living in the shadows like they owed him rent.

“You mess with the best,” he growled, sucking them into the vacuum. “You get evicted.”

He flexed his vibranium arm with all the subtlety of a gym bro in an empty mirror.

Then immediately regretted it.

Maybe I should livestream this,” he thought. “Get that TikTok clout. Congressman Cleans.”

He made a note to never say “clout” again.

—

Step 5: Hot Wings (and Crimes Against Cotton)

Feeling like a domestic king, he decided to reward himself with lunch: hot wings. Because nothing said victory like buffalo sauce and burned tastebuds.

He still had the white shirt on.

He still didn’t change.

He should’ve changed.

He didn’t.

The sauce splattered like an abstract painting. One wing launched a projectile that landed squarely on his chest. The bright orange stain bloomed like a nuclear accident.

And somehow - somehow - there was sauce in his vibranium arm. Inside the joints.

He lifted it. It squelched.

“Absolutely not.”

Without hesitation, he removed the arm and marched it to the dishwasher.

“Wash cycle. Heavy duty. Go.”

He closed the door. Pressed start.

The arm clanked ominously.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

—

Step 6: The Lasagna Gamble

Realizing he was still hungry and now armless, Bucky dug a frozen lasagna from the depths of the freezer and shoved it into the oven with all the subtlety of a man abandoning a bad decision.

Timer set. Seemed safe.

He turned away.

—

Step 7: Cleaning Up Buffalo Carnage (One-Handed Edition)

He turned to face the scene of the crime. Hot wing sauce had claimed the kitchen like it was staking territory - on the counter, the walls, the floor, the cabinet handle, somehow the window, and of course, what remained of his dignity.

One arm down, he grabbed a sponge.

Which promptly slipped out of his hand and flopped onto the floor like a resigned fish.

He stared at it. “You’re not better than me.”

He bent to pick it up. Accidentally knocked over the bottle of hot sauce.

More splatter. Bright, blazing orange.

“Okay,” he muttered, digging in. “Let’s do this.”

He managed to smear the sauce around impressively with the sponge, trying to be strategic, but one-armed cleaning meant everything took three times as long and resulted in at least one drawer being opened with his teeth.

A paper towel got stuck to his elbow. The sponge flipped out of his grip and landed in the sink. He knocked a cup over trying to catch it.

He stopped, panting. Glared at the disaster zone.

“This is my villain origin story,” he mumbled, shaking hot sauce off his wrist.

---

Step 8: The Bathroom Adventure - Starring Only One Arm and a Dream

Still stubborn, still sweaty, and somehow still optimistic, Bucky moved to the bathroom.

“How bad can it be?” he muttered as he opened the door.

Answer: very bad. The kind of bad that deserved its own horror movie score. There was a layer of dust on the vent thick enough to support agriculture, ancient toothpaste fossils encrusting the sink, and something suspicious happening behind the toilet that he refused to acknowledge on a spiritual level.

He picked up the mirror spray with his flesh hand like a functional adult - and then immediately knocked it against the faucet. It ricocheted into the sink, bounced off the bowl, and exploded its soapy guts all over his one clean sock.

“Okay. That’s fine. We adapt. We evolve.”

He grabbed a rag and, for reasons known only to the ghosts of his 1940s upbringing, started scrubbing the counter with his forearm while still holding the rag in his hand like a sandwich. It worked, kind of, but mostly just made it look like he was slow-dancing with the vanity.

Then came the mopping.

This should’ve been simple. He had a working hand. He could’ve just… held the mop.

But no. No. He tucked the handle under his arm like he was about to joust a medieval toilet and went at it with the intensity of a man avenging a fallen comrade.

Predictably, he stepped on a puddle he forgot was there, both feet went out from under him like a cartoon, and he slammed his knee on the side of the tub with a thud that shook the shampoo bottles.

He laid there on the tile, staring at the vent he still hadn’t cleaned, one sock soggy, dignity leaking out like grout water.

“This is fine,” he muttered. “I’m thriving.”

---

Step 9: Reunited (And It Feels So Clean)

The dishwasher beeped.

He rose from the bathroom floor like a man reborn.

“Finally,” he muttered, limping into the kitchen.

The dishwasher door creaked open, releasing a warm, lemon-scented fog. His vibranium arm sat inside, sparkling, still slightly steamy, and gleaming like the sword of a freshly bathed knight.

He picked it up, shook off the moisture, and clicked it back into place with a satisfying click.

The fingers flexed and he rotated his arm just because it looked cool.

Bucky grinned. “Let’s finish what we started.”

He looked around at the chaos.

“…After I sit down for like… five minutes.”

 —

Step 9.5: Collapse Dramatically and Pretend You're Not Crying

Arm reattached. Victory claimed. Lemon scent lingering faintly in the air like a trophy.

Bucky stood in the middle of his kitchen, chest heaving from mild exertion and emotional damage. The world was quiet - too quiet - except for the occasional drip of sauce from somewhere behind the toaster.

He slowly backed out of the kitchen, arms at his sides like a war survivor, and fell backwards onto the couch like he’d just taken a sniper shot to the soul.

The cushions let out a whumph. He laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His body ached. His shirt was ruined. His bathroom smelled like cleaning chemicals and defeat. His laundry had undergone a pink renaissance. His only clean sock was still soggy from the sink.

The vibranium arm twitched in agreement.

He sighed so hard it moved the curtain.

“I used to be feared,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Now I fear mop handles.”

He laid there for a while. Long enough to question everything.

Then his eyes tracked up… to the ceiling fan.

A new enemy revealed.

“…Right,” he muttered, sitting up with the resolve of a man preparing for battle. “You’re next.”

---

Step 10: Gravity is a Liar (The Ceiling Fan Incident)

The ceiling fan.. was dusty.

And just out of reach.

He didn’t have a step stool.

So he jumped.

Repeatedly.

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger, current Congressman, was doing vertical leaps in his living room swatting at a ceiling fan with a sock.

It went as expected. He whacked it once, twice, dust exploded everywhere like a mushroom cloud, falling on the carpet and floor he just vacuumed and he fell back on his ass, coughing.

“Cleaning is violence” He muttered.

—

Step 11: Irony (and Actual Irons)

Remembering he had a press conference tomorrow, Bucky grabbed his last clean shirt and started ironing.

He plugged in the iron. Set up the board. Gave the shirt a hopeful pat. Glided the iron over with his vibranium hand - straight onto his flesh fingers.

“SON OF A - !”

He screamed, dropped the iron, hopped around the kitchen. Waved his hand like that would somehow help.

Then - 

Ding dong.

The door creaked open.

There stood his neighbor from 3B. Gorgeous. Leggings. Holding a container.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to bother - could I borrow some sugar?”

Bucky froze.

Burned fingers. Sauce-stained shirt. The iron - still on - resting peacefully on the shirt he’d just been ironing.

They both turned toward it.

It now had a massive, smoking hole.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

Then - 

BEEP.

The oven.

“OH NO.”

He dashed to the kitchen, opened the oven, and was hit with the combined scent of cremated lasagna and shame.

Smoke filled the air. The shirt was ruined. His dignity evaporated.

He stood there, singed, covered in dust and sauce, with lasagna that could be used as a weapon.

It was time to surrender.

---

Bucky: Hey Sam

Sam: Hey Bucky

What did you set on fire

Bucky: Why is that your first question

Sam: Because it’s you

And it’s Sunday

And I feel it in my soul

Bucky: Okay well

I may have overcooked a lasagna

Destroyed a shirt

Turned my underwear pink

Burned my fingers

And also the laundry room is… foamy

Sam: …how foamy

Bucky: Picture a rabid dishwasher with dreams of expansion

Sam: my God

Bucky: Also I put my arm in the dishwasher

Sam: WHAT

Bucky: There was sauce

Inside the elbow joint

I panicked

Sam: You are a federal official

Bucky: A federal official with buffalo-scented prosthetics

Sam: I’m ordering you a pizza

And possibly an adult supervisor

Bucky: Make it pepperoni

And tell the delivery guy not to judge me

Sam: No promises

---

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a normal Sunday in the life of Congressman Bucky Barnes.

Public figure. War hero.  

Domestic menace.

[cosmicdream222]

Welcome ✨

Call me Cosmic. she/her. Millennial.

I blog about manifesting, loa, reality shifting, the void, etc. If that isn’t your cup of tea, peace out 👽 Asks & DMs are open as long as you are kind & respectful but please read through the FAQ before asking anything!

★ About me ★

I started making aff tapes & subliminals for myself & sharing them here on tumblr in the fall of 2023, and began posting on yt in April 2024.

YouTube channel 📌Previous pinned

Void, shifting & loa stuff compiled from others

The void explained in an old reiki book

An interview with a shifter who has been time-leaping since 2001

The void explained by a lucid dreaming instructor

Near-death experience & manifesting

Misc inspiration from loa twitter

More motivation from loa twitter

Just desire, intend & know it's possible

The universe is a giant hologram

You already have it all

Master Shifter Love Remix Series

How shifting works (the whole package)

Shifting is a law - so treat it like one

Shifting is the least special thing in the world

Shifting/manifesting is not your job

You deserve everything you want

Vanilla explains: Past Lives, Death & Afterlives

Resources, Challenges & Methods

DMT breathwork to enter the void

Wake up with your dream life: affirm & relax challenge

EFT tapping script

Manifesting is not a process challenge

What is Psych-k?

The Phase Basics

SSILD for lucid dreaming

Tips for lucid dreaming

Dream life script Google doc template

My OG void concept aff tape

My Void state subs on Google drive

Full desired appearance & beauty sub

Saturating session with my cats

FAQ: Read these before sending a question!

"Can I manifest...?"

YES. It doesn't matter what it is: the answer is always yes. You can manifest anything you want. Anything!

I will no longer be answering any questions about deadlines/time

About me & my personal experiences & successes

The time I entered the void before I knew what the void was

How do you personally manifest?

Have you entered the void?

Backstory about me and this blog

A quick example on affirming to combat negative thoughts

Success: reconnected with sp after 8+ yrs NC

My mom got super fast subliminal results?!

Manifesting/shifting/void 101

What is the state of the wish fulfilled?

A reminder not to create stories around unwanted circumstances

What is the void?

How do we manifest?

States are not a method

Persisting does not mean repetition

How do I persist properly?

Does robotic affirming work?

What is a saturating session?

Is birds before land a thing?

How do I improve my visualization skills?

How can I manifest in a scientifically proven way?

Doubts/fears/troubleshooting

The void is hard for me, any tips?

How can shifting be simple when it’s so hard for me?

Is shifting real?

What happens to my current self after shifting?

When we manifest are we shifting to a new reality?

When I manifest something, will other people see it too?

How long does it take to see results?

How can I stop obsessing about results?

I’m scared I’m abandoning/betraying people in this reality when I shift/enter the void

Why do some people fail?

What am I doing wrong?

I have doubts, what if this doesn’t work?

How do I convince the logical part of myself?

How can I ignore my toxic/negative circumstances?

What should I do if I’m overthinking?

Funnies :)

The affirming carrot

Me not reacting to 3D circumstances like

[theharkmonologue]

There’s something both very funny and kind of cosmically terrifying about CHEF from Risk of Rain. You land on this planet of strange creatures, giant crabs and very angry birds, that you try desperately to escape from…but to this guy? They’re just ingredients.

Imagine you’re a sentient mushroom creature, of which this planet has many, a drop pod crashes out of the sky and this robot climbs out of it and starts throwing cleavers with wild precision and blasting flame from the oven in its chest because it’s only directives are DICE and SEAR. That’s like, the worst case scenario for a sentient mushroom creature.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hope Mikaelson with a fem!reader that is the last siren alive and have hydrokinesis

splash

Flufftober, October 9th

Female siren reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: none

A/n: For anyone who may or may not know what hydrokinesis is, as I did, it's the power of water manipulation and controlling it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you sit on a rock by the falls, you create a spiral of water and make it float in the air. You need some time away from the school.

Everyone found out about you being a siren, thankfully nothing about your hydrokinesis, but it really sucked. Especially since Alaric is quite literally making it his personal mission to make your life a living hell over the past week since it was revealed. Apparently for 'lying' about your specie type even though he never asked you and just assumed you were a witch.

He obviously didn't think there were any sirens left alive after Sybil and Selene. Which he definitely didn't appreciate you bringing that up when he went off at you, yelling about how you were a 'disgrace'.

The only person you told about yourself was Hope, your girlfriend. She'd been away in New Orleans with her family when it happened and she's still there.

At least that's what you thought until you heard the sounds of footsteps, someone's walking up behind you. You turn around, letting the water water back into the river from the air.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see it's Hope. You jump down from the rock and walk into her open arms. She wraps her arms around you tightly as you cling to her. You bask in her warmth. Finally someone who's not staring at you as if you were missing your head.

You breathe in her scent of floral perfume and tropical shampoo. "I missed you" You mumble into her neck. "I missed you too." She squeezes you before pulling away slowly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when it all happened" She holds your hands in her own. Josie filled her in on what happened when she got back to the school this morning.

She was shocked you hadn't phoned or texted her about it. Honestly, she does get why you hadn't, it must've been really overwhelming and you didn't want to bother her. She's been trying to slowly get you to open up to her, it's a working progress.

She had been searching the entire school for you until she realized where you'd obviously be. Your favorite place in Mystic Falls, the falls. You took her there on your guys' date when you told her about your powers and about being a siren.

"It's alright, I didn't I want to bother you. You don't get much time with your family" You muster up a soft smile. "Well, it isn't everyday your girlfriend's secret is exposed. At least half exposed." She tells you.

"Who told you?" You sigh, you really didn't want Hope to feel sorry for you. "Josie did. And I don't want you to think I'm just doing this because I feel sorry for you" She tells you.

You snap your eyes back up from gazing at her hair, "How'd you, what, can you read minds?" You try not to stutter.

"You have that look in your eyes" Hope tells you and brings your right hand up, placing a kiss to it. You tilt your head in a questioning way. "What?" Her eyebrows furrow.

"I'm trying to figure out if you're a robot or not" You tell her with no joke in your voice. "Ahuh, very funny" Hope chuckles before leading you over to the water.

"How are you, really?" She links her arm with yours. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts while watching the water fall.

"I'm not saying I'm okay, but it will be. I know it will be. I just need to wait for everything to die down at the school." You explain softly to her as birds chirp in the background.

"Thank you for being honest with me" She rests her head against your shoulder. "Of course. You know I don't try to lie to you, right?" You ask her in a quiet voice, almost whisper.

"Yes, I do, Babe. I know you don't" She holds onto your arm. "Good. So you'll forgive me this then" A mischief glint appears in your eyes, not that your girlfriend can see.

"What are you talking about- hey!" She exclaims when you pick her up and then run into the river, splashing both of you into the cold water. "Oh, I am so gonna kill you!" She splashes water towards you after you drop her in front of you (safely, don't worry).

"You're gonna have to catch me first" You smirk and dive into the water, swimming deeper into the river. "You're on" She chuckles and swims after you.

She shreds the water out of her way as she tries keeping up with you. Though, she realizes it's basically useless. You slow your pace down and stop, turning around to take pity on your tribrid girlfriend.

"You okay, Baby?" You stifle your chuckle at your panting girlfriend as she slowly crawls her way over to you.

"Okay, no fair, you're basically a mermaid" She pants, wrapping her arms around your neck, and legs around your torso to hold herself up in the water.

"And I just realized how out of shape I am" She lets out a massive puff of breath. "Oh, please, if you're out of shape, then I'm a pirate" you raise an eyebrow, making her laugh.

She then takes in your appearance, your eyes look so beautiful and your wet hair makes you look gorgeous with how it falls down by your face.

Before she knows it, she leans in and passionately kisses you. You wrap your arms around her waist as your kiss your girlfriend back. She whines when you pull away. "Why?" She pouts to you.

"I'm sorry, Baby, it's getting late, we should probably be heading back to the circus ring" you tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She looks down at your guys' clothing, she then pauses. "We're soaking wet" She states. "Yes we are" a smile quirks at your lips.

"We're soaking wet in our clothing." She tells you, her eyes widened. "It's alright, I promise you we can snuggle all night" You promise as you start to walk out of the body of water.

You carry her all the way out of the water to the giant rock you we're resting upon earlier. "I'm gonna hold you to it" She mumbles as she's set down back on the ground.

"I don't doubt it" You wrap an arm around her shoulder.

When you notice Hope shivering, you raise your hand and all the water raises from both your bodies, hair, and clothing. And then swish them back into the river.

"There, a little bit warmer" You kiss her cheek.

[rosescarletful]

A Kiss for the Moment

A short drabble for @amarynthian-chronicles's fic Tip the Scales

Enjoy!

Metal hands with wicked claws slide slowly up your shirt. Gentle and tender, in worship of your skin. He is oh so careful to mind his claws, face plate bent towards you. 

You stare back at him, nonplussed. "We have hardly a few minutes, Judge." Despite this, goosebumps trail after his fingertips where they press your spine.

"They can wait." His voice is low, soft. "I hardly get to spend even a moment with my darling." He presses closer, rays sinking in so he can kiss your neck gently. You take a sharp breath, clutching onto his shoulders in reflex. 

"The stars do not compare to the shine in your eyes," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck. "Your voice outshines any song bird, sharp as a whip crack. How I long to feel its burn." You bite your lip while your shirt is gently pulled aside. He lavishes attention on your collarbones, kissing and biting. 

He reaches down and eases your legs apart, the desire to be closer evident in the uptick of his fans. He'd crawl into your skin if he could, but he settles on pulling your body into the cradle of his arms. 

"Judge Eclipse, the recess is over," a bailiff calls out. You delight in the way he clicks his tongue in distaste, like a child that was just told to share. You lean back and stare at him pointedly, eyebrow raised. Sure, you could just push his arms away, but its more fun watching him wrestle with his desire to hold you and maintaining order in the court. 

The pause is long enough that the bailiff leaves. This isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. 

"Sun and Moon are going to bang down the door if we don't go back." As much as these doors are antiques, it would be pretty funny, so you keep your hold on Eclipse. He flat out ignores you in favor of running a hand down your thighs.

"They can have you later," he grouses. He has a hard time sharing, and covers you with marks on the way to see them. Watching the brother's pupils dilate when they realize who exactly covered you in hickeys never fails to excite you. 

"Alright then, judge." You reach up and grab his face plate, grinning when he sinks his rays in for you. He stares at you in rapt attention, the center of his vision. "Kiss me. Do it well, and you may just see me later, darling." Hearts form in his optics, and that's all the warning you get before he's flattened you to the table to kiss you senseless. You wrap your arms behind his neck and hold on for dear life, gasping in between each demanding kiss. 

He kisses you like he needs it to breathe, despite being a robot that does not need air. It's exhilarating, making you tilt your head to deepen the kiss to something more long and sensual. 

The door bangs open moments later, unheeded in Eclipse's desire to claim your mouth. You slap at his back and bang your heel into his spine to get him off, Eclipse finally separating from you to glare at the interruption. 

"Recess has been over for twenty minutes!" Sun crosses his arms, staring disapprovingly at you both. Moon only has eyes for you, currently half buried in Eclipse's arms. You roll your eyes and shimmy out from underneath him, popping up to placate the irate prosecutors. 

"It was only twenty minutes. Surely you needed that extra time to practice your rebuttals?" An evil grin spreads up your face, and with that, you take your leave. Arguing ensues behind your back. 

Ah, it's hard having three boyfriends.

[lemonlemonfry]

In defense of newer Zane...

I know a lot of people don't like Zane's more recent depictions, and that's totally ok!! I just wanted to kinda share my own views and opinions on the situation...

Zane definitely has changed since his original depiction — all the characters have — a common complaint towards that change is his loss of "humanity."

This is an understandable issue! It's very important to Zane's character that him being a nindroid doesn't mean he is not a person; that he lacks love, feelings, and personality.

But that phrasing is where I think the root of the issue rises. Zane isn't human. He is still a person, yeah, but he is fundamentally different from Homo sapiens. His body is made of metal rather than flesh. His thoughts and memories are contained within computers rather than a brain. The way he sees the world is quite literally different from any human.

Zane's self-identity isn't about denying the fact that he is a robot. It is about embracing it whilst not letting it define him in its entirety; ie. he can be both a robot and a person.

As the seasons of Ninjago go on, we see Zane travel more and more towards actions indicative of his robotic nature. Many see this as his person-hood being left in the dust, but I personally see it as him being comfortable.

He's okay with the way he interacts with the world because by now, no one will see him act that way and think less of him.

Even more, when fighting with Pixal, Zane and her speak to each other in a way that feels comfortable and in sync to them. Because it doesn't matter if anyone else can understand what they are saying, they are able to cater specifically to each other. They both know what it is like to be an android, it is part of why they are so compatible.

I know it is by no means new information, but Zane being a nindroid is basically a glaringly obvious autism metaphor, and I think that view on things is why I don't mind Zane being more robotic as much.

A person having less obvious emotions or speaking in the way that makes more sense to them, however odd, those things don't make them not a person anymore.

I also just personally enjoy seeing characters with traditionally villainized or dehumanized traits be treated as protags and heroes.

Well, that's the way I see it, but there's probably a more real explanation that is a bit less meaningful. Kids think it's funny. My 9 year old sister laughs when Zane says something more robotic. As much as we all despise the "dancing at birds" line in dr s3 it was probably there to make kids laugh. Ultimately, Ninjago is a kid's show and they are going to cater to their target audience regardless of the potential impact it has on the characters or plot.