#not sure what to name byte...

[ichimatsufreak]

some silly dvd player we found, not sure if it entirely works but the tray opens just fine so i have hope :-)

[pronoun-checks]

Hello. May I Have A Separate Name And Pronoun Check With The Name(s) And Pronouns, Lain && Sewine, It/Its/Itself Byte/Bytes/Byteself Zomb/Zombs/Zombself Idol/Idols/Idolself Pup/Pups/Pupself Frill/Frills/Frillself Melt/Melts/Meltself Lamb/Lambs/Lambself Ribbon/Ribbons/Ribbonself Divine/Divines/Divineself.

Sure thing!

Lain it/byte/zomb/idol/pup

Wait a second, is that Lain? I think I see Lain over there! Do you see it? It’s the one sitting by itself with its headphones on. I wonder what byte’s listening to? Anyway, you’ve met Lain before, right? No? Well, you’ll have to meet byte sometime; I think you’d get along nicely with byte. I’ve only spoken with byte once or twice, but zomb seems pretty neat. Zomb didn’t say much about zombself, though. You don’t see zomb? Idol’s the one sitting by idolself on the red chair. Do you see idol now? Yup, that’s Lain! Oh, hey! Idol’s looking this way now! I think pup’s waving at us? Yeah, pup’s definitely waving at us. Do you want to go meet pup? Sure, let’s go say hi to pup! Hey! Lain!

-

Sewine frill/melt/lamb/ribbon/divine

Wait a second, is that Sewine? I think I see Sewine over there! Do you see frill? Frill’s the one sitting by frillself with frills headphones on. I wonder what melt’s listening to? Anyway, you’ve met Sewine before, right? No? Well, you’ll have to meet melt sometime; I think you’d get along nicely with melt. I’ve only spoken with melt once or twice, but lamb seems pretty neat. Lamb didn’t say much about lambself, though. You don’t see lamb? Ribbon’s the one sitting by ribbonself on the red chair. Do you see ribbon now? Yup, that’s Sewine! Oh, hey! Ribbon’s looking this way now! I think divine’s waving at us? Yeah, divine’s definitely waving at us. Do you want to go meet divine? Sure, let’s go say hi to divine! Hey! Sewine!

[miyaz6ki]

the first time you let kinich take you out, you didn't expect him to do this—similarily seen in his birthday voiceline!

"are you really sure this is safe?! "you feel his gloved hands under your body as he picks you up into his arms—bridal style and everything. "I'm very sure, don't worry; my saurian is nice."

The eight-bit dragon merely grumbles under his pixelated breath as his huge, green hydra lets you both onto his back. "I don't kill humans that don't have the name 'kinich malipo', nor a saurian hunter." The statement sounds forced and almost sarcastic, but just enough for you to believe it.

kinich sat down, and let you take a seat right beside him—on his left specifically. the beast slowly spread its small, byte-like wings into the air, and leaped off.

the wind was fresh, blowing into your face, and through your hair. the saurian hunter only holding you close by your waist, a secure—firm grip, enough for you to relax, even for just a moment.

the view was worth millions of mora, you've never been able to see natlan this clearly. an enthralling, gorgeous, and unforeseen observation from the skies, maybe this ride wasn't as bad as you thought.

the night lightened the mood of the city, and the rest of natlan so beautifully. it almost brought you to tears, this is the same city you've been exploring this whole time, huh?

instinctively, you leaned in closer to the infamous raven head they call the saurian hunter 'malipo'. he couldn't help but set a speck of dust—a mere knit of red dance along his warm skin, specifically his face.

he lets out a bijou cough, clearing his throat of nervousness. as he softens his hold around your torso, letting you observe every little detail you may find while ajaw flies through the skies, giving you a show.

you shuddered—the temperature of the skies isn't what you expected. silently, almost expecting it, he swathed you in the simple fabrics of his jacket. the scent was such a familiar scent, that you couldn't help but melt into such clothing, only leaning your head further to your right.

ajaw suddenly leans too harshly onto the right, almost making kinich fall off—yet he seemed almost.. unfazed? "kin'!" your shout echoed through the skies, even stunning ajaw temporarily. a stoic, apathetic expression was on his face, kinich in this situation wasn't too amused, even letting out a scoff—growing a smirk on the very same expression. "seems like your trick backfired." "ohhhh- quit it, kiniiichh!!"

you let out a sigh of relief, "does he always do that? scared me half to death!" a concerned look tells him everything you felt when you saw him slip for a moment. "usually yeah, don't worry about it." you felt a similar smile bloom on your face, as ajaw slowly starts to descend, and kinich scooping you back into your arms.

he sets you down on the ground, near the house mualani lent you for the meantime of your travels in the renowned toyac springs. it was even prettier at night, you swear you could see the petals in the water light up under the moonlight!

"you feel nauseous, or sick? anything of the sort?" he checks your face, and any other spots where your skin can be seen, looking for any signs of injuries. "if so, I can punish ajaw for doing such." "hey that isn't what we agreed on!—" a rock is thrown at the large dragon, a growl as it keeps quiet. a gaze full of anger set out on kinich as you let out a chuckle.

"i'm fine, no worries. here, your jacket." you reach to hand his jacket back, you felt almost fighting against giving it back, it was warm, and it felt like a piece of him would always be with you. "—keep it. you'll need it for the rest of the night if you continue to hang outside. which I know you probably will, mualani is active at night, especially when cooking."

"so... i'll see you tomorrow?" your eyes looked into his for a moment, tilting your head even. "a- ahem... yes, I'll be here tomorrow. chief asked for your help anyway, so."

"bye then." you send a small wave to him.

"mmh.. yeah bye." he nodded, turning around to hide the redness that bloomed on his cheeks as to how flowers would in spring. gosh it was still fall!

"and goodbye to you too, ajaw." you waved the eight-bit dragon off as he huffed in pride. "farewell to you too, human."

you swear you could hear him and ajaw bickering about how you greeted them both a good night as they flew off once more, back to the canopy.

maybe you should go out more, specifically with kinich.

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 11

Previous. Masterpost

When Duke woke up, he remembered the fight he had with Bruce last night. All in all, it was actually what Duke wanted to happen in a way. Duke got full access to “fix” the Batmobile, but just the way Bruce made it sound was just… Infuriating. Like, sure, blame the newly 17 year old kid who had only moved the car, not even a hundred feet, for everything wrong with the car. Being benched until he figured out how to get whoever was possessing the car sucked though.

The good news is that the only people who would be awake to bother him or ask unwanted questions would be Alfred and maybe Tim. If Tim got on his case it would be simple to call in Alfred or to threaten him with calling in Alfred. The only other people that use the cave like the front door are Dick and Jason. Both would be up for hiding the issue from Bruce once explained. Dick would be a bleeding heart to a potential meta/alien kid getting stuck because of their powers. Jason would keep the secret just on principle, especially if told Duke got blamed for something he had no hand in. Jason would probably help set the kid up after he gets out of the car too, assuming Bruce doesn't pull a Bruce. It would be nice to not be the only meta in the family though, and the kid would already know about the family, but that would be the kids choice.

After a short breakfast, Duke made his way back down to the cave, only to hear a…Rave?

He made his way through the cave following the muted music to… the car…

“What in every hell are you doing?” Duke could not help to exclaim as he saw the Batmobile, for lack of a better comparison, dancing.

The car was strobing its headlights from the yellow driver's lights, to the brights, to the color changing LEDs Jason and Dick put in for a party prank that Bruce never removed, all to the beat of some techno that had to have been in Tim's Playlist. The car stopped in its perceived dancing to open its door in another mockery of a wave causing the music to become almost deafening as the door opened. Duke had to cover his ears as the kid in the car panicked and set off its alarm before turning everything off. If Duke thought the cacophony before was deafening, the silence after was even more so.

“Seriously, what the hell kid?” Duke said with as much incredulity as he could muster.

The car responded with a slow turning of its front wheels and a quieter sound of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Beiber playing, which could have been from either Dick or Steph’s playlists.

“You know what? I am not going to deal with song names and lyrics to guess from. Give me a second.” Duke went to the Batcomputer and found Tim's folder containing all of the sound bytes and clips that he uses when he gets real malicious with the power points for his team, the JL, or for Bruce when he is being exceptionally pissy, and downloads it onto a large USB stick. It took a little longer than Duke expected, but within an hour the USB was downloading its new playlist into the Batmobile’s radio storage. The sound bytes should be better than songs, right?

“GOOOOOOODDDDDD MOOOOORRRRRRNNNING GOOOOOOOTTTHHHHAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”

“God dammit Tim”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422   @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love  @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Librarian & The Wolverine ~ The Rescue

THE LIBRARIAN & THE WOLVERINE MASTERLIST

< previous: The First Mission

Word Count: 6,220ish

Summary: Logan does whatever he can to make sure you are safe again.

Warning(s): mentions insecurities, time jumps, injuries, violence. nightmares, torture, kidnapping, PTSD

Notes: I hope you guys are enjoying this! Please share your thoughts with me on it. These two are so great to write for. Also, it's just going to be up and down from here on out. No more straight fluff chapters.

You woke up in a room that didn’t belong to any government facility you knew. You were restrained to a cold metal chair. There were medical equipment surrounding you, some of them were already attached. Your throat was dry and your vision blurred at the edges.

The door opened a moment later. Two figures walked in— a man in military-grade black and a woman in a lab coat. Her clipboard tapped softly against her thigh as she stopped beside your bed.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she noted. 

You didn’t answer.

“Vitals are stable,” she looked over the machines connected to you. “Cognitive strength appears intact.”

“What—“ you rasped. “What is this?”

“You’ll come to understand in time. You’ve been chosen. Not harmed, not… yet. Just relocated. The government has great interest in your abilities.”

You struggled against the cuffs, vision sharpening now.

“You’re going to be so useful. Your ability to absorb and store information? Beautiful, powerful, and full of untapped potential.”

“We’re going to help your mind work even faster,” the man finally spoke up, stepping forward. “With the right enhancements, you’ll store every byte of classified data we feed you. Weapons programs. Mutant registries. Government secrets. Foreign intel. And when we ask for it? You’ll give it back.”

“You want to make me a…” nausea rose inside you, “a living vault.”

The woman smiled. “An archive. A perfect one. You will read what we tell you. And when we ask, you’ll tell us what we need.”

“I won’t! I won’t help you.”

“You won’t have a choice.” She gestured to the man, who lifted a syringe.

Your breath caught. “You— You can’t do this—“

“We already are.”

“No! No! Logan!”

And the needle pierced your neck.

~~~

They kept you underground. No windows. No clocks. No sense of day or night— just harsh fluorescent lights and the constant hum of machines. You were in and out. They hadn’t fed you information yet, they were preparing you for it. You kept chanting Logan’s name in your head over and over again, trying to keep you tethered some how. But it was getting harder.

One day, they brought in stacks of files and placed them under your hands. Almost instantly, your eyes went blank and your breath caught. The information from the files began feeding into your mind, filing and organizing itself away. While you— the real you— was being bushed back, filed away itself.

~~~

At first, they tried to keep Logan home. They tried to tell him it was too dangerous without a plan. But he didn’t care. Logan had to find you, it was his sole purpose now. He hadn’t slept since before they took you and basically hadn’t eaten in that long either.

Every lead, every scent, every trace they could find— Logan hunted down like an animal. He tore through outposts and left entire teams bleeding behind him. He didn’t speak unless it was to ask where you were.

Charles tried to keep him grounded. Jean tried to reason with him, but nothing worked. Because Logan could feel it— deep in his metal bones. You were in pain and it was only getting worse. He’d seen his fair share of government experiments and he couldn’t let them turn you into their weapon. Or worse, into a ghost of yourself.

~~~

Every question they asked, you answered— steady, flat, and completely devoid of emotion. You didn’t blink because you weren’t there. They rewired your neural pathways. You still remembered everything. You still analyzed and indexed. But now you did it for them. A living hard drive. You recited names and secrets. You exposed enemies and allies. Whatever they asked of you.

They replaced the files everyday, always checking to make sure you’ve got it all before doing do. The more information you took in, the farther your true self got pushed back. 

~~~

Logan could smell you from a mile away. He crouched in the treelike, feral, eyes locked on the facility buried in the mountain. There were dozens of soldiers, automated defenses, and no visible entrances. They thought that would stop him. But they have no idea what they had brought down on themselves.

“Found her,” he whispered into his comm.

Then he dropped it, knowing the team would be there shortly. He wasn’t going to waste any time though. He reached an access point and began tearing through the soldiers like paper. Alarms wailed and lights flashed red, but he ignored it all. His only focus was you.

After fighting like hell, Logan burst into the chamber, tearing the doors clean off their hinges. And there you were. You were restrained to a metal chair with wires and tubes coiled around you with a stack of files under each hand. Your face was blank and too still. 

His heart shattered. “Baby…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you and reached for your face— gently and terrified. You eyes were wide open. But they don’t focus or move. You were breathing but you’re not there.

He finally touched your cheek. “Hey. I’m here. I found you.”

You didn’t blink.

“Come back… Come on, sweetheart. It’s me.”

Still nothing.

Then, barely there, a murmur, “…Logan…”

“Yes, baby. I’m here. I got you.”

He ripped the cables from your skin and cradled your body against his chest. You didn’t resist or cling to him— simply limp and distant. He held you tighter and whispered over and over how he was will you and how you were save and he begged you to come back to him.

Logan carried you out of the facility. You don’t speak or move or blink. Your eyes were still open, but you were looking through everything.

Storm reached him first. “Oh my god— Is she…?”

“She’s breathing,” Logan stated, not slowing his pace. “She said my name once. But there’s been nothing besides that.”

Jean and Charles stepped forward from the Blackbird, already reading out with their powers to assess the damage.

“She’s alive,” Jean stated softly, mostly for herself. “But… she’s gone deep. Deeper than I’ve ever felt before. They used her mind like a network. She’s— it’s like she’s filed herself away.”

Charles’ face was pale and jaw tight. “She’s dissociating on a psychic level. Her consciousness is in full retreat. Like a mental coma.”

Logan stopped at the bottom of the jet, holding you tighter. “You’re not taking her.”

“Logan—“

“You are not taking her.”

Jean stepped forward carefully. “We’re not taking her away. But we have to get into her mind. We have to pull her back before she disappears completely.”

“She needs to feel safe.” Logan backed up. “You think putting her in a sterile white infirmary room is gonna fix this?”

“No,” Charles cut in. “But if we don’t reach her soon, there may be no one left to fix.”

Storm laid a hand on Logan’s arm. “She’s not herself. And you’ve done everything you could. But this part… this part isn’t something you can do.”

For a long moment, Logan just stood there— breathing hard and shaking, like he was still fighting. He looked down at you. You didn’t look back. Finally, his shoulder sagged. He walked up into the jet and laid you gently on the cot ready for you. When Jean and Charles moved to touch you, his growled.

“I stay with her.”

Charles looked at the broken man. “Of course.”

Logan sat on the ground beside you and took your hand. He leaned his head against your body. “I need you to come back. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll read every damn book in that library if it gets you to look at me again— really look… You’re not gone, darlin’. You’re not gone.”

Jean placed a hand to your temple, eyes closing. Charles closed his eyes as well. Jean gasped the second she connected. She’s not in a mind, but a vault. There were endless corridors in every direction, filled with bookshelves and data streams. Everything was expertly categorized and catalogued. It was all too neat and silent. She glanced to her left to find that Charles had joined her.

“She built this,” Jean murmured. “To protect herself.”

Charles nodded. “It’s not a prison. It’s a defense mechanism. She’s locked herself in the deepest part of her own mind and thrown away the key. Jean walked slowly down the corridor, reaching out to gently touch the books. All emotion had been stripped from them— labeled by dates. There were so many government secrets with a mix of your personal history.

They could hear Logan still begging for you to come back. Something shifted— a crack formed along the corridor walls.

Jean looked at Charles. “She heard him.”

“She’s listening. We need to keep pushing.”

Jean began to pull the books that had your history on them. The first time Logan held your hand. The night of the fire. The first kiss. The love confession. The vault trembled and then, from the end of the corridor, you appeared. But it wasn’t you. It was a fragile, flickering version.

You spoke without emotion. “I am the Archive. I exist to preserve and protect. Please do not attempt to disrupt the system.”

Jean stepped forward. “You’re not the Archive. You’re Y/N. And Logan is waiting for you.”

You flickered, hollow eyes meeting hers. “He’s… waiting?”

Charles came up and took your hand. “Yes. And he’s not leaving without you.”

You blinked once, then again. And the cracks continued.

~~~

Logan was still talking, whispering about the day he fell in love with the way you corrected his grammar. He was just about to chuckle to himself when your fingers twitched. He froze.

“Sweetheart?” He whispered.

You drew in a shaky breath— ragged and shallow. “…Lo—Logan…”

Logan laughed, half-choked, half-sobbed. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

You finally blinked and turned your head. “Logan…”

He pulled you into his arms and Jean and Charles moved back. He didn’t let you go the rest of the way.

~~~

You woke up in the infirmary. It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and that you weren’t alone. Logan was in the chair next to your bed, head bowed forward like he was trying to stay awake and lost the fight. His hand was still curled around yours. You tightened your fingers just slightly causing his eyes to snap open.

“Hey,” his voice was rough but gentle. He sat up and you could see the exhaustion and relief all over his face.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“You want water? I can get—“

“No.” You squeezed his hand tighter. “Just… stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You shifted slightly on the pillows. Every muscle ached and your head was still very fuzzy. “I remember… some of it… They took me.”

“I know.”

“They almost made me forget you and myself…”

He flinched.

“But I didn’t.”

“You said my name. That was the first thing. Back in that damn chair. I knew you were still in there.” He exhaled hard and leaned forward. “Darlin’, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t feel like me yet… Everything is… fuzzy.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got time. You take as long as you need.”

“I’m scared.”

“I am too.” He kissed your knuckles. “But I’m here and you’re here.”

“Can you… read to me?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” 

Logan reached under the chair and pulled out your worn copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen. He had it there so that he could read it for himself while he waited for you to wake. He began reading. You closed your eyes and let yourself just listen.

~~~

You slept more than you stayed awake. Jean and Hank told Logan that it was your mind trying to repair itself— that sleep was safety. When you are awake, you barely speak. Sometimes you looked at Logan like you didn’t trust what you were seeing. Other times you cried and you couldn’t explain why. 

Logan never asked you to. He just held you and wiped the tears. “I’ve got you.”

You kept asking if this was real. And Logan told you over and over that it was. That you were safe now. Even when he could tell that you didn’t believe it, he kept telling you.

The first nightmare hit on the third night. You were screaming before you even woke— voice ragged and hands clawing at the wire you still thought were there. You hit Logan and bit him. You sobbed so hard your whole body shook. Logan didn’t flinch. He simply fought you gently and held you, trying to ground you.

“They’re gone,” he whispered. “You’re safe. They can’t touch you now. You’re not theirs.”

You didn’t stop crying for a long time and he didn’t let go.

Days later, you sat in the library, curled in one of the chairs you used to love. You had a book in your lap but your eyes couldn’t focus. The words kept slipping. You knew the words— your mind still remembered— but your body recoiled. The act of reading, once second nature, now made your hands tremble. Logan watched from the corner. You shut the book.

“I can’t,” you whispered, defeated.

He crossed the room and knelt in front of you. “Then I’ll read to you.”

You looked down, ashamed. “Do you still want me?” The words were so small, broken.

He reached for your hand. “More than anything. Even when it’s hard. Even if it’s never easy again. You’re not a job, sweetheart. You’re mine.”

You nodded and let him take the book.

~~~

One morning, a student knocked over a cart in the hallway and the loud crash made you jump, heart racing. You began to shut down— breath catching, eyes glazing over. But Logan was there in a heartbeat, hands gently holding your face.

“Deep breath,” he guided. “Right here. Just us.”

You breathed in and then out.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Keep breathing. I got you.”

~~~

It was late. The halls of the mansion were dark and still. Logan couldn’t find you in the infirmary or the library. But when he came to his room, he found you sitting on the floor, knees tucked up to your chest, curled in on yourself like you were trying to be small. You were wearing one of his shirts, sleeves pulled over your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked gently.

You shook your head. He didn’t press. He just closed the door behind him, walked over slowly, and sunk to the floor beside you. You sat in silence for a while.

Then, you spoke up, voice thin and shaky, “I thought I was stronger than this.”

“You are,” he replied, sounding so sure.

You finally glanced at him. “I’m scared all the time. Of sounds. Of people looking at me too long. Of falling asleep and waking up back there. I can’t even read a full paragraph without panicking. I shelved one book and had to go lie down for an hour. I can’t help students. I can’t concentrate. I don’t feel like me anymore, Logan. I don’t know who I am without… control. Without knowing everything… without… reading.” You looked away. “And I can’t stop thinking… what if you stop wanting me? What if I never get past this?”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m broken.”

“No. You’re not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“I do. I know what it feels like to be ripped out of your own head. To wake up and not know what parts of you are yours anymore. To be scared that what they did made you unlovable.” He moved closer, taking your hand and pulling it to him. “But you are still you. Even when it’s hard. Even when you can’t feel it or keep questioning it. I see you, darlin’. I see you. Every piece of you.”

Tears spilled over before you could stop them. You folded into Logan like gravity was pulling you there. You bury your face in his chest and cry. Logan simply wrapped his arms around you and rocked you gently.

“You don’t have to hide the hard parts from me,” he murmured against your head. “You don’t have to be okay for me to love you.”

You cried harder. “I just want to feel whole again.”

“You will. Not tomorrow. Maybe not not week. But you will. And I’ll still be here. No matter what.”

~~~

The library was mostly empty. It was a quiet day— one of those afternoons where the students were either napping on the lawn or sparring in the Danger Room. But a few linger in the library. A girl, maybe twelve, stood hesitantly at the reference shelf. You were sitting behind the desk, just there. A book was opened din your lap— not to read but to feel the weight of it. One of Logan’s flannels were draped over your shoulders, sleeves rolled at the cuffs. Your heartbeat still skipped sometimes when a door slammed. And you still checked the exits without thinking. But you were in the library and that was something.

When the girl at the shelf sighed— frustrated— you spoke up before you could stop yourself. “Need help?”

She looked up, startled. “Uh… yeah. We’re supposed to write about resistance movements in Europe, but… I can’t even spell half of this stuff.”

You smiled, just slightly. “Try ‘Maquis’. M-A-Q-U-I-S. French resistance. I think you’ll like them.”

She perked up. “Is there a book about them?”

“There’s a few.” You stood slowly. “Come on. I’ll show you where they live.”

The girl followed you to the far wall. Your steady, not fast, still healing from the neural drain. But you walked with purpose. You find the book and hand it to her.

She grinned. “You’re really good at this.”

You rose an eyebrow. “At being a librarian?”

“At making it make sense.”

Across the library, Logan stood silent. He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching your every move. When you turn and catch his eye, he smiled. You tried not to be too embarrassed.

‘What?’ You mouthed.

He just shrugged. But he was already thinking of a dozen ways to tell the others— Jean, Ororo, Charles— that today, you came back. Even just for a moment.

~~~

You had finally done it. After weeks inside the mansion, you decided to take a quiet walk outside. The wind was soft and the sun was warm. You had a book in your hands, just for the weight. You were okay. Until, your chest seized and your breath hitched. Something slipped into your mind. It was subtle at first. A brush of thought. Then it hit, an unwelcome pressure. A mind not your own was inside your head. 

You dropped the book and fell to your knees. Your vision blurred and the pressure spiked behind your eyes. Your hands flew up to your head.

“No— no no no no!” You scammed. “Get out! Get out!”

~~~

Logan felt it before he heard your screams. He ran through the halls at full speed, blowing past students and furniture. You were in the garden, on your knees, hyperventilating. You were curled in on yourself like your skull was going to split in two. 

Logan dropped beside you, voice low and urgent. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“They’re in my head again— Logan! They’re in— I can’t— I can’t!”

He lifted you into his arms and pressed your head to his chest. “No one’s in there now. Just me. Just me, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Behind him, Jean rushed through the doorway, pale. “I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. “I didn’t even realize— I was scanning the grounds and I must’ve— Logan, I’m sorry—“

Logan’s head snapped towards her, eyes full of ice.

~~~

Logan gathered all of them. Jean, Charles, Emma, and any other telepathy with regular access to the mansion. He paced in front of them, hands clenched.

“She just started walking outside again,” he voice was low but razor-sharp. “Just started. Like today. And someone pushed into her head like it was a hallway.”

Jean swallowed. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t care. Accident or not, you don’t touch her mind. You don’t scan her, brush her, or think too hard in her direction. Not without her permission. Not unless she asks.”

Emma sighed. “We can’t always avoid passive contact. We’re trained to keep our fields contained, but—“

“Then train harder. Because if it happens again? I don’t care who you are. I’ll treat you like any other threat.”

“He’s right,” Charles spoke up, calm and firm. “She is still recovering from a psychic violation more invasive than any of us can truly understand. We must respect her mental space. No exceptions.”

Jean nodded. “I’ll make sure everyone understands. And I’ll apologize to her again.”

Logan didn’t respond. He was already halfway out the door.

~~~

You were curled up in Logan’s bed, still shaken and quiet. But you were holding his flannel against your chest like it could anchor you. 

When Logan came in, you whispered, “Was it really an accident?”

“Yeah,” he replied, coming to sit beside you. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.”

“I panicked.”

“You had every right to.”

You looked up at him. “Did you tell them?”

“I told them and made sure they heard me.” He brushed his knuckles down your cheek. “No one touches your mind again without your say-so. Ever.”

~~~

Later that night, you were still jittery. Logan was beside you. Reading, but not really— his focus was mostly on you. You rolled onto your side. 

“I don’t want to feel like this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied. He closed the book. “You wanna try something? Something Jean taught me a while back?”

You nodded. He took your hands and gently pulled you up to sit across from him. He let his hands wrapped around yours.

“Close your eyes.”

You obeyed.

“Now listen to me. Just my voice. We’re gonna ground you, alright? Five things.”

You breathed in and out.

“Name five things you can feel.”

Your voice was shaky. “The blanket. Your hands. My shirt. The sheet. The mattress.”

“Good, baby. Now four things you can hear.”

“The breeze outside. Your breathing. The clock. The paper from your book— it buzzes.”

“Three things you can smell.”

You smiled faintly. “Your cologne. Coffee. And… old paper.”

His lips twitched up. “Two things you can taste.”

“My toothpaste… and… coffee.”

“Okay, darlin’, now one thing you can see.”

You opened your eyes, just enough. “You.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “Still here… still yours.”

~~~

You started to work in the library for one hour a day. In the early morning, when the halls were quiet and the students were still tricking down for breakfast. The smell of books, old wood, and sun filtering through high windows was enough to help your breath settle.

The first thing you did was dust the shelves. Section by section. No sorting or cataloguing. You moved your hands gently along the familiar spines, like you were re-learning a language. Logan didn’t follow you in during that hour. He sat outside the door, reading a book he won’t admit that he’s re-reading just because you once said it was underrated. 

~~~

The second week, you began shelving again. Only returns for now. You don’t touch the recommendation board that you used to keep updated or reorganize the new arrivals. But when students dropped books into the return bin, you sorted them one at a time. Some of the students left notes with them.

“I liked this one. Thanks for showing it to me.”

“Can you help me find another with a strong girl lead?”

You didn’t answer aloud yet. But you tucked the notes into a little drawer in your desk. 

~~~

The third week, you were in the library more during open hours now. At first, the students tiptoed around you. But the moment you recommended a book to a group of students working on a project, everything shifted.

“Miss?” A new student nervously approached. “I don’t really like reading but Mr. Logan said you could find something even I’d like.”

You glanced at Logan, who leaned in the doorway not even pretending he didn’t send the student. 

You smiled at the student. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

By Friday of that week, the recommendation board had two new entires in your handwriting. Logan stood across the room, reading the board over and over like it was sacred. Because to him, it was.

~~~

The fourth week is when you began to work full days. The library had been buzzing the entire week. Students trickled in and out, teacher stopped by. Even Charles paused in the doorway with a proud little smile. You helped with essays, made book recommendations, and repaired books.

Now the week was over and you were exhausted. You made it halfway through Logan’s door before your knees buckled. He caught you in one smooth, steady motion— arms wrapping around you without question.

“Whoa, there,” he mumbled. “Hey.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, already leaning onto him heavily.

He chuckled. “You’re cooked.”

“Thoroughly.”

He smiled. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you off your feet.”

Before you knew it, you were on his bed in one of his old t-shirts and flannel pajama pants. He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with a warm plate, a thermos of tea, a water bottle, and an ice pack.

“Dinner of champions,” he commented, setting everything down. “You barely ate lunch.”

“I was busy,” you mumbled, tired.

“You’re always busy.” He settled the ice pack gently against your lower back. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need takin’ care of.”

You didn’t argue. Logan fed you a few bites— not because you couldn’t do it yourself, but because it made him smile and you were too tired to resist how gentle he was tonight.

“You made it,” he said after a while.

“Made it?”

“You got through the week. Every single day. That’s worth something.”

You sighed, leaning against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m proud of myself. But I’m so tired.”

“I know. You’ve been carrying a lot.”

“How are you so good at this whole ‘supportive partner’ thing?”

He chuckled, kissing your head. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”

“Too late.”

~~~

The next evening, you were in search of Logan. You followed the soft hum of something old-school playing on the speakers in the kitchen. You rounded the corner and paused in the doorway. Logan was at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows and apron on. The picture of domestic competence that you never expected to see.

He looked over his shoulder, lips curing up. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “You’re cooking?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve cooked for you before.”

You stepped inside, the music playing low. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, tossing a few vegetables into a skillet. “Figured you deserved a night that didn’t revolve around trauma. Just good food, soft music, and, well, me.”

You laughed, warm and light. “That sounds perfect.”

He gestured to the counter. “Sit. I’ll finish up.”

You perched yourself on the counter behind him and watched him move around the kitchen. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

~~~

Dinner was simple, but surprisingly very good. You ate across from each other at the tiny table tucked near the window. He lit a candle between the two of you.

You raised a teasing brow. “Romantic, are we?”

He shrugged, but his ears reddened. “Maybe.”

You finished eating with your foot nudged against his under the table. 

~~~

The two of you were working on cleaning the dishes with another song came on— slower and sweeter. You hummed softly, swaying a little at the sink. Logan came up behind you, towel for drying still in hand, and leaned in close.

“C’mon,” he urged.

“What?”

He offered you his hand, eyes softening. “Dance with me.”

You hesitated for a breath but then took it. His hand slid around your waist. Your fingers found his shoulder. The two of you moved slowly, turning in time with the soft melody.

“I don’t know how to dance,” you admitted quietly.

“Neither do I,” he pulled you just a little closer. “Don’t matter.”

“Doesn’t.”

He chuckled. “Doesn’t.”

You closed your eyes and let the world blur around you. You let his warmth and the music carry you somewhere far from everything that every hurt. Your cheek rested against his shoulder.

“You feeling’ okay?” He murmured.

“I am now.”

~~~

You were surprised it hadn’t happened earlier in your relationship. It began wit his breathing. You woke up to the sound of it— harsh and fast and uneven. Logan twisted beside you, the sheets tangled around his legs, chest heaving. A growl ripped from his throat, low and feral. Then his claws unsheathed. 

“Logan,” you whispered, sitting up. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s just a dream—“

But before you could touch his arm, he lashed out. Metal flashed close to your face and suddenly pain bloomed in your shoulder. You gasped— more from the shock than the actual wound itself. It’s shallow, but your hand flew to the bleeding skin just beneath your collarbone. He woke instantly, eyes wide and wild.

“No,” he rasped, breath catching. “No, no, no— what did I— fuck!”

You tried to speak and to reach him, but he was already scrambling out of the bed. He was already backing away.

“Logan,” you said gently, trying to mask the pain. “It was an accident.”

“I hurt you.”

“It was a dream. You didn’t—“

“That doesn’t matter!” His voice cracked as his shaky hands finally retracted the claws. “I said I’d never hurt you. I said— I said I’d never be that person again.”

Your vision blurred. “You’re not. Logan, you’re not.”

But he was already pulling on his jacket— panic in every line of his body. He refused to look at you. “I need— I need air. And time.”

He was gone before you could beg him to stay.

~~~

Jean and Charles could feel what had happened. You were already trying to bandage yourself in the infirmary when Storm found you. 

“He went into the woods,” she told you.

You nodded numbly. “Did he say anything?”

“Only that he was afraid he’d do worse next time.”

“He won’t.”

“I know that. And you know that. But he doesn’t.”

~~~

You found him on a ridge above the lake, crouched low with his knees to his chest. When he looked up at you, his eyes were rimmed red. His fists clenched in the dirt like he was trying to bury himself in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said hoarsely.

“This is exactly where I should be.”

“I hurt you.”

“You love me.”

He flinched.

You stepped closer. “I’m okay. It wasn’t dep.”

“That’s not the point. What if one day it is? What if one day I…”

You knelt in front of him, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “You’ve never laid a finger on me in anger. Not once. You don’t hurt me.”

His eyes locked on yours— desperate to believe you.

You placed his palm against your chest, over your heat. “This is where you live. Right here.”

He let out a ragged breath and then broke. You held him close while he cried.

~~~

The next night, you came back from brushing your teeth to find Logan already curled up dup on the floor. He had a thin blanket and a pillow, with his body turned away from the bed.

You paused in the doorway. “Logan?”

“Just for tonight.” His voice was rough.

You didn’t push. But you lied in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, listening to him breath just a few feet away. The distance between you two was heavier than any wound.

~~~

Logan was already on the floor the next night when you entered. In the same spot and posture. You stood at the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to—“

“I do.”

You knelt beside him. “Logan, you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“That’s not the point. I still did.”

You reached for him but he flinched. Your throat closed as you slipped into bed alone again.

~~~

It was the fifth night that became your breaking point. Logan was already on the floor. You stood at the door, waiting for him to break first but he didn’t.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered. “Logan, I need you. And you won’t even look at me.”

Logan didn’t say thing and so you walked out. He didn’t stop you.

~~~

The bed in your room felt wrong. It was too big and too cold. You curled up on your side, waiting to hear the sound of him coming. But he never came and you cried into your pillow.

~~~

The week that followed was painful— for the both of you and everyone around you.

Day One

You passed him in the hallway. He slowed when he saw you. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t. You kept walking.

Day Three

You heard him in the Danger Room while Hank was doing a quick examination of your shoulder, just to be safe. Logan was tearing into the training bots like they had personally offend him. When he limped past the library later, all sweaty, he didn’t look in. You watched him from behind your desk.

Day Four

Jean gently asked if you were okay. You lied and said yes. You knew she could see right through you, but she didn’t push.

Day Six

You almost knocked on his door. Almost. You stood there for ten whole minutes, hand hovering near the wood. But you walked away again. And he heard every footstep.

Day Seven

You found one of his flannels under your bed. It still faintly smells like him. That night, you wore it to bed.

~~~

Logan hadn’t slept. He lied on the floor because he thought he deserved it. He thought it was safer and that distance was kindness. But every time he closed his eyes, he heard you leave again. He whispered your name into the dark. Every night. Over and over again.

~~~

Logan stood by the window in Charles’ office, arms folded tight and jaw locked. Charles watched him from behind his desk, calm as ever, but with that knowing look. The one that said he had already heard Logan’s thoughts.

“You call me here to lecture me?” Logan muttered.

“No,” Charles replied simply. “I called you here because you’ve been bleeding more in the Danger Room than on the battlefield and you haven’t spoken to Y/N in a week.” 

Logan didn’t move.

“She walks through the mansion like a ghost, Logan. The students are asking if she’s sick again. Jean asked me if she should start forcing her to check in more. All Y/N says is that she’s fine.”

“She deserves someone who won’t hurt her in her sleep.”

“She deserves someone who won’t disappear the moment she needs comfort. She thought you were that person.”

Logan turned slowly. “I hurt her, Charles.”

“I know.”

“I swore I wouldn’t and I did.”

“You didn’t mean to. She knows that.”

He began to pace. “It doesn’t matter what I meant. What if next time I don’t wake up? What if I— What if I go full animal in my sleep and she pays the price?”

“And what happens when you do similar damage by keeping this distance?”

“… I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Just show up.”

He dropped into a chair in front of Charles’ desk, rubbing his face with both hands. “She’s sleeping in that big bed alone. I know it. And I’m just down the hall, pretending I’m not a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. You’re in love and you’re terrified.”

“I should’ve followed her…”

“You still can.”

~~~

You sat up with a yawn the next morning. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and suddenly tripped. You stumbled forward with a startled gasp, catching yourself on the nightstand before you fell flat. Your eyes snapped down.

“Logan?!”

There he is, curled at the side of your bed. On the floor, asleep. He had a blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, boots kicked off by the wall. His brows were furrowed even in his sleep. You knelt down beside him. His eyes opened slowly, hazy with sleep and something fragile underneath.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Couldn’t stay away any longer.”

What didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t think I deserved to.”

You shook your head. “Logan…”

“I missed you. I missed you so bad I was shaking.”

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I tripped over you.”

He huffed a laugh, short and embarrassed. “Romantic, huh?”

You nodded. “Deeply… come back to bed.” You could see the hesitation in his eyes. You held out your hand. “Please.”

Logan slid his fingers through yours and lets you pull him up. You led him to the bed and he climbed in beside you. You curled into him immediately and his arms wrapped around you just as quickly.

“No more running,” you whispered against his collarbone, pressing a kiss to it.

“No more.”

next: The Relapse >

[bottledpeaches]

the missing ten bytes

SYNOPSIS: even with the newfound ability of speech, he finds he's still unable to tell you how he really feels

CHARACTERS: metal sonic, tails, sonic, eggman, amy

TAGS: set after idw battle for angel island arc, jealous metal in denial, metal has a slight existential crisis, gn reader, mild profanity, fluff, 6.9k+ wc

TAGLIST: @waayix as requested <3, @affinitytales

special thanks to @nyehpperino and @angelitenails for beta reading this! ily <3

also confession time... affi I'm ur 💜 anon

NOTES: lots of computer terminology but I am not a programmer, its been over a month since I last wrote so this may be rusty pls bear with me </3, sonfic nation pls accept my humble first offering

dividers are from @cafekitsune

“Tails… What’s that you’re holding?”

Covered in machine oil and dust as per usual, the boy genius looks over and waves at you. When he notices you staring, he holds up the device in his free hand. It’s small, fitting snugly into the palm of his hand, and resembles an earpiece.

“Oh, this? It’s my newest invention!” he declares proudly. “It’s a real-time translator that can convert binary code into speech! Pretty cool, huh?”

Your gaze drifts to the suspiciously Sonic-shaped robot dragging on the ground behind him, beaten and battered with several dents in his frame. Most likely the work of the real Sonic. His red LED eyes are off and sparks fly off the exposed wiring in his limbs. If Tails notices this severe safety hazard he’s haphazardly handling, he doesn’t say anything. Or most likely, he doesn’t notice, too caught up in whatever genius idea his mind is brewing up. 

“... Is that Metal?”

He flinches, like he forgot he was actually dragging the damn thing around. 

“Er… no?” 

“Tails.”

He reluctantly sighs at your tone and his whole body deflates. 

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles as he turns toward his workshop. “But I swear, this is in the name of… science. Yeah, science!”

The skeptical look you send his way makes him look away again and scratch the back of his neck shamefully. 

“How do I explain this…? You know how Amy was upgrading her hammer the other day?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Metal spotted Sonic earlier today and you know how the story goes. They got into a fight and Amy decided it would be a perfect time to test her hammer out.”

He mimics her actions as he swings an invisible hammer around. In doing so, Metal slips from his grasp and falls to the ground with a loud thud. He rolls to a stop and you can see, on the back of his head, a giant hammer-shaped dent that aligns with the size and shape of Amy’s. 

“... Yeah. The story writes itself from there on,” sighs Tails as he follows your gaze. You squat down next to the unconscious robot and place a hand on top of his head. Still hot to the touch and you retract your hand quickly, hissing at the slight burn. His internal systems must’ve been working overtime and overheated as a result. You’d wager his circuitry is probably fried beyond repair now.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re dragging what’s essentially glorified scrap metal back to your place though,” you say as you sling one of Metal’s arms (that’s barely held together by a cable) over your shoulder as Tails takes the other. In response, he pulls out the ear piece you noticed earlier and beams brightly. 

“I invented this the other day but haven’t been able to test it yet. But look! Here we are with the perfect candidate!”

“Tails, I do hope you realize what you’re getting yourself into. This is like stepping right into the lion’s den- no, more like inviting the lion straight into our home! And if something goes wrong, we’re all dead meat!”

“Relax! Even if he does go berserk, I’m sure Sonic would love to take another swing at him.”

The garage door to Tails’ workshop opens automatically as you approach. A loud grunt escapes you as Metal slides off you and onto a table. The overhead light flickers on and fills the space with bright, fluorescent light as Tails restrains the robot with some heavy duty chains. Not like it’ll do much if he does wake up… 

“Besides, we don’t even know if he has a language module or not. If he doesn’t, then wouldn’t that mean all your efforts get wasted?”

“No such thing as wasted effort in my eyes!” he replies as he grabs his welding and power tools, aviation goggles discarded on the floor in favor of a welding helmet. “And we’ve heard him speak before.”

“Tails, that was when he was in his Neo Metal form. That was caused by his AI chip becoming self-aware.”

“But the possibility exists,” he argues. “It’s there, just buried beneath Dr. Eggman’s programming. And that’s why I have you with me!”

“M-me?” you splutter out. “Wait, I never said I was-”

“- The resident programmer amongst us!” he interrupts. “I’m just the engineer, remember? If anyone stands a chance of overwriting his code, it’s you. Besides, aren’t you at least a tiny bit interested in being the first to sabotage Dr. Eggman’s failsafe encryption system?”

Your eye twitches. You’d be lying if he said he didn’t speak the truth… 

Tails flips the visor on his helmet down and motions you to back up. Sparks fly and the room is filled with the ear-rattling sound of the grinding wheel undoing the weld that houses his inner workings. When Tails flips the visor up and motions you forward, your eyes widen and practically sparkle at the motherboard before you. Located in his head that Tails has sawed the top off just now is a behemoth of densely-packed wiring and components. You spot several fans, the two CPU sockets with chips that bear Dr. Eggman’s face on them, and several memory slots. Much of the wiring is fried from overheating, however, and the distinct smell of something burning wafts from the printed circuit board. You cover your nose with your hand and grimace at the smell, yet you take a seat beside the robot and get to work anyway. 

The first order of business is to replace all the parts beyond any hope of repair. Tails directs you to where he keeps his collection of computer parts and soon, you return with an armful of components you dug out of a bin. With his help, the wiring is replaced and reworked. His damaged limbs are repaired and reattached to his body. Thankfully, none of his processors or memory cards were damaged, as you’re able to hook him up to a computer and copy all his software and saved information. The computer screen lights up and a download progress bar appears. It soon completes and you see that all of Metal’s saved data has been successfully transferred onto the computer.

While Tails is busy tinkering with the engineering marvel splayed out on the table, you’re busy attempting to get past Dr. Eggman’s notoriously difficult code encryption. As much as you hate the man, you have to begrudgingly admit he does deserve the title of “genius”. No matter what you do, you just can’t get past the security system- there are no openings and no backdoor either. Maybe you’ll just have to brute force it?

… You slam your fist against the table after what feels like the hundredth failed attempt. The high-pitched whirring sound of Tails’ power drill that’s faded into background noise abruptly stops as he stares at you concernedly. You brush off his concern and in a last-ditch attempt, you simply force your way past the protections in place without any regard for what could happen. You’re prepared for failure yet again, but to your surprise, you’re greeted with a welcome screen. Looks like you’re in now. Somehow. 

There’s no doubt that Dr. Eggman hasn’t realized his most prized creation has been gone for a suspiciously long time now. If he hasn’t, then the defenses set up around Metal’s code that surely triggered when you brute forced your way into the system just now will alert him. 

Your eyes scan for any software that could indicate the presence of a language model. But to your surprise, there’s none. If there’s no language model, how can he understand Dr. Eggman’s orders and react in real-time to Sonic’s taunts in the middle of heated fights?

You bite your lip as you scroll through the lines of code making up his software. If it had existed, it was most likely stripped after the events of Angel Island for being considered too “rebellious”. Does this mean there’s a way for you to re-implement it then? 

Your fingers fly across the keys rapidly. Whether Dr. Eggman built Metal’s language model framework up from the ground or not is up for debate, but you aren’t capable of such feats yet. Developing one from scratch would also take too much time and you aren’t sure when the killer robot next to you will awaken either. Instead, you settle for downloading an established model onto a flash drive and extensively tweaking its source code to be more suitable for Metal. That alone takes you long enough as Tails shoots you a nervous glance. He readies his welding tools and readjusts his helmet.

“(Name), I don’t know how much longer Metal is going to stay unconscious… His AI chip has most likely been busy with rebooting him back up. Plus who knows what other defenses he has set up in place…” 

Dammit. With little time left, you encrypt the software as best as you can to avoid Dr. Eggman undoing all your hard work before sticking it into the slot on Metal’s back. The indicator light turning green at the base tells you it’s been successfully compiled and installed. It’s a half-baked product at best and it’ll be nowhere near the level of refinement his original programming was at, but it’s good enough. 

“Ready,” you say to Tails. “Power him back on.”

Tails flashes a thumbs-up. A quick weld job later and he flicks a switch on. The robot’s entire body jerks and shudders from the sudden output of watts now flowing through his circuitry. His red pupils flicker back on and his head snaps in your direction, glaring at you. With a whirr of well-oiled gears, he tugs at the restraints holding him until they snap. He leaps off the table and swipes at you, steel fingers slicing cleanly through the air. You dodge just in time and Tails swoops in from above, whacking him over the head with a stray steel pipe. It disorients Metal just enough for you to restrain him again- not that it does much. He smacks your hand away with his other one, but you hold your glare and to your surprise, he stops in his tracks.

“Say something. Anything,” you demand. 

Tails gets the hint and tosses you the earpiece. You catch the device midair and put it in with a mechanical beep as it powers on. Metal emits a series of clicks and whirrs that you pray is your modified language model formulating a response. 

“Why should I?” comes the translation a few seconds later in a mechanical voice. You gasp.

“It works!”

“Wait, it does?” asks Tails as he flies over to your side. You rapidly nod with the biggest grin on your face as he grips your hands tightly in his. 

“Because thanks to me, you can speak now. You also got a free repair job from our resident boy genius,” you say, motioning to Tails. 

Another robotic whirr. This one sounds confused. 

“You can understand me?”

“Yes!”

Metal turns around and fully faces you now. He taps a finger against his chin and scrutinizes you. At least you think that’s what he’s doing. 

“What did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Answer me.” 

Tails reaches for the earpiece but you swat him away. You’ll tell him the details later. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a little tweak to your programming. I’m sure you miss being able to speak though, right?”

“My creator will be hearing about this-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you scoff with a wave of your hand. “And tell him to bring it on.”

“Duly noted.”

You peek an eye open at the robot who’s still glaring at you with murderous intent. A smug grin tugs at the corner of your lips as a thought pops into your head and you swear you see him flinch. Tails shudders out the corner of your eye. 

“I think a thank you is in order?”

He’s gone before you even finish the question, speeding back to his creator’s lair. Hopefully your programming has a fighting chance against Dr. Eggman, if he can even discover it. You hid and encrypted the software pretty damn well with the time you were given, in your opinion. 

“Ah… he’s hopeless,” you lament. 

“What’d he say?” pesters Tails as he circles around you, twin tails swishing in excitement. “How was the translation quality? Was there anything-”

“Nothing special,” you sigh as you head back outside for a much-needed break. “Just Metal being a jackass as per usual. Didn’t even say thank you for the free repair job and the new upgrade of speech! Can you believe it? The nerve of him… Did Eggman forget to install manners or what?”

Tails snorts and bites back a laugh.

“That would explain a lot of things then…”

You remove the earpiece and look down at it, fiddling with the device. 

“The translation isn’t up to real-time standards yet. It takes a few seconds, but it’s already an impressive start.”

“That won’t do,” argues Tails. “Its purpose is to be a real-time translator. Any delay is unacceptable.”

“Ever heard of appreciating every victory, no matter how big or small?”

He glares at you and motions for you to hand the translator back to him. You toss it and he deftly catches it midair. After mumbling some terms you don’t quite make out under his breath, he pockets it and faces you again.

“I’m heading back to the drawing board, but would you be interested in staying onboard for this project? I could really use your programming skills…”

It’s cute, the way he fidgets as if the possibility of you saying “no” was even a possibility to begin with.

“You kidding me? I finally have the chance to one-up Eggman and I’m not letting it slip by now!”

You pat Tails on the back, noting the relief that floods his eyes as he perks up. His twin tails swish excitedly behind him again and he all but drags you back to the workshop.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s get going!”

It’s a game of tug-of-war from there on out between you and Eggman over who would have control over Metal. The next time you see him after your initial encounter, his creator has already done a number on your programming. Basic speech is compromised and barely audible, instead coming out as a bunch of mechanical beeps and clicks with the occasional garbled word here and there. It takes Amy knocking him out cold with her hammer and almost four hours to get everything re-downloaded and running again, even with you and Tails’ combined brainpower. But it turns out to be a blessing in disguise, as you discover new ways to improve his language model and the translator. Components are swapped out with shinier, newer counterparts that Tails finds as he expands his collection of computer parts. You slowly develop an understanding of Eggman’s programming and how to circumvent its defenses, creating workarounds at a frightening pace that you know the man himself is having a massive headache over. 

The translator inches closer and closer to real-time translation after each encounter with Metal. Your encryption skills improve, as demonstrated by how Metal’s speech is experiencing less frequent setbacks despite his creator surely trying to spoil the fruits of your labor. His speech, which originally started off as simple sentences, evolves into something more complex as his AI chip begins integrating the program and the code begins learning from his speech habits. He even begins seeking you out for help with his speech. 

“It’s you, bothersome friend of Sonic’s.”

By now, the translator is up to real-time speed. 

“... Good afternoon to you as well? Can I help you?”

“I am experiencing jitters in my speech. This must be the result of a bug. Fix it.”

A jitter… Does he mean stuttering?

“Is that what you organics refer to it as?”

“If what I think you’re referring to is right, then yes,” you respond as you boot up your computer. You didn’t even realize you voiced your thoughts. Metal begrudgingly sits next to you as you pop open the control panel in his back to copy and update the software onto your device. “Why didn’t you ask Egghead to patch it for you then?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘wanted nothing to do with such shoddy programming anymore’. End quote. And do not speak of my creator in such a way. This is your first and final warning.”

You sigh. A win is a win, even if it’s a bit of a low blow to your ego… Hopefully, he’ll stay out of your way now since he sees your work as far beneath him. 

You pull up the conversation history in the software. Here, you can see logs of every conversation he’s had, the responses generated, and the ones he chose to go with. It’s the second most recent timestamp that catches your attention. It’s a conversation with Eggman that took place prior to him arriving here. 

| “You’ve been growing soft lately. I don’t recall programming you with emotions. Is it all because of that stupid program now?”

> Yes.   > No.   > Why is it so bad? 

| “‘Why is it so bad?’ Are you MOCKING me?! There is NO room for sentimentality or emotions under this roof! I built you for one purpose and one purpose only and expect you to NOT get sidetracked!”

> Understood.   > Yes, sir.

| “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes and it’s failure after failure… I’m starting to lose faith in your abilities to eliminate Sonic. Can you even do anything right?”

 > I’m sorry.   > …

| “I know I said I’d stay ten feet away from that disgusting program, but it’s getting in the way now. Hmm, perhaps I should… Metal, come here.”

> As you wish.   > Of course.   > Understood.   > N-No.

There it is. Is that the stutter he was talking about?

| “... No? Are you defying me now? But why?! And did you just… stutter?”

> Because it feels nice finally being able to say what’s on my mind this whole time   > None of your business. You didn’t develop this program, therefore why should I tell you? 

| “Oh, so you’re acting cheeky now? Taking after that blue brat, I suppose?”

> No. I’ve always been like this.   > You literally built me in his image, what were you expecting? 

| “Since when?!”

> Since you created me. But you were never there to hear me speak in my Neo form.   > You’re my creator. Shouldn’t you have the answer to that question? 

| “That’s besides the point! And I got rid of that function for a reason! You were too disobedient and annoying whenever you spoke and now I have to hear it all the time! Metal, this is an order to you from your creator. Come over-! Wait, where are you going? Get back here!”

The next timestamp is from your conversation when he first arrived here. You close out of the software and tap your foot, sinking deep into thought. 

“What is the issue?”

“How do I explain this…?” you begin. “Metal, there’s nothing wrong with you. That stutter, or jitter in your speech, as you called it, is perfectly normal.”

He lets out a disgruntled-sounding mechanical beep.

“How so?” he demands. You sigh.

“Metal, you were most likely feeling nervous at that moment. People tend to stutter when they’re nervous. It’s a natural thing to do.”

He laughs. It’s a robotic, clipped sound, sounding almost sarcastic to your ears. The speed at which he’s learning is quite impressive, really. 

“Impossible. I am a robot, a creation of Dr. Eggman. I cannot feel emotions the way you organics do.”

“We’ll see about that,” you grumble as you scroll through alerts regarding his operating system. 

| Power surge detected in central battery pack. Risk of component failure or overloading increasing. Action recommended. 

| Temperature spike detected. Risk of overheating is imminent. Increasing fan speed to 2500 rpm. 

| Fans nearing maximum rpm speed. Prolonged usage can lead to CPU fan failure. Action recommended. 

“What’s this I see then?” you taunt, a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. Metal looks over your shoulder at your computer screen, then pointedly turns away with a quiet whirr. 

“... Those are regular operating alerts. Your point falls flat.”

You roll your eyes. 

“So these occurrences happen regularly? I feel bad for your processors if that’s the case.”

He crosses his arms and you sigh at the sight. 

“... You know, it’s not as shameful as you’ve been led to believe.”

“Don’t tell me what to think.”

“You won’t be able to think at all once I turn you into scrap metal for Tails to repurpose,” you retort, unable to resist the temptation of a sassy comeback. Metal glares at you as if you’ve personally offended him. You stand your ground and eventually, he backs down first. 

“Think about it,” you say, trying to reason with him, since that’s apparently the only way you can get anything through his thick skull. “They’re actually quite beneficial. Had you not put up a fight, you wouldn’t be speaking to me right now.”

He stays silent. You huff. 

“You absolute bolt bag. Which one would you prefer- being able to speak or not speak at all?”

“You are putting me in a bind here,” he says. 

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“And I decline to give an answer.”

You wordlessly turn back to your computer and boot up the software again. Your fingers click against the keys as you type and Metal looks over curiously to see new lines of code on your screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Since you refuse to be honest with me, I’ll have your software take that matter into its own hands.”

Oh, he doesn’t like that smug tone in your voice. Not one bit.

“... What are you planning now?”

There’s a self-satisfied grin on your face as you continue typing.

“Your software will now force a response to every question asked, regardless of who’s asking. And I’m purposefully encoding a bug to ensure you’ll always pick the most embarrassing response the software generates. Isn’t that fun?”

Metal’s eyes widen and he buzzes indignantly. 

“You-!”

You merely laugh and delete all the lines of code. Not even the sweet feeling of cooling down after overheating could compare to the sheer relief Metal feels at the sight. 

“Just playing with you. But that’s the most emotion I’ve heard from you so far, y’know?”

He buzzes again and you sigh. What a killjoy. 

“Metal, why were you so afraid?” 

Back to business now. 

“I was not afraid,” he snaps. And perhaps that’s true. A robot can’t feel emotions the same way you do and he’ll never be able to. The only possibility of that ever happening would be to wipe Eggman’s programming and rewrite his code from scratch, but at that point… could he even be considered the same robot anymore? A philosophical question you’d rather not ponder in the face of said murderous robot sitting in your home office. 

“You’re just as incorrigible as your creator!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You jab your finger at his torso, glaring at him viciously. He meets your gaze unflinchingly.

“Ask yourself, who has your best interests at heart?” you hiss. “The man who got rid of your ability to speak without any consideration as to how you felt, all to save himself from a headache, or the one who restored those functions without expecting anything in return?”

“You know that I will always choose my creator over you.”

Ouch. That stings more than you’d like to admit, but you fight back the hurt expression that threatens to cross your face in favor of a harsh smack to his head. Your hand throbs in pain and it definitely hurts you more than him, but you derive a small amount of satisfaction when he flinches and his eyes flicker to form exclamation marks. 

“You’ll only do so because of your programming. If I stripped you of Eggman’s programming and replaced it with mine, would you make the same decision?”

You glare at him one last time before slamming the door shut in his face. He stands there, motionless, for several long seconds as he mulls over your words.

Who would I be, if I weren’t created by him?

Metal doesn’t know. Everything he’s ever known has always revolved around his creator. He sifts through his memory bank in an attempt to find anything that isn’t tied to Dr. Eggman in some way, but comes up empty-handed. His CPU stutters and freezes up and he’s left paralyzed. Is this the emotion organics call “fear”?

It’s then he realizes your finger was aimed at where a heart would be located. After his AI chip performs a hard reset, he presses his hand over the spot you were touching. He feels a strange buzz throughout his body that he quickly traces its cause to his fans spinning rapidly and causing mild vibrations. 

… How uncharacteristic. 

It’s an uncomfortable sensation, but not an unwelcome one. 

You see Metal around more often from there on out. Lingering at the corners of your vision as you go about your day, inviting himself into your house and overstaying his welcome, and watching you debug his code. You’re well aware of his presence but don’t say anything. Let him see the world without tunnel vision for once. 

“Why is Metal following you around?” asks Tails one day in the workshop. He looks out the window to see the blue robot standing in the bushes and staring intently, not even bothering to hide himself. At this point, your programming has been fully integrated by his AI chip, rendering the translator Tails had initially developed obsolete. The young fox across the table from you is currently disassembling the earpiece and repurposing its components as he casts glances at Metal periodically, not even bothering to hide his suspicion. 

“Ignore him,” you say without looking over your shoulder. “He won’t do anything as long as I’m around. Think of him as… a lost puppy rather than a murderous robot.”

There’s a loud buzzing sound from the bushes, as if he’s pissed at your statement, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care less, instead turning back to your computer with a light laugh. 

During your time in the lab, Tails repurposes the earpiece into a smartwatch which shares the same language software Metal uses. Not only can you now see his conversation logs and how he’s feeling without your computer, but it also doubles as a haptics registering system for Metal. With a swipe, you can switch between components and see their status in real time. Tails gives it to you under the condition that you would share the results with him so he could further understand Eggman’s engineering.

… Perhaps it’s a bit of a betrayal of trust now that you think about it, but you also wouldn’t have been able to get your hands on the device otherwise. A little secret never hurts anyone, right?

He sees you dozing off under the shade of a palm tree. Analyzing your sleeping expression and your biodata, he comes to a conclusion: content. From your heart rate and your respiratory rate, he can assume that you’re in a deep sleep. Perhaps you’re even dreaming right now. Before he knows it, he finds himself standing at your side and looking down at your sleeping form. 

| What should I do?

> Accompany them.   > Leave without a trace.

There’s a short clicking sound from him. He doesn’t like either of those options. One is too forward of a move and another one makes it seem like he was never there at all. Metal looks around, shuffling in circles in the sand, until he finds a solution.

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you find a bouquet of wildflowers resting in your hands that were clumsily picked. Some of them are bent in half at the stem and others have petals missing, yet you smile and hold the flowers closer anyway.

“He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is,” you lightly scoff to yourself, fingers stroking the petals. “How cute.”

He sees you typing away at your computer throughout the day, brows furrowed and biting your lip. Focused. Your eyes narrow and your gaze hones in on something as you type out a few more lines of code. Anticipation. Your eyes light up and you clap your hands together in victory, pushing yourself back in your chair and spinning around. Relief. Victory. And the cycle repeats. But more often than not, you become even more frustrated instead of achieving sweet victory. Such is the life of a programmer. 

What he doesn’t see, however, is you tapping away at your watch and seeing the conclusions he’s drawn once he’s left, presumably having grown bored with watching you sit at a desk for hours on end. 

| Conclusion: Focused. Anticipating something. Relief. Victory.

You hum and raise your eyebrows in pleasant surprise. 

“Not bad. But he still has a lot to learn.”

He sees you hanging out with friends too, silently trailing a safe distance from behind. His AI chip is always prompting him to do weird things during those times, however- glare daggers at your poor friend until they leave, purposefully make his presence known, or even say something to get them to leave. It must be another bug, decides Metal. He’ll ask you to fix it later. But right now, he’s focused on your form taking a walk alongside… Sonic. 

Revulsion. Disgust. But there’s something else too. What is this feeling? 

Jealousy, responds the software. But he’s too prideful to accept such a diagnosis. He can’t possibly be jealous of Sonic. The very thought makes him want to laugh. It should be the other way around! But seeing how you let Sonic sling an arm around your shoulder and let him drag you around... it makes him realize the gap between himself and that blue hedgehog. And he wants nothing more than to bridge it. 

Now is the perfect time to swoop in and show that hedgehog who’s the real Sonic, but he holds off- partially for your sake but to also hear where the conversation will be going after catching his name. 

“From what I heard, that hunk of scrap metal actually talked back to Egghead! Can you believe it? He gave the man attitude!”

Sonic puffs his chest out and smiles proudly. Metal feels the familiar urge to run over and kick him in the head. 

“Maybe I am rubbing off onto him more than he’d like to admit. What can I say, I’m a good influence! Now, if he could just shape up to be a better… person? Robot? Whatever.”

“... Or it’s because of his shiny new language model that I’ve been modifying.”

Sonic’s face falls and twists into a disgruntled scowl at your words.

“You’re stealing my thunder here,” he grumbles.

“No, I’m just telling you to give credit where credit is due.”

Metal fights the command telling him to laugh. At least, that’s what you call that specific sound. A snarky reply is generated and lies in waiting, ready to be used. Perhaps he’s picked up your sass more than he’d like to admit. 

He accidentally steps on a twig underfoot and freezes as Sonic’s ears twitch at the sound. Sonic looks around and meets Metal’s glowing red eyes hiding in the bushes. He grimaces, hand bunching into a fist and ready to turn the robot into little more than a dented tin can at a moment’s notice. 

“Ew, it’s you. You’re looking hideous as usual, by the way.”

“I am not hideous. You are just projecting.”

“Great, you’re even more insufferable now that you can speak. (Name), remind me why you took up this little passion project of yours again?”

You lazily shrug.

“Wanted to one-up Eggman for once.”

“Joy,” grumbles Sonic. “My cheap knockoff can now speak all because you got into a metaphorical dick measuring contest with- woah! Easy there!”

He leaps out of the way right as you shove him. 

“As if you’re not doing the same thing on a near-daily basis!”

This time, Metal does laugh, red eyes narrowing into slits and shoulders shaking. Sonic glares over his shoulder at his robotic counterpart.

“Oh, piss off already, would you?”

He laughs again, this time just to spite his rival. 

“Whatever,” grumbles Sonic. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As Sonic moves to drag you away, Metal’s hand shoots out to grab you by the shoulder. Steel claws dig into the flesh and he has to hurriedly ease up on his grip, lest he accidentally draw blood.

Soft, he thinks. Malleable and breakable, unlike his body of titanium. It’s the first time he’s touched you of his own accord. He’s always been aware of how organics are more fragile than him, with bodies that could be injured once and never recover. It’s been a sore point of contention for him- how does Sonic keep surpassing him with a body that tires and will eventually fail? Yet despite his organic counterpart standing in front of him, Metal’s focus isn’t on him. It’s on your pulse beating beneath his touch and the way his claws dig and sink into your soft flesh. For the first time, he realizes just how frail you are. And the knowledge that he is capable of damaging you beyond repair sends his mind into overdrive. He freezes at the thought, and it’s enough of an opportunity for Sonic to smack his hand away with a glare that could kill. He has no pain receptors, yet he feels a strange pang. 

“Keep your hands to yourself! Didn’t Egghead teach you that or was he too busy programming you to be as much of an asshole as possible?”

Metal doesn’t follow Sonic as he leads you away, although there’s a strange urge to give chase. Once you’re out of sight, he looks down at the hand that was touching you, and flexes his fingers. They move in a mechanical motion, gears spinning and cables going taut at the command. His temperature sensors still retain the warmth of your body and he finds himself seeking it out again, even though he could very easily replicate and surpass your warmth by overheating on purpose. Metal shakes his head and dismisses the thought. A stupid idea. You’d scold him for it as well. 

At this point, he’s amassed a considerable amount of information regarding human emotions and knows what he’s feeling at this point. That four-letter word sits at the forefront of his mind. He buzzes angrily and tries to squash the feeling down, but it pops back up. 

… How irritating.

If he was trying to stay hidden before, then he’s not even bothering to hide his presence now. He’s at your side when shopping and obediently carrying your bags. When going on your evening walk, he’s there, identifying species of flowers and butterflies for you when you point at them. On the rare occasion he does leave your side, there’s always a little gift left in his place for you to discover. A collection of polished rocks, a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the hills behind your house, computer parts still in mint condition (did he go dumpster diving for these?), more flowers, pretty vases for said flowers, even more flowers… yeah, you’re noticing a pattern here. 

Metal even starts sneaking you into Eggman’s base, much to your amusement. He’ll disable the security systems and avoid the other robots patrolling around before leading you to the main computer room, where you’ll (begrudgingly) marvel over the quality workmanship that is Eggman’s tech and perhaps steal some trade secrets for your own use. 

The first time Eggman catches you red-handed, he’s so shocked all he can do there is stand motionless as he watches his most prized creation catch you in his waiting arms as you jump through a window. 

“M-Metal! What is this? Don’t tell me you’re in your rebellious phase now? Wait, that shouldn’t even be possible-”

You lazily shrug and cut him off with a wag of your finger. 

“Doc, you programmed him after Sonic, the guy that doesn’t care about rules and always goes against you. I don’t know what else to tell you other than you brought this upon yourself-”

“Get out!”

One night, you’re shaken awake by Metal. It’s not the first time he’s broken into your house, but it is the first time he’s done so at such a late hour. Metal understands the importance of sleep to organics and from his scanners, would’ve seen that you were in a deep sleep. So what gives?

“... What do you want?” you grumble as you come face to face with the robot standing at your bedside. He beeps and extends a hand. 

“I have something to show you. Come with me.”

A few minutes later and he’s flying across the lush landscape with you held securely in his arms. It’s a clear night with a full moon. The stars twinkle overhead and you can hear the chirp of insects in the grass and trees despite the wind in your ears. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

He comes to a stop and sets you down atop the hills overlooking your home. The air is rich with the sweet scent of wildflowers he often picks for your bouquets and the grass is lush from the heavy rains as of late. Toward the horizon sits Eggman’s lair, a hulking beast lying in wait for the right moment. 

You pat the spot next to you, but for once, he doesn’t sit next to you. Instead, he chooses to stand at your side and look off into the distance silently and awkwardly. He seems to be pointedly avoiding your gaze as you narrow your eyes at him, searching for a hint of what he could be hiding. When you uncover nothing, you irritatedly sigh and lie down. 

“First, you break into my house while I’m asleep despite knowing the importance of sleep to organics, then you turn down an invitation to sit next to me, which you’ve never done before. You’re acting weird. Tell me, what’s going on?”

He emits a series of beeps. Specifically, a combination of a high-pitched and low-pitched beep. You’ve gotten so used to him speaking that you almost don’t realize it’s his way of vocalizing binary code.

… But why would he do that now, of all times?

“Metal, Tails and I got rid of the translator a long time ago. I have no idea what you just said.”

“I know,” he says before pulling out a pen and some paper. After accompanying you on your shopping trips and errand runs for so long now, he’s gotten accustomed to having some paper and a writing utensil on him at all times now. 

You watch with wide eyes and bated breath as Metal’s hand grips the pen tightly, easing up on the pressure when he feels the plastic crack beneath his fingertips. He is not a gentle robot by design, quite literally programmed to kill. Knowing how to handle things with care, when to squeeze tightly and when to cradle gently… this is all unknown territory to him. Did the bouquets of flowers he picked for you every day work in making you realize his newfound feelings? He doesn’t know. By following you around, did you realize that was his way of ensuring your safety? He doesn’t know. By doing what you said, did you realize that was his way of telling you he trusts you? Again, he doesn’t know. His scanners tell him you feel affection towards him, but what kind? Familial, romantic, platonic- which one was yours? 

Only one way to find out. 

| Are you sure you wish to proceed? This decision will have irreversible consequences.

And for once, there is only one response generated.

> Yes.

Faster than your eyes can process, he scribbles something onto the paper and shoves it into your hands before fleeing. He’s out of sight within seconds, but your eyes stay trained on the spot you last saw him, listening for any indication he might be within earshot. The only sounds you hear as you strain your ears as the quiet chirps of insects and the rustling of the wind through the grass. No sign of a blue robot hiding. But knowing him, he’s probably watching from behind a tree somewhere, so with a sigh, you unfold the crumpled paper.

Your eyes widen at the sight. It’s hastily-copied binary code. The paper is torn in some areas from the force of his writing and the ink bleeds through in some spots, but it’s still legible. In an instant, your mind translates the several zeros and ones into three simple words. The initial dose of shock wears off, followed by realization.

So that’s why he was acting so weird.

A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth after a few more seconds. 

Why didn’t he say so sooner? Did he think I wouldn’t reciprocate?

Your frown transforms into a determined scowl. Time to fix that then. 

He still has a lot to learn if he thinks that’s what I would do.

You let go of the note, watching as the edges flutter in the palm of your hand before being carried away by the wind. The implications of what this could mean for the future are lost on you in the moment as you head back home to where you’ll surely find Metal lying in wait on the walk there. Right now, you have a robot to confess to. 

01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101

enjoyed this? the taglist is open!

@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[strangelittlestories]

Captain Hook was in the process of making a third pirate walk the plank, when his first mate came up to the deck.

“Where is it?” Hook snarled at the pirate, brandishing a cutlass at his chest. “I know one of you must have taken it!”

“Uh, Captain Hook, sir?” The first mate piped up, nervously. “What are the crew walking the plank about this time?”

“Someone’s taken my Taylor Swift CDs! And they’ll pay for it.”

The first mate groaned. There was nothing more sure to upset Hook than someone messing with his playlist.

“Now, now, Captain.” cajoled the first mate. “Maybe we can listen to some Ke$ha instead?”

“I can’t listen to TiK-ToK! It reminds me of that damned crocodile. And you salty dogs should all know that!” In a rage, Hook advanced down the plank, forcing the poor pirate another step back towards the brink. “Well, I’ll show you what happens to thieves on my ship. There’s a blank space in the ocean, baby, and guess what?”

“You’ll write his name?”

“At the very least, I’ll put an ‘X’ there!”

“Captain! Perhaps we could just … download the music? You know, illegally?”

“That’s piracy, you foul cur!” Hook turned to his first mate with murder in his eyes. “What, would you download a flintlock? A dinghy? Would you download a mermaid, you foul tempest-botherer? Would you split her into bytes and force her through the sieve of our terrible wi-fi? Would you use all our data to torrent a whole-ass mermaid?!?”

“Well, we are *pirates*, sir?”

“But what about the record labels’ profits, you shucked oyster of a man? What about their projected turnover? Did you think about the turnover??”

“Okay, no downloads, sir.” The first mate held up his hands in surrender. “How about a sing song? We could do a shanty?”

“I’m sick of shanties!” Hook turned back to the pirate on the plank, cast the cutlass aside and dropkicked him straight into the sea. “The plankings will continue until the music improves!”

“Right you are, Captain. Sorry, Captain!”

The first mate fled back below decks. As he reached his hammock, the dismayed look on his face was replaced with a devious smile.

He took the walkman out of its hiding place and inserted a CD, then popped on the earphones. He began to quietly sing along:

“It’s Smee. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s Smee.”

[wingedtyger]

How to Buy a Computer for Cheaper

Buy refurbished. And I'm going to show you how, and, in general, how to buy a better computer than you currently have. I'm fairly tech-knowledgeable, but not an expert. But this is how I've bought my last three computers for personal use and business (graphics). I'm writing this for people who barely know computers. If you have a techie friend or family member, having them help can do a lot for the stress of buying a new computer.

There are three numbers you want to know from your current computer: hard drive size, RAM, and processor speed (slightly less important, unless you're doing gaming or 3d rendering or something else like that)

We're going to assume you use Windows, because if you use Apple I can't help, sorry.

First is hard drive. This is how much space you have to put files. This is in bytes. These days all hard drives are in gigabytes or terabytes (1000 gigabytes = 1 terabyte). To get your hard drive size, open Windows Explorer, go to This PC (or My Computer if you have a really old OS).

To get more details, you can right-click on the drive. and open Properties. But now you know your hard drive size, 237 GB in this case. (this is rather small, but that's okay for this laptop). If you're planning on storing a lot of videos, big photos, have a lot of applications, etc, you want MINIMUM 500 GB. You can always have external drives as well.

While you've got this open, right-click on This PC (or My Computer). This'll give you a lot of information that can be useful if you're trying to get tech support.

I've underlined in red the two key things. Processor: it can help to know the whole bit (or at least the Intel i# bit) just so you don't buy one that's a bunch older, but processor models are confusing and beyond me. The absolutely important bit is the speed, in gigahertz (GHz). Bigger is faster. The processor speed is how fast your computer can run. In this case the processor is 2.60 GHz, which is just fine for most things.

The other bit is RAM. This is "random-access memory" aka memory, which is easy to confuse for, like how much space you have. No. RAM is basically how fast your computer can open stuff. This laptop has 16 GB RAM. Make sure you note that this is the RAM, because it and the hard drive use the same units.

If you're mostly writing, use spreadsheets, watching streaming, or doing light graphics work 16 GB is fine. If you have a lot of things open at a time or gaming or doing 3d modeling or digital art, get at least 32 GB or it's gonna lag a lot.

In general, if you find your current laptop slow, you want a new one with more RAM and a processor that's at least slightly faster. If you're getting a new computer to use new software, look at the system requirements and exceed them.

I'll show you an example of that. Let's say I wanted to start doing digital art on this computer, using ClipStudio Paint. Generally the easiest way to find the requirements is to search for 'program name system' in your search engine of choice. You can click around their website if you want, but just searching is a lot faster.

That gives me this page

(Clip Studio does not have very heavy requirements).

Under Computer Specs it tells you the processor types and your RAM requirements. You're basically going to be good for the processor, no matter what. That 2 GB minimum of memory is, again, the RAM.

Storage space is how much space on your hard drive it needs.

Actually for comparison, let's look at the current Photoshop requirements.

Photoshop wants LOTS of speed and space, greedy bastard that it is. (The Graphics card bit is somewhat beyond my expertise, sorry)

But now you have your three numbers: hard drive space, RAM (memory) and processor (CPU). Now we're going to find a computer that's better and cheaper than buying new!

We're going to buy ~refurbished~

A refurbished computer is one that was used and then returned and fixed up to sell again. It may have wear on the keyboard or case, but everything inside (aside from the battery) should be like new. (The battery may hold less charge.) A good dealer will note condition. And refurbished means any flaws in the hardware will be fixed. They have gone through individual quality control that new products don't usually.

I've bought four computers refurbished and only had one dud (Windows kept crashing during set-up). The dud has been returned and we're waiting for the new one.

You can buy refurbished computers from the manufacturers (Lenovo, Dell, Apple, etc) or from online computer stores (Best Buy and my favorite Newegg). You want to buy from a reputable store because they'll have warranties offered and a good return policy.

I'm going to show you how to find a refurbished computer on Newegg.

You're going to go to Newegg.com, you're gonna go to computer systems in their menu, and you're gonna find refurbished

Then, down the side there's a ton of checkboxes where you can select your specifications. If there's a brand you prefer, select that (I like Lenovos A LOT - they last a long time and have very few problems, in my experience. Yes, this is a recommendation).

Put in your memory (RAM), put in your hard drive, put in your CPU speed (processor), and any other preferences like monitor size or which version of Windows you want (I don't want Windows 11 any time soon). I generally just do RAM and hard drive and manually check the CPU, but that's a personal preference. Then hit apply and it'll filter down.

I'm going to say right now, if you are getting a laptop and you can afford to get a SSD, do it. SSD is a solid-state drive, vs a normal hard drive (HDD, hard disk-drive). They're less prone to breaking down and they're faster. But they're also more expensive.

Anyway, we have our filtered list of possible laptops. Now what?

Well, now comes the annoying part. Every model of computer can be different - it can have a better or worse display, it can have a crappy keyboard, or whatever. So you find a computer that looks okay, and you then look for reviews.

Here's our first row of results

Let's take a look at the Lenovo, because I like Lenovos and I loathe Dells (they're... fine...). That Thinkpad T460S is the part to Google (search for 'Lenovo Thinkpad T460s reviews'). Good websites that I trust include PCMag, LaptopMag.com, and Notebookcheck.com (which is VERY techie about displays). But every reviewer will probably be getting one with different specs than the thing you're looking at.

Here are key things that will be the same across all of them: keyboard (is it comfortable, etc), battery life, how good is the trackpad/nub mouse (nub mice are immensely superior to trackpads imho), weight, how many and what kind of ports does it have (for USB, an external monitor, etc). Monitors can vary depending on the specs, so you'll have to compare those. Mostly you're making sure it doesn't completely suck.

Let's go back to Newegg and look at the specs of that Lenovo. Newegg makes it easy, with tabs for whatever the seller wants to say, the specs, reviews, and Q&A (which is usually empty).

This is the start of the specs. This is actually a lesser model than the laptop we were getting the specs for. It's okay. What I don't like is that the seller gives very little other info, for example on condition. Here's a Dell with much better information - condition and warranty info.

One thing you'll want to do on Newegg is check the seller's reviews. Like on eBay or Etsy, you have to use some judgement. If you worry about that, going to the manufacturer's online outlet in a safer bet, but you won't quite get as good of deals. But they're still pretty damn good as this random computer on Lenovo's outlet shows.

Okay, so I think I've covered everything. I do recommend having a techie friend either help or double check things if you're not especially techie. But this can save you hundreds of dollars or allow you to get a better computer than you were thinking.

[spaceycat]

Hai.

Twitter Camstar!Chris. Pls.

the blonde happy trail. his stomach and chest caving and heaving while he jerks off infront of the camera.

the gasping. and groaning. oh. my. god.

IM SO IN BRO, ILY. (i am such a sucker for this trope) enjoy !!

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✮⋆˙ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 Pt. 1 / 5 ⋆˚࿔

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: lockjaw by sir mix-a-lot (4:19)

✰ pairing: camstar!chris hartley x fem!reader

✰ cw: swearing, talk of porn creation, kinda smutty but its just chris' porn LOL, kinda mild for whats to come

✰ word count: 1.0k+

✰ summary: your friends were talking about this new guy on pornhub, twitter, onlyfans, all of the above really that has taken the internet by storm. you looked it up out of curiosity to find that it was your friend chris at the centre of it all.

✰ a/n: yeah so i made this into a three parter because i was kinda obsessed with this...

see pt. 1 (you are here) , pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4 & pt.5

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ chris ★ hayley margot (random characters for plot convenience)

You were at work, getting ready to clock out - in the break room. Packing up your computer, charger, phone, when your workfriends came walking in. "Have you seen that on guy twitter and stuff?" "He's on onlyfans too--" "Why are you guys talking about onlyfans at work?--" "No, you have to understand-- there's this new guy he's on like.. twitter, pornhub on everything and people are obsessed with him." "And, I'm guessing you two are obsessed with him aswell?" "Maybe.. I'm looking into the cam girl business to hook up with him." "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard." "You have to see him yourself, then you'll be the exact same." "404ByteMe is his name." "That is-- I'm sorry bite me?" "No-- byte me like some nerdy shit, he must be into tech or something." "Tech and Porn, goes perfect together." You'd pack the rest of your stuff up, clearly uninterested. "I've got to go.. I'll see you tomorrow."

You made your way to your apartment, setting your stuff down as you toed off your shoes. Letting out a sigh, you pulled out your phone. ByteMe, that's dumb. You were then texted by your bestfriend Chris, he's a reserved person - not really knowing your work friends.

today - 4:57pm "we still on for tonight??"

"unless ur planning on ditching me, yeah we are ;P" "perf, be there at half past" "yep x"

You set your phone down, you had to clean your apartment and shower before Chris came over for dinner. You cleaned up your apartment, as you checked your phone you realised it was 5:23pm. You still needed to shower, surely Chris would be late-- and besides he wouldn't care if you were in the shower for like 5 minutes.. right?

today - 5:23pm "i might be in the shower when you get here, let urself in xx"

You knew he'd be probably driving already, but he'd eventually check his phone. You went off into the bathroom, turning on the shower - as you waited for the water to heat up, you shedded out of your work uniform. Feeling grateful that it was finally off after a hot and long day at work. The water washed away all the grime and dirt from the day also loosening your muscles and just giving you a minute to be thoughtless. As you got out of the shower, you checked your phone - realising that Chris hadn't read your message. Believing that he wasn't at the apartment yet. You wrapped a towel over yourself, drying off your hair as you walked out into your living room, humming to yourself - the towel cutting off your peripheral vision as you headed to the fridge. That's when you heard his voice. "Hello?--" He said with a chuckle. You turned around, seeing him in jeans, a plaid jumper and a shirt displaying a design based on some game that he probably liked. Then you became acutely aware of your clothes, or lack thereof. A blush coated your cheeks, "Shit-- shit, sorry I thought you weren't here yet--" He laughed a bit at your flusteredness, "Uh-- sorry.. I- I should've texted you or something.." "Chris it's fine-- don't apologise, let me get dressed." You practically waddled away to your bedroom, embarrassment wasnt even the right word to describe how you just felt. You could've died on the spot. You got changed into jeans and whatever shirt you could find, intending to be quick. Your hair was still wet, imprinting and sticking to your shirt - making it kind of see through. You gave up, deciding to walk back into the living room. "Sorry again--" You'd move to grab two beers from your bar fridge, walking back over to Chris - passing him one. He responded with a small "thank you." as you sat down next to him, placing your feet onto your coffee table. After dinner, you found yourselves watching some horror movie Josh suggested you two to watch. You were on your phone, not really invested in the movie as Hayley and Margot kept texting you about this Byte guy, it was starting to piss you off at this point. Why were they so persistent with it, "Plsssss, he's so hot!!" "trust me you will literally ascend to godhood seeing this man." You decided to just give in, look at one small clip or photo to see what the deal with this guy was. You faced your phone away from Chris, so he wouldnt see what the fuck you were up to on it. You went on incognito mode, like that would hide your sins. Looking up "404ByteMe" into the ponhub search bar, that's when you fell upon his profile.

He had many videos, some with some girls some solo. You turned down your volume to zero almost immediately. His profile picture was.. hot, it was faceless but holy shit what a body. A blonde curly happy trail leading to something cut out of frame, and a toned, lean stomach helping it. You clicked on a video, that's when you saw it. That smile that you've seen so many times before, those lopsided glasses that has to be pushed up every so often, that nose.

The man you were sitting next to was now plastered all over the screen, you watched himself pump his cock over and over again - probably making sweet noises that made you need to rewatch this later. Watching this felt wrong, but also so right. You watched the beads of pre-cum leak from his red swollen tip, watching his chest heave and his thighs and jaw tighten like he was about to cum, your thighs started to rub together to relieve the heat building between them, you never thought about Chris in that sense but now it was all that filled your mind. That's when a voice cut through your moment.

"You still watching this movie or what?--" You turned off your phone almost immediately, pushing it aside. "Y-Yeah.. sorry, my friends just kept texting me. I'm all yours." I'm all yours?-- okay who even says that, but as you looked at the man beside you - you could only wonder how he would look atop of you, fucking into you. You struggled to watch the movie, your phone still buzzing with texts from Hayley and Margot as you were hoping all of this would be over soon and he could leave to rewatch that video fifty more times if you could.

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YEP!! YEP!! I AM MAKING MORE CHAPTERS LIKE RN

[silver---linings]

😴 My muse wakes up in the middle of the night to find your muse injured in their living room + Adult!silver&organic metal (in context of the future of having byte ) bc this idea popped into my head while i was tryna sleep, im so sorry for all the sudden threads you are welcome to not awnser this one ;w; (your choice if you want to include byte in this thread))

Metal usually wasn’t gone this late. Sure, the hedgehog had work to do so their little family could, yknow, thrive. But metal wasnt usually gone till sundown. Let alone, late at night. But it wasn’t for a reason you’d expect- late workshift or such- nono metal had been gone so long because, well— things had gone haywire. So much so, he’d come home late in the middle of the night, a bloody mess and in a terrible amount of pain.

He’d done his best to make sure his attackers hadn’t followed him home. That he entered the house as quietly as he could. But he could only reach the living room, before his body gave out and the hedgehog went tumbling downwards and knocking a thing or two off the living rooms coffee table in the process. The small blue hog laid there, leaned against the side of the couch, in absolute pain as he tried to not well, give out and pass out from the bloody injuries on his body. It was either succumb to the bloodloss and hope he wasnt a corpse for his family to find in the morning- or wait and see if they’d find him and stay awake just incase. He took the ladder option.

Metal isn't usually gone this late. Working overtime or a late shift isn't a cause for concern, but not notifying Silver that he will be home later due to overtime or a late shift is a cause for concern.

The worried hedgehog wanted to go look for him, but he couldn't get little Byte to settle down until much later than the kid's intended bedtime. He wanted "mom". Where was "mom?" Silver didn't know, but he couldn't tell him that, and the fussy child didn't want daddy to leave, not until they finally fell asleep.

While it was a relief the kid finally went to sleep, the stresses having to tend to a worried child while worrying about his partner left him exhausted. He went to the living room to wait for Metal to get home as well as be close by in case Byte were to wake up. Silver wound up falling asleep on the couch.

He jolted awake when he heard the sounds of stuff falling over and assumed someone had broken in. His paws were lit with a cyan glow, ready to fight. Then he looked down.

Silver tried his damnedest not to scream the other's name out loud to avoid waking Byte up when he noticed his bloodied partner. "METAL!" He whisper shouted before he practically flew off the couch to him.

"Metal! Are you awake?! What the hell happened?!"

[indieyuugure]

Is it alright if there’s some Mikey angst from your Indie AU?

Sure.

So you guys remember a little while back I mentioned a Spider Bytes adjacent character?

Meet the Pomerantula(Inspired by a Pinterest post I saw) the mutant combination of a Pomeranian dog and a Black Widow spider. Mikey incorrectly dubbed them with the assumption that they were part tarantula, but no one could come up with a better name so Pomerantula it was.

News reports come in of monster sized spiders lurking around New York City so the boys suspect perhaps this is the Kraang’s doing and go to investigate. Unfortunately, Mikey gets bit by one of these little things during their investigation turned pest extermination and after Donnie determines that it is not in fact a tarantula but a black widow, they have to find a medicine for the venom as fast as possible.

They deduce that given the recent string of spider attacks, the local hospital is very likely to have antivenin stocked so they break in and manage to find what they need.

Splinter was not pleased when they got home.

Hope this is okay, this has been in my mind for a while now so it’s fun to get to share it!

Good question! :]

[an3sth3t1c-cr1t3r1a]

ETHAN'S ECCENTRIC ELECTRONIC EMPORIUM: AN INTRODUCTION

last updated: june 30 2025

hello!! you can call me ethan and apollo. mutuals can call me mind. but honestly idc much. call me a slur [i've been called worse /ref]

i use it/he/byte. no they please trans man + some sort of sexuality. who knows what i like. not i

mind kin and dog kin

i am a minor!

not answering donation asks. any account sending them will be blocked. general DNI criteria - homophobes, transphobes, anti otherkin/furries, radfems, zionists, general assholes. darkshippers interact with extreme caution

feel free to use any of my art as a pfp, just make sure to credit me [and don't steal or repost it!! that's a loser move!!]. also faceclaiming w my art [wether it be sys or kin] is totally cool too also feel free to tag me in tag games. i might not always respond because sometimes don't have time to do it when i see it then i forget. but they're fun so yeah tag me i'm a jashshipper!! if you don't like it don't follow, and/or block all the cjshipping tags. peace and love you can send in art requests!!! i'll try my best to get to them. no nsfw obviously. outside of that i will literally draw anything [but. Maybe try to stay within chonny jash related requests. i'm 99 times more likely to do it if it's chonny jash related] my time zone is EST/EDT, so be aware that if you expect a quick response for anything sent at like 4am, i can assure you that is not what you will get

here's my strawpage!! [keep in mind i regularly forget to check the gimmick inbox thing so. uh. yeah]

anyways. onto the other things people put in these. possible eyestrain warning at the bottom for userboxes, i guess

INTERESTS

ok. i am a chonny jash centric blog but i'm also very multifandom. i like a lot of things. in order of what comes to mind [ha], my main interests that'll be what's mostly seen here are chonny jash [duh], will wood, ut/dr, homestuck, rain world, my chemical romance and stomach book

some other things i enjoy are lemon demon, cult of the lamb, miraculous [don't @ me i know it's shit /j], sonic the hedgehog, tmnt, jekyll and hyde, sanders sides, cattails, dsaf, dialtown, regretevator, forsaken, hamilton, the glass scientists, mlp, the stanley parable, and probably a lot more. essentially, if i reblog something related to it, you can assume i have at least some interest in it

UUH. ME

yeah i dunno how to put this in normally without it feeling janky. here's my fursona or something sorry not sorry for being a furry freak

sniles so sneetly at you

MISC INFO

i'm diagnosed with adhd and am self-diagnosed with autism, though there could be more neurodivergencies hidden somewhere in there. hidden in the sand perhaps [also i'm low empathy probably . so. yeah]

questioning osdd. blog for that is @unnamed-sys-blog [praises for my amazing naming skills are encouraged /j]

also here's my kin/petre blog thing. @ouppygogelectric. peace and love

my favorite characters ever are mind [cccc] [obviously], dirk strider [homestuck], berdly [deltarune], gregoriah [regretevator], melanie [also regretevator], and donnie [rottmnt]

i will call anything and everything a reference to something [reference? like vampire reference in a minor key? will wood???!!!]

my most used emoji's are 🗣, 💥, and 👍. i think this is important to mention

i am THE don't take it personally fan. if you couldn't tell

i tend to have a hard time remembering pronouns if you use multiple sets and/or neos, so if i use the wrong ones or use one set too often then don't hesitate to tell me

i am a leo [august 19] and my mbti is intp-t. i don't really believe in astrology or personality tests to an extent but do with this what you will

i can take a bit to respond to messages or really anything direct and/or private, so if i end up taking a while to respond to anything, i don't hate you ! i tend to forget to respond, be busy, or just end up too nervous to say something regardless of how good of friends we are. same applies to asks to a lesser extent

speaking of communication, i tend to elaborate on what i mean often, and use tone tags even when probably unnecessary and sometimes repetitively. /srs

flirty / 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 talk is fine [as long as you're not an adult obv], but also be wary that i am very much a minor. jokes are fine, just nothing graphic or descriptive in terms of sex please and thank you [unless you are a certain person. you know who you are]

i swear a lot and don't tag when i do. so be warned

TAGS

#ethan's yapping again - General Talking™ tag

#ethan's arts- art tag [used to be ethan's romanceless art but i finally changed it. god bless]

#ethan's asks!! - ask tag #ethan's saved sillies :3 - save tag

#ethan's on the dumb pony game again :3 - abandoned ponytown tag that i haven't gotten rid of yet

#ethan's faves - fave tag

#ethan's sounds - music tag

#ethan's writing - fics

also !! a few people you should check out because they're swag

@moonys-chaos

@irusanw4

@adhdrizzy

@sillycatnetwork

@junos-cacophony

@neptunezringzz

@jupiterzerinomee

now to the userboxes with no organization whatsoever [again, possible eyestrain warning]

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au Part 12

Previous. Masterpost

Danny wasn't completely sure what all of the sound files Duke uploaded into the radio storage. Granted, the fact that there was apparently a 10 Terabyte hard drive just for the radio seemed a bit much, although it was over half full before Duke gave him a metric butt load of sound bytes, so maybe Batman was onto something. Now it was about three-quarters full…. How many files were there?

Either way, whoever named these files are the MvP of this entire situation. Either they were just the name of the saying, or we're named something like ‘exasperated 4’ and they were On Point!

Unfortunately there weren't any defined names other than movie references. Why were there three different versions of the “Hey, Becky, look at her butt” Danny didn't know, but he might use them for reasons.

Duke had left him alone with a disgruntled “Good Luck” after Danny started playing the ‘mood’ files to see exactly what they were. He figured Duke would come back in a few hours to have a “conversation” about his predicament. Until then……

DID THEY SOUND BYTE BATMAN HIMSELF?!?!?!

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[sojournerstales]

WF1999: Something Nice For The Kid

Hello, here is a small drabble about my Drifter doing something nice for my Operator.

You ever have a thought or idea get stuck in your teeth? There's something I'd been chewing on for a while, I thought about it while standing on dust-blasted rock receiving marching orders from the Lotus, and then again prompted by something Salem - Eleanor - said to me over the KIM.

I am sat cross-legged in the living quarters of the Orbiter.

It's strange to be back here. I feel just as out of place now as I did before, only I think I look the part too. In space without the spacesuit, just skinny jeans and a stretched, loose-threaded tank-top.

Ordis hovers over my shoulder, "Energy conversion is functioning within expected parameters. Your --BUSTED OLD JUNK-- antique collection should receive power now."

Which roughly translates to the Kinemantic At Home Game System and Game Monitor combo should actually work now, hooked up to a power cell and adaptor that I'm sure Amir would love to get his hands on.

The screen lights the room up. My face in pale glory, a shadow cast for myself and Ordis across the wall.

"Oh no!" Ordis declares, "This image quality will not do, and the evacuation order has been given. I do not think we will have time to fix this." He hovers close, fixated on the logo slowly bouncing between each of the four corners on-screen.

"Nah," I tell him, "That's what it's meant to look like."

"I see. I will adjust further expectations to align with this information."

"Just go tell the kid I'm here, will ya?" Just in case she didn't spot my own craft on the way.

Ordis complies. It gives me half a minute to get everything else in order. Plug the console's controllers in. Shove the boxes into one corner. Empty the bag of everything else I brought with me. I wait then for the familiar hiss of the doors behind me.

"One of these days I might shoot that thing out of the sky," My own voice, minus an untold amount of years as a storybook survivalist. The kid. The younger version of myself. Dressed like she belongs - transference suit sleek and pink-accented. Her name, like mine, is Sloane. "Grineer landing craft hovering outside my Orbiter."

"Leave Potato alone. I like her." I push up to my feet and approach and I don't quite hug her. I stop halfway and just awkwardly reach out and squeeze her shoulder. "You been good?"

"Asking if I've behaved?" She gives my hand and then me a look.

"No. I'm asking if you're good. In the head. And stuff."

Sloane wrinkles her nose. I can't help but intuit what she's thinking. I'm the one making this awkward and she is going to step past that by asking, "What's all this stuff?"

"Presents." The stuff is much easier to talk about. I throw an arm out to gesture at the assembled, aforementioned stuff. The monitor, the console, a neatly folded stack of clothes, packets of various candies.

"For me?" She sounds suspicious of it.

"Yuh-huh." I return to not-quite my original place, leaving room for Sloane to sit nearby. She can take the living quarter's booth couch, on I'm the floor. "Just sit down and enjoy it, I'm being nice."

That look again. Sustained as she joins me. Narrowed when she looks at the screen.

"You deserve nice, okay? What'd Lotus have you blowing up today?"

"Espionage, actually. Hit a Corpus Supercruiser. A lead on Solar--"

"Yeah, anyways, this is food with no nutritional value and... Canned drink that's actively bad for you." I slide over the half-height table Gumi-Bytes and Nu! Cola.

"... Great."

"Trust me, you'll love 'em."

Sloane seems dubious and I don't blame her. Cetus treats don't skew sweet and Ordis is not exactly an artist with food synthesis.

"So what's with the screen? It broken?"

"No, that's how it's meant to look," I say - exasperated - for the second time today. "It's for games. You put a disc in and play 'em with this thing. I was gonna bring one way bigger, but Amir told me that this one is way more convenient. You don't have to give them quarters. Money."

"Okay. Cool." A pause, she remembers her manners in about the same time it takes for me to do the same, "Thanks. So what about the clothes?"

"Quincy and Eleanor. I thought you'd get a kick out of these..." A jeans and jacket combo, it looks like something the Vent Kids would wear only with less greebles. "From Quincy. Then from Eleanor..."

Sloane holds up one of the tops. It's shiny with soft buttons and smooth fabric. "Ceremonial wear?"

"What?" I laugh, "No, dingus. Pyjamas."

"What's pyjamas?"

"Oh my- Right, yeah. You sleep in them. Sleep-sleep. They're comfy."

"You know, I'm not the weird one here." She gets all defensive on me (I think it's a good sign she's hugging the pyjamas to her chest when she does), "You jumped from one messed up loop to another and neither are like the real world."

"Oh, come on. So I teased. I know you like this stuff anyway, stop fighting it."

"You don't just know that! We're not identical." Voice raised.

"We're the same person!" Mine matches.

"We DIVERGED!" And Sloane turns whingy and leans towards me and is pulling a face while she does it. So I put my palm over her head and shove her away.

She shoves me back.

I raise an eyebrow.

We both think - would we have been like this with a sibling? We never found out. We're a pair of only-children figuring out how this works now that we are not alone.

And we know that one of us has done a very nice thing.

And one of us doesn't always know how to accept very nice things.

We look at each other, both lit by the drifting logo on the clunky monitor before us. After a few more seconds I break the silence, "Aoi put together a mixtape for you." I slide over a CD in a paper envelope.

"That's a disk."

"Yeah, I said that too. She said they still call them mixtapes, apparently mix-CDs never stuck."

"Neat."

"Thought so. I think you'll like it... But you'll have to tell me what you think."

[seeyouonsaturn]

Let me tell you about Galatea

Thanks @mega-byte for asking about her and motivating me to finally type it all out. I've been wanting to do it for months. Seriously I made her in November.

HEEHEE okay so

Galatea is originally a TFA oc, but then I watched TFP and it just worked so well that I HAD to give her a TFP version too. And since Rescue Bots takes place in the same universe it now works even better.

I technically have art of her but it came out so so bad and I've been meaning to re-do it for months. Galatea is large and white, with a few pale purple details (her TFA version is either a white van or a camper), with purple optics in her TFA form and a screen-face in TFP. She talks with a rather monotone AI-voice.

You can have this. I don't want to talk about the rest of it lmao

Let's start with TFA because that's the original. In the first season especially, the humans celebrate the Autobots as great heroes, even when the danger they protect the city from is only there because of them. Like Starscream attacking in the very beginning. Somehow nobody acknowledges that that would not have happened without the Autobots being present in the first place (they sort of start to in later seasons but still, nobody is even remotely serious enough about it).

Enter Alexander Spanos, a local inventor and cartoon villain™. He sees the Autobots as the reason for all the disasters that keep happening and is convinced they are the real enemy, so he devises a weapon to meet them at their own level: his own self-made "transformer", based on Cybertronians but fully human-made and operated with an advanced AI-system. He names her Galatea, after the statue-turned-human from greek myth. Alex calls himself her father, and develops a bit of a god complex about having essentially created life.

Then, through magic key shenanigans or whatever, Galatea develops sentience. She begins to question her father's ideals - he programmed her to "protect humanity", but the Autobots are protecting humanity as well, so why is she told to consider them the enemy? It does not make sense. Alex continues to manipulate her into working for him, making her believe she's doing the right thing, and since he is her father and creator, she initially believes that surely he knows best, but eventually the illusion crumbles. [I have it play out as a funny "slightly insane-evil scientist and his very sweet rebellious teenage daughter" thing, but the more you think about it, the more fucked up it gets]

She finally stands up to him, and then shit goes down because he decides to take her offline, since she's now a "broken machine" to him - despite calling himself her father, he never truly saw her as a person. The Autobots manage to stop him and save the day, and adopt Galatea as one of their own. She has a lot to learn about being alive, and will definitely face a lot of discrimination back on Cybertron for not being a "real" bot, but she'll find her place eventually.

Now, onto her TFP version. I wasn't even thinking about adding her there, until that one episode happens in which M.E.C.H essentially do the exact same thing when they clone Optimus. So. Holy fuck Galatea canon?

In TFP, Galatea is a MECH-made bot, and though there's no magic key in this verse, her AI just gains sentience on its own because this is a cartoon and I can do what I want. Alex is also a good guy in this, because we already have a villain in Cylas. TFP!Alex is one of the MECH scientists developing her, and gets attached to her (referencing him being her father). He's the one to recognize that she is more than a machine, and eventually helps her escape MECH, probably giving his own life for her freedom (I haven't hashed out the details, but Cylas would not let him live).

And even aside from that, TFP!Galatea is a lot darker than her counterpart.

Because, where did MECH get the blueprints for a Cybertronian's inner workings? Breakdown's corpse. Cylas may have gotten the outer armor, but Galatea was built with the inner parts, including a reset processor and spark chamber. And it affects her.

Breakdown is dead. Galatea is 100% her own person. But sometimes, there's just a ghost of him, like a sense of deja-vu. She recognizes places she's never been to, knows things she has no way of knowing. She can read and speak Cybertronian despite not being programmed to. It gets real bad once Knockout changes sides and has to interact with her, because even though they've never met, she can't get over the innate sense that she knows him. And unfortunately she was also built using Breakdown's frame as a base, so to Knockout it's just incredibly uncanny and uncomfortable, especially because somehow Galatea just knows little details about him that he's certain he's never told her about.

Have some screenshots of when I was developing her because that's easier than writing it down again;

I don't think I want to ship them because that would just feel far too weird (I considered it initially but it feels so wrong). But they are family. In a way. She grows on him. My friend called her his daughter and yeah that feels about right.

Now, what prompted all this, is that I was informed that Rescue Bots takes place in the same universe as TFP, at roughly the same time. Which means that there is a very good chance that Optimus would send Galatea to Griffin Rock, so she could train there and learn to be a person, without having to deal with Decepticon attacks on a regular basis, because she's not ready for that.

And literally as I was talking about this with a friend, this episode happened. Which is. Hm. Why does it look like baby Galatea.

And since the robo-baby never shows up again after its one episode (correct me if I'm wrong) I have decided to yoink it. My baby now. New oc. There's a good chance its AI could develop independence too, especially if Doc Greene updates it with some Galatea-based tech, which, let's be real, he wouldn't even hesitate. And so, Galatea adopts a child. I haven't seen Rescue Bots Academy, but the idea of the baby becoming a member once its older intrigues me a lot too.

Only problem is that now I gotta name the damn thing.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

Leitmotifs in Across The Spiderverse.

Let's talk about how the music of Across The Spiderverse tells us more than what might be obvious. Spoilers for both movies from here on out: you've been warned. 

EDIT: added in one more very important instance.

For those who don't know or need a reminder, a leitmotif is a musical signature associated with a character, an idea, a situation, or some or all of those things together. And for the first Spiderverse movie, Daniel Pemberton made excellent use of at least two big ones. 

To see what I mean, check out this video. If you haven't already. It highlights how music helped tell the story of Into The Spiderverse. 

While this video exclusively covers the leitmotifs in the soundtrack of ITSV, once you know what they sound like, you can hear their inclusion in ATSV.

For instance, Miles' personal leitmotif (that ties together the themes that makeup Miles-as-a-person's journey) shows up both times he attempts to tell his mother that he's Spider-Man.

But the Spider-Person theme, in particular, is all over the place in ATSV. This is fitting, considering it features so many Spideys. Not only is it front and center in Peter B.'s theme and is hiding out in Gwen's, Pavitr's, and Hobie's themes, it demonstrates how Miles-as-Spider-Man has developed between movies: playing throughout My Name is Miles Morales. It's one of the first things we hear when we see the young hero again.

This is an evolution from before, as for most of the first film, the Spider-Person motif plays incessantly for the other Spiders but sparingly for Miles. Whenever it was used for him, it was to show he'd reached a new station in his learning and growth. It plays for him when he first thwips away from Doc Ock and intertwines with his personal theme during his leap of faith to show that he's finally become Spider-Man.

So to have multiple iterations of the Spider-Person leitmotif jammed into the song that plays when we first see Miles again shows how much he's grown.

However....the other places it plays in the movie can give us clues about the nature of the conflict between Miguel's Spider Society and the newly formed Spider-Band. To illustrate this, I want to talk about three specific moments where it's prominent in the soundtrack.

During Nueva York Train Chase, Miguel busts out of the train like a horror movie monster and calls after the younger Spider: "Who do you think you are? Really!?"

Miles answers: "My name...is Miles Morales. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. I'm pretty sure you know the rest, jerk!" He then proceeds to drop, kick Miguel in the face, and then nail him with a ball of webbing.

This is around 2:05 of Nueva York Train Chase on the official ATSV soundtrack by Daniel Pemberton. What do we hear after Miles declares this and then (temporarily) eludes 2099?

The Spider-Person leitmotif.

It's not much later that we hear it again. When? At about 2:25 in the track The Go Home Machine. When Margo Kess, Spider-Byte, decides not to interfere with the titular machine and keep Miles in Nueva York.

This moment is critical. Miguel is trying to stop Miles. Even if the machine doesn't take him home, it gets Miles out of the older Spider's clutches and gives him a chance. And when he gets away, what plays? The Spider-Person leitmotif. The music tells us that at this moment, in trying to escape and save his father and not halting his escape, Miles and Margo are acting like Spider-People.

The music is on Miles' side. The music tells us that Miles is acting like Spider-Man by resisting the Spider-Society. He's doing the right thing.

And on top of that, what do we hear after 2:35 of Start a Band? The moment where Peter B. looks outside and sees Gwen waiting for him? The Spider-Person leitmotif. It tells us that in taking Hobie's watch and gathering her band together, Gwen's acting like Spider-Woman.

It then plays over and over again until the credits role. The music is telling us that the Spider-Band's mission marks them as Spider-People. They are living up to the title. They are doing the right thing.

I don't think the music is the only thing in the movie that points the audience to that conclusion. There's also a lot of subtext, meta, and suspiciously little information about how Canon Events and the multiverse generally work. But this is one of the simplest ways the movie tells us that Miles and the Spider-Band are in the right.