#writing my way out

[babyhatesreality]

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Summary: After an episode, Bucky is worried that his and Steve’s pasts may haunt you more than you can bear.

Warnings: DDLG(SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name sparingly used, pet names, a little bratiness, timeout, language, angst, mentions of past trauma, PTSD symptoms, scary Bucky, reader gets shaken by the shoulders, sad/upset Bucky, Christmas, fluffity fluff fluff fluff. Also for the purposes of this AU, Peggy Carter has always been just a friend to our boys (slight reference to canon change at the end, blink and you’ll miss it). For Steve, it’s always and will only ever be Bucky <3

A/N- so this was a lot shorter in my mind, LOL. I had some holiday angst (shocking, I know) and needed to write my way out :) thanks for indulging me, hope this helps anyone who needs a little help too <3  YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

“Baby, get away from the window.”

“But Daddy, it’s so prettyyyyyyyyyyy....” you breathed heavily, giggling at the way your breath fogged the sliding glass door. It was two weeks before Christmas, and the snow was falling thick and fast. You were absolutely fascinated. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen snow before- you lived in New York City, after all- but the sheer amount of crystallized magic falling from the heavens was spell-binding to your little self. You’d been watching it for a good ten minutes straight, prompting Bucky to come looking for you to find out why it was so quiet. You being quiet usually wasn’t a good sign, so he just wanted to make sure you weren’t up to something. 

“I know it’s pretty, but I want you to get away from the window,” Bucky said, his eyes roaming to the gigantic pile of blankets you’d dragged off the couch and into the middle of the living room earlier when you were playing igloo with Pipsqueak the Penguin. “Right now, please.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him, but he needed you away from that window while he was cleaning up the mess. 

You didn’t answer him, completely overwhelmed by the Winter Wonderland you were watching. Besides, the window you were looking out of led onto a small balcony. It wasn’t like you could fall through and get hurt or anything. You started counting the flakes as they dropped, wondering if you could somehow convince your daddies to let you build a snowman on the balcony. 

“Katie, what did I just say?” Bucky’s voice broke through your imagination sternly. “Move back. Now.”

“I like looking out the window, Daddy.”

“I said, away from the window, little girl. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“I’m not smudging it!”

“I didn’t say you were. I told you to get away from it. Do as you’re told this instant, or you’re in big trouble.”

“But I wanna look!” you replied back angrily, stomping your feet. You were just looking at the snow! What was so wrong with that? You turned to glare at him, only to see him storming over to you. Your blood immediately turned into the ice you were just admiring. You realized very quickly you had way overplayed your hand. Daddy was MAD. Really, really mad. 

Bucky wrapped his right hand around your right bicep and forcibly drug you backwards. You stumbled a bit, but he wasn’t about to let you fall, even in his sudden rage. Once you were far enough away from the window though, he yanked you around to face him, wrapping his huge hands around your upper arms and shaking you hard once. You had never seen him this angry before. 

“I told you to stay away from that window!” he roared right in your face. You were nearly frozen in shock- he had never yelled at you like. “You stay away from windows, do you hear me? And you do what I say, when I say it! No arguments! Is that clear?!” When you didn’t answer immediately, still too much in shock, he shook you again. 

“Ow!” you whimpered, more scared than really hurt. 

“IS THAT CLEAR?”

“WHOA!” 

Your head snapped around when you heard your Papa’s voice, your scared eyes filling with tears. “What is going on here?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing at the two of you, trying to assess the situation as he walked quickly towards you.

“So-sowwy, Daddy,” you gulped, your fearful eyes swinging back to Bucky, still completely thrown as to why Bucky was so angry, but knowing your behavior was to blame. You could see the smoke practically steaming from his nostrils. “I...”

“Corner, NOW,” Bucky growled at you, not giving a damn for what you had been about to say. “And don’t you even THINK about moving until I tell you you can.” He released his grip on your arms. You scurried to your timeout mat faster than you’d ever done before, still afraid of Bucky’s sudden inexplicable anger.

Steve’s eyes grew wide as he watched the interaction. “Buck,” he said slowly and carefully once you were on your timeout mat. “What happened?”

Bucky paced back and forth like a caged animal, his eyes flicking back and forth between the outside world as if he was scanning the area for something, and at you cowering in the corner. “She’s gonna learn to do what she’s told,” he hissed under his breath. “She better follow orders or else.”

“‘Follow orders’?” Steve repeated, his eyebrows retreating into his hairline. He had a sudden idea what was happening...but it had been so long since the last one... “What orders, Bucky?”

“I told her to get away from the window and she wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t move! Just stood there, ignoring me!  You ALWAYS have to stay away from windows! That’s where they can see you! And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let them get her just because she can’t listen to orders!” He let out an angry roar of pure frustration.

“Who’s gonna get her, Buck?” Steve said softly, taking a gentle step towards him as his pacing continued. “Who is this ‘they’ you keep talking about, huh?”

Bucky turned furiously and gave him a look at if to say don’t be stupid. “Dammit, Steve, you of all people know who I’m talking about. The...” Bucky’s pacing suddenly started slowing down. “They’re...the...” he stammered, his feet suddenly coming to a halt as reason returned to him. He stood still as a statue, his brain trying to catch up to what his body was feeling. 

It had been a long time since he’d had a relapse. 

Shuri and Ayo had done an amazing job getting rid of the brainwashing Bucky had undergone when he was the Winter Soldier. But no one could ever fully erase all of the trauma and PTSD from seventy years of imprisonment against his will. He’d been doing so well with his therapist too. He’d gotten to the point of recognizing triggers and taking control of them before they took control of him. So what happened?

In a mental stupor as the haze around his vision slowly evaporated, Bucky’s gaze drug back to the window. The thickly falling flakes...the snow wasn’t usually this heavy in New York...he hadn’t seen snow like this since...since...

Siberia.

When he was an assassin. 

And any assassin worth his salt knew that a victim’s biggest mistake would be passing by a window where they could be seen and targeted. 

One fucking snow fall had thrown him back. 

Bucky started sweating profusely, his lungs going into overtime as the pieces fell into place and he realized what was happening. Steve immediately stepped forward, one arm under Bucky’s to keep him upright, and his other hand gently pressing on Bucky’s chest. This was one of the best ways to keep Bucky feeling grounded when he started to panic- he needed to know that Steve had a hold of him and wouldn’t let him...fall. 

Steve gently put his forehead to his beloved’s. “It’s okay, Buck, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here. I’ve got you. You’re safe, she’s safe, I’m safe. We’re at home and we’re all safe. It’s okay, everything’s okay,” he murmured in a soothing, low tone. He kept repeating the mantra until Bucky’s breath regulated and his pupils dilated back to their normal size. 

Bucky finally felt okay enough to nod, leaning into Steve’s touch more as he crawled his way back from his mental abyss. “Okay, safe, okay...it’s...” he mumbled incoherently. Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes got wide. Before Steve could do anything, Bucky sprinted over to you, falling on his knees behind you. He pulled you into him, into a crushing hug. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry baby, sorry, sorry, baby sorry, I’m sorry...” was all he could say, over and over and over. You felt hot tears dripping into your hair. You instantly understood what was happening, even in your little state. Bucky had had nightmares before where he woke up unable to breathe, sweating, with tears in his eyes. You understood that, right now, he was gripped with the same fear. 

Once Bucky had loosened his arms just enough for you to be able to move, you gingerly reached up and put your tiny hands on his wet cheeks. You wiped away his tears, just as he had done for you many, many times. 

“Is okay, Daddy, I love you,” you whispered back to him. “You okay. You safe with me and Papa.” All Bucky was able to do was press you to his chest again as you patted his hair consolingly. Steve came over as well and the two of you helped Bucky back up. 

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

Three days later, and Bucky hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time, even while you slept. He still felt so bad about the window situation, even though you and Steve assured him he had nothing to feel bad for. You were secretly enjoying all the extra attention as you sat on his lap while he laced your little snow boots up. The snow had mostly abated, and Steve suggested that you all go ice skating at Rockefeller Center to get out of the house for a while and do something Christmassy. Bucky had straight up refused at first, partially to try to punish himself for his slip, refusing to accept forgiveness for himself. Steve had eventually talked him around to the idea of a family outing, mostly because of your enthusiasm for the idea.

You had never been ice skating before and had no idea what it meant, but you were so excited that you didn’t really care. Bucky insisted that Sam come along as well, just to keep an eye on him, in case something else triggered him- he didn’t want Steve trying to handle both him and you in a public setting. Bucky made sure you had everything you could possibly need to keep you as warm as possible, and refused to let go of your hand while the four of you were walking to Rockefeller Center. 

Your other hand was occupied by Sam. You had anxiously worried that your Papa was going to feel left out, but upon seeing your distress, he moved to take Bucky’s other hand. That crisis having been averted, you were talking a mile a minute to Sam all about your Christmas decorations and the Rudolph movie that you had seen last night that was SO GOOD that you simply had to tell him the entire plot point by point and line by line as you walked. 

Once you’d taken a breath, Sam saw his opening and interrupted. “So, have you ever seen the big tree at Rockefeller Center before, Short Stack?”

“A big tree?” you asked, your eyes wide with wonder. “As big as Papa?”

“Even BIGGER,” Sam said, really laying it on thick to keep you from telling him the entire plot of the next Christmas movie that you had watched. How you could remember every single detail like you did was beyond him. As cute as it was, he was ready for a change of dialogue. “It’s SO big. It’s the biggest Christmas tree in the whole world, with all these awesome colored lights and a big shiny star at the top.”

“WOW,” you said breathlessly, your imagination running wild. You turned excitedly to Bucky. “Daddy!! Uncle Sam says there’s a big tree with colors and a star!! Can we see it at the Rocky Fellows?”

Bucky smiled softly, unable to have anything but a good reaction to your adorableness. “Rockefeller, and sure thing, Trouble. We’ll probably be able to see it before we even get there.”

“REALLY??”

“Yup. It’s that big.”

“WHOA.”

“Darn right, whoa,” Sam said, grinning down at you as you danced excitedly next to him. “We’ll see the big tree the whole time while we’re on the ice.”

You immediately dug your heels into the pavement, refusing to take another step. Although Sam and Bucky were both (obviously) strong enough to propel you forward, you clearly wanted to stop, so they did. All three men turned to look at you curiously, but you only had eyes for Sam. 

“What you say?” you asked cautiously, your little forehead furrowed as your gaze pierced Sam. 

“I said we’re gonna go on the ice,” he said back lightly, not sure what was happening or why you had stopped. “Aren’t you excited to go onto the ice and skate?”

“You go on ice to skate?” you asked suspiciously. “We ALL going on the ice?” Thinking that you were just making sure that no one was getting left out of the skating fun, Sam nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh yeah! We’re all going on the ice. Gonna show you all my sweet moves. I’m gonna make Daddy and Papa so jealous of how awesome I am,” he said jokingly. 

But before anyone could say anything else, you ripped your hands out of Bucky and Sam’s. “Hey!” Bucky said, panicking that he wasn’t touching you. You darted around him to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked down on you with confusion and curiosity, but was still not prepared for what you did next. Which was to put your mittened hands on his stomach and push backwards as hard as you could. 

“Wh-what are you doing, baby?” Steve asked, trying to keep a straight face and not laugh outright as you grunted and sweated, trying to push him with all your might, grumbling in displeasure when he didn’t move an inch. 

You looked up, sheer determination on your face. “We not going. We go home now.”

Bucky put a hand on your back and leaned down next to you. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked anxiously. “Why do you want to go home?”

“Papa NOT going on the ice again,” you declared authoritatively. “No more Papa frozen on ice. We go home, now.” Bucky’s and Sam’s jaws hit the pavement as you turned to Steve, who was just as flabbergasted as them. “Papa, Daddy and I need you here. You no go on ice again. We need you. Okay?”

Steve took a deep breath, then knelt down next to you, right on the street. “Oh, baby, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. When Uncle Sam said that we were going on ice, he didn’t mean we were going IN the ice. You ice skate on TOP of the ice. Nobody’s going on ice- not the way you’re thinking. Do you understand?” he asked gently, rubbing your cold cheek as he tried to help you get what we was saying. “Papa’s not going in the ice again.” Steve’s eyes darted to Bucky, knowing that this probably wasn’t helping his mental state. Bucky was strangely silent, but his entire focus was on your face. 

“Oh,” you said, the wheels turning as you tried to understand what Papa was saying. “So...you don’t gotta go back on ice?” You looked Steve full in the face, needing confirmation. “Cause Daddy and I need you here, and I don’t want you to go back on ice.”

“It’s IN the ice, princess, and no- I’m not going anywhere,” Steve said, cupping your face in his hands and smiling gently. “I need you and Daddy too. I’m staying right here forever.” He smiled as a huge grin cracked across your face. “Now, you want go skating ON the ice?”

“Okay then!” you said brightly, snatching his hand and immediately turning to grab hands with Bucky too. You leaned around to look at Sam, who was trying to hold in his smirk. “Uncle Sam, you WRONG about the ice,” you said smugly. Steve and Sam burst out laughing at that as you tugged your daddies’ hands forward. Bucky, however, was deep in thought. 

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

Later that night, after you’d been tucked into bed, thoroughly exhausted by the fun of ice skating and New York City at Christmas, Bucky was sitting by himself, staring at the lights on the Christmas tree, lost in thought. “Hey, you coming to bed?” Steve asked as he walked into the living room. 

“In a minute,” Bucky said tightly, still unable to move.

“You okay?” Steve said. They both knew what he was really asking. 

“I...” Bucky started, but then clamped his lips shut. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to get the right words out. He just shook his head. 

“What is it?” Steve asked softly, coming around and sitting next to his partner and best friend. 

Bucky’s jaw worked overtime as he struggled to explain the tangle in his head. “It’s just...Stevie, in the last 3 days she’s had to deal with shit from the past twice. That’s...I can barely deal with it. And she...she’s too pure and little and innocent...I can’t...she shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to do this to her.” Steve reached out and took Bucky’s right hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of it. And a little while later when Bucky broke down, he wrapped his arms around his husband and held on, not letting him fall.

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

A little less than two weeks later, Christmas morning dawned bright. Or at least Steve and Bucky assumed that the dawn was going to be bright, because you had awakened somewhere around 4:45am with a squeal, then proceeded to jump on top of both of them in turn until they conceded with a good-natured groan and got up. Normally they wouldn’t let you get up until the sun had risen, but it was Christmas, after all. And there was no going back when you were this freaking wound up. 

They let you race around the couch and the apartment while the coffee brewed, hoping that you’d burn off a bit of energy while they waited for theirs in liquid form. You stopped to examine the full stockings, the plate of cookie crumbs, and the new presents under the tree, as you made your continuous laps. Finally after Steve and Bucky had gotten at least a fourth of a cup down, they made their way to the tree. “Okay, which one do you want to open first, Trouble?” Bucky asked. You immediately dove to the back of the tree, making both men chuckle. They had no idea what you’d seen back there but it was pretty obvious you had a mission in mind. 

You came up with two shiny, smallish packages, one in blue and one in red. Steve and Bucky reared back in surprise- that wasn’t the paper they used. You ran over to your daddies, giggling madly. “DADDIES go first!!” you said, thrusting the gifts into their hands, blue for Steve, red for Bucky. 

“You sure, angel?” Steve asked, his heart turning into mush at your thoughtfulness. You nodded, jumping up and down and wiggling your butt like an excited little puppy. 

“Yeah yeah yeah!!” you cheered. “Open please please please!!” After exchanging a look to make sure they were really going to go first, Steve and Bucky sighed with smiles and opened their presents. 

Steve’s head cocked to the side when he saw his old, beaten up compass. He thought this was in his bedside drawer...? “Open it Papa!!” you said delightedly. He flipped the catch, then drew in a breath sharply. A picture of him, you, and Bucky stared back at him, the three of you all laughing as they tickled you. Steve remembered this picture being taken at the picnic after you’d passed your test. His heart soared, remembering the sheer joy of that day and knowing that he and Bucky got to keep you. He looked at you with that joy shining in his eyes now. “See the picture?” you asked delightedly. “That’s the part I did! And the old picture of Daddy is behind it so it is still there too!” 

“How...how did you do this, sweetness?” Steve asked in wonder. 

“Uncle Sam!” you said proudly. “He helped me with you and Daddy’s presents!”

“Thank you, my perfect baby girl,” he whispered, his throat thick. He was going to have to buy Sam a Mustang convertible to fully express the gratitude he was feeling right now. You leaned forward and kissed your Papa on the nose, but your attention was swiftly diverted to your Daddy, who had just managed to unwrap his own- you REALLY liked using tape, it was super fun, and of course had done it to excess. Bucky was nervous- with Sam having one hand on the wheel of this present, who knew what he was holding?

Bucky stared at the first edition version of The Hobbit sitting in his hands. He had no idea what to say or do- this was just another reminder of the past. And his past had hurt you, so why did you do this? He looked up at you, trying to find the words to ask. But you helped him out. 

“You said that you read this book when it first came out in the old days, right Daddy?” you asked, eager to explain yourself. “So now you can read it to ME!!” you exploded in delight. “I wanna hear the story, too!”

“You..want to hear this story?” Bucky asked in a strangely quiet voice. You were too keyed up to worry about it though, focused on your brilliant plan. 

“Yeah!! I like all the old times stuff!”

“You...you do?” 

“Yup! Cause it was you and Papa in the old times and that’s my favorite.”

“But...” Bucky looked helplessly at Steve, who smiled softly and nodded his head as if to say just ask her. “But...but there was a lot of bad stuff too, baby. I don’t want you to...that’s not stuff a little girl like you should be thinking about.” He swallowed hard, scared that you were going to walk out of his life right then and there. Bad thoughts have a way of distorting everything, and he was convinced you were going to leave him now that he’d actually said it out loud. Surprising the hell out of him instead, you clambered up onto his lap, and put your hands on either side of his face. 

“We talk about the GOOD stuff, Daddy! And when the bad stuff comes, we be brave and we scare it away because we are superheroes. Okay?” you said brightly. “I help you! I good at it!” You leaned forward and kissed his nose, then leaned back. “I not going on ice, okay? I stay here. Forever.” 

Bucky’s eyes filled with tears, but you knew they were good ones this time. He pulled you into his chest for another crushing hug, and you snuggled into him immediately. You felt Steve wrap his arms around the both of you, and you nuzzled into their warm and loving embraces. You couldn’t help but add one more thing though...

“The chapters are really long, so now I get ta go to bed later too,” you said smugly. Bucky burst out laughing, as did Steve, and after a minute, you did too. 

And for the rest of your lives, anytime the past reared its sometimes ugly head, the three of you were brave and scared it away together. 

[acorviart]

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[the-raindeer-king]

The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

That's how the saying goes. You never realized just how true it was until you started working as Captain John Price's assistant. It had started off innocently enough, bringing him a tea or coffee when he asked. Maybe scolding him whenever you found out he skipped lunch.

You had been baking brownies, trying out a new recipe, and you just needed someone to taste them (and maybe help you get rid of the batch if need be). So, you brought them to work, left them in a pretty box on Price's desk when you dropped off his coffee.

You certainly hadn't expected the rest of the task force to come around to your desk, begging to know why you didn't bring any for them. Turn out that not only did Price brag out your baking skills, he's refusing to share with the rest of the task force, despite the fact you had brought more than enough for all of them.

Looks like you're going to have to make more.

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[dear-ao3]

[cracklewink]

Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

[panevanbuckley]

soulmate au where your soulmate's thoughts appear on your skin except your soulmate has adhd and your body becomes a living canvas of nonsensical, never-ending, constantly entertaining trails of thought

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids until they had found deviancy enough to pursue their own projects. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar, but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[inkskinned]

sure i find you in my hair and under my pillow and in the car. but i know in my heart you are picking me out of your teeth. i know i am burning through your sundays, sticking to your ceiling.

i hope i'm in every bitter cup of coffee and every candle wick and every bath. i hope my shadow flickers under your door so the empty hallway i have left behind is a swift dart of nothing more. i hope you find me in notebooks and stop signs and fleetwood mac - like i am marginalia on your life, i want my fingerprints burned into your days like acid.

i loved you, and you know i loved you, and for the rest of your life i will be the person you broke. for the rest of your life i hope the shame of that runs like a cattle dog, bites at your heels. i hope every time your cup is full or the moon is a toenail or a cat is purring or a laugh is in your belly or the sky turns pink while the sun is setting - i hope you remember that someone loved you, and you crushed them in your palms. you extinguished every future i lit. i hope that haunts you.

i hope you never fucking forget it.

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[yellowvixen]

Got the chance to meet Roger Craig Smith today and he signed some art @fleetways and I collabed on!!

That's right folks, year of sonadow is real, Sonic himself said so :]