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winchestheart  



what if the very thing that threatens you, is the very thing that beckons you? roll up your sleeves, pull down your hood.
why do all the bad things feel so good? (x)

what if the very thing that threatens you, is the very thing that beckons you? roll up your sleeves, pull down your hood.

why do all the bad things feel so good? (x)

Steve Rogers sizing up the different sorts of fiery pits he is about to jump over for Bucky Barnes

There have always been ghosts in the machine. Random segments of code, that have grouped together to form unexpected protocols. Unanticipated, these free radicals engender questions of free will, creativity, and even the nature of what we might call the soul. Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness, they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together, rather than stand alone? How do we explain this behavior? Random segments of code? Or is it something more? When does a perceptual schematic become consciousness? When does a difference engine become the search for truth? When does a personality simulation become the bitter mote… of a soul?

You’ve known me your whole life. I’m not going to fight you. You’re my friend.

potofsoup:

Boy with a broken soul
Heart with a gaping hole