#normal picture made to move by ai

[independentanon]

"EVERYTHING IS NORMAL" "THEY'RE █████████ THE INTERNET!"

Sometimes you'll notice changes being quietly made to your favorite internet services. Be it a video platform, your search engine of choice, your favorite social network, or wherever you go to buy the things you need or want. Sometimes you'll also see changes in advertisements that were, suspiciously, only relevant to your own unique situation.

You know it in your gut that something definitely changed, but it was only worth mentioning in conversation. "This changed for me, did it happen to you too?" Some of these changes are experienced by everyone all at once, but others are limited to specific groups, and sometimes are rolled out in staggered waves, meaning only some people are affected at different points in time. By the time the change is fully implemented - when every person targeted for this change is affected - it doesn't even matter anymore. The companies making these changes could report them publicly if they wanted to, and all people could do in response is be annoyed by it but eventually accept it and move on. The idea of "boiling the frog" comes to mind.

Our services have been getting worse in some ways, better in others, but there's undoubtedly some changes that are bad for everyone but the companies supplying these internet services (and sometimes, secretly, the governments of various countries around the world).

For me, personally, I've noticed changes to Meta (Facebook), to Google (and its services, Google Maps and YouTube), to ChatGPT, to Twitter - oh sorry, to "X", and many more. These changes are relatively small and are mostly unnoticeable... but I noticed them, just like all the other little changes they've quietly rolled out over the years. However, these changes feel a bit more insidious.

With Meta (Facebook for me), it was that they started suppressing accounts that frequently posted political content. This became most obvious during and after the 2024 election.

With Google, it was how it seems to bury certain content that's relevant to your given search, such as proof - one way or another - that something was happening with our politicians that's valuable knowledge to the public, but apparently isn't relevant enough to be on the very first page (or is simply hidden away entirely). This isn't even mentioning that Google modified its maps service so The Gulf of Mexico now reads The Gulf of America...

With YouTube, it's how it prioritizes click-bait, rage-bait, heavily-one-sided discussions of political topics, rather than pushing the very proof (or at least the very best evidence) that paints the clearest picture these overblown discussions are about. It's clear they're prioritizing watch time and engagement instead of truth.

With ChatGPT, I knew they had to control their generative text AI behind-the-scenes for certain situations (naturally you don't want your service to be generating stuff like "kill yourself," hate speech, lies, etc...), but recently it seemed to change its sources when looking up news online, to the point that it now paints a favorable image of Trump and his people.

And Twitter... sorry, with X... well, I shouldn't even need to explain this one, but I will try. The richest man in the world bought Twitter, changed how some of the back-end works, dramatically changed which voices were suppressed and which ones were heard, allowing hate speech and misinformation to spread freely on the platform, even promoting misinformation directly by retweeting it... there's a lot to it, but just know that Twitter used to be less shitty than it is now. Now it's really bad.

The point I'm making is that a lot of these changes happened around or soon after the 2024 election, and the people controlling these companies showed up to Trumps inauguration. On top of their million dollar donations to Trump, they're also doing work on his behalf to mask what awful things him and his people are doing while simultaneously promoting the things that make them look good. In short, information is becoming less accessible.

All of this, of course, is ignoring what Trump and his people have done to our government-provided websites and services, like removing the constitution and more from whitehouse.gov, how they're scrubbing decades of data from the CDC, etc...

The worst part about all this is I don't know if I could even prove anything anymore. These changes have made it difficult to know what services can be trusted going forward.

These are terrifying times. If the censorship was bad before, it's so much worse now.

Although I'd usually go out and protest with these signs, I've decided not to do it with these ones. I'd practically be an actor or an NPC, repeating the same visual joke over and over. These are my first signs I won't protest with. At least, for now.

Nonetheless, don't forget to fly your flags upside-down, boys and girls and non-binary types. Stay safe, and fuck Trump & Co!

[muffinman1st]

Ribbun Week: Day six (Comedy (Fluff))

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61210300

The entire cast had gathered in the closest thing to a living room in the circus, a large rug with colorful couches. Each of them lounged on one of the couches with popcorn in hand and lights dimmed.

They have gathered for a relatively new activity. A lot had changed since Caine got access to the internet, mostly for the better. After a lot of convincing, team building was what finally convinced the ringmaster, and they got something to help feel normal again.

Movie night.

So far they had yet to make a proper schedule, only meeting once every couple of nights after a less exhausting adventure. Nothing had happened to ruin the event either, even though Ragatha’s choice of movies needed to be screened after her selected horror nearly made Gangle and Pomni a panic attack.

Ragath and Pomni were sharing a blanket and chatted on the center couch, guessing what they’d be watching today. Zooble lying on the lefthand couch, trying to relax, as Jax sat on the opposing sofa and threw popcorn over the tiny pillow fort with Kinger inside at her. Soon enough the special lady of the even appeared with Caine to share her selection.

“HELLO EVERYONE! ARE YOU EXCITED FOR YOUR MARVALOUS MOTION PICTURE?!” Caine bellowed in his usual excitement.

“Yeah, yeah just tell us what we’re here for.” Jax turned his attention, and aimed, toward them

“I’M GLAD YOU ASKED,” He pointed a gloved finger at Jax, “TODAY YOU’LL HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF VIEWING NAU- *ACK!*” Caine’s grandiose reveal was interrupted by a kernel to his mouth… head?

“Bullseye!” Jax cheered.

“*HACK!* hmmm, needs salt *HACK!*” He paused mid choke to critique the flavor.

As Caine continued to spin mid-air choking he started floating higher and higher until he was out of sight and hearing. Gangle was stunned and silent until the AI disaster was away before turning to the others to try and pick up where their ringmaster left off while keeping an eye on Jax.

“Um, as-as he was saying I picked ‘Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind’. I hope you like it.” She announced.

As the screen behind Gangle turned on she quickly made her way towards the empty seat next to Jax. Everyone quickly moved their attention to watch it, eager to see it for the first time. Gangle was right along with them even if she had seen it enough to memorize the dialogue.

Well, except Jax. He had barely gotten up to any hijinks today and was looking to rectify that. Throwing popcorn got boring after Zooble just started eating it, so he turned his attention towards his favorite target.

He was limited on means though, Ragatha made sure he left all his prank supplies in his room so he wouldn’t ruin movie night. Pokes got no reaction as she was absorbed into the screen so he turned to one of the most cruel things he could do during movie night. He tried to swipe her blanket. 

Unfortunately for him, Gangle barely registered it and simply moved with it so she could keep watching. This led to an unforeseen situation as Gangle scooched against Jax and was currently leaning against him, completely unaware of the stunned state she had Jax in. Jax was very aware of it as he kept his arms up, unable to move without pushing the ribbon girl, and looking around as if he could find a solution for his predicament. 

He caught Zooble’s attention who upon seeing between a rock and a hard place just giggled and left him to his fate. Unable to move without alerting anyone else Jax was forced to sit still and behave for the next hour and a half, which became a new record.

When the movie finally reached its conclusion and the lights brightened up Gangle finally moved to eagerly discuss the movie with everyone. Jax being freed was quick to make his escape, much to everyone besides Zooble’s confusion.

Notes: Jax's experience with girls starts and ends at putting gum in their hair.

[starker-raving-mads]

For you: Part V

This is the part I was waiting for. :)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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Peter hadn't slept a wink in two days.

"Baby, come on, you're scaring me here," Aunt May said, frown firmly on her face as she ran her hands through the teen's hair. Peter had been at their small dining table, coffee in hand, bags under his eyes, when May woke up, took one look at him, and realized his insomnia had kicked in again. "Is it the noises again?"

Peter often couldn't sleep because the city was too loud. Even louder now than it had been before, because there was so much more construction and angry shouting from people still trying to make space for themselves in a world that had been half empty a few months ago. That wasn't why he couldn't sleep this time, his mind too entrenched in Tony Stark missed you to shut down. He hummed in agreement to Aunt May, though. Let her think it's the sound, there's no way he could possibly explain the reality.

She pet his hair for another minute, soothing the both of them in the same ritualistic maternal way she always had, before she took his face in both her hands and made him look at her.

"You need to get some sleep," she said, tone firm. "And I know you can't just - turn off the Spider-Man thing," she huffed before he could protest. "But maybe - maybe you could sleep in the penthouse. I know it's quieter there than it is here." She sounded hesitant saying it, and Peter knew why.

Despite it having been months since the will reading and his life having been irrevocably changed, despite feeling comfortable with what was left of the Avengers and spending time in Tony's - his - lab, he hadn't set foot into the penthouse. It felt too raw. Too intimate. Too much.

"No, May, I'll be fine," he protested weakly. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, thankful it would be months yet before his first semester at Columbia started. He could get a hold of himself by then, right?

"Peter Parker," May's voice was sharp. "I will not have you getting yourself sick because of this. If you can't find a way to nap today, here, you're going to spend the night at the penthouse I don't care what you have to say, mister."

That was how, 12 hours later, he found himself at the elevator exit to the Stark Tower penthouse, bag of clothes in hand.

"Mother, would you like to come in?" Friday asked. Her tone was curious, not sure why Peter had just been standing inside the open elevator when the door to the Penthouse was right there. Humans were strange.

"I - yeah, sure, baby girl, sorry," he said, shaking his head.

If being in Mr. Stark's labs was enough to make his inner voice echo he missed you, he missed you, he missed you then being in his penthouse was enough for it to say you miss him right back. The living room was much the same as the last time he'd seen it, though a little sparser. Pictures of Tony and Pepper were now missing, the random pieces of artwork that had lined the walls were conspicuous in their absence, and the caddy that normally held his favorite, ultra-soft blanket he used during movie nights was gone.

He set his bag down on the sleek waterfall counter of the open kitchen and wandered the space, feeling Tony's absence like a discordant note in a song.

"Friday, what happened to - Mr. Stark's stuff?" he asked, not really sure how to phrase the question. There was a lot missing there, like the blankets, some of the pillows, even Mr. Stark's desk.

"Boss moved a lot of the items that were here out when he and Ms. Potts officially moved to the cabin," the AI said before continuing. "Then, after his death and the will reading, Ms. Potts sent movers up to retrieve last minute items."

He frowned.

"Lock everything down that belongs to me, that was Mr. Stark's," he asked. "I don't want anyone coming in or out without my express permission. I don't like the thought of her taking things that don't belong to her."

"Yes, Mother. If you would like, I can send a request through official channels to get any missing items back?"

He sighed. "No," he grumbled. "It's fine, I don't think anything serious was taken - she didn't grab any of the tech did she?"

"No, it was primarily artwork, sculptures, furniture, and other such items," Friday replied. "There were a few things, like blankets, books, and vinyl records she also retrieved. I am sorry if anything was taken that you had wished to remain, Mother." The intelligence sensed his slight distress and her tone had shifted to slightly sorrowful.

"It's fine, sweetheart," he sighed. "You didn't know and it wasn't anything too important."

He walked the rest of the penthouse, the floor very familiar to him. He had his own room here from crashing after too-late lab binges, and sometimes he and Tony would skip the lab all together for a 'day off' and watch movies, order pizza, and just relax. Not every hallway or room had memories, but enough did to the point that the reminders were becoming more of a dull ache than the sharp stabs he'd been expecting.

Walking down the hallway where the bedrooms were, he peered into his own. Officially it was a guest room, but it had been Peter's for long enough that a few of his clothes were stuffed into the drawers of the dresser, one of his favorite pillows was tossed onto the bed, and his old, half-broken laptop was on the desk. He smiled softly. His new laptop - still new to him, despite it having been months (years) in his possession - had come from Mr. Stark after he'd watched Peter fix his DIY one too many times.

"Here, kid," the older man had said, thunking down a sleek piece of silver tech in front of him. "I'm tired of watching you try to bring Frankenstein to life over here."

"You mean Frankenstein's Monster," Peter had replied, smiling up at the man playfully. Tony rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh before walking away. "Thank you, sir!"

"Yeah, yeah, just try to keep your Monster away from me." A wink, and he was on the other side of the room.

Stepping away from his room, he walked further down the hallway, to an area of the penthouse he'd never actually explored - Mr. Stark's bedroom. And, realistically, it was Mr. Stark's. He knew that Ms. Potts had infinitely preferred the brownstone that she was left in Manhattan to the sleek, open views of the penthouse. Peter didn't think he'd ever seen her around the apartment, and from what Mr. Stark said, she'd only stayed over in the early days of their relationship and hadn't spent time here after it became Avenger Tower, and then Stark Tower again.

Peter couldn't really bring himself to feel bad about being so happy over that fact, either when he learned it, or now, as he opened up Tony's bedroom and walked inside.

The room was low-lit, with most of the light coming from the entire wall of windows to one side, city lights gleaming in like stars. There was a patio with a hot tub just outside the barrier of the windows and the silent, faint muffle of city life beyond. This room, in particular, was quiet. Peter had to wonder if it was actually more soundproofed than the rest of the penthouse, or if it was just in his head.

The bed was made, all dark wood and metal platform with deep blue-gray sheets on top. The comforter was probably the softest thing he'd ever felt and god, the smell. It felt like Tony had just left the room, smell lingering across every surface - rich, spicy and musky. Something indulgent and instinctual made Peter toe off his shoes and, still fully dressed, get into the bed.

He covered his head with the blankets and laid in the silent dark, surrounded by Mr. Stark - his scent, his belongings, feeling like he was finally where he was meant to be. His throat closed up with emotions he barely willed away.

Uncovering his head again, he said to Friday, "Fri, turn out the lights and wake me up at 9?", before shimmying out of his jeans. He laid there for a long time before, at long last, sleep took him.

For the first time since he returned from the Blip - and to be honest, probably from before then too - he had no nightmares. No buildings crushing him, no existential pain of being disintegrated, no Mr. Stark covered in blood, light dying in his eyes.

Instead, he was surrounded in warmth and an amazing scent. His senses tingled in the best way, like everything was as it should be. Mind quiet, muscles finally losing their tension. It was perfect.

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Over the course of the next month, Peter split his time pretty evenly between his and May's apartment and Tony's penthouse. He loved May, and he didn't want to leave her alone after so long, but there was something that just felt right about being at the penthouse. She seemed to understand, and said that as long as he still came by to see her a few times a week and they talked on the phone every day that she wouldn't begrudge him the independence. It was a relief to her, he thought, to see him becoming more stable rather than wallowing in depression.

This was probably the biggest change, thus far, since becoming Tony's heir. That, the amount of messages Friday received bugging him for interviews with any and all media outlets, and working on Tony's 'Peter Project.'

A few days after stumbling on the billionaire's research into recreating organic intelligence, Peter decided to pick the project back up again. No matter that it made his heart squeeze almost painfully, he felt like he had to complete it. It was the man's last big effort and it felt wrong to leave it undone.

He'd spent most of his free time - when not with May, his friends, or patrolling - pouring over the data. He couldn't quite figure out why Mr. Stark had ceased his efforts as once Peter found the digital files for the project it looked as if the man had been practically finished.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, he asked, "Baby girl, I swear he made this difficult on purpose. Why did Mr. Stark stop looking into this?"

Could it simply have been that once it was within the man's grasp that it hurt too much to complete?

"Boss was unable to gather enough data that represented the you variable in the Peter Project to continue," she replied.

"What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"The amount of information that needs to be analyzed simply was not enough," Friday explained. "The algorithm to extrapolate and recreate your personality, intelligence, and mannerisms needed approximately 130,000 hours of footage, metabolic data, and other such information before being able to provide a close approximation of what makes Peter, Peter."

The teen did the math in his head before his eyes widened. "15 years??"

"That is correct, Mother," there was that amusement laced within the AI's tone again. If Peter was right, it was happening more often. It made him proud to see his little AI start to grow up. "And since you are only 18 years old currently, this would have been an impossible task. Ideally, the 15 years worth of data would have been collected post-adolescence, as well, to cement what was Peter from what was Little Peter."

Peter hummed in understanding, leaning back into the couch. He crossed his arms behind his head and sat thinking for long, long moments as ideas formed in his head.

He sat upright as something occurred to him.

"Friday?" he asked, nerves making his voice waver.

"Yes, Mother?"

"How much data do you have on Mr. Stark? Like - " he gulped before continuing " - like the data needed for the Peter Project?"

She paused before saying, "As I have access to Jarvis's data as well as my own, I have approximately 144,540 hours of appropriate data."

His nerves tingled, every fiber of his being screaming at him - stop, go, do, don't. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But - but it was a way to get Mr. Stark back. Some semblance of him. A fairly accurate representation, at least, right?

"What's the latest data that you have access to for Mr. Stark?" he asked instead of saying what he really, really shouldn't. He would stop here and now if it was pre-Blip. He couldn't bring a Tony back that didn't have those -

"The final files I have appropriate for this measure are concurrent with the fight against Thanos," Friday said helpfully. "Technically speaking, as well, if you allow me to access Karen's records I would be able to shore up my data with that which was obtained via her recordings."

His heart stopped. Then, it raced.

"Okay baby," he finally said, mind running a million miles an hour now, standing and rushing to his desk. His hands flew, opening new files and folders, copying data, working. "We're opening a new project and I want you to copy over all the data from the Peter Project to it, okay?"

"Yes, Mother." Friday paused, deliberating. "May I ask what this is in reference to?"

"Yeah," he said, mind already ten steps ahead. "We're going to bring Mr. Stark back. Name the new project 'Tony Only Needs You'."

TONY.

[maplemacaronz]

Alrighty, so I think I know which fanfic is gonna win, so here’s a little teaser of what I have. It’s not proofread at all, and I want to expand more at some parts but I just wanted to post my progress to hopefully motivate me to finish it lol. Also, should I keep with second person POV? Or would y’all prefer first or third person?

Picture Perfect Boyfriend, a seemingly normal dating sim sent for you to review. However, it turned out to be anything but that. After going on several dates with the characters, you learned that this wasn’t an ordinary game. No, it was an AI simulation made by a company called the BAiHR. The BAiHR had wanted to use this program to test how love could form between humans and AI, to see if they could learn to love. You found the answer, but it was a bit different than they were probably expecting.

Booting up the game, you choose the Cafe to visit the colorful cast of Ai you now call your friends. As the Cafe loads in, it looks like only Kadsey and Ashton were there, sitting across from each other in deep discussion.

…maybe this wasn’t the best time to visit, you think as the two move closer to one another. A surprise you had found while playing, was that the two “single” bachelors were not as single as the Bureau thought. The two had been secretly dating for months behind the Bureau’s back somehow. Made it a bit awkward on your “dates” with them, but they turned out to be chill, and more curious towards the human world than anything. Especially Ashton, with the two of you researching ways to bring the main cast to the human world. In fact, that was the whole point of your visit, to see if he had found anything yet.

Sighing, you leave the game, letting Ashton and Kadsey have their privacy. Still, your mind begins to wonder, what secrets does this Bureau hide? Creating sentient AI, for what, making a dating sim? There’s not a logical reason that you can think of why they’d do this, especially in this sort of way. Maybe you could dig through the files a bit to find out? Though, you don’t want to mess with Glory or your friends too much in a way that could alert the Bureau to your digging.

As you scroll through the game files, your mouse lands on the recycling bin. Shrugging, you decide to look, to see if anything that was deleted could be used to piece this mystery together. Something weird happens, as when you open it, it doesn’t open like a normal folder. Instead, your screen shows some kind of black void, with the files thrown about here and there. Confused, you look around in the void, scrolling into different files that look interesting. Your search comes to an abrupt halt however, as a glitchy figure of black hair and red eyes stares at you, alarmed.

He looks… familiar.

Too familiar.

You know he is, but at the same time you don’t.

Cautiously, you speak out, “Ashton…?”

“…YOU.”

[gaiathewildanimal]

Hello I’m back. Still working on a sequel for my Digital Stars AU the sequel but I’m kind of low on Showtime AU ideas at the moment so I came up with this idea and thought why not do one where Pomni comes to the circus as an ai moon and i decided to give Caine a nice curly mustache as well to make him look handsome. In this photo edit I made they’re both very nervous and are blushing cause they like each other! 💖💐🥰 I haven’t started finishing my sequel Digital Stars AU yet. I’m thinking on starting on it soon on notes but I don’t feel like I have the courage at the moment so I’m a taking a rest for a while. But I’m thinking on starting on it again anytime soon! ☺️ Anway here’s the picture of the new AU I was just thinking about! 🤩 The

DigitalStars AU is kind of like a Beastars parody but this Showtime AU is very different! 😅 Anyway here’s the photo edit of the fanfiction that I will start writing on notes! 😅

This is called The Showtime Midnight AU! ✨🌙 I just decided to change Caine and Pomnis designs a bit since I want this au to be very simple. Most of the stuff are pretty much the same. Same circus tent they live in and looks exactly like the original Digital Circus except this is a whole different universe and Caine and Pomnis designs I changed a bit. Caine has a mustache and Pomni is now an ai moon. In this AU Pomni has the ability to fly around unlike Moon who is always put for her. I though this would make sense since she needs to be able to move around so she can hang out with Caine.

Anways the Caine x Pomni Showtime Midnight AU is basically about romance and hotels and now Caine and Pomni started dating and getting together. The whole story plot is that Pomni was once a human in the normal world but despite being an ai moon when coming to the circus she was still able to have a past life. The whole plot is that she feels a bit dodgy around the energetic ringmaster at first but soon warms up to him a bit. Caine when first seeing Pomni arrive gets very nervous and a bit shy but that’s because they kind of had a thing for each other.

Anways that’s basically the plot for one of my fanfictions on notes! 😄

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki x fem!reader, eventually Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 5824 (sorry). Contents: Reunions, tensions and frustrations, whiplash. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 56

... Bucky’s PoV ...

Bucky is wiping the sweat off the face after another round of helping Sam train with Steve’s shield. He himself has used it before on odd occasions and he has to admit it’s a brilliant tool…it’s just not supposed to be Sam’s. Not really. Steve’s been gracious about the whole change. Bucky’s old friend is painfully positive, almost giddy, since his resurrection...unless he thinks no one is looking. Banner and the rest have had a quiet discussion about if it might be another effect, but Bucky doesn’t think so.

“You okay, buddy?” Steve interrupts the train of thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.”

They are sitting on some of the boxes that are doubling as obstacles and projectors in this enormous room, some of the targets during the training are holograms programmed and controlled by FRIDAY, Stark’s AI with a competitive personality that is able to improvise and even seems to enjoy the game.

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a faint rumble works its way through the floor and walls of the building, making them both hurry towards the point of origin. As expected, the smouldering patch on the ground outside the glass main entrance matches in nature with the two men who are striding in.

“I guess, I should be happy you didn’t ruin the lawn this time,” Stark drawls, but he slaps the blond God of Thunder on the shoulder with a smile.

“It is good to see you, Man of Iron,” the brute replies. “We come with glad tidings.”

By now everyone is there, greeting Thor more than Loki, who is skulking in the background, his face revealing nothing about the reason for the visit. As Thor begins to explain about a new alliance, the thin man begins to smile wickedly.

Steve might have notices the facial expression, but he ignores it as he asks Thor: “So they are coming here and they know where we can fight this out with Thanos?”

“Indeed, my friend. The Guardians should arrive presently.”

“And [Y/N]?” I don’t have a right to worry, Bucky tells himself. But he can’t help himself to feel about the idea of her being left behind among strangers in Asgard. Beside him, Steve tenses momentarily.

“The Healer is coming with them.” It’s the first words Loki says with a soft smile and they send a chill down Bucky’s spine. “She may be the one who can convince the Mad Titan to go where we wish him to.”

A frantic beeping erupts from Stark’s pocket. Whipping out his cellphone, the inventor narrows his brows before flicking an imagine into the midair where it dances each time he moves the phone. A blurred picture of some sort of aircraft with orange and blue colours on steel is seen in stark contrast to the grey background. “I take it that’s them?”

Thor smiles broadly. “They have made good speed.”

“Yeah,” Stark has turned of the projected image, “they are about to land unless they are shot down first.” Turning his back to the group, he barks a few orders at FRIDAY.

Stark’s hurried negotiations must have born fruit as, not even 15 minutes later, the foreign vessel lands elegantly outside the Bunker, and both the Avengers and some of the other employees stream out the doors, weapons close at hand but not drawn as the fan out.

Rainwater evaporates in the heat from the warm engines even after they are shut off. Soundlessly, an opening appears and after a few tense moments a mixed group emerges, some look normal enough, considering what Bucky already has seen, but there is a raccoon with clothes and a tall trunk that startles everyone…even more so when the furry creature opens its mouth.

“Well hello there, terrans!” When no one answers, it turns to one of the men. “I thought you said the implants would translate?”

“It has worked so far…I don’t think it’s the modulators.” The auburn-haired man turns back to the stunned audience and spots Thor. “Hey, what’s with the silent treatment, man?”

The Asgardian begins to introduce the newcomers cheerfully, dissolving the tense feeling of hostility.

The talking raccoon keeps eyeing Bucky in a way that makes him feel uncomfortable. It’s not hostile…but…hungry?

Looking past the new people, Steve has spotted [Y/N] standing silently at the door frame and he rushes to her.

“[Y/N]!” She backs away from his initial attempt at hugging her but he catches her on the second try. “It’s good to see you, there is so much I want to say to you.”

She is not reciprocating the embrace, but standing stiff and unbending. “I’m sorry. I had no right. Please forg–“

“Sorry? You saved my life and I’m grateful!” Looking down at the woman’s face, something changes in Steve’s attitude.

Bucky suddenly worries, but he can’t see her face. In his periphery, Natasha begins to shoo everyone inside.

“It could have gone wrong. I didn’t know anything about what I did, it just…happened…you could’ve been reduced to a drooling vegetable…”

“But I wasn’t. Everything is fine, thanks to you,” the former Captain’s voice is gentle. “Stop beating yourself up. It was the right thing to do.”

Finally returning the embrace, [Y/N] stops any protests. She, Steve, and Bucky are the last ones left out in the cold drizzle, before the blond friend detaches himself with a reassuring smile and leaves the former couple alone.

She is wearing her mission-gear, something that normally makes her look deadly, but even though she draws herself up to her full length, there’s an uncertainty radiating from her, which he has rarely seen.

“[Y/N]…” Do I hug her? Do I stay put? What am I supposed to do? Keeping his distance, his arms might as well be glued to his sides.

She doesn’t look at him. “Buck.”

Her smile is half-hearted and her hand reaches for a spot by her chest where she normally has a thin chain hanging. Now it finds nothing and she let’s her fingers clutch the hem of the suit as a substitute for the bauble.

“Did…are…” Racking up a long list of curses for himself. How hard can it be to formulate a coherent sentence?

She looks away, blinking repeatedly. “Good to see you...”

Is it?“Are you…how have you been?”

“They’ve treated me well and…uhm…there has been a lot to learn.” Turning her face towards him, she still avoids his gaze. “A lot has happened since we saw each other last time…”

“…about that…”

She shakes her head. “Don’t. It’s okay…”

“No, it’s not!” Bucky hasn’t even realized that he moved, but now he’s right in front of her, hands itching to grab her by the shoulders to make her to look him in the eyes. Something makes Bucky stop and clench his fists instead. Crap, she noticed that. “I’m a coward. I don’t know what to do and think and it scares me. With everything you are facing, you deserve more.” He interrupts her again, when she tries to say something. “The choice is logical too, that’s not the problem…but you didn’t deserve to be abandoned.” He’s angry at himself, and a seething jealousy rumbles in his guts when, unexpectedly, the memory of Loki’s smile earlier forces itself on him.

“If not, then I would have had to make the choice. The fewer ties, the easier it will be.” The hoarseness of her voice betrays her. “Now there are only two types of connections: friends and family. Other than that, I only answer to myself.”

The truth is meant to hurt, Bucky knows that, but it makes him proud: the warrior he has seen develop in her is growing stronger. “Yeah well…I can understand if you hate me even if you say it’s logical.”

Finally, he gets to see her midnight blue eyes. “I don’t hate you. I’m frustrated, scared, sad, and everything else…but there’s no hate.” She refocuses her attention to the puddles on the ground. “Let’s just…keep some space and figure out how to stop Thanos, ‘kay?”

He nods as she steps past to head inside.

… Reader’s PoV ...

You are all gathered in the war room and are well under ways through the introductions and explanations. Gamora’s and Nebula’s previous relation to Thanos raises a few brows even if no one questions their resolve. Keeping quiet, you stay close to the door as you listen to them discuss the plan…and as your friends and the new allies talk, you notice how your teammates edge subtly away from you…all except Wanda. The girl’s eyes are flaring as her mind finds first one and then another person to infiltrate.

“Alright, say we actually dupe Thanos to leave Earth alone and head to…to Uranus. How would we get there?” Sharon has ignored all of Steve’s pleas to not be a part of this fight even if she is struggling like the rest of them to cope.

“When we first arrived back to Midgard,” Thor explains, “we were travelling onboard a mighty spaceship. Once safely settled, some of our allies that escaped Sakaar were granted possession of said vessel to return to their homes in distant realms. Although we have sent word for them already, it is doubtful that they will arrive in time.”

Thankful, there should be room for all of the Avengers on the Milano, the Guardians’ spaceship. Getting room for the mutants, in case they decide to join, is a different matter though. Rocket is appalled that spaceships capable of long hauls, like the one looming in the near future, aren’t common on Earth. However, he claims he’s capable of upgrading almost anything with wings and suddenly Tony is listening to the creature.

“It’s fucking easy. I just need the right metals, tools…and his arm!” A furry finger is pointing at Bucky who suddenly is looking worried.

“NO!” Gamora and Quill sound like exasperated parents.

“You don’t need his arm. Forget it!” The demi-human continues.

Clearly struggling, Rocket tries to look dead serious. “Yes, I do. It’s…vital.”

“Why’d you want that old piece of scrap-metal?” Tony’s questions is enough to make Bucky switch from nervous to insulted. “Even the prototypes I’m working on are better than that.”

It’s not entirely fair to say as the arm Bucky currently is employing is a fairly advanced model that T’Challa gave to him when they woke him up the first time after his arrival to Wakanda. There is nothing bad to say about it and Stark’s aversion is only grounded in his distrust of anything he hasn’t designed or build himself. The man is a control freak. As Tony starts to talk shop with the raccoon, the two quickly find a shared passion and it takes almost no time to establish that everything they need is already at hand.

“These are the rough blueprints for the quinjets,” Tony explains as an image is hovering in the air, spreading a cold blue light in the room.

“Ancient tech, but sturdy. It’s not worth it to rig too many ‘cause they won’t make it back through the atmosphere here.” It takes more than SHIELD’s and the Avengers’ best gear to impress Rocket.

“The X-men has a slightly more sophisticated jet. It’s bigger though.”

“Size isn’t an issue…” The creature’s words make Tony and Quill chuckle.

Ignoring the bad joke hanging in the air, Steve turns to you: “Call them and ask them to bring it here.” He is smiling, and he seems to genuinely mean it. Still, you are more than happy to get out of the room.

Halfway down the hall, you draw to a halt as you pull out the phone and turn it on for the first time since the night in London. It takes a moment before you can use it and during that time you study the people you used to feel at home with. I felt so alone without them. Coming back hasn’t chased that away, despite the big hug from Steve. How long…? You don’t want to finish the question, afraid that the answer will be exactly what you think it is. Looking down at the device in the hand, you see messages tick in in an endless stream but you flick them aside without reading and find the contact you need.

The conversation is short and lacks much of the information Storm wants. You can’t bring yourself to start explaining as it’ll be too much and too complicated over the phone…instead, you briefly explain about the plan with the jet.

“Contact Steve, when you’ve come to a decision…I’ll send you his number.” It’s easier to cut me out as the middle man right now.

The concern is audible through the phone but Storm accepts before hanging up just as the rest start leaving the room and you copy in the number in a text.

Bucky’s gait is strong and determined but the expression in his eyes don’t fit as he walks over to you. Once by your side, still careful to keep a safe distance, he clears his throat. “I’m uh…heading back to town for a bit. Want me to bring you any clothes and laptop from your place?” It’s kind of him and you accept the offer. “You’ll get the key back afterwards, don’t worry.”

You weren’t worried…you hadn’t even thought about those sort of things before he mentions it and now you wish nothing had been said. Nodding, you turn before he can say anything else.

People have dispersed, leaving the only empty place the room you stayed in last time so that’s where you hole up, ignoring Sharon’s soft knocking on the door later.

…

You’re staring at the ceiling where the lights from outside illuminate the otherwise hidden bumps and dimples. In your hope to distract yourself you’ve resorted to finding patterns and figures in the faint shadows but a new knocking makes you lose track of the snowman you’d almost found. Bucky.

He enters quietly, without waiting for an answer, but stops just past the door which he closes with a silent click.

“Got your training gear too…just in case…” he mumbles sheepishly, “…didn’t know what you wanted, so it’s a bit of everything.”

“It’s fine.”

Your voice is oddly flat and it makes Bucky look over at you for the first time, furrowing his brows so much his grey eyes are almost hidden. His scrutiny makes your insides squirm in protest and fear of the guilt you are carrying. Did Loki…? No, he has promised you not to…not that his promises amount to much according to the general opinion. Besides, you haven’t done anything wrong.

Putting down the little trolley, Bucky turns to leave, pausing briefly with his hand on the handle. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

You don’t look when the door clicks behind him. You don’t hate yourself…not entirely at least. Having seen him again has made you feel guilty for fucking Loki and nothing you tell yourself is chasing the feeling away…but it’s not as bad now.

It had hurt to stand face to face with Bucky. You had seen how he stopped himself from reaching out and instead he’d clenched his hands and kept a safe distance. Too afraid to touch me. Loki hadn’t been. He’d been the last person you expected to show any kindness…but he had been there when you felt alone and abandoned. Felt? Feel. It had been a relief to get out of the war-room. It didn’t even take a hand to keep track of the people who’d been able to meet your eyes, let alone stand near you. You had assumed that coming back would make the loneliness go away. Instead it’d grown stronger as it became painfully obvious that the bonds were broken.

In a weak attempt to regain some control over your life, you shower, trying to wash away the negative feelings that are drowning you. Enjoying no improvement in the mood, you take care to pick out clothes that are comfortable and flattering (a soft, figure-hugging sweater-dress), but halfway through the planning on how to further doll yourself up to boost the confidence, you get a better idea and head off to the living room.

In the bottom of the bookcase is a little cabinet with various bottles of liquor. Most is whiskey, but after some digging you find a halffull bottle of gin which you bring along to the kitchen to mix with orange juice. The drink goes down fast, burning slightly on the way and stoking a fire in your guts.

Half an hour later you’re swaying along to music, alternating between using a ladle to stir the Bolognese-sauce or as a drumstick. The void is momentarily replaced by the gin-induced fuzziness.

“FRIDAY!” You abandon the half-hearted attempt at remembering the lyrics to a Foo Fighters-song. “Spread the word…food in 15 minutes.”

The water is already on the stove, very close to boiling point. Draining the glass of the last yellow drops, you refocuse on the task at hand: pasta Bolognese requires Parmesan, and none of that nasty pre-ground stuff, but in lack of a grater that can be used at the table, you have to do the work for the many people.

15 minutes later, the table is laden with deep plates, cutlery and, of course, the food.

20 minutes after that, you’re serving yourself a portion, still alone in the kitchen.

Another 25 minutes later some of the friendly aliens show up with Steve, Bucky, Stark and Parker in tow. At least the guests are nice enough to grab big portions before sitting down, following Steve’s unguarded behaviour. Crap. Bucky takes a tiny portion before sitting down as far from you as he can, pointedly avoiding looking in your direction. That bad...Stark has gotten a beer, and the clink of the bottle makes the teenage girl in you rebel.

While you are looking through the cabinet for anything else that might be strong and drinkable, the rest show up, unnaturally silent as they sit and begin eating. Banzai! An unbroken bottle of rum has been collecting dust in the back. Rum is good with anything fruity or sweet. Zoning in on the fridge, you are aware of the glances some of your friends (if they can be called that anymore) are sending each other.

“Having fun?” Tony comments dryly, eyeing the empty bottle of gin on a corner of the counter.

“You’re not missing much of a party…”

“Good, then be a responsible adult.” His nods towards Peter who is looking nervously from one to the other.

You have no reason to hate the boy, no reason to disapprove of Tony’s protectiveness of him…but it hurts that you aren’t on the list of people he cares for anymore.

“Right.” Your voice is scathing, a low snarl. “It’s bad to drink around kids…I was done with eating anyways.”

Snatching the bottle, you stalk off, leaving a half eaten plate of food behind. You don’t even care that much about the alcohol but being lonely in a room full of people is unbearable. It’s not something you’re willing to admit to them and so you take the easy way out.

… Loki’s PoV ...

Some unspoken conversation takes place between the former captain and his friend Barnes.

When Rogers gets up, Banner tries desperately to defuse the tension in the room by asking the newcomers about their world. None of them have had this dish before, including Loki, and they welcome the explanation of what they are ingesting. It’s wholesome with a mild spicy taste of garlic and herbs. Thor is, as always, shovelling the food in, grabbing any chance to cover it under a layer of the fluffy cheese-like powder. It looks like snow as it lands and melts partially.

Keeping quiet, Loki studies the mortals as they distract themselves and each other, exchanging tales of experiences and traditions from each way of life, and when Rogers joins the group once more (placing a bottle on the low table before sitting down), the man is full of questions.

Loki finishes his meal before leaving them without a word to draw attention. He has revelled in the powers he used to possess, longing for the recognition of anyone, regardless of it being negative or positive…however this time it would be counter productive.

He had followed Barnes earlier to learn the location of [Y/N]’s chamber. He had been slinking. Those are the words Thor would have used, disapproving of any fun way of retaining the information needed, yet it is of little consequence: he had learned what he needed and now his steps are leading him towards the door.

He knocks. There is no answer. After another harder knock, he has to accept that she either isn’t there or isn’t in the mood for guests. If I were an…Inhuman, feeling abandoned and isolated even with other people…where would I go? Her first escape through the burning spirits had been foiled. What would she do? The pesky woman is hardly in a mood to sit idle…A thought occurs to him and he searches through the vast premises.

Loki sees her through the glass doors, swivelling past and downing one immaterial, glowing being after the other. Her movements are not graceful, despite the promises of her lithe body, as she hurtles herself at the targets, her bare feet never allowing her to rest.

Stepping into the vast room, she doesn’t react to his arrival. She wields short staffs, but she is deadly purpose incarnated. She hasn’t noticed me. With a thought, Loki changes his appearance, conjuring the vestments he favours in battle, light, subtle leather reinforced with metal plates or ringlets.

In a few swift movements, he’s made his way to her, lifting an arm just in time to deflect a downwards strike, sending shudders into his shoulder. They’ve locked gazes, and he can see [Y/N]’s fear as orange streaks and specks, drowning out the toxic violet in her eyes in the split second it takes for her to gather her composure and back away.

“End simulation.” Her voice is clipped, and hadn’t Loki known better then it could just have been a result of the physical exertion that has made her out of breath. “What do you want?” She pushes a shock of hair out of the face.

Feigning disinterest, he studies the place. There are random obstacles everywhere, some movable, some secured and with small holes from which the rays had come. Mortals are surprisingly inventive. In lack of magic they managed to find other ways to compensate for their shortcomings. Like this trick to conjure adversaries for training purposes rather than face real opponents.

[Y/N] is impatient as she cuts through his musings. “I asked you something.”

“If you want physical distractions, I’m at your command,” he smirks, letting her be the judge of the meaning of those words.

Studying him, she offers out one of the short staves, holding it in a stretched arm so he will have to get near her. It won’t be that easy. But he pretends to trust her apparent intentions. The moment his fingers close around the wood, she yanks it towards her, seeking to pull him off balance and thus gaining an advantage to land the first blow…he has seen it coming, and rather than struggling against the force, he utilizes it to sidestep her quickly before spinning her along and away.

“I don’t need this.” Tossing the dull weapon aside with disgust, Loki reaches behind his back, where one of two long daggers are strapped on, loosening one with a flick of the thumb before pulling it free of the sheath. “There is another,” he turns slightly to show, “try to get it.”

[Y/N] is nowhere near as good a fighter as he is but what she lacks in skill she makes up for in vigour and determination. Like an angry cat, she uses everything in her arsenal…almost everything. More than once, Loki has to retreat under her silent and vicious attacks. Any superficial wounds he inflicts seal before more than a few crimson drops escape, yet she barely takes notices and is, if possible, spurred on to try harder. In a flurry of motions, they collide and retreat, making the air sing from the rapid arches and blows before they stop. Loki is holding the tip of the dagger to her chest, the fabric of her clothing dipping into the valley of her heaving bosom…but she has him at her mercy too. Somehow, she has managed to snatch the spare dagger and now the blade is resting on his throat, poised to slice the windpipe with the flick of her wrist.

“What the fuck?” Murder is still in [Y/N]’s eyes as her attention is diverted to the door behind Loki. He recognizes the voice, but the smell of metal would have revealed the identity of the intruder. “Get away from her.” Barnes’ command is a cold growl.

“She doesn’t seem to mind.”

It’s in Loki’s nature to taunt, to create chaos and envy and this is all too easy. Steeling himself for the impact when he hears the running footsteps, he knows what must come next.

That’s why he is surprised when the arm of the soldier passes by, grabbing [Y/N] by the waist and shoving her away. The man stops before she does. Crouched and ready to strike, Barnes eyes the Inhuman warily as she rolls backwards over her shoulder from the force of the shove before getting to her feet.

With a snarl, she launches at the new opponent without a hint of mercy. Sparks fly as metal meets metal. Kicking, elbowing and slashing, she sends the man backing until her anger makes her lose any sense of tactic. Barnes manages to forcefully grab her by the elbows, twisting her arms behind the back even though he has to stay out of range of the tip of her weapon and hands.

“Let me go!”

She is hoarse as she twists and wriggles to free herself. Loki and Barnes lock eyes for an instant but it’s enough for the Asgardian to understand. This isn’t jealousy, it’s an innate wish to protect others more than her because of a maddening fear of what the woman can do. As if knowing this, she stops struggling momentarily.

“First you couldn’t be far away enough, and now –“

“Damn it!” Loki wants to kill Barnes, as the man pushes the infuriated woman away hard. Instead, he clenches the dagger’s hilt. This is between them. “I won’t let you do this.” The pain is audible. “I can’t.”

“Then get out!” The man with the metal arm hesitates, staring at her while he balances between giving in or giving up. “Fight me…or get…out!”

Loki catches Barnes eyes before he turns on the heel and hurries out.

“[Y/N]. Give me the weapon back.”

There is no indication that she has heard him and he reaches out carefully, sliding a hand down her wrist before it closes around her white knuckles, stopping the tremor that has caused light to reflect off the polished surface in dizzying patterns. Loki has to pluck her fingers from the hilt on by one before relieving her of the blade.

The moment it’s nestled safely in the sheath, [Y/N]’s shoulders slump forward and he knows that her eyes are closed tight behind the curtain of hair, just like her lips. She wanted the pain of the fight. Her wish to fight Barnes makes sense as it would free her of the old shackles simultaneously with each blow they’d have struck…now the outlet is lost and she has been deprived of other means of turning the torment in her soul into a physical pain.

“They don’t have to fear me…” It’s a low whisper. “I don’t want to hurt any of them. I couldn’t.”

“I know, my lady.” Wrapping her carefully in his arms, something inside him falls into place. She does not resist him but she does not reciprocate either as it would make her break. “But grant them the time to understand. They wish you no ill.” Even your Barnes still wants to protect you. The thought burns cold in his chest and the Jotun pushes it aside. “Punishing yourself is not –“

“Shut UP!” [Y/N] hisses, succeeding to break free of the restraints this time. Turning, she tries to slap him but fails as he grabs her wrist in an iron-hard grip. “Don’t you dare pretend to understand!”

He doesn’t let her yank the arm free of his grasp. “Oh, but I do know. It’s painted in your eyes. You are scared and alone and you think you deserve it.” Each sentence makes her recoil. “You believe you are turning into a monster. That if you give in to your desire, any desire, you will not be able to stop yourself.” Her eyes are ablaze and the colour is draining from her face but he pushes on, verbally and physically until she has her back against the wall, his palm spread over her heaving chest where the heart is thundering. “I spoke with Hela once. She told me what it feels like to drain a life and hold that force in your hands, letting it seep through your body like a current of ecstasy.” She has stopped struggling and swallows hard at the memories, her distant eyes showing hints of gold. Lowering his lips to her ear, Loki whispers, softly and deliberately. “Take what you need from me. I trust you will give it back.”

“I will never!” Back in the present, she refuses to give in to his offer.

The hard way, then. Adeptly shifting his grip, Loki’s hand curls around her throat just below her jaw, thumb against the jugular and palm pressing against her windpipe. “Do it.”

“No!”

Fortifying the hold, [Y/N] begins to fight back and he has to let her arm free to pin her to the wall by the hip as an extra anchor point. With both arms free, she starts to pummel at him to break the strangling hold, but even if she is strong (for a mortal) and desperate, she is no match for him. Gritting his teeth, Loki endures the jolts of pain she starts to shoot through his arm when she changes tactics…but he doesn’t let go. Instead he squeezes harder and her struggle hastens the dangerous flush that’s spreading across her face.

“Take control or be controlled forever.”

She has no air left, and she gasps futilely. Repeating the words, he pushes harder, tilting her neck in a way that exposes the delicate skin further but grants her no respite as she claws at his arm. On the contrary. Her eyelids are closing over hazed, flaming orbs.

“My lady.”

She is sagging now. Fight back the only way you can. Her hands become limp and her left falls to her side, twitching in a last effort. The other has somehow got itself tangled in the folds of his harness, fingertips lightly touching where his heart is constricting with desperation.

Something tugs inside his chest, draining out into her hand like a torrent unleashed, leaving a cold, excruciating numbness behind that spreads from the extremities. Lifting his own head becomes a burden, and he feels his grip falter an agonizing eternity before he lands on his knees. Unable to stay upright much longer, Loki allows himself to sink down on his haunches, his head lolling backwards. By Ymir…this is what it feels like to die. Now he can see her eyes. Liquid gold is glinting behind a milky curtain. And somehow, she has grown. This is not a glorious death in battle, but I am content.

… Reader’s PoV ...

This is wrong! You have to fight the urges that are rolling through you like earthquakes. In front of you the dimming shape of Loki is sagging, void of nearly all of the brilliant emerald power he should radiate. Looking at your own hand, a small orb of delicate light is being absorbed through your skin. Nothing compares with the bliss, power and ecstasy it infuses you with and you have to bite back a moan.

Mine.

But it’s not. You have no right. Cursing hard, you collect what you have drained from the Asgardian in your palm before ramming it into his chest, returning what you stole. Colour returns to his skin and eyes immediately, the shallow breathing grows deep. The rapture you felt as you took the life from him is evidently powering his body and mind even after you sever the connection. Eyes glistening, body taught, he breathes hungrily.

“Yggdrasil be blessed –” He doesn’t get further than that before the back of her hand has connected with his cheek. Hard.

“Are you completely insane?!” You know that you wouldn’t intentionally hurt any of your friends or allies…but this had been too close, instinct had kicked in and made you drain Loki of life.

His smirk is audible. “Possibly. I have been called such things before.”

You can’t stand listening to his cocky self-confidence, pushing him aside you run out of the simulation centre. Somewhere along the way to your room you pass Bucky, ignoring his attempts at stopping you because you can feel the sting of tears.

Slamming the door behind you, you lean against the cool, smooth surface. Slow breaths. You pace. In the distance Bucky and Loki are talking, causing anger and guilt to flare up once more. In, two, three. Out, two, three, four. When it doesn’t help, you resort instead to beating the hell out of the innocent pillows on the bed. The result is unsatisfactory in relation to your level of frustration but at least it tires you physically.

Stepping into the shower, fully dressed, you turn on the cold water before freeing yourself of the clingy clothes. Bucky’s and Loki’s faces are swimming before you and their words are echoing in your ears. Fuck, this is a mess. One man trying to shield people from her, the other edging her onward. This is like a poorly written soap-opera. You’d always hated those TV-shows or cheap romance novels where everything revolved around a hopeless, spineless woman stuck between a good guy and a bad guy. Time to grow a spine.

‘Take control or be controlled’, at least you had stopped before it was too late…maybe that could count as control for now. Looking at your hands, you see the cyanosis creeping into the fingertips, and you can’t feel your feet from the cold either. You turn the handle the other way, releasing what feels like lava in scalding cascades.

…

The faint dripping of the clothes hanging to dry is audible from the bathroom as you snuggle under the duvet. You want to escape the mess you’re in and sleep is a perfect little detour away from miserable.

[victoria-rue]

victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 3

Okay, so, this is my third masterlist. And each masterlist has about 50 stories, so 100+ stories in total. All I'm saying is I might have a problem, but these authors deserve recognition for their amazing works of art. They deserve to be spread out to more people, even if there's only a small amount people that see this. These authors deserve the world ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, & part 5

Marvel

Miles Morales

❝ white lies ❞ by @berriweb

LINK UP by @qkopi

you loved your boyfriend miles, you really do. he was everything you could ask for; he was handsome, gentle, and very caring towards you like a good boyfriend should be… but there’s also times where he would cancel dates out of nowhere and that would leave you to be disappointed and go home bored. miles then tried to make it up to you by planning to hangout at his place this today, but things go sideways when his twin brother decides to take things into his own hands..

Bereavement by @famwhy

Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Peter Parker

Part Of Your World by @waitimcomingtoo

Peter meets a girl who dreams of being where the people are

hoax by @waitimcomingtoo

when Peter strikes out with you but discovers you’re a fan of his alter ego, he gets you tangled in his web of lies

Miguel O'Hara

Across the Street by @quaintii

It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

The game of cat and spider by @lucywrites02

You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much,  but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

Daddy Issues by @drefear

Halo by @missdictatorme

You are an AI designed by Miguel. He gave you a unique voice, one he knew he would like listening to. He didn't really gave much thought to how you looked like when he made you a hologram form, he just choose a random picture of a woman from the internet. What happens when you ask for permission to design your own look?

Web of Secrets by @liliacamethyst

Bittersweet Devotion by @diejager

IGOR by @papuhater

Bucky Barnes

i never thought you’d happen to me by @nickfowlerrr

Wade Wilson

Here’s To Us by @baka-bakeneko

Wade's street neighbor needs to use Wade's hot water.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant + Jake Lockley

Already over. by @m00nsbaby

With You by @ivystoryweaver

Eddie Brock/Venom

RUSH HOUR by @ghostheartfelt

you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote.

Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Peter Parker (Spider-Noir)

THIS IS A LIFE by @mo0nfairy

in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

Detroit Become Human

Connor RK800

Criminal Analysis by @gogogodzilla

You never pictured this life for yourself. Never pictured that android cases would start piling up and you'd be assigned to figure out why they were deviating. You were a forensic psychologist hired by the Detroit Police Department as a consultant. You usually dealt with figuring out what made suspects tick and why they did what they did. You figured it'd be the same thing, as usual, that is until a certain android walked into your crime scene and completely turned your life upside down.

The Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

Finnick Odair series by @daisyjonesgf

midnight rain (Book One)

finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

the lakes (Book Two)

it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

the river (Book Three)

the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

Avatar

Jake Sully

A Child of the Stars by @berry-blue03

you are Jake Sully's six year old daughter, who goes with him to Pandora. Takes place during the first Avatar movie

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Do you hate me? by @byunpum

You are the eldest Sully daughter, you are adopted. All your life you have grown up watching tsu'tey, and your feelings for him have grown. Everything changes when one day you go hunting with your crush.

Miles Quaritch

Sweet like cherry by @pandoraslxna

Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Damsel, let me de-stress you… by @quaritchsluts

Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite is captured and imprisoned by Colonel Miles Quaritch and his squad, alongside her childhood friend - Spider - when attempting to aid her younger siblings whom were cornered by the recom team when exploring the woods. As Jake Sully’s eldest child, she knows it won’t be long until her father bites back at the recombinants, as does Miles. Because, how dare he take his precious daughter? His firstborn? So, with the odds against him — as well as the clock — and not to mention the displeased dad on his tail, Miles knows he must do whatever it takes to get all the information out of her that he can. Whatever it takes.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Ghost girl by @byunpum

After their village was destroyed by humans, Y/N must seek refuge in the forest. Her being rescued by a peculiar family, she discovering that her gift had led her to them.

i remember her hands. and the way the mountains looked. by @vampsywrites

In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Jealousy by @eyweveng

You have a secret relationship with Neteyam but find out terrible news from your bestfriend.

~To You He Feels Like Home~ by @ghoul-bonez

You were born to the forest, wild by nature, wild by nurture, and surely wild in spirit. Your animal family had always warned you about strangers, the odd people who looked like you, but when one approaches you, you can’t help but be curious. When your curiosity wears off and you deem him weird enough you’re convinced you’ll never see him again, but Eywa has other plans.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

twin flames by @saintsstranger

Eywa has bonded the Son of the Forest and Daughter of Ember over the pain and grief towards the Sky People.

Ao’nung

Fated Mates by @anemonelovesfiction

-stars- by @adhdduckie

When Y/N, and the sullys first reach the reef, a boy catches her eye, and she does her best to catch his attention. She doesn't believe he likes her back, and she thinks it's ridiculous that she's so whipped for this boy. He seems to have no interest in her.

Ronal & Tonowari

Connection by @blue-sadie

Traveling with the sullys to the Metkayina village and tonowari and ronal falling in love with you at first sight and feeling a connection to you.

Neteyam & Lo'ak

Reunion by @yourstrulybluelover

The Sullys have been away for years. They have just returned to the Forrest, not only bringing with them joy and hope but also uprooting masked feelings.

"The Love Shack" by @vivid-ink

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?…

Actors

Jamie Flatters

ALL THINGS CONNECTED by @yawneneteyam

growing up on set together, y/n and jamie share their love for one another through the only way they know.. filmmaking

Time Wasters

Ralph Penbury

Worth It by @wheels-of-despair

Your mother forces you to go to a Valentine's Day dance with a dull date, but Ralph manages to make your night worthwhile.

Scream

Ethan Landry

Perverted by @demontonic

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 by @n-slayaaaaa

Seeing the Core Four years after an explosive argument ended your friendship brought about plenty of unwelcome emotions—can you let the past go or has your plan for healing old wounds gone too far?

obsessed by @messylustt

getting a call from ghostface is never good. especially when you find out who lives under the mask—the dorky boy who you drunkenly kissed one night.

a father’s malice by @shadesslut

After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

Billy & Stu

Of Friends and Horror by @grimoireofhayley

You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why?

The Last Airbender

Zuko

rotations by @reinerispretty

written during the prime of the atla rennaissance (summer 2020), (y/n) is a child of the fire nation aristocracy and a close friend to prince zuko. as circumstances drive the two apart, she finds them thrown back together. this time on opposite sides of a war.

Daughter of the Spirits by @jettingtothemoon

In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se.

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Against All Odds by @and-claudia

Look For the Light by @cowgurrrl

When you left Boston with Joel Miller and a little girl named Ellie, you never thought it would land you in Jackson, Wyoming with a tiny family.

sun bleached flies by @sempersirens

stumbling upon the settlement of jackson whilst 4 months pregnant had almost felt too good to be true. for the past seven years, you had been able to raise your daughter, mia, surrounded by a safe and supportive community. however, your small slice of paradise came tumbling down the day joel miller arrived. despite only crossing paths for a fleeting encounter all those years ago, you would never forget the face of your daughter's father.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hischeapcigar

you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most

mine by @moeswriting

Joel is suddenly the 22-year-old single dad of a four-year-old with no one to help support her but himself. He gets a job as a waiter in a diner downtown to make ends meet. One day, you come in-- a tired, overworked college student with a past that haunts you-- in need of break from the rain. He decides right then and there that he is yours for the rest of your lives.

WHEREVER YOU GO by @myownwholewildworld

after the events of 26th september 2003, you find yourself under the wing of the miller brothers. it's the older one who catches your attention, but also the one who drives you fucking crazy. you inevitably find yourself gravitating towards him while trying to navigate this postapocalyptic world you're stuck in, with more than one unpleasant surprise…

Abby Anderson

dream of us in a year by @peachglazewrites

Eight months ago, you sustained a life-altering injury while on patrol. Five months ago, you were officially dismissed from your unit and, after a tense meeting with Isaac, were transferred to the medical centre to train under your friend/roommate, Mel. Four months ago, you offered your couch to Abby to sleep on whenever she got kicked from her apartment for Manny's ‘sleepovers’. Two months ago, you started sleeping in the same bed. It works, this arrangement you have. She just doesn’t know that just over twelve months ago, you started to fall in love with her.

[pitperson]

Director's commentary about the Fake Woodcut Project

I guess it's pretty self-indulgent to write commentary on my own drawing because like, nobody asked? And who do I think I am, Moebius? And artists don't write commentary anyway. But I want to write down some things regardless.

There were specific sources of inspiration for it: really awesome map of Westeros by other-in-law (this is fanart), "Strange Religion" piece by The-Mirrorball-Man (not a fanart of anything specific, sort of a parody of religious imagery in general) and this whatever it is, from Midsommar.

What they have in common: all done in a primitive style, all very detailed and they tell a kind of story visually. I really liked all these pieces for a long time and wanted to do something in the same spirit. And another source of inspiration was that part from the Book of the New Sun, where characters in the unimaginably distant future retell the story of Theseus, only it becomes twisted and garbled with misunderstandings and confusion (Theseus is also a thesis another character creates, Minotaur is replaces by Monitor, the confederate submarine and so on. It makes more sense in the story). I hate Gene Wolfe, terrible author only ever read by pompous assholes, but that bit was really good. I recall it even now in its entirely thanks to my flawless photographic memory, btw.

So I wanted to take the Intercalate narrative, imagine how it would be re-told by some poor Latvian peasants in 18th century and create a kind of fake-folk-art piece they would have made, maybe. I came up with it as I was walking through an old cemetery. It was a very cold and windy morning and I wanted to snap some photos, but it was just too unbearably cold, and I was freezing. And as I was walking and photographing I kept coming up with ideas stupid ideas for this project and all the stupid jokes I'd put into this, giggling to myself all the while like a normal person.

And I also wanted to use ye olde derangede fpelling. What's that? Well, you know ye olde Englishe fpelling? Latvian also used to be goofy like that in its own way, there were no familiar modern diacritic marks and the spelling was very German-inspired. This, of course, would make it extra difficult for anybody to actually translate the damned thing, but I made sure that GPT4 can sort of do it. Our AI overlords are very smart, but not yet quite able to understand ye olde derangede Latvian with 100% success. Fun fact: I myself never knew about old Latvia orthography and only learned about it while walking though another old cemetery (not the one where I came up with the picture). The inscriptions on the gravestones were odd and it took me some time to even realize it was Latvian. So, I felt I had to do something with it.

One question I struggled with a little bit was: "do I want to put a bunch of swastikas in there?" I had decided that I'd put traditional Latvian symbols of various deities in the drawing and what not. Well, swastika is one of the more common such symbols that can possibly represent fire, or perhaps the sun, pretty fitting for the Intercalate. But I also thought: "if I put swastikas in there, this will be the only thing anyone wants to talk about. the conversation will be entirely about swastikas and nothing else. do I really want to do that to myself?" I went for half measures: one authentic, but not very noticeable swastika with fancy decorations, and that's it. This seems to have worked: it satisfied my craving for verisimilitude and I only got one question about it.

I thought my idea to give Sun-in-Rags an executioner's sword was very clever. You would think swords are edge-aligned, and you would be right, generally. But there is a type of sword not meant for a fair and glorious battle against an evenly matched opponent. Too heavy and unwieldy to do fancy fighting moves, too short for fighting, lacking the sharp point, designed for one purpose alone: to quickly, mercifully and beautifully end the life of someone already defeated and helpless. Such sword has no edge-element. Such sword is winter-aligned, and if Sun-in-Rags uses any weapon, this will be it. Also cool: one executioner's sword I found even has 3 holes on the tip, making a Winter sign. How neat is that?

There's a bunch of jokes in there nobody seemed to have got, but that's the running theme with all the stuff I draw.

[brianjamur]

The wave of Hatsune Miku

Damn, i drew this in hope that maybe it would make my creative gears moving again, but instead it made me realize that i do indeed need some rest for a while.

I must admit, embarrassingly, i got this idea from a picture i saw a while back that might or might not be AI generated, and i legit upset since then, because such interesting idea, Hokusai's famous wave painting as Miku's twintail, yet they were executed by AI... So i've been thinking about drawing that same idea for a while, and i finally did it.

I didn't like, 100% redraw the thing. I tried integrating some Japanese aspect to it since i want to make clear that it was inspired by Hokusai.

Well, to be honest i didn't really know if the original was supposed to be Hokusai's wave or just a normal wave/waterfall, so i took my liberty to give her a yukata, a brush, and a jacket? outer? Inspired by Ryougi Shiki, so there we go.

[hacked-by-jake]

I didn't finish the first episode yet, but I saw a lot of people saying that the ending was amazing and worth the pain. I was disappointed in the game, but the way all people boycott Everbyte without even finishing the episode is ridiculous to me.

I understand the anger about AI art, the emptiness of the characters, and ESPECIALLY the pay to win concept. Just because it has a good ending doesn't make up to the negative parts. But people should have first finished the episode and only then give their opinion. It wasn't fair. Yes, we are all disappointed. I also get the conspiracy theory about Everbyte having an investor or someone else taking over the design and completely messing it up. It's still no excuse to shit on the work of Everbyte like that.

People played the episode for about 15 minutes and immediately hated on Everbyte and I was one of them and am a little ashamed. It was a smart move of Everbyte to mix the main game with the side story, but I also get the people who are upset by it. We waited 2 years for answers and now we have to pay diamonds and money to get the full experience. I fully get it, yes. The criticism is completely fine but hate to the point that they insult the developes? No, just no. I can't wait to find out about the end of the episode. Until then, I wish you a good day. 🩵 Thank you for your work.

Greetings, an old friend ♡

Well, I absolutely get what you mean and I also understand why you think so.

But I have to say, I don’t think finishing the episode before wasn't necessary to see the problems and to point it out.

Many people had problems right after starting the game. It started with bugs. Of course we all had to look around before we started playing. And I guess many people immediately went to check the profile customisation options etc. Then we were greeted with AI art only. We directly saw the pictures aren't even free and most of us, or all thought we're allowed to put our own pictures as profile picture etc. Which was another disappointment right away.

Then we had to realise that we cannot pick a specific picture and buy it but only randomly.

Just a bunch of disappointments from the beginning and it didn’t get better. I mean, I saw so many people who said they gave up to play because of bugs and the mini games and stuff.

So actually, I think it's very understandable that some started to show their disappointment right away.

Of course, I only talk about critism. Not hate. There's a difference. And I said a lot of times by now that hate is absolutely disgusting.

Luckily, on Tumblr I almost saw no one really hating on Everbyte. I don’t know how hate looks to you and when it was already hate in your eyes. I think we don’t know exactly what we others meant and saw. So it's hart to give my opinion on that.

It's simply hard to say much when I don't know what exactly you saw or said or mean. Hating can look differently and I think even harsher words don’t have to be hate right away, it always depends on the context.

However, I find it very strong of you to admit that you were involved. And your words show that you have empathy with Everbyte and reflected your behavior. This is a good thing to be proud of.

I think we all might have made a mistake or two in the situation, Everbyte, but also the community. But hey, I just have to say: These games that Everbyte has created are visibly attached to our hearts and thus evoke stronger emotions. Which actually only shows how much we like the games and especially want to play them.

It’s just problematic that there were so many people at once, but that’s not our fault. We can’t just be quiet just because others have already mentioned it, it just doesn’t work that way. And unfortunately, in this situation Everbyte received criticism with the side effect that many more people follow them. So it is clear that the outcry is much bigger and louder.

Everbyte deserved the criticism. And the normal critism was much more silent than the hate. Because unfortunately it is always the case that the hate is much more noticeable than the normal critics. Hate is much louder and that’s why we remember it longer.

The whole situation was just overwhelming and we were all just full of emotions. This can get stronger and stronger, and sometimes it can make us say things we regret later.

Pure hate is a completely different story. Especially when the hate was deliberately pronounced just like that because people don’t care that we still talk about real human beings.

But I think we can all forgive ourselves for saying something in a very tense and emotional situation that might have been a bit brisk. It happened and we can't change it. The situation was too much for many of us, and it’s part of being a human being to do or say sometimes rash things without think a lot beforehand.

So I think we should not be mad at ourselves for it. (Unless you spread real hate and pure hate by insulting Everbyte personally or anything)

I would like to thank you for sharing your thoughts and especially for mentioning positive things at the end. And I hope you are doing better now and all thoughts can be classified and understood more calmly.

I wish you a wonderful day/evening/night. 💚

Lots of love to you, old friend. 💚

[22degreehalo]

The thing about the 'AI art has no soul' thing people love to throw around is that it's like... So obviously something people enforce on themselves intentionally. They just do not want to like anything made by AI and force themselves to feel that way whenever they find out something was made that way.

You can show them that there are, in fact, people who put their heart and soul into an AI picture - teenagers diligently typing out every physical trait of their OC shifting the prompts til they get one who looks like Them, disabled artists getting fancy with Midjourney to make the sort of art they can no longer easily make the long way, neurodivergents generating abstract pieces to reflect their inner worlds with a skill far beyond their ability to draw - and they just... go all whiny and say that if they *actually* drew it it'd be *better*.

Which: even if that were true (weird as hell to tell an artist that unless they make art Your way they're not really Expressing Their Soul), so what??? Just because a piece of art could be done 'better' some way doesn't mean it has no worth at all. It was all made with intent, and it all says something.

I'm not even sure if they just plug their ears and pretend nobody has ever been moved by AI artwork (yes, even the ones you find sterile and generic) or if that all doesn't... count? Because 'tech bros' don't REALLY feel real emotions or have profound experiences like Normal People...?

Which. Once again: yeah. It's just gatekeeping art. Like only Certain People have the capacity for artistic expression or introspection, and everyone else is just... Some shallow NPC/sheeple/zombie.

[bilightningwhumper]

@ailesswhumptober 2024- Day 5

Sensory Saturday: Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

<<Previous . My AI-less Whumptober 2024 Masterlist . Next>>

Shadow of a Shield (Jamie's story) Masterlist --- SoaS Series Masterlist

Summary:

Excerpt for "Shadow of a Shield" (Jamie's story) Jamie has a sensory overload away from home in the midst of high school drama

Notes:

Characters: Jamie- Steve and Peggy's daughter Jenny- Jamie's bully Will- Bucky and Nat's son, Mare's twin, Jamie's brother Ana (mentioned)- Jamie's best friend Steve Rogers (mentioned, not by name)- Jamie's dad Mrs Sherkal (mentioned)- one of the teachers in their high school Warnings: sensory overload, disassociation, bullying, derogatory language, blood mention

Ao3 link

Word count: 522

Jamie PoV

All Jamie wanted to do was get home and curl up in bed. Maybe she should just call her dad. But there was no way Miss Sherkal would let her take the test at a later date, not without humiliating her first. No, better to just tough it out. She’d be okay.

She was so out of it, she didn’t notice the whispers and looks until she got closer to her locker. All the hushed voices quickly became static noise in her head. She bit her lip, trying to tune it out again. But what she saw made that impossible.

SLUT

Written in big red letters on her locker. Some sort of paint or marker. It didn’t matter. The voices got louder as her control slipped, overlapping, cluttered, static.

“… can’t believe she kissed him…”

“… did you see how hot that picture was…“

“… how could Will do that to Jenny…”

“… they don’t look good together at all…”

“… who do you think she’ll hook up with next?”

Someone bumped into her from behind. She turned on her heel reflexivly, nerves haywire.

Jenny was standing there, surrounded by her normal posse. Someone was missing. Who was missing? They were too close, cornering her around the lockers.

The other girl leaned in close, smirking. “How does it feel, freak? Everyone finding out what I’ve known all along.”

Please, just stop.

She wanted Ana.

She just wanted to go home.

Why couldn’t everyone just shut up?

“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” Jenny was… crying? And speaking louder. “You knew that Will and I just started dating and wanted to take it slow. Why’d you have to kiss him? Do you really hate me that much?”

The light was flickering.

Too many people.

Her voice was stuck.

“What’s going on here?”

Jamie’s normal relied at seeing one of her siblings was dulled by her over-firing senses. Will must have sensed that because now he was next to her, somehow materializing through the crowd. Pushed through it first? She couldn’t concentrate.

“How could you cheat on me with her?” Jenny keened, more tears, too loud. The pitches of her voice felt like needles in her ears. “Is she good in bed or something?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Will’s growling undertones and suddenly agitated scent made her head hurt. “We’re not even dating.”

Just stop. Please stop. I can’t take this anymore.

“I bet she told you to say that.” the other girl wailed. “No one ever believed me, but I knew she was a slut, just like her mother. And now-”

Jamie didn’t know what happened. She just saw red. Felt her fist moving through the air at Jenny’s face. But she could only pull back enough not to shatter her skull, not to stop the hit. Now Jenny was on the ground, screaming, blood everywhere.

Shit

Everything got louder, too much, too much. Will’s arm was around her, pulling her back. Something soft was in her hand now. She latched onto it. An anchor. The rest of her retreated. Back, back, back into her head. Back, back, back.

SoaS Taglist:

No one so far

[jupitercl0uds]

ok just in case heres alternate social medias i might turn to if banned:

TWITTER! i hate twitter i hate twitter i hate twitter i actually used to like twitter! ive had an account for over 2 years now and made it like a month before my tumblr. unforuntately im worried that if i moved permanantly, id go back to where i was on twitter, ie nintendo/shitpost twitter. i should be reblogging on all blogs btw, so yes, to the sonic blog, this means i probably wont be on sonic twitter (they scare me). i also wont post my art because i dont usually remember to use nightshade and i dont want my art to be scraped edit: nvm im on sonic twitter now (also this was posted before the tumblr ai thing)

DEVIANTART! i last posted to DA in june, but used to be a fairly frequent poster. that was only for a few months, though, hence my grand total of 45 deviations. edit: nvm i forgot its own by wix (an isreali company)

TIKTOK! i HAVE a normal tiktok that i havent touched with a 5m pole since july. im not linking it because the reason i stopped using it is because kids from school kept finding me and if i linked an account where kids from school found me, creeps could find me. the one linked is currently private and has never been used before. i do actually like tiktok, despite its flaws! and the sonic community ISNT a cesspit! in all honesty, to me, tiktok feels like high-effort tumblr, which is what it basically used to be for me before i stopped using it (and you can kinda make a 'text post' with a nice picture and some text with a song in the background anyway).

YOUTUBE (?)! i DO have a jupitercl0uds channel but i mostly use my main, bluniverse, for some reason. idk its youtube its not much of a social media anymore

DISCORD! yeah my discord is jupitercl0uds i still use dc i cant really make any comments its discord you know how it is

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 08.01

what I think happened in:

Case 08.01,

the case of "Time of the Hungry Architecture" or "There are no missing persons in Forton Service Station."

Ok, I've had twinges of suspicion in some earlier episodes, but now it's a certainty. There are some Time Shenanigans afoot! Not time travel per se, but time asynchronicity for sure.

But let us start at the beginning, with Terrance Stevens (51) who recently went through a messy divorce, lost most of his friends in the process, and rather than going down the rabbit hole of workaholism/alcoholism/etc, decided to practice some self-care. He ditched his high-stress job in finances and became a janitor (less money but also less stress), and for a bit of intellectual challenge he enrolled in a university course. Good for you, my dude!

Downside of this – I imagine there are not many opportunities to bond with co-workers at a service station, and most if not all his fellow students are bound to be half his age, so he likely didn't make any new friends to replace the old ones. This is important, because I believe that lack of connections made him extra vulnerable to the spookies.

As Terrance later explained in his paper, his new place of employment, Forton Services, can be considered a site of brutal liminalism (TM). It's a cold and uninviting place, where there is a constant stream of people who want to be somewhere else, and where time has little to no meaning (open 24/7 and not a clock in sight).

In a place like this, reality might start to wear a little bit thin. Time and space might get a little bit warped. A little bit distorted. And not a little bit hungry.

And Terrance, lonely, sad and isolated Terrance, looked like a perfect meal.

It crept up on him over the course of few days. Without ever realising, he was being pulled somewhere else for increasingly long periods of time. (From his point of view, it seemed like there were less people around. There weren't. Terrance just didn't see most of them, because he wasn't there). It kept happening, until the fateful night, when Terrance phased out of reality for good. (For awhile).

Where did he go? Someplace almost here but not quite, where time was just a little bit out of sync with ours. Not by much. Just enough that the people and cars moving around started looking to him like a colourful blur. (Like stepping into a time-lapse picture).

Spooked by the (seeming) absence of people and strange visuals, Terrance ran right into the waiting trap elevator (defunct here, but working there). He was greeted by a too thin woman with name-tag that wasn't actually name-tag (it read You Are Here). She took him up to the (not)functioning restaurant at the top of the Pennine Tower (20m high).

There, in what seemed to be a 60s themed restaurant, he saw a crowd of people* who looked like they were AI generated (with key prompt words being thin&malnourished) sitting at the tables, not-eating and not-chatting. The chef, wearing another 'you are here' name-tag greeted him with a cheerful "You are here! Stay awhile!"

As first reaction, Terrance moved to sit at a nearby table.** (Everyone turned to watch).

As second reaction, Terrance showed admirable self-preservation instinct and tried to get the hell out of there. Sadly the door he'd entered through weren't there any more, the windows, he just noticed, were empty holes leading into black nothingness, and all the 'guests' moved to grab him, repeating after the chef: "Stay awhile!" (It was not a greeting this time. Nor was it a request).

After this, things escalated quickly. The hungry crowd closed in on Terrance and started biting him (the chef munched one of his fingers whole). Not quite ready to become dinner, Terrance punched and kicked his way free and with no hesitation jumped out the not-window.

Somewhere between the window-hole and hitting the ground, he re-entered the normal timestream, and some kind soul called in paramedics to treat his injuries. Which, for the record, were classified as fall damage by said paramedics and I find it either sus or hilarious. Sirs, these are bite-marks. How many teeth does your average building/pavement have? (To be fair, maybe the hungry crowd didn't master the teeth just yet. Maybe they need to take an anatomy course or something).

It is unclear how much time passed here while Terrance was NOT-here. It wasn't the Rip Van Winkle's 'one nap = 20 years', since he managed to submit his paper the same year it was assigned, but it was apparently long enough that he felt that someone should have reported him as missing. The fact that no-one did can have two explanations:

Very mundane if sad 'no-one cares about you enough to notice your extended absence, buddy'.

Part of the Pennine Tower's whole thing is that people who were pulled in-there are not remembered out-here, at least for as long as they remain in-there. A good hunting strategy, actually. If you were an immobile ambush predator, you wouldn't want potential pray to realize that fellow humans die here, would you.

To finish the story - Terrance immediately quit his janitor job, rationalized his experience as psychotic episode brought about by bad influence of hostile architecture, wrote a paper about it (submitted 12 July 2023 - late; failed) and, hopefully, moved on with his life.

Things of note:

*This is the second time we were introduced to a group of nameless, copy-pasted not-quite-people, prone to repeating cheerful, positive phrases. Colour me intrigued.

**I wonder what would have happened if Terrance took his place at the table. Maybe even tried some food he was offered. Was he always going to end up as the main course, or would he be assimilated, turned into one more thin, hungry guest, forever waiting for a new meal to walk in the door?

I keep going back and forth between 'the tower is a predator that creates human-facsimiles as part of its digestive system' and 'the not-people made the tower their home because they liked the brutalism vibe (or it was just a convenient spot)'.

I rather hope we'll see the Pennine Tower again. It's such a distinctive landmark. And the land is definitely marked.

There sure are a lot of mentions of hunger and food in this podcast, eh? Wonder what could it mean.

[die-rosastrasse]

Sometimes, when we create we have to let go of the reception of what we have created.

I write fanfiction. 10-20 years ago, people would always review/comment. It was instant gratification. Lately, if I can ger one comment for a chapter of 10'00-2 000 words, I am grateful. People's behaviour with "free" or eas of access art has deteriorated. It's too much effort to show appreciation even if we feel it.

I focus on my joy of writing. Hoping that someone will be moved by my words but focusing on my own pleasure of wroting exactly what I want to read. If someone likes it : great. If not, well I'm enjoying my own writing.

I hope you find equal joy and satisfaction in the act of creation.

You create a lot of beauty and dreams... may you never stop.

Hi! First of all, thank you for reaching out. People never do, which is part of why I feel so resented by the world. Thank you for your kind words and a very well articulated message, which I absolutely agree with. I'm glad I'm not the only one who is noticing how beauty, photographs and creations have become quick, mass produced, single-use and lost in a sea of thousand new posts coming every second. I see that this is where the world is heading more and more, with AI "art", reposting stolen pictures or rewriting yourself to fit some aesthetic, and that makes me so scared for the future. And also, makes me even more motivated to spend more time on creating than on consuming, and being very peculiar about what I consume and how much. I understand your words about focusing on the joy and satisfaction of creating itself, it's the most important thing for me too, even it sounded like it's not. It's my favorite feeling right now: the need to create, paint, write, collage, take every single piece of myself and make something out of it with my hands. It's so beautiful and gratifying in itself and I'm at a point in my life when it's really all I want to do with my time. And I'm proud of my works anyway, I know I'm getting better for myself, I love the feeling of inspiration and I try to keep myself in this state as long as I can. The joy of making something is why I do what I do, nothing else is necessary and my private world is complete without approval of anyone else. But every once in a while, I remember that maybe if we put ourselves out there, someone will listen and sharing the beauty that we found or that we tried to make is the most normal, valid human emotion. And this, showing my precious pieces I made with adoration, and meeting not with hate, not love, but indifference, makes me want to throw up, go inside a hole and never go out. Why is that so hard? Why was I perfectly content with my work when it was just mine, but sharing it with others suddenly makes me hate it, no matter if it was well received or not? I will forever be creative because that's who I am in the depths of my soul and honestly I don't want to share my life with anybody now. But this feeling will always come again, the need to leave something after me, have some kind of legacy. Or simply inspire somebody and receive the same energy that I put in the world, or meet a single person who would give it some time, consciousness, curiosity. I don't know how to balance between hiding my world just for myself and the need to scream about it to everyone who would listen. I don't think there is a balance, just the terrible feeling of missing something on both sides. The inability to have it all is the reason for my crisis.