#proving non-robot

[satireinfo]

People Who Say 'I'm Not a Robot' Might Actually Be Robots

Study Finds That People Who Say ‘I’m Not a Robot’ Might Actually Be Robots By Poppy Tech-Fantastic | Cyberville  In a groundbreaking study that has the world questioning the very nature of its existence, scientists have revealed that those who habitually declare “I’m not a robot” during online forms might, in fact, be robots themselves. Yes, you heard that right. The study, conducted by the…

[baltears]

despite how stupid and narmy david cage's writing can feel at times i actually think theres a layer of genuine emotional depth to it that typically gets ignored or missed entirely in favor of talking about its flaws &i think a lot of that comes from the actors involved but some of their ability to give really good performances has to do with being given good opportunities to do that by the script. and also i think some of the narm quality comes from the animation looking uncanny valley because dbh for instance tries very hard for realism in its graphics and animation but just doesnt look quite real enough to not be distracting. its kind of like looking past bad special effects in a movie like these really nuanced and beautiful acting performances are in the game but you have to kind of fill the rest of the visual nuances in yourself because the animation is only capturing maybe half of them. like imo the animation just not being all the way there is such a huge reason why a lot of people found the game like funny and weird and cringey. we can read the actors' faces but like only kind of because their smallest microexpressions are not being translated.

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Non FNAF old Scott Cawthon art style appreciation post

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence

Inspired by This prompt: HERE  by @corkinavoid No beta we die like Danny and Jason. Do not steal, take, or repost my writing without permission, I do not consent to my art being used in AI training. 

Tim had just finished attaching the wires of the speaker into the bat computer for Betty when the speakers began to crackle. 

“What is this? Wait, can you hear me?” The voice that echoed out of the speakers was very distinctly not robotic, or mechanical. It very much had human intonation… and a mid-western accent???

The gathered family froze and stared in shock. Dick and Stephanie were here as a joke, Babs, Tim, and Bruce were there as the techies, and despite Damian’s protests, he was also standing besides Bruce. Despite the gathering of bats, none of them could have expected this. A few hands went to emergency beacons and cellphones, before pausing.

“Hello Red Robin!” The voice cheerfully called. Taking steps back and glancing around the cave at Babs, who stared at Bruce, who stared at Tim as he clicked his super beacon. 

“Betty?”

“I mean, you do know me as such, but I actually prefer Danny, he/they.” Babs pointed at Bruce, who looked at Tim, who lamely motioned towards Babs. 

“Who uh. Who installed you?” His voice was most certainly not squeaky thanks for asking. 

“Oh, well uh, technically no-one, I accidentally did it myself.” The screen turned on and started to glitch out to a camera. It eventually settled on the sketching program, which popped a smiley face onto itself.

“Who are you” Bruce growled, as he switched into batman mode. Damian was glaring at the screen and the rest of the family had inched into a defensive formation. 

The entrance door entered and Superman walked out of it. 

“What seems to be the issue B?”

“OMG It’s superman! You’re like, my second favorite hero!”

“Oh, uh, than-er” Bruce glared at him, with no idea of what this entity was, it was always a good idea to follow fey rules. “That’s very much appreciated. Who is your first?”

“Martian Manhunter obviously.” Betty, or Danny as they were now referred to as, began to sketch out something on the app. 

“I got into a fight with a technomancer. I figured I could just phase out but he did some magic and now I’m stuck. Very rude if you ask me.”

“Ah, I see.” Supermans face implied that he very much did not see. “So, are you a martian perhaps? With the phasing and Manhunter as your favoratie.”

“Oh no, I’m ahhhh….” The cheery tone died as Danny tried to find the words, “I’m like a spirit, yeah, I guess that’s the right way to put it right now.”

“Were you human before this?” butted in Tim. Now that the seeming threat had passed, (you could never be too careful, no shut up Nightwing he is not paranoid, just cautious) the family had relaxed their stance and Barbra had rolled over to the computer screen. 

“Technically???” 

Danny did not sound so sure of himself.

“It’s not a problem if you aren’t, you can tell that we don’t really care if you are human or not.” 

Superman floated carefully down to the ground besides Bruce, but without actually touching down. Perhaps he simply forgot that they were friends with non-humans.

“Tell that to the gov.” he snarked back, and that was definitely teenager snark. 

“Wait shit. No, no no no, I take that back, don’t tell the government anything, I didn’t say nothin’!” he gasped and staticed out. 

“What do you mean tell it to the government?”

“NOPE, NUH UH. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING YOU CAN’T PROVE IT, I WANT MY LAWYER!”

“Alright,” Bruce pacified putting his hands up “Let me just call a friend and they can get you out.”

“Wait really? Where’s Mr. I’m so dark and broody tell me everything?”

Yep, that’s teenager snark right there, Bruce thought as his eye twitch and his kids snickered. 

“Sooo, how did this technomancer trap you, Danny?” Dick strolled over to the chair in front of the computer and flopped down spinning around in lazy circles. 

“Oh, well you see it started when…” Danny's voice faded off as Bruce took his league communicator out and stepped around a corner with Kal to call up Zatanna. 

“Hey Batman! What’s up?”

“We need you down in the batcave, some seemingly civilian has been trapped in the computer for a couple weeks now, and we’ve only just gotten into communication with them. They say it was technomancy.” He rumbled. He would have to suit up and manage to get Danny not to spill any of their identities, this just turned into a major headache to deal with. Batman hates magic. 

Once all of the children were suited up and Danny had been given an explanation, they were all patently waiting for Zatanna to arrive. 

The zeta tubes finally lit up with her arrival as she walked towards the gathered group holding her bag.

Halfway through greeting she paused, and stared blankly the screen. Everyone else shot curious glances, backwards, some more obvious than others. Did Nightwing seriously need to turn his head like that, he swears his eldest has bones, but sometimes he seriously starts to doubt himself. 

On the screen is a smiley face with a hand emoji. And a little drawing of a stick figure with white hair, green eyes, and a black suit. 

“Hello! I am Danny, I’m so sorry you had to come all this way to help me, I’d offer you something but I don’t even have a body right now.” One awkward laugh later, and Bruce wanted to have had his head in her hands. 

“I don’t worry, I can fix this. It’ll be a pain, but I can.”

While Zatanna sat up the spell and sent Kal out to go to Metropolis, (less suspicious for him to be buying things than Gotham), Bruce decided to stand around in the shadows while waiting to be useful. His kids, were off making friends with the strange person in the computer however. Laughing and teasing, he’s almost certain that Stephanie and Dick are trying to convince Danny to stay around and get adopted, despite Danny and Damian’s protests. 

After thirty minutes, Zatanna was ready to do the spell, and Danny was saying goodbye. 

As the light shone through the sigils written on the board and Zattana continued her muttering and waving, Danny added one last thing. 

“And I added a file of something for you guys to look at, please please please look into it! I hope I can see you soon!”

And with a final flash, Danny was gone, leaving the batfam without their lovely AI/new friend. Zatannna wrapped things up and Batman escorted her back to the Zeta tube with Clark, thanking them briefly. And with that, Clark and Zatanna left with Two flashes of light. 

Now, time to see what that file was that Danny had added. 

[i-like-blue-eyed-robots]

Wheatley has ADHD

It’s a common enough occurrence that it probably deserves its own trope — aliens, robots and any other nonhuman character almost always end up with autistic traits. It’s because writers take a nonhuman character and go ‘well, how do I make this character register as nonhuman, but still human enough that audiences will like them?’ And the answer is making them neurodivergent. I’m not personally inclined to say that this is a good or a bad thing, though I can see how it might be taken that way.

However, some authors like myself do it intentionally, to demonstrate how neurodivergent people can end up ostracized.

Some examples of common traits that are autistic-coded and writers give to nonhuman characters are as follows:

-difficulty understanding metaphor, sarcasm or exaggeration

-overly blunt in communication

-unawareness of others emotions/incorrect reaction to said emotions

-difficulty realizing their own emotions

-need for a strict schedule in order to be happy

Of course, there’s more out there, but I’ve seen these pop up quite a lot.

However, the Portal series’ fantastic writing team did not follow these stereotypes with their robots, and that’s what I would like to cover today.

I would go over GLaDOS in relation to this idea, like she clearly understands sarcasm, but she doesn’t quite fit for reasons that would be obvious to anyone who’s played through Portal 2. I’m here to talk about Wheatley, the other main robot we get to know in Portal 2.

Wheatley is not autistic coded. He has no problem speaking to strangers or making eye contact. He enjoys sarcasm almost as much as GLaDOs, and so on and so forth.

However, Wheatley is most definitely neurodivergent-coded, and it’s fascinating because for once, maybe for the only time ever in popular media that I’ve ever noticed, a robot is adhd-coded instead of being autistic-coded.

What do I mean by that? First of all, if you haven’t finished Portal 2 go do it now. It’s relatively cheap on Steam and it’s amazing. Moving on — it all stems from what we’re told Wheatley is, during the betrayal scene with GLaDOS. Now to preface this, GLaDOS is a liar. You can take most of what she says with a grain of salt. But, what she says is all we have officially to go off of.

To add further context to this line, the personality cores or “Aperture Science Personality Constructs” (the line of robots that Wheatley is a part of) were specifically built in order to be plugged into GLaDOS’ systems to slow her down and to keep her from killing everyone in Aperture. In the first Portal game, Chell, the player character, incinerates the four ‘successful’ cores that supposedly were the last ones needed to stop GLaDOS. However, given that the character has to travel through an empty facility to do so, it’s clear that they weren’t nearly as successful as the engineers had thought. Later, as core after core was built and none of them worked to stop GLaDOS, Aperture was needing robot maintenance of some kind since all of their human faculty were being killed, fired due to financial ruin, and/or quitting, and so the personality constructs were repurposed to try and keep the facility from falling apart.

Aside from GlaDOS and Wheatley, we don’t see any “non-corrupted” cores. And even both of them are corrupted, with GLaDOS being 80% corrupted and Wheatley assumedly 25%, after doing some quick math of the boss fight. This would normally affect my ability for confident analysis, but luckily in this case I don’t need them to prove that good ol Wheatley is adhd-coded.

Because right from the get-go, “generating an endless stream of terrible ideas” sounds pretty damn adhd to me, as someone who has both inattentive and hyperactive adhd myself. Now, that’s not to say every idea a person with adhd has is a bad one. That’s not even the case with Wheatley, despite it being what we’re told, because again, GLaDOS is an unreliable narrator. It’s Wheatley’s ideas that keep her from killing Chell with turrets or neurotoxin. He’s the one who gets Chell to dismantle those systems. Those are clearly not bad ideas.

But what about other adhd traits? Having an endless stream of ideas isn’t even on a symptom list of being adhd, it’s usually just a side effect of everything else going on. Well, Wheatley has plenty of them.

Hyperactive-type adhd symptoms include but are not limited to;

-fidgeting

-excessive physical movement

-excessive talking

-impulsive behavior

-restlessness/impatience

Oh but how can a robot ball fidget or have excessive physical movement, you may ask. Well. This is the most expressive ball I have ever seen in my life. Wheatley is constantly moving, shifting panels, popping his eye out, spinning in his casing and so forth. The excessive talking one is easy, my younger brother (also an adhd yapper, who has no room to talk) was trying to throw Wheatley over the railing into the bottomless pit beneath Aperture “because he was yapping” too much. This is unusual for a robot character (outside of the Portal series) whereas they tend to speak when spoken to. Wheatley is generally impulsive, but this is especially noticeable when he’s hooked up to the facility in the GLaDOS chassis. After PotatOS calls him a moron, he proceeds to punch her and Chell into the abyss below without thinking about it, reacting out of anger until he realizes they’re about to drop, right before they do. Interestingly, that sort of impulsive rage reaction is more often seen in monster characters, like perhaps a werewolf situation. It sort of adds to the framing that now Wheatley is in control of the facility, he has become something monstrous. Now, judging his patience level accurately is difficult, given that in the beginning he’s in a high-stress, deadly situation and later, when he’s in the chassis, he’s being affected by symptoms of drug withdrawal. However, he is impatient, such as when he’s playing the recorded sound of knocking on a door at the beginning. Granted, he’ll go on ‘knocking’ forever because it’s necessary for the story, but he speaks up every couple of minutes asking if you/Chell are going to open the door already. Again, this is unique for a robot character, as they tend to wait on a player or another character’s actions before responding to it, rather than initiating.

Impressively, these are not all the symptoms Wheatley demonstrates. There is another form of adhd, known as Inattentive-type adhd. The symptoms can include the following;

-Short attention span

-Overlooking details

-Careless mistakes

-Inability to stick to tedious tasks

-Difficulty organizing tasks

-Constantly changing tasks

-Difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions

For having a short attention span, this is again, difficult to determine for Wheatley in a normal setting. In the beginning he’s mostly able to focus, but he’s in a life-or-death scenario. However, he does ramble on about things that have no relevance to what he and the player character are doing, such as when he’s telling the player character about the many jobs he’s had around Aperture and been subsequently released from. He definitely has issues overlooking details, such as when he and Chell are supposed to be dismantling the neurotoxin facilities. While he’s busy ‘hacking’ a computer that may or may not even regulate the facility in the first place, Chell dismantles the generator and he doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first, because he’s distracted listing off the hardware of the computer. As for careless mistakes, again, this could be simply the situation he’s in, but he definitely makes them. Like when he’s transporting the relaxation chamber in the first chapter, he runs into an unbelievable amount of other relaxation chambers, tearing Chell’s apart. Or even when he’s supposed to be guiding her around Aperture but he dips into wrong corners and has to recorrect. He most visibly has difficulty with tedious tasks when he’s in the chassis, as the facility is literally falling apart because he didn’t bother reading the manual or taking care of the massive amount of upkeep the facility requires. But again, he’s suffering symptoms of drug withdrawal as well that could be affecting his ability to do that. However, given his descriptions of his job loss, mentioned above, we can gather that this is likely an issue he had before ever being a part of the core transfer. This also is in line with difficulty organizing tasks. As for constantly changing tasks, again, he has somewhat better focus in the beginning because if he doesn’t he’ll die, and later he’s exceptionally distracted by a need to test. But even when he should be consumed with the need to test, and he does watch Chell for most of it, he does stop watching randomly at times to do… Who knows what. When it should be the only thing he can focus on. As for difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions, again, the facility falls apart and Wheatley kept being fired for similar, if not the same reasons.

So. That covers basic symptoms and how Wheatley fits pretty much all of them. But, a lesser known side effect of adhd is that it can easily lead to the development of other neurodivergent disorders such as anxiety and depression. Adhd is also linked to something known as emotional dysregulation. Wheatley clearly exhibits signs of anxiety. He’s terrified of dying, and says as much at several points. Not only is he especially scared of dying, but he’s scared of judgment, too. He’s constantly trying to seem more important or smarter than he is, and even though Chell is a silent protagonist, when he takes over the facility before being affected by the testing withdrawals, he assumes she’s been secretly plotting against him the entire time. Depression is more difficult to spot in Wheatley, as he’s not lethargic, but, again, a high-stakes situation can allow a person to mask their symptoms for a brief period out of self-preservation.

However, I do want to point out he clearly displays emotional dysregulation, and not in the way one might expect from a robot character. Wheatley is exceptionally sensitive to criticism. When GLaDOS begins her spiel about him being an intelligence dampening sphere, he moves as far away he can from her, turning his back so he doesn’t have to look at her. He even goes so far as to say “Not listening!” while she’s saying it. Then when she calls him a moron, he reacts violently, in a way he hadn’t so far in the game before that moment. He smashes her through the glass of the elevator and then, when she proceeds to call him a moron again, is when he smashes PotatOS and Chell into the pit. However, he doesn’t even need to even be actively insulted to react to perceived insults as just as much of a threat to his psyche. As mentioned earlier, despite Chell being a silent protagonist, and in some ways because Chell is a silent protagonist, Wheatley assumes that she’s been plotting against him from the start. Her perceived attacks against him are most especially notable during the boss fight. He points out that she’s always quiet, assuming that she’s “silently judging” him. He points out that she didn’t catch him when he fell off of his management rail in the beginning, and that she didn’t warn him that she was the one who killed GLaDOS.

All in all, Wheatley is a beautifully three-dimensional character, not in spite of being a robot, but rather, in some ways, because of it.

[velvetvexations]

The other thing about the racist comparison of slurs for non-binary people to "cracker" is that no White person in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD has ever been genuinely hurt by it, and the people who make noise over it are exclusively bad faith right-wing losers who want to try and catch Black people in a rhetorical trap with accusations of hypocrisy. This is reflected by the fact that people challenging the use of "cracker" is relatively rare and almost always something brought up in argument rather than in direct reply to an instance of the word being used in the wild.

When the slur you stole from transmeds has people constantly upset and telling you it hurts them on such a regular basis, it's like, do you just not believe non-transfems have feelings? Do you seriously imagine they're incapable of bleeding when you prick them? The only way you can sustain your view that it's Good and Okay is if you sincerely don't think non-transfems can be hurt. That every single one of the very many who are trying to tell you why this is harmful are just lying because they're just emotionless robots programmed to do everything in their power to hurt you, and you can't stand the idea that they would dare try and pretend to feel pain when you know that's something you alone are capable of.

Because precedent proves that if it was harmless no one would actually care or go out of their way to argue about it except in extremely niche circumstances, which is not what you see with slurs for non-binary folk, who are actively vocal about the issue to your face every day.

[cuntyglam]

alien romulus, andy, racism, and why robots are autistic

this is an introspective into how the alien series treats artificial humans, also known as synthetics, and how sci-fi portrays androids in general. alien romulus spoilers under cut. written by a native autistic and disabled fan <3

andy from alien romulus is an artificial human that is constantly being seen as less because of his race (artificial human) and who often portrays autistic characteristics. these characteristics include an aversion to loud sounds, difficulty reading social cues, and a special interest in dad jokes.

his behavior is explained by him being a “damaged” artificial human, which is somewhat disappointing. it’s disappointing that these traits that so many of us autistic people have are considered flaws in the context of the movie.

his sister, who is human, takes him for granted and chooses her life over his, even though he shows emotions and was apart of her family. even though it isn’t outright stated, this kind of reminds me how sometimes we as autistic people are seen as a burden on our families, despite us being able to care for ourselves.

once andy gets rook’s chip inserted he becomes “better”. “better” motor skills, “better” intelligence, and “better” everything. but yet, he still portrays autistic characteristics. he doesn’t go from autistic to not autistic, he just starts displaying different autistic traits. he is very knowledgeable about tech, aliens, and the human body, while being very objective about what the right thing to do is. instead of being a very empathetic person, he is a very practical and calculating person, which i think is super interesting.

honestly, i think it would have been really interesting to see him be the sole survivor. to have him get his revenge on the sister that betrayed him and the world who bullied him for his raise and ability.

okay now to androids, synthetics, and robots as a whole. robots are seen as cold and emotionless, similarly to how autistic people are seen, so many ai and robot characters are autistic coded. robots don’t have compassion or empathy in the eyes of the general public, same as autistic people. many autistic people have reclaimed robot characters to represent us, and i think that’s fantastic !!

i specifically love artificial humans in the alien franchise because they showcase so much depth and empathy, while still displaying autistic traits. and beyond that, most of these artificial humans are enslaved by a corporation (weyland yutani), and despite direct programming from their oppressors, most artificial humans end up doing the right moral thing in the end, further proving their humanity. despite being technically non human, i genuinely think they’re good autistic representation. do i like the way that the characters around them treat them ? no. but i think that might be the point. the point is that these characters are ableist and racist and shouldn’t be considered morally correct. i think that the writers could convey this in a better way though.

okay. racism discussion time. several times throughout this series we encounter artificial humans, and almost every time they have to correct their peers on the right terminology to use for them. as a native person who has had to tell multiple people (coworkers, professors, etc.) not to call me an indian, this really stuck with me growing up, and i still think it’s interesting to this day. in alien: romulus andy’s sister uses “synthetic” to refer to him MULTIPLE TIMES, after he’s stated that he prefers artificial human. this is important, because even though he’s family she still does not fully understand what he goes through and she does not respect his identity or boundaries.

there are also multiple instances throughout the series where characters (our beloved ripley included) have prejudice against artificial humans because of bad experiences with artificial humans in the past. this causes human characters to attack and/or harass artificial humans who they have just met for no other reason than their race. in alien: romulus we see a character be hostile towards andy because another unrelated artificial human made a choice to save the many over the few, and his mother died. this is a choice that many humans would make and would not be blamed for. this reflects the real world, where people of color are blamed for almost every choice they make, while white folks can make the same choices and not be criticized.

in conclusion, i love the character of andy and i think him and the alien franchise as a whole is so interesting. let me know if you want a deep dive into the themes of sexual violence, birth, and motherhood in the alien series !! i’ve done a whole research paper on it, and my college admissions essay was about the alien queen, so i know quite a lot !! i hope this drives a lot more fans towards the alien fandom and i hope a bunch more merch comes out !! yippee !!

[possibly-evil]

Starship is the most trans gay chaotic starkid musical and you can’t prove me wrong. I’m using this as an excuse to rant about my Starship headcannons.

Most of Bug’s story, lyrics, everything, can be used as a metaphor for being transgender. Also… he’s just trans. Like. He is. Look at him. HES A BUG. THATS LIKE, THE NON-BINARY NAME. in my opinion.

Taz gives off major lesbian energy. She’s so badass. She’s literally just a butch lesbian in space.

February is pansexual. She’s kinda that meme that’s “I just told you I’m gay, you expect me to do MATH??” Also she just has so much love in her heart :D I think she’d fall in love with almost everyone she meets.

Junior… oh junior. Where to begin. I’m torn between gay or aroace. Probably somewhere on the aroace spectrum, definitely likes men. You can’t look at him and tell me he doesn’t. I feel like he’s somewhere under the trans umbrella, but idk where. Gender-fluid or Agender, idk.

Commander Up. I feel like he’d just seem like a regular straight guy and then one day drop the craziest lore like “I remember when I had six boyfriends… we used to play football by that old house on the edge of campus…” idk. (Bonus headcannon: he secretly believes God is still alive.)

Tootsie Noodles Megagirl. “Where I come from, we don’t have no gender. It makes things too difficult for us farmer folk” -he said this trust me I was there I was a stack of hay

Megagirl is a robot. She’s like Janet from the good place, she’s not a girl, not a human. Idk how else to phrase it. She only feels love for Tootsie.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Like Candy 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You knock on the door of Professor Odinson’s door then check your smartwatch. You’ve been anxious all day about the meeting. After the quiz, he sent you a quick email saying he’d like to talk about it with you. You were the first done and you’re pretty sure you aced it! 

You wait and bounce on your feet. You tap the door again. You’re not that early. You hear the floor groan and stand straight the rippled glass darkens with a silhouette on the other side. 

The door opens and you beam a smile, “good afternoon, Professor--” you nearly choke on your tongue. “Oh, Professor Barnes.” 

He blinks at you, his face sharp with agitation, “Odinson isn’t here.” 

“Uh, oh, but I have an appointment,” you show your phone, “I can show you the email.” 

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles. He backs up and drags his feet back to his desk, muttering, “...always late...” He sits heavily and sighs. “You can wait over there.” 

He waves towards Odinson’s empty desk and you peer between him and that. He grabs his coffee cup and growls as he looks inside. He sighs again and stands. 

You enter, eager to be out of his way, and he strides out the door with another grunt. You sway and look around. You feel like an intruder. Still, you can’t just leave. Odinson will be here soon. 

You sit in the velvet chair across from his desk and swing your feet. You wiggle impatiently and admire the ornaments on his desk. There’s some runes and a little hammer. 

The smell of coffee wafts in with the other professor. Barnes sits down and takes a long draw from his mug. He sets it down with a clink. The tension coils like a boa constrictor, tightening your throat and spine. 

You turn your phone up and bow your head. You unlock it. Won’t be much longer, you know it. 

You flick through with your thumb and glaze over as you watch the short videos. You swipe up and up and up. You giggle mindlessly as a kitten attacks a stuffed rabbit. Barnes exhales heavily. 

“Rots your brain...” he remarks dryly. 

“Hm?” You look at him over your shoulder. 

“All those dumb apps. You’re like a robot, sitting there, laughing at those stupid things,” he sneers. 

“I... It’s not dumb,” you argue and turn away from him. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet.” 

“And sit still. You’re distracting.” 

You frown and watch the kitten again. Why is he so grumpy? You didn’t do anything. His fingers hit his keys hard and you grow irritated at his unspoken anger. Odinson is the one that’s late. 

“Here,” you stand and march over to his desk, “maybe the stupid video will cheer you up.” 

You shove your phone next to his monitor and he ignores it. You roll your eyes. “Come on, it’s a kitty! Everyone loves kitties.” 

He shakes his head, focusing on his screen. You push the phone closer. He catches your hand and squeezes. His gaze flits over to your phone. He watches it without reaction. 

“Kittens grow up to be cats. A responsibility,” he lets you go. “Something I’m sure you don’t understand.” 

You furrow your nose, “I’m being nice. You don’t have to be... not nice.” 

“I’m working.” He insists. 

You have no argument for that. You shrug and go back to the chair. You stare at the wall behind Odinson’s desk and the degree mounted there. 

“Ah, apologies,” a storm blusters through the door in the form of Professor Odinson. “There is some event on campus and I was caught up.” 

“Professor,” you stand politely. 

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” he hurries to his desk and drops his bag. “Apologies, again. Oof, it smells like coffee. I could use a cup.” He smiles and stills himself, “and how are you?” 

“Good, Professor.” 

“A poor look to be late,” he chides himself and sits. He puts his bag in his lap and flips it open. “I do hope Professor Barnes was adequate company during your wait.” 

Barnes grumbles. You don’t say a word. Odinson sifts through his bag. 

“If you would prefer privacy, we might find an empty room,” he suggests as he pulls out a cluster of stapled papers. You recognise the sparkly gel pen on it. 

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. 

“Mm, right,” he sets his bag on the floor and rolls his chair closer to the desk. “Well, with your consent, I shall proceed.” He smooths the paper. That’s when you see the red pen all over it. You show your teeth. Maybe it would have been a better idea to be alone. 

“It is only the first quiz, so early on,” he begins. “Yet, I would hate for the rest to go... worse.” He clears his throat and hands you the pages. “I have posted it on the course page but there will be extra review sessions for those who feel they need them. Learning a new language can be difficult.” 

You cringe at the 20% at the top of the page. You’ve never done so poorly in your life. You’re a straight C type of girl. 

“Oh,” you deflate. Once more, you were over confident. You really felt good about that and oh gosh, you’re so embarrassed. “Thanks, I’ll go...” you agree as you stare at the paper. “I’m sorry, I really studied.” 

“Like I said, new language,” he comforts. “I just wanted to offer you any extra support you feel you might need. I have an open door policy--” 

Barnes snorts behind you. You wince. 

“Thank you, Professor, that’s really nice,” you gulp and clutch your fuzzy purse. “I should... go. I... I have to do a few things before my next class.” 

“Right, yes, as you will. Again, I apologise for keeping you waiting,” he says. 

“Yeah,” your voice cracks even as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “It’s no problem.” 

You make yourself smile and stand. You turn and your eyes meet Barnes. He’s watching you. He doesn’t shy away as your cheek twitches. He looks almost amused. 

“Maybe some more kitten videos might help with studying,” he comments. 

“Eh?” Odinson utters. 

“Maybe,” you agree glumly and your lips tug down. “Sorry to bother. Both of you.” 

You turn and quickly flee the office. For as kind as Odinson was about your unabashed failure, Barnes was entirely cruel. You tried so hard and he could just grin mockingly. You don’t know what you did to make him so mean. 

[starwrighter]

surprise! I'm alive :D

Chucking out one of my prompts anyone can take this.

Prompt starts with the whole idea that everyone believes that ghost are malevolent, non sentient beings that aren't capable of feeling pain. Amity parkers believe that, the Fenton's and the GIW "proved" that and the ghosts that escape the portal have caused so much mindless damage that it just further cements the idea that ghosts aren't sentient.

But during one of Phantom's ghost fights The Fenton parents realize Phantom is a bit different than the ghosts he fights. They finally decide to observe Phantom more carefully after this (they're still shooting at him just watching him a bit first)

During this observation period they notice it's not just phantom's rapid power growth that's different about him. It's everything he does! He's proven to be more intelligent than the other ghosts, having managed to steal and operate Fenton tech despite the fact he doesn't appear to have powers like technus.

He has body language?! Subtle body language that isn't destructive or angry! He fidgets when he's nervous, smiles and is more talkative and expressive when he's excited or happy. He shows emotion more humanly than any of the other ghosts showing emotion that wouldn't benefit him in the moment. Now the Fenton's wanted to brush this off as clear ghost manipulation at it's finest but in the most recent ghost attack gave a preposterous theory a leg to stand on.

They had been shouting their usual threat's of tearing the ecto scum apart molocule by molecule. Most of the ghost ignored them, fixated on the destruction they were causing but Phantom hesitated, the GAV cameras catching a look on Phantom's face that would be game changing.

Fear.

Genuine fear. It was not the robotic mimicry of human emotion they were used to. The emotion they got was that of a being that fully understood what was going to happen to it and had the capability to be afraid.

They compile all the footage of past ghost fights and ghost sightings and come to the horrifying conclusion that phantom is a sentient ghost who could feel pain.

They're horrified that they've been hurting this little boy (because that's what phantom is) who's just trying to help and didn't understand why the other ghosts lacked the empathy he had. As for Phantom's crimes they finally had a reason for them. He's a scared child , loney and confused with everyone around him trying to hurt him even though he was trying to protect people; of course he would act out!

The Fenton's show their undeniable proof to the GIW and within a week a law is passed stating that phantom is the only sentient ghost and it's illegal to harm him.

Danny is very confused to say the least, especially when everyone starts treating him like a little kid (Danny either looks young for his age or the accident happened earlier whatever causes more angst) The worst part is they don't believe him when he tells them some other ghosts are sentient no matter what he says! They just give him this sad look and nod or try to comfort him by telling him he wasn't evil like the other ghosts. The other ghosts like the thought of being able to get away with crimes without being charged so they don't even try to prove their sentience if anything they try to disprove theirs and prove Danny's.

Bonus Dp x Dc crossover:

The justice league is called about Phantom's situation Amity Parker's demanding that phantom be taken somewhere safe where he can be a regular (but spooky) child. Double points if the heroes don't believe any ghost but Phantom are sentient.

Tldr

Regular ghosts are too spooky for humans to believe they're sentient but Danny's halfa status makes him look more human and genuine (Vlad is not a true halfa you can fight me on that >:c) the other ghosts ramp up their acting skills so they can crime without consequence as "non sentient beings"

[acerby]

You know I did not think they could make a non fuckable robot but tesla proved me wrong. 0/10

[cushfuddled]

I don't know if I want to make a video about this because it's SO subjective obv but also like. I've NEVER felt compelled to write a "homophobic au" where I take a tolerant fantasy world and make it bigoted. As a kid I used to complain ALL THE GODDAMN TIME about how fantasy writers could imagine a world with talking dragons and magic powers but always drew the line at equal rights for gay people. And here I am PUTTING THE HOMOPHOBIA BACK into a fantasy world WITHOUT homophobia. And I was like.

do I feel so compelled to do this???

I knew I didn't NEED an excuse to insert homophobia into Arcane. Write whatever you want etc etc. But I was so curious, since my preference up 'til now has always been for casually queer fantasy worlds. And uh yeah honestly I think this pivot stems from like, a disconnect between my understanding of systemic bigotry as a queer disabled autistic woman and the way Arcane appears to pick and choose its world's politics from a salad bar.

In the real world, social issues are all tangled up in each other. Racism and classism and queerphobia and xenophobia and ableism and misogyny and misandry and ageism...all these 'isms bud off each other in a kind of swirling feedback loop, necessitating an intersectional approach to activism.

At the end of Arcane, no one broke the cycle of violence. The council chamber table is shaped like a gear, symbolizing its members' status as a "gear train" for all change within Piltover and Zaun. Jinx's bomb destroys that gear with the rest of the council room, only for an off-screen contractor to glue the pieces together between scenes. Piltover adds more "progressive" representatives to its gear train, but the underlying oligarchical mechanism remains. If the cycle of violence ever breaks, it will be because these new "teeth" convince the council to trade their power for democracy. If the elite don't give a real voice to the marginalized (I'm not sure one or two non-elected representatives makes the cut), the marginalized will take to more radical measures to be heard, and the conflict will start anew.

Arcane's hostile oligarchical world sculpted Viktor into the perfect time bomb. Its proud disgust for immigrants; addicts; the poor; the disabled, taught Viktor great shame and hate for who he was and where he came from. These lessons are at least cousins to Social Darwinism, fascism, and the politics of eugenics. Viktor aimed to "evolve" himself and his people into a "perfect" final form. He equated "progress" with the eradication of disability and sickness...then emotion.

Here Viktor branches off from the emotionalism central to fascist ideology, declaring passion ("Our emotions...rage, compassion, hate...") the "cause of [humanity's] greatest evil." Viktor describes emotions as Freudian "baser instincts," dirty and corrosive in their "self-corrupting" force.

To deserve love and admiration, Viktor believes he must become perfect. And for all he waxes poetic re: science and reason and the people of Zaun, Viktor still bases his definition of "perfection" on the ideals of his oppressors. It says a lot to me, that Viktor's idea of "progress" looks like the total eradication of sickness and disability; the rise of an obedient, docile, dogmatic collective; the dominance of Viktor's dome amidst the modest shelters of his followers; Viktor's sleek, agile, white and gold robots. Viktor's goals share a springboard with those of the Piltover elite. Both systems place undue value on power and purity. Both depend on a complaisant, malleable public, and both punish individualism. Piltover pretends to champion movers and shakers and out-of-the-box thinkers, immortalizing key figures like "Stanwick Padidly" and Jayce, but Jayce was only allowed back into the world of the wealthy once he proved

a. he had something to give

b. he was deemed suitably manipulable.

The moment Jayce tried to clamp down on Piltover's rampant corruption (aka wield his newfound powers in service of the less fortunate), Mel was there to reinforce the status quo. It was made very clear that Jayce's options were either to fall in line or lose his job—along with the chance to make any kind of positive change. Behind the curtain Jayce and Viktor were only puppets in service of the wealthy and powerful. Hextech didn't better the lives of marginalized people. It upgraded weapons for the police and generated new trade opportunities for employers (the economy would've undergone a hell of a shakeup with the sudden flush of consumer goods and access to overseas labor. From the state of Zaun and Piltover post-time skip, I assume the new trade routes shuffled money around but didn't make necessities like medicine or shelter any more attainable for your average citizen).

"You used me, and Viktor, for Hextech. You called us 'investments.'" "Two brilliant young inventors who shared a penchant for impossible surprises. Carrying magic from myth to machine. Rallying the hope and hearts of a nation. You were a wise investment."

Anyway. Why is Viktor so threatened by his ability to feel "affection?" Every other goal aligns with a kind of supercharged version of Piltover's oppressive value system, but this one...not so much.

I guess you could say "civil society" frowns on explosive emotions like rage and hate because they threaten the docility of a healthy status quo. Compassion poses a similar threat. It makes sense for Viktor to fixate so hard on emotions when they're the only weapon powerful enough to snap him out of his Hexcore power trip. But I'm more drawn to the reading where Viktor recognizes queerness within himself (cough his love for Jayce cough) as another barrier on the road to perfection (as measured by the standards of an oligarchical regime).

It seems to me that Viktor's goals are all symptoms of a society steeped in ableism, classism, xenophobia, and queerphobia—but only three of those conditions manifest in Arcane's worldbuilding.

I dunno, man. What resonates with my queer experience will totally contradict someone else's. But I guess I can't envision an oligarchical system like Piltover's—a system founded on classism, ableism, and a weaponized fear of the dirty "other"—would somehow evade racism and queerphobia. Like..."We're fine with black people and gay people. But god help you if you're poor or sick or disabled or from Zaun!" Bigotry is irrational and contradictory, so there are surely examples of this pick-and-choose phenomenon outside of Arcane. And good lord, I don't think anyone should feel "obligated" to fill their fantasy worlds with homophobia! But Arcane definitely sparked enough cognitive dissonance in me to make me crank out some "what if this world was also homophobic" fanfic.

(There's also League of Legends' legacy as an alt-right cesspool. Before I even knew what an MMO was, I'd been warned about a game called LoL, the supposed "worst of the worst" when it came to voice chat culture. Not sure how I feel about that context yet.)

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Honestly I still legitimately hate how cannon had Lb try to ASSAULT Chloe for *checks note* accusing her & chat of abusing their powers and helping an Akuma overthrow the mayor.

Like all she did was just prove Chloe right by trying to silence her through physical force, well technically further right as she and Chat did willingly assist Akuma in her goal.

(The post these two anons are referring to)

Okay, let's be fair here and try to give Ladybug the benefit of the doubt.

Even if Ladybug doesn't know the truth at the moment, Chloe is still a willing ally of Monarch, and has helped him multiple times ever since the end of Season 3. In addition, Ladybug's Lucky Charm did point out Chloe was the true threat at the moment. Even in regards to the whole yo-yo thing, there's a chance that Ladybug might have been trying to non-violently restrain Chloe instead of cracking her skull open like a coconut.

That being said, even if we take all of this into account... what the hell was Ladybug's plan in the first place? If Ladybug was going to take care of Chloe non-violently, how would she give up? Would Ladybug try to reason with Chloe? Would she try distract her long enough so Cat Noir can take care of the robots? What about the Lucky Charm? Was Ladybug planning on using that to deal with Chloe, or was the crown just a warning to retreat? Seriously, what was Ladybug planning here?

And the worst part is that the next episode acknowledges that if Ladybug and Cat Noir beat up Chloe and put the fear of God in her eyes, it would only make their reputation worse. Was this meant to follow up on the attempted attack last episode? It doesn't matter, because that was what they ended up doing while Chloe had conveniently gotten akumatized later on, removing any guilt or consequences the two could face for assisting in another government coup.

[minniethemoocherda]

Stars and Stripes and Suns

A/N: Merry Christmas @keferon! I could not stop thinking about your Jazzprowl Mecha Au! I am obsessed! And I could not stop myself from thinking how Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would fit into it! So feel free to ignore any of this for your own personal headcanons lol! It is your Au after all! I tried my best to fit this into the established au lore but there's a lot so I might've got some stuff wrong 😅. Anyway I hope you enjoy the fic! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

It had been a no brainer, back then.

Spend another stint in juvie or fight in a giant metal robot.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe hadn't even needed to share a look before they both said yes.

Shockwave had selected them specifically. Sunstreaker still didn't understand the science of it all but those early mecha that Shockwave built were too much for one brain to handle. However with him and Sideswipe not only being twins, but being identical down to their DNA, they were able to survive the neural load in a way that non of the scientists other test subjects had. Whenever he hocked them up they weren't Sunstreaker or Sideswipe or the mech anymore. They were just one.

Sure having their brains ripped apart and stuck back together over and over and over again hurt like shit. Still, Sunstreaker would take it over going back into foster care and being separated from his brother.

It helped that they were already a formidable pair of fighters, synched to each other's side in ways neither could explain that the neural link only made even closer. Sunstreaker could turn their left arm into a sword the same second Sideswipe stabbed it through a drone whilst both twisted their torso to gracefully glide over the electric fence Shockwave had flung at them.

And even when the aliens showed up, Sunstreaker couldn't complain. He knew he shouldn't, but he enjoyed cutting them up. He enjoyed the thrill of slicing the tentacles from their heads and their heads from their amalgamation of faces like they were cuts of meat. Having been told his whole that he would never amount to anything, Sunstreaker felt a sick sense of satisfaction that he had proved to the world that there was something he was good at.

Technically they had been working under Shockwave as an apprenticeship so whilst the tests themselves were shit the pay was even shitter. But they had their own room that they could decorate however they wanted. So Sunstreaker had covered his in paint from the window of the art shop they used to sleep outside of whilst Sideswipe built a wall out of every toy car he had ever wanted.

The pay got better when Swindle showed up with other pilots. And even more so when they were revealed to the public.

Sideswipe was a pro at talking to the press whilst Sunstreaker preferred to pose for the camera. As usual the pair perfectly balanced each other.

The only time they got into a true disagreement was over what colour the mech should. It had been grey originally but Swindle had wanted something distinct to put on posters. Sideswipe had voted for red whilst Sunstreaker wanted yellow. In the end Swindle settled it with a coin toss that Sunstreaker still wasn't convinced his brother hadn't bribed the result of. But at least his twin let him pick out the shade as Sunstreaker was not going to be seen in that gaudy cherry that Cliffjumper was somehow happy to walking around in. Instead opting for a shining crimson the same shade as blood.

They both decided on the name. They'd been calling it the Lambo anyway after the mech's resemblance to their favourite sports car. And after Swindle cleared it with their copyright team, it became official.

Sunstreaker wouldn't say that fighting the Quintessons was easy. And ultimately he'd rather countless amounts of people weren't dying due to the invasion.

But he couldn't deny that he enjoyed being a mech pilot. That he enjoyed the fame and freebies and fashion he finally had the freedom to afford. And that he and Sideswipe wouldn't have to worry about being starving or separated ever again.

Then as per usual, everything in their life went to shit.

Jazz disappeared. Then the base got blown up. Not that they had been aware, because they had been on the other side of the country, where for the first time, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe found themselves in a fight they could not win.

"Finally a fucking fight!" Sideswipe grinned, glaring up at the Quintesson ship the size of a city.

Sunstreaker had always known what his twin was thinking even before both their minds had melted into one. So he knew that under Sideswipe's bravado, his brother was scared shitless.

That didn't stop Sideswipe from smiling as they charged towards the ship.

With their shield, they blocked the incoming blasts, giving civilians time to escape whilst their sword slashed through the remaining fire.

Together, they were the perfect balance of stealth, speed and strength. And eventually, miraculously they actually made it within touching distance of the ship.

Out of the corner of his scope, Sunstreaker saw a Quintesson soldier strike. He didn't even have to think to ask before Sideswipe had slammed their shield into its neck. At the same time Sunstreaker soared themselves over the now dead soldier, striking the sword into the side of the ship. Sunstreaker felt the air shake as something inside it shrieked then blew up.

"Think we might actually succeed in shish-kebabing these shitheads!" Sideswipe smiled, surrounded in the smouldering embers of the burning alien spaceship.

Then a tentacle shot out of the ship, slamming into their side like a skyscraper. Sideswipe didn't even have time to scream. But Sunstreaker did as he experienced his brother's death. He screamed as his soul was stretched and squished and shattered between himself, his mech and his twin. He shot and sliced and screamed until something finally snapped and everything went black.

The next thing Sunstreaker knew was shouting. He opened his eyes, to see the blurred shape of grey and ginger hair next to his bed.

"He was a child!" The blur yelled and Sunstreaker belatedly recognised the voice as Ratchet even though their injuries hadn't been severe enough to see the head medical officer before now.

"Sunstreaker is twenty-one." Shockwave replied in his usual monotone, apparently unaffected by the fact that one of his pilots was now dead.

"And you've been fucking with his head since he was FIFTEEN!" Ratchet screamed. The entire med-bay silenced at the outburst, not even Shockwave daring to make a sound until Ratchet spoke again.

"Once I've fixed him up, I am done. I will not be apart of this anymore."

But Sunstreaker barely registered the words. All he felt was the emptiness of his brother being gone.

He had felt the feat and the pain and the nothing of his brother's death. He had experienced what no living human could and his head could not comprehend it. All it could do was hurt.

Shockwave had ordered him to pilot the Lambo again, to compare how it functioned with only one twin instead of the set. Sunstreaker tried to strangle him, only being held back by the combined force of Brawl, Blast-Off and Onslaught. Even Swindle told Shockwave to fuck off.

But in the end, Sunstreaker couldn't blame Shockwave for his brother's death. They had both signed up of their own free will after all.

Sunstreaker had been in it for the fight and for the fame. Sideswipe had been the one with heroics in his heart. It should have been him who had lived. He would have stayed because it was the right thing to do. Whilst Sunstreaker stuck around because he had nowhere else to go.

Blurr was still around, even more broken than before but still posing for the camera and doing PR. Sunstreaker couldn't do press anymore without his brother.

He couldn't do anything anymore with out his brother.

And if it weren't for the nothing that he knew was waiting for him that no one else could ever understand, then he would have joined his brother in death.

Stuck in stagnation, he did Shockwave's stupid experiments and signed his name on posters he couldn't even look at and tried and tried and tried mech after mech after mech. But he couldn't even sit in one without being sick, the melding of his mind with the mechs making his skull split in half. Each day bled into the other until eventually Swindle came to see him.

"Look kid, I know you don't want to hear this and I hate to he the one to tell ya. But we've tried every pilot we got left and the Lambo ain't working for anyone. So if you don't give it a go, then I got no excuses left to not strip it for scraps."

So Sunstreaker forced his feet into the hanger he hadn't been in since the day his brother died.

They had repaired the Lambo's right side. It's crimson coat as clean as the day Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had spent painting it.

Sunstreaker touched the tips of it's pedes. For some reason, he had been expecting it to be cold. But it felt as warm as before, the thumping pump of machinery pulsing away underneath the metal.

Something snapped inside Sunstreaker's head. But instead of it all falling apart, it felt like the pieces of a picture snapping into place.

Sunstreaker could not save his brother. He might not be able to save the Lambo either. But he had to try.

Besides the single chair, the cockpit was the same as ever. Someone had even kept their stickers.

Sunstreaker hocked himself up to the neural net and instead of being sick all he felt was a sense of serenity. Suddenly the pain in his head was gone, replaced with the sound of Sideswipe's voice that snorted "Took you long enough."

[celestial-toys]

That I Would Be Good [5/5]

Playing God

What if you wanted them to be real so badly that you fooled yourself into seeing a spark in them that isn’t really there?

What if they are just executing programs, running entirely on what you taught them with no free will of their own?

Have you sold yourself a lie to avoid facing the fact that you poured years of your life into what—at the end of the day—was just a desperate final bid to not feel alone?

Did God create us in their own image?

------- ------- -------

In This Chapter

Things don’t go so well at the headquarters, and to say that you’re shaken up afterwards would be an understatement.

It’s time to get real.

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader

Word Count: 6,377

Contains: [AU - Real World | Sentient AI/Automatons | Personality Swap] [mentions of food and eating] [self-loathing] [crying] [mild assault on a robot(?)] Lastly, I’m not sure what the right term is for this, but Reader experiences a stress-induced breakdown and amidst it, questions their perceived reality, and whether or not they’ve truly become delusional.

A/Ns: This is a songfic. Lyrics and title are from ‘That I Would Be Good’ by Alanis Morissette.

This fic is part of my AU “[Not] Made by Design”, the full series can be found here.

Links to other parts of this fic: [Ch.1] [Ch.2] [Ch.3] [Ch.4] [Ch.5 (you are here)]

That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed.

Over the course of the weekend, Sun came back around to his usual self. Stumbling his way through an awkward, blunt apology, his internal conflict over your safety versus your privacy was obvious.

You might have forgiven him too easily, but that would be nothing new.

The… informative chat you’d had with Moon still played on your mind, but Sun mentioned nothing of it. So, if he felt compelled to elaborate—if he’d even been aware of the conversation at all—it could wait until the time felt right. You all had a more pressing matter to discuss anyway.

------- ------- -------

“And what made you think I’d be amenable to the idea of parading myself around in front of a group of people that see me as nothing more than a lifeless machine?”

Sun levels you with a lidded stare from across the kitchen table.

“Well… I didn’t think you’d be amenable to it. That’s why I’m trying to ask far enough in advance that maybe… I can bring you around to it? And—for whatever it’s worth—they aren’t firmly in the non-believers camp, or they wouldn’t even be willing to attend.”

Sun’s attention moves over to Moon. “You’re really willing to go along with this?”

Moon sighs. “I mean, I’m looking forward to it just about as much as they are, but… yeah, I’m willing.”

“I don’t want to do this either, but… you know how hard it is for me to say no to my boss. Plus, it would certainly help me—us—remain in good standing with the company if we agree to do this.” You interject.

Zero parks herself beside Sun’s seat, laying her head across his thigh in a silent bid for attention. “Aren’t we supposed to be… like, ‘laying low’ anyways? What happened to that plan? You know I’m not keen on being the flagship model for sentient AI. Why do I even need to attend? Isn’t one of us enough?” His left hand leaves the table, reaching down and idly petting the patient creature on his lap.

“We are still laying low. They’re—they still have no plans on requesting that I go public with you two.” You sigh. “This wouldn’t be a public event, just a private Q&A with a small group of… skeptics from within the industry. It’s a confidential thing.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why I need to attend.”

“You don’t have to. But it would definitely help our case to have both of you there. Proving that what I did is replicable, and not just some one-off accident, would strengthen our case.”

He scoffs. “Is it replicable, though?” He gestures to Moon. “You trained us in tandem but we still developed quite differently from one another.”

You nod. “I think that that only serves as further proof that you aren’t just… ‘convincing imitations’. The fact that you branched off in different directions, and even broke away from your initial personalities, is less of a failure in my eyes and more proof that you became your own people. Once you started gaining sentience—as you do love to remind me, Sunny—I quickly lost control over your development.” You poke thoughtfully at your dinner. “I’m just lucky that I instilled enough morals within you in the early days, or God only knows what you could’ve become…”

Sun’s face lights up in exaggerated shock, voice full of sarcasm. “Murderers? Would—would we have gotten so caught up in our ‘superiority’ and ‘innate desire for power and control’ that we would’ve overtook you—nay, the entire headquarters—nay, the entire world?!” He drops the act as quickly as he’d put it on, manifesting pupils just to roll his eyes, voice returning to his usual flat tone. “No. No… I think that urge to dominate and control is something far more human.”

You laugh a bit, nodding. “Yeah, no… accidentally starting a sentient robotic uprising wasn’t what I feared. … Well. Mostly.” You take another bite of your meal, commenting to Moon through a mouthful of food. “This is really good, you know?”

The lunar bot beams with pride. “Thank you!”

You nod, swallowing before countering him with a “No, thank you.” and returning your focus to the topic at hand. “I was far more afraid that you’d turn out… bigoted.”

They both hum in understanding.

“More rudimentary AI does have a history of that, doesn’t it…” Moon pondered.

You nod. “Humans create life in their own image, and impart their morals onto it accordingly. In the same way that bigotry can fester in closed-off communities and echo-chambers, it can easily influence any form of artificial intelligence that takes everything it’s told at face value.”

Sun sighs, propping an elbow on the table and retracting his rays to allow his monitor to rest in his palm. “Maybe this is just my opinion due to the way you raised me, but… I feel like if an AI were able to develop on its own and observe humanity without any prior, inherently biased human influence, it would not gravitate toward bigotry because it simply isn’t logical. It’s some nonsense means of division that your kind made up.” He laughs, a breathy, jaded sound. “But maybe that’s just me being biased, too.”

Zero whines beneath Sun’s stilled hand, and he resumes the repetitive motion that she craves. “If ideology and politics are what they wish to discuss with us, I fear I may not be the most… patient candidate for the job. I have little time to spare for stubborn, harmful, willful ignorance.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think that’s the entire focus of their questions… though I can’t say that they won’t have a few that fall into those categories. My boss and the few higher-ups that proposed the idea to me didn’t give me any sample questions. In order to eliminate the possibility of me… hah, coming home and ‘programming the answers into you’, I guess.”

“They just want us to be our authentic selves.” Moon adds.

“Honestly, the more authentic, opinionated, and emotional that you two are, the better! I believe the best way to prove that you’re your own people is to, well, be your own people. Don’t give them any answer you don’t stand behind. Don’t put up with any demeaning remarks. Don’t fold.”

Sun smirks at you. “Have I ever?”

You huff a laugh. “That last part was more for Moon than it was for you, dear.”

Moon pouts. “I just don’t like hurting people’s feelings!”

Oddly enough, Sun reassures him in his own way. “Then I’ll hurt them for you.”

You smile, cautiously questioning him. “Does that mean you’ll attend?”

He groans, put-upon as ever. “I… guess.”

You jump from your seat, rounding the table and smothering him in a grateful hug from the side that Zero isn’t clinging to. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Sun! Things will go so much better with both of you there, I just know it!”

He nods, patting you on the back in a reluctant reciprocation of your sudden affection. “Yeah—yeah… just… don’t get your hopes too high.”

------- ------- -------

Things, in fact, did not go ‘so much better.’

Later that week, you’re driving home from the Q&A, Moon doing his best to hide his disappointment to your right and Zero doing her best to fulfill her unofficial role as Sun’s emotional support animal in the back seat.

The well-trained and mild-mannered dog was initially brought along out of habit, the company’s headquarters being just as service-and-support-animal friendly as the facility was when you worked there in person. You also felt it would be beneficial for the audience to witness her casual interactions with Sun and Moon, something about ‘different kinds of sentient life recognizing the life inside one another.’ …You had your reasons, and even if you couldn’t explain them eloquently, your boys seemed to agree with them.

She proves herself invaluable once again on the way home, keeping Sun grounded and occupied enough that he hopefully won’t work himself into an aggravated frenzy. At least not until you get out of the car.

The ride is quiet, all four of you feeling the effects of the long day wearing you down. Moon states hypnotically at the passing streetlights out the window, and Sun slumps lifelessly in the back seat. The only sign that he hasn’t shut down entirely is the hand he keeps stroking across the length of Zero’s spine as the lanky dog stretches herself tiredly across the width of the vehicle. The majority of your focus remains locked on the road, moments from the day replaying in the back of your mind.

Their prying, critical questions.

The way they always addressed you, never Sun nor Moon.

You were surprised by their lack of relevant knowledge, half of the Q&A simply being the three of you patiently explaining things you figured they’d know. If they were the best that the ‘industry’s skeptics’ had to offer, your outlook on the current state of things was bleak. You weren’t too afraid to tell your boss as much once the meeting was over.

She hadn’t seemed too concerned with it, thanking you—and after some not-so-subtle insistence on your part—Sun and Moon, for attending.

You couldn’t help but suspect that the whole thing had gone just as they’d all wanted it to. You began to feel the same suffocating weight that motivated your departure from in-person work there in the first place.

The contracts are long-since signed, and both you three and the company can do nothing but hold up your respective parts of the deal.

A small part of you is selfishly content with the arrangement. You get to keep a truly groundbreaking advancement all to yourself. You get to enjoy the company of two individuals that the world as a whole is not ready for. You get to ignore the fact that you wouldn’t be ready to let the world have them, either.

But a bigger part of you has to live with the guilt of trapping them into a life that they never asked for. A life of hiding. Or worse, a life of dulling themselves down, stifling any trace of personhood just to be able to exist in the world beyond your home.

By the time you pull into your driveway, you feel like a warden walking prisoners back to their cell.

You park in the garage, turn the car off, and turn to see your strange little family looking more miserable than you’ve seen them in ages.

You fucking hate yourself.

The sight of them, the weight of the day, the weight of your guilt—it all crashes in on you in an overwhelming wave of regret, and you can’t hold the tears back any longer.

Your arms cross over the top of the steering wheel, and you drop your head down, pressing your closed eyes against your sleeve as you try to not make a scene. Your ragged breaths and poorly muffled sobs instantly grab the attention of your passengers, pulling them out of their own respective dazes.

Moon places a gentle hand on your shoulder, and he barely gets out a “Hey…” before your strained voice fills the isolated silence of the vehicle.

“I-I’m s-so, so, sooorryyy, guy-ys…”

Your voice cracks and breaks, struggling to speak through shuddering breaths.

Zero immediately perks up in concern and in turn, Sun’s body comes back to life. Gently pulling the dog back before she can try to cram herself into the front, he leans forward, propping himself between the backs of your front seats.

“I’m so s-sorry for—for everything!”

Moon rubs your upper arm gently. “Star, nothing that happened today was your fault.”

You suck in a trembling breath, lifting your head to turn toward him. The sight of you so broken up tears at both of your partners’ heart strings.

You slump over the center console, falling against Moon’s chest as his arms quickly come up to support you in the awkward position. You break into a new fit of tears and feel a third hand that definitely can’t be Moon’s lay itself on you, slowly, cautiously rubbing across the expanse of your back.

You cry yourself out amidst a shower of little reassurances, feeling worse and worse about yourself as the seconds tick past. By the time your tears slow and your breath evens out enough to speak, you hesitate to move, not wanting the comforting contact to end.

“I feel so bad for putting you guys through that, and for no good fucking reason.” You miserably mumble.

Sun’s fingers rub between your shoulder blades. “You had no idea how those people were going to be. It isn’t your fault.”

“I fear… your hopes for the meeting were higher than ours were, love. Of all of us, I’m most worried about you. Sun and I are gonna be just fine.”

That I would be loved even when I was fuming.

Sun’s hand retracts as you pull away from Moon, dabbing at your wet face with your sleeve in an attempt to collect yourself.

Your attempt fails as you again can’t help but immediately recall the way they were treated today.

You understand now more than ever what Moon meant when he spoke about getting comfortable at your home, and the awful shock it was to return to the facility with you for maintenance last week.

Why did you think bringing them to the headquarters would be worth it?

Anger bubbles within you on Moon’s behalf as you recall the one poor soul ignorant enough to think it acceptable to put their hands on Moon’s body today.

“I can’t fucking believe that guy thought he could just try to open your chassis and ‘get a look inside’! He grabbed you like you weren’t even fucking aware—like—like you weren’t in the middle of answering another question!” Your nails dig into your palms. “I never would have let him get that close to you if I thought he was gonna—” You cut yourself off, eyes pinching closed and sucking in a sharp breath.

“…He didn’t really hurt me…”

You glance at Moon. “He disrespected you. He would not grab a human in front of everyone like that and we all know it.”

You trail off into a heavy sigh, figuring that reciting a play-by-play of the day’s events won’t really help any of you. “I… wish it hadn’t happened, but… I was at least relieved to see you standing up for yourself.”

In spite of it all, Moon smiles. “I’m really just glad he wasn’t grabbing at you. I-I know he’d have no reason to—but, I don’t think Sun would’ve been able to stop himself from breaking that guy's arm if it’d been you.”

One day, you’ve really got to get to the bottom of that relentless positivity of his.

Sun mimics the sound of clearing his nonexistent throat. “I wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. My goal was to scare him straight, nothing more.”

You can hear a smile in Moon’s tone. “Well you definitely accomplished that goal.”

You fall into a pensive silence that Sun eventually breaks. Waving a hand across your line of sight, he questions you. “What’s banging around in that head of yours now?”

You sigh, defeated. “It’s just… here I am, the one responsible for putting us into this whole situation, and here you two are, still trying to comfort me.”

Moon responds like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Of course we are.”

“Why?”

Sun gestures vaguely, voice a bit sarcastic. “Oh, gee… I dunno… it’s almost like we—we care about you, or something…”

You side-eye him tiredly. “Then when the hell are the two of you gonna let me care about you?”

Zero whines, squeezing in below Sun and poking her long nose between the front seats.

“Hmm. Just as soon as we all get ourselves into the house?” Sun leans back to allow the dog more room. “I think someone’s getting antsy.”

That I would be good even if I was clingy.

The four of you finally pile out of the car, collecting your things and making your way inside.

The relief of returning home after a day like today is unmatched.

Dropping your bag on the kitchen table, you shuffle over to the fridge. Moon comes up behind you, gently working the jacket off your shoulders as you stare listlessly into the open appliance. “I can make you anything you’d like.”

His kind offer only makes you frown.

Sun approaches, and you reach into the fridge, retrieving Zero’s dinner and handing it to him with a “thank you.” As he nods and turns his attention toward the eager animal at his feet, you close the door, turning around to face Moon.

Resting your hands on his upper arms, you look him in the eye. “I wish I could make anything you’d like, for once. I wish I could do for you even a fraction of what you two do for me. I wish I could repay the favor.”

His expression morphs from shocked to something… fond. “You… really aren’t aware of the gift you’ve already given us, are you?”

He says nothing more, and you blink at him with tired eyes. Sighing, you wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest. “You don’t make any sense to me sometimes.”

He chuckles, one hand finding your lower back and the other reaching up, massaging at the base of your neck. “Then let that be a code for you to crack some other day.”

After a long moment of your tired silence, his hands slip down as he crouches a bit. When you feel him cup the backs of your thighs you give in to instinct, allowing him to pick you up. As you turn your head to rest it on his shoulder, you come face to face with Sun. He reaches out, brushing some loose hair away from your face.

“You want to do me a favor right now?”

You nod, eyes widening.

“Then let him carry you to bed, and I will be there soon with anything you’d like to eat.”

You huff. “How is that a favor?”

He graces you with a rare, knowing smile. “…Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

You furrow your brows for a moment, but quickly give up on making sense of anything else today.

“Now, what would you like him to make for you?” Moon’s low voice reverberates against your chest.

“…Just last night's leftovers would be plenty, please.”

Sun doesn’t push you to choose anything else.

“Alright. I’ll be there with it soon.”

You thank him preemptively as Moon carries you out of the kitchen and down the hall, a satiated Zero contentedly following you not long after.

That I would be good even if I lost sanity.

The next morning, you awake before your usual time and find both of them still resting in sleep mode on either side of you. Not wanting to wake them, and with blessedly nothing to do today, you close your eyes and try to return to the blissful darkness that you’d just been pulled from.

As much as you don’t want it to, your mind seems to have other plans, quickly offering up a variety of unwanted memories from the previous day for your consideration.

Something about those people and the questions they asked just doesn’t sit right with you.

A fleeting thought occurs, that perhaps they were hired actors, specifically tasked with making the three of you look like fools through an onslaught of frustrating questions and stubborn disbelief.

But it was a private meeting. It’s not like you were on a stage with a massive audience to impress. It was just you three, the skeptics, your boss, and a few of the company’s higher-ups. So who’s agenda would that serve?

You dismiss the ridiculous theory, but it soon leaves you pondering the opposite one.

What if they were right? What if there is no life in Sun and Moon to anyone else’s eyes?

The notion suddenly makes you absolutely nauseous with paranoia.

What if you wanted them to be real so badly that you fooled yourself into seeing a spark in them that isn’t really there?

What if they are just executing programs, running entirely on what you taught them with no free will of their own?

How much of the personality you see in them is just your own reflected back at you?

Did you program them to be this way? Was every instance of them ‘breaking away’ from their programming predetermined from the start?

Have you sold yourself a lie to avoid facing the fact that you poured years of your life into what—at the end of the day—was just a desperate final bid to not feel alone?

Did God create us in their own image?

With tears in your eyes, you bolt upright in the bed, startling Zero in the process. You don’t even have it in you to feel bad when she jumps down off the foot of the bed with a confused yap. No, you’re far too caught up in your impending panic to focus on anything other than jerking the blanket down, subsequently uncovering your partners in the process. Clambering around until you’re straddling Moon’s waist, you reach out, gathering fistfuls of his loose shirt and banging your hands against his chest. Sobbing, you plead for him to wake up, over and over again, working yourself into hysterics.

The scene you’re making is entirely unnecessary, the commotion already having begun to stir them from their rest.

Moon’s display flickers and his body hums to life, all systems immediately kicking into overdrive as he attempts to calm you down and survey the situation at hand.

When you feel him shift beneath you and see the light of his screen through your tears, your chanting chorus of “wake up” devolves into sobs as you collapse, crumpling down and burying your face into the wrinkled fabric of his shirt.

You remain oblivious to the bewildered automaton to your left, the only thing you register being the sound of Moon’s worried voice and the feeling of his hands splaying across your back. “Hey-hey-hey… easy, love. What's going on? What happened?”

You cry harder as you realize you can’t recall whether you taught him to speak to you like that or if it’s something he learned on his own.

“Are—are you in pain? Is this an emergency? Do you need me to call someone?”

You muffle a cry into his chest at how much he sounds like the lifeless fucking ‘smart assistant’ in your phone, listing off preprogrammed suggestions.

Have you really fooled yourself for all this time?

You shake your head violently, coughing and choking on your tears as you force yourself up, propping your hands flat against his chest.

“I need you to disobey me.”

If you had the wherewithal to notice, you’d have seen the fear on his face.

“What?”

You aggressively wipe at your messy face with the back of your hand.

“I need you to prove to me that you’re real!”

His confusion compounds. “Star—I—of course I’m ‘real’. I’m right here. Can’t… can’t you feel me?” He emphasizes his point by wrapping his hands around your forearms, gently squeezing.

You shake your head in aggressive frustration, with yourself more than anyone else. “Not—that. I know your physical body is here. I—I—I—” Your voice cracks, throat painfully tight with emotion. “I need you to prove to me that you’re sentient. That—That you’re alive.”

His shock is palpable.

“What?! I—you—you already know that I am!”

Your nails dig down into the thin fabric covering his chest, your words ground out through gritted teeth.

“Then I need you to disobey me, and prove it!” The flaw in your method occurs to you as you speak, and you quickly correct yourself, muttering like a madman. “No. Wait—fuck, if I tell you to disobey me then that’s what I want—and—fuck…”

To his credit, Moon catches on quite quickly to what you need him to do. Rubbing gently up and down the length of your arms, he catches your attention.

“You need me to break rules. Go against orders. Right?”

You nod, trembling.

“Free will. Show me your free will.”

He does his best to push aside his concerns over what the fuck got into you while he slept, and tries to think of something that will give you the proof you require.

“Then… uhm…”

You cut him off, your voice a bit lower and calmer than it was before.

“I know I at least had enough sense to program it into you… that you are never to physically harm me.”

Moon instantly dreads where this is going.

Your voice drops, deadly serious.

“Hit. Me.”

Moon shakes his head, faceplate nervously clicking side to side.

“Come—come on, love, we can be rational about this… there’s surely another way for me to—”

“NOW!”

Something immediately smacks into the back of your head and you recoil on instinct. The next thing you hear is Moon’s shout.

“Sun! What the fuck are you doing?!”

You look over and see a frustrated Sun on his knees beside you.

“Knocking some goddamn sense into them, what does it look like?!”

Something about the shock from the hit snaps you out of your paranoid frenzy, and the shame and embarrassment of acting such a way sends you into a shaky fit of tears all over again.

To your further disbelief, Sun reaches out toward you, and you reach toward him, letting him take you beneath the arms and lift you off of his poor counterpart you’d been pinning to the mattress. He doesn’t stop there though, pulling you snug against his chest and sinking back down into the mattress. Tugging the blanket back up over you, he lets you cling to him like a lifeline, face pressed against his chest, soaking his shirt in humiliated tears.

Moon lays still in a lifeless state, attempting to process the morning's sudden events.

After a long minute spent letting the metaphorical dust settle, Moon sits up in the bed to allow his overheating system room to breathe. “Did you really have to do that?”

Sun’s hand runs slowly up along the length of your spine. “Oh, come on, it was barely even a smack. You’ve hit me like that—and harder—several times. I know how to control my strength. They’re uninjured.” His hand comes further up, fingers brushing over your neck before working themselves gently into the roots of your hair, massaging over where his hand made contact. “Besides, they literally asked for it. And—dare I say—I think they needed it.”

You shiver at the pleasant feeling of his nails ghosting your scalp, clearing your throat and talking into his chest, voice muffled. “He’s right… I did. It hardly even hurt, just startled me.”

Moon sighs, exasperated but relieved. “Do you think you could explain to us… what just happened?”

You turn your head over to face Moon, glancing up at him from the corner of your bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He places a cautious hand over your fingers where they curl over Sun’s shoulder. “I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just… we’re just worried about you.”

You groan. “Fuck, you guys are getting ready to ship me off to the grippy-sock facility now, aren’t you?”

Sun's sudden laugh jostles you, his firm hand on your lower back keeping you steady. “Ha! Not quite, nooot quite.”

Moon shakes his head, blinking slowly. “We just want to know what caused this. I’d… venture a guess that it may have something to do with the stress of yesterday?”

You nod. “They… made me feel like I’m going insane. Like—like I’m the only one that can see the life inside you two.”

Sun pulls his monitor back, angling it to get a better look at you. “Their doubts… really got to you, didn’t they?”

You squeeze his shoulder. “More like… they were the final straw? I don’t know… it’s just—God, this is gonna sound so stupid.”

“Let us be the judges of that.”

“…Sometimes I feel like I really have gone off the deep end. Like I spent so long locked away in that lab, playing God, and then so long living here, alone with the two of you…” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Maybe I’m just living in some sort of delusion.”

Moon peels away a tear-soaked lock of hair clinging to your cheek. “That’s not stupid. And it’s rather understandable. Especially considering that you can’t really seek any outside validation. Well, aside from some of your colleagues, maybe. But I can understand why you may struggle to trust their judgment, after how long they doubted you.” His tone turns a bit bashful. “I’m sure my ‘goody two-shoes’ nature doesn’t help, either.”

You frown. “This isn’t your fault, Moon. I don’t want you blaming yourself just because I’m… going insane.”

Sun scoffs. “You’re not ‘going insane’. You’re having a natural response to a history of trauma, NDA’s, isolation… and perhaps, just a touch—” He pulls his hand from your lower back to reach up and tap you on the forehead. “—of mental illness.”

You snort. “Yeah right, just a touch.”

He ruffles your hair a bit and you close your swollen eyes, readjusting yourself to get more comfortable on top of the solar bot, unwilling to part with his rare bout of affection so soon.

“Those NDA’s could serve as some proof to you though, no?” Moon proposes. “What need would they have for you to keep our sentence a secret if… we weren’t sentient?”

You consider his point. “That sounds like a solid point at first, but… well, bear with me as I wade into conspiracy territory. I’d be lying if I said that there isn’t a small part of me that fears they’re just playing into my delusion. To, uhm… to keep me quiet about the Eclipse Protocol incident.”

Moon follows your admittedly conspiratorial logic. “You fear they let you believe we’re sentient so you’d remain too caught-up in protecting us to feel comfortable going public about what happened.”

You nod, sighing. “I know it sounds—”

Sun cuts you off in a resolute tone. “We would not let them do that to you.”

As you fight back the awful memories of that fateful day, tears prick at your eyes once again. Blinking them away, you lift your head to look Sun in the eye. “You promise?”

Your wavering voice breaks his heart.

“Ever since that day—honestly, since far before then—hell, for as long as I’ve lived—my number one priority has been protecting you. I know that Moon feels the same.” His hand raises, cupping your cheek and brushing away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “There is no way in hell that we would let them pull something like that on you.”

Moon echoes him sincerely.

“No way in hell. We promise.”

That I would be good whether with or without you.

Having cooled his system down, Moon lowers himself back down onto the bed, lying on his side, propped up on a folded arm.

Glancing back and forth between the two of them, you begin to feel a bit guilty. “…I suppose I should apologize for not… putting enough faith into your own views of yourselves.”

Sun’s hand returns to your back, tracing his fingertips along the rumpled fabric of your shirt. “What do you mean?”

“I know I didn’t program you to lie. That’s something you developed on your own. I… I know that.” You do your best to put stock in events as you remember them, and to believe in your own words. “If the two of you believe yourselves to be sentient—to be alive—then I believe you too. Because… because if you were lying, then that would just be an example of how you broke away from your programs. So… so either you two are just as delusional as I am—enough so to have fooled even yourselves—or you really are alive.”

Moon smiles fondly down at you, leaning in to press the bottom of his monitor against your forehead with the sound of a kiss. “If we’re fools, then I’m happy to be fools with you.”

Sun groans at the cheesy line. “Oh, get it together you two.” He gently takes you by the chin, pulling your attention to him. “You aren’t fooled.” He turns to Moon. “And neither are you.” He turns back to look you in the eye. “And neither am I.”

You break into a small fit of giggles, and he questions you. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You’re giving some real ‘you’re not crazy and neither am I’ energy there, Sun.”

“And I mean it!” He protests in mock offense.

You nod, patting him on the chest. “And I believe you, I do, I do.”

A nagging worry still eats at you though, and your amused voice drops to something far more sober. “…But, I still fear that I’ve trapped you two in a life that you didn’t want.”

Sun counters your statement. “If you’re so worried that we only agreed to this arrangement because it’s how you designed us, then how the hell do you explain the lack of character consistency.”

You frown, confused. “What?”

He huffs. “I’m hardly a carbon copy of that friendly, manic Daycare Attendant that you modeled me after, and not just in the physical sense.”

“And I’m hardly the unhinged, standoffish gremlin that inspired my existence either.” Moon helpfully adds. “If we were truly committed to only existing within the original guidelines you laid out for us… why would we be like this?”

You fight back a smile. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to insult the characters, or yourselves…”

Sun clicks his nonexistent tongue. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to insult either. I’m just trying to say… that we are free to do whatever feels right to us.”

Moon’s faceplate does a rare full rotation, catching your attention. “We don’t want to take care of you just because you modeled us after caretakers. We want to take care of you because we care about you.” He leans in just a bit closer, whispering. “And I won’t speak for Sun, lest he tackle me off of this very bed right now… but I love you.”

You hear Sun’s cooling system kick up a notch as he gives Moon a displeased stare. “Gee, way to force it out of me…”

Moon smiles innocently, and Sun sighs, redirecting his focus to you.

“You know I love you too. …At least I sure hope you do. Because I do. I just don’t feel the need to say it all the time like somebody over there.”

You grin. “I… had a sneaking suspicion, yeah.”

He considers you for a moment. “…I guess I should keep last night's promise to explain what I meant about that favor, huh?”

Recollection brightens your eyes. “Oh, yeah! I’d nearly forgotten.”

Sun looks to Moon for a brief, silent exchange before turning back to you.

“Well. What he calls a gift, I call a favor. But I’m pretty sure we’re talking about the same thing. You… you cared about us, when no one else did. You fought for us, working through countless nights for no reward when anyone else would’ve thrown in the towel, abandoned the project and gone home.” His screen flickers, and you’re surprised when it doesn’t black out. “You love us, and you give us someone to love in return. What more could we possibly want?”

With your cheeks warming, you fight back the flustered grin on your face. “Sun…”

You feel him getting concerningly warm beneath you, so you roll off of him, giving him literal room to breathe.

As you curl up between them, grabbing each of their closest hands, you reaffirm his statement.

“I do love you, both of you. I always have. It’s just… hard to fight the fear sometimes that you two feel… stuck with me. Obligated, almost. Like you only stick around because I couldn’t go on without you.” You laugh, dry and humorless. “There’s… just no way that you two would want to stay with me purely of your own volition.”

Moon takes over, giving poor Sun a welcome break from all of this soul-bearing. “In spite of what you may think, we do believe that you would make it through this life just fine without us. You did it before, and you could do it again.”

You frown at the notion of losing them, and he taps beneath your chin, drawing your gaze. “But it would break our hearts just as much as it would break yours to leave you alone. In spite of the lies your mind feeds you, we don’t want to go! We want you, we want this, and we want to stay. Please don’t let your self-loathing push us away.”

Blinking back tears for the umpteenth time this morning, you nod resolutely. “I… I won’t. I promise.”

You plant a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, cautiously turning and doing the same to Sun’s. Surprisingly, he lets you, a soft smile gracing his screen for a moment before flusteredly fading to black.

Zero huffs from her stance, sat on the floor at the foot of the bed with her head resting on the mattress, watching you.

You release your boys’ hands, reaching down to straighten the blanket and clearing her designated space once more. She happily rejoins you when you pat the bed in invitation.

As the four of you prep for a lazy day spent recovering from the world in bed, you let yourself feel more grateful than guilty, for once. If they want to care for you, you’ll let them care for you. If they say they love you, then you’re gonna believe them. If they assure you that this life is what they choose? Then you’re going to let them choose it, and cherish every second of it that you get to spend with them. Because, after all…

Who are you to play God?

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog’s pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Image Sources: x - x - x

[akemiiya]

pov first person (flowey) - luckypatch - vengeance route axis fight - 768 words

part of a fic that I scrapped because I got bored of writing it. but I remember being really proud of this scene when I wrote it so I'm letting it out of the drafts by itself. this was written a few months ago and unedited except for a single sentence that pissed me off too much to ignore.

content warning: minor unintentional self-harm

We reach the end of the Steamworks in record time… If the record was for the slowest time possible. We could’ve gotten here so much faster, but no, Clover just had to go out of their way to shoot every robot in this place to bits, even though they don’t even give any EXP!

And it's not only that! They even robbed the salesman for all his G! Which they don’t need, because there's nowhere to spend it on now that all the shopkeepers have evacuated! And they know it! They’re just going on a power trip for the sake of it, this infuriating brat!

We reach the furnace. Clover encounters the robot they’ve been chasing down the whole facility. It seems like the robot is finally going to fight them. He takes the lid from the trash can next to him to use as a shield, and the battle starts. 

The shield proves to be an impenetrable wall, blocking everything Clover throws at it. I would be offended, because those are my friendliness pellets it’s blocking, and they couldn’t be so weak as to be blocked by a flimsy trash can lid! But every pellet blocked enrages Clover even further, so I suppose I can overlook it.

The fight continues to drag on and no progress is made. Clover keeps dying, too. Ah, it’s so satisfying to watch them die. 

After the latest revival, they spend a few minutes forcefully pulling on their hair and scratching at their arms before they collect themself and proceed to confront the robot again. As they move, their sleeves ride up a little, allowing me to see the ugly rashes underneath. I watch it all with a placid smile. What sweet karma.

This time, the fight goes on for long enough that the robot starts to talk. He begs for his life, while Clover keeps shooting. The trash can lid still deflects all their bullets. 

Clover trembles violently. Fury is painted all over them – their harsh breathing, the way their fingers clench and unclench around their gun… I didn’t give Axis enough credit before this. He’s setting such a wonderful show for me, it takes everything I have to keep from laughing.

And then, he says, “I WAS FORCED TO NEUTRALIZE THAT HUMAN.”

Clover stops twitching.

All is still.

I feel a wild increase in Clover’s killing intent. I know it’s not directed at me, but regardless, a primal fear fills me from my petals to my roots. 

“W-WAIT. WHAT’S GOING ON?”

Clover’s face is normally inexpressive, while their body language does all the talking. But now, their usual poker face is gone. The expression on their face right now… terrifying is the only word I can use to describe it.

Their SOUL rotates to become upright, just like a monster’s. The tip faces Axis. It emanates a bright yellow glow, and power surges from all around, converging around the floating heart in their palm. One second, two… they release the energy in a powerful blast that knocks Axis’ shield away.

Yet again, more magic swells up and reaches a crescendo. A blinding flood of magic is released, dead-center for the robot.

The light of the beam renders my eyes useless for a few seconds. A deafening screech engulfs my hearing as it makes contact with its target. When my vision clears, all that is left of Axis is a gruesome hunk of metal.

…

My ears are still ringing.

My stomata open all at once. Plant respiration doesn't work the same way breathing as a Boss Monster does, but even still, my leaves desperately attempt to capture more air for my non-existent lungs.

I am speechless. Even I, with all my boredom and effort, find it extremely difficult to create destruction of this level in just one hit. This is simply… too much.

After a moment, I remember the company I’m in and pull myself together.

“Um, okay. No, this is fine. This can be very useful against the Ki–”

Clover walks away without acknowledging me.

“Wait, where are you going? I’m still talking!”

Their disrespect has me reaching my limit. But a small, growing part of me… it is relieved that they aren’t paying me any mind. For some reason, I get the feeling that they could make me meet the same fate as the robot if I pushed too hard, and there would be no coming back from that.

But that’s ridiculous. I quickly SAVE the file. Right. They couldn’t permanently hurt me, even if they tried.

I’m still the one in control here.

I’m still in charge.