#Arec

[kneipe]

leipzig 2024

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA Gazzetta Del Sud Calabria di Oggi martedì, 01 aprile 2025

[pangzi]

POONMIT&MARCMC

[pilebunkers]

What do you think goes on at Arquebus's re-education camps (and also the Factory)? What do you think the procedures consist of specifically?

I feel like re-education has got to be more than just basic torture methods like, idk, tying you to a chair and beating you until you comply. They probably do stuff like lock you in a sensory deprivation tank and give you weird drugs and plug your brain directly into a computer-simulated hell through your AC interface ports. But I still have no idea about the specifics.

What are your thoughts?

NEW IDEAS FOR TORTURING YOUR BLORBOS, NOW AVAILABLE!

The Factory is simpler so I'll speak about it in brief. I see it as Snail's personal blacksite for the kind of horrific experimentation on prisoners (political, war, or otherwise) that RRI practiced to get the first generations of augmentation to work. It's where Arquebus is rediscovering Phantasma Beings and Cultivators. All of Snail's attempts to make what are essentially glorified UNACs using soldered nervous systems. He's not nearly as good at it as ALLMIND. And Freud keeps downing every promising prototype. It's maddening.

(Side note: given Freud can apparently 1HKO any computer intelligence, someone really should have sent him after ALLMIND in Alea. Laser blade to the CPU gg no re)

As for AREC, I think you're pretty much right on the money. Lots of regular torture, coercion, extortion, blackmail, and just plain old holding people without cause/trial because they're in your way. Every state (corpo or otherwise) needs an extrajudicial prison to hold its political opponents. I joke that Squad II has what they call the Geneva Checklist: that is, every Third Convention "must" becomes a "must not" in AREC.

That said, I also think there are regular old POW camps as well. You have to be especially important or annoying to end up at AREC. That's why Swinburne, Walter, and 621 get that treatment; a former Vesper and two big thorns in Snail's side.

The thing is, I think the ways in which you could torture an augmented human are fascinating and horrific. I will shamelessly quote from my fic Just once, I want to spiral into control, because I spend the opening chapters playing around with the concept.

The first thing Snail had done upon strapping them down was punch a hole in their AMS port and plant a fingernail-sized suppressor across some of the pins. Whatever that little toy is nominally supposed to do, what it's actually doing is scrambling their HUD and knocking all of their pain prevention systems offline. They can't tell the time, they can't tell where they are, and they can't tell what the status of any of their augmentations or prosthetics is. "Behave," he sneers. He's got a probe in one of the auxiliary ports of their neck, humming invisibly with ultrasound or xrays or something else, mapping the circuits there. "You've already made this far more difficult than it needs to be." (...) They can't see exactly how he twists the probe, just that he does, and makes contact with something that makes their vision go white. The world folds in. The suppressor floods them with a hot rush of adrenaline, denying them a dreamless unconsciousness they couldn't enjoy anyway, but they're still bitter about it. Their chest heaves, ragged under the weight of Snail tugging at their synapses, and each time that probe plucks one of their ligaments some part of their body screams in agony and they scream with it.

Sensor deprivation, stress positions, AMS overload; I'm sure there's a neurological equivalent of waterboarding they've figured out how to do to augmented humans. Imagine being able to make someone selectively blind or stop their heart at will. Imagine being able to erase and rewrite someone's memory. Imagine being able to shatter someone's will and individuality until they end up like Walter by stealing or breaking their augmentation's code or injecting malicious code. You know Arbitrary Code Execution? Getting into a system to inject commands and do whatever you want? That. With your brain.

We already know Walter's been broken and made Coral-compatible somehow, and I do like to think it was done via some form of augmentation without his consent. And once they've got that, they can do anything.

[arece]

hey. I'm feeing in an angsty mood so what so you think John's funeral would be like? anyways love your writing 🤗

Bury You

♤ Summary: Reader takes John home. The masterlist

♤ a/n: I'm gonna be completely honest, I wrote this one like right away because I had some thoughts on it. But the formatting and posting on tumblr felt too daunting so I really am sorry this came so late! (1.2k)

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

It had taken both Caine and Nobody to pry you from the death grip you held John with. Winston was barely holding it together himself, making arrangements on how to bring him home as a distraction.

You were nearly hysterical at the thought of having to part from him even for a moment.

You just got him back.

Nobody practically cradled you as you hyperventilated, clawing at his arms. Caine mournfully placed his jacket, covering John from your sight. 

You had been so calm in his last moments, giving him that final minute of peace, allowing him closure and forgiveness. Now everything that you’ve suppressed came out in a flooding mess of emotions.

It’s like you couldn’t stick to one, quickly switching from anger to utterly overwhelming grief. Just a few minutes ago he was talking to you, he was in your arms and breathing, telling you that you were everything to him. 

Now he’s dead.

The temptation to blame him dug its claws into you, anger was always easier than this gaping sadness. But no, deep down you knew why he did what he did no matter how much you hated that he did it. 

Quickly becoming drained you numbly starred at the body of the man who had been your everything for such a short amount of time. How cruel he was able to have that strong of an impact on you that quickly. 

Winston kneeled down to your eye-level but you merely blinked at him, practically seeing through him and to John. “It’s time to go home now.”

Your face contorted as you finally focused on him, “he was home.” Winston closed his eyes, almost like he needed a moment to collect himself.

“It’s time to bring him home.” You took a shaky breath, nodding softly to him. He grabbed onto your arm and with the help of Nobody, pulled you up. 

It was time to plan a funeral, something he never thought he’d receive let alone with love, thought, and care put into it. You walked over to John, the last time you’d actually see him before you’d have to bury him.

“I don’t think I can ever hate you, but I’m trying really hard to forgive you,” you delicately whispered as you pulled down Caine’s jacket to properly see him. “I know what you did for me and I won’t ruin that. Not after what I lost for it.” 

You were going to pretend for him.

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You were told that the Bowery King had Dog, something that made you slightly bitter. You wanted to go to John’s place to sort through his things but Winston had grabbed you by the arm, trying to prevent you from leaving.

“What is it, what are you hiding from me now?” You yanked your arm from his grip, eye nearly twitching from the rage culminating, you’ve had enough of Winston’s secret keeping.

Winston sighed, “it’s gone. Blown up by a member of The Table’s little fit.” You felt winded at the realization that another piece of John had been taken from you. A sick type of karma that was determined to take away any trace of him, to erase the Baba Yaga, erase John Wick. 

“I need to see it, Winston.” There was a part of you that held a naive inkling of hope, one that you knew would only crush you harder in the end. Maybe, just maybe, in the wreckage of dust and plaster there would still be something left, a piece of proof that there once was a time where it was just you and John. 

The five peaceful years you had together of bonding and healing, of growing together until it was cruelly ripped away. Reality had struck a match and burned down the little life you two had built together. 

It felt like a new type of sickness seeing the true wreckage of what once was your little safety net, your home. Yet, it still didn’t hold a light to the carnage it faced the night John lost you. To him it hadn’t truly been a home since then.

You walked through the piles of rubble attempting to place together where each room would be. From memory you make it to what used to be your room, still able to envision it vividly. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to truly encapsulate what used to be.

Your chest tightened at the thought of what used to sit on top of your nightstand, the only picture you’ve had of you and John. All of the evidence of the time you two dedicated to each other has been ripped away, leaving no trace. To the world there has been no John and you.

You should’ve stolen something when you were forced to leave. It was the one thing you were good at and you didn’t use it. If you had you’d still have a piece of him left.

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John used to tell you that his Helen was his everlasting sun, the one thing that could shine brighter than the darkest depths of his haunting past. It only felt fitting to have his funeral set unconventionally early. It allowed for him to rise with the sun, with her.

You didn’t have it in you to move from your spot right at the front. You didn’t hold a ceremony, bitterly you wouldn’t know who to invite. It took his death for you to realize how truly little you were involved in the underground area of his life. 

You just stood and stared, no conversation needed to be imagined because you two were never really good with words. In your peripheral you watched as people you’ve never seen before came to say their goodbyes to John, paying you no mind.

The only time you broke your train of focus was to reunite with Dog. It was the first moment of genuine joy you’ve felt since you’ve lost John. It’s been two years since you’ve been separated from her and it was soothing to be able to hold her again after so long.

She curled up at your feet just like she used to, joining you in your mourning. Bowery King stood back to not interrupt. All minor peace was ruined with Winston’s gentle hand being placed on your shoulder.

He dragged you back to reality and suddenly it didn’t feel like something you could wake up from anymore. “He decided I was worth dying for… what if he made the wrong choice?”

It was hard to feel like you held an important part of his life when at his funeral you were the stranger that no one knew of. Someone he had so easily given up on. 

Winston’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “Johnathan has made a lot of mistakes in his life. Many.” Your eyebrows furrowed with effort as you tried to focus on the gravestone past the tears blurring your vision. “But acting as your father was never one of them.”

“That’s why his grave is marked with that.” He points to the head stone; Loving husband and father. “You were all he ever needed.”

You wish he was here to wrap you up in the safety of his jacket like he had before. “I’ve never had someone to miss this much before.”

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

[danataikohistoria]

[kubatakid]

[kittybroker]

spametong kitby nroker divorke arec???v??

never once. i wouldnt go anywhere near that freak

[poemwav]

– Arecelis Girmay, "Fiel"

✨follow @poemwav for more daily poetry ✨

[ir-dr]

Day 3570 - 22 November 2023

🧭

A commission for Arece!

.//projectTiGER

[darkmaga-returns]

Arecent House Judiciary Committee report details how America’s largest financial institutions, colluding with climate activists, imposed radical environmental policies on the American economy, subverting both our self-government and free markets. It focuses on the successful effort to insert climate activist directors on the board of energy giant ExxonMobil. 

According to the report, there is “substantial evidence of a ‘climate cartel’ of financial institutions” including the “Big Three” asset managers (BlackRock, State Street, and Vanguard), several massive state pension funds, European investment firms, and the two foreign-owned proxy advisory firms that dominate the American market.

This cartel coordinated its efforts through a network of “alliances” that included “left-wing environmental activist” groups such as the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero and The Net Zero Asset Managers initiative (NZAM). The Big Three belonged to both.

The cartel made Exxon a “focus company” on its “climate blacklist,” subjecting Exxon to “a barrage of shareholder pressure campaigns — more than any other company in the world” — all designed to force Exxon to reduce its fossil fuel production. 

The Big Three’s support was “crucial” to the success of this effort. Combined, they owned 20.5 percent of Exxon’s shares. The cartel believed that was enough “clout to change outcomes.” As it turned out, it was. 

[penaltybox-gossip]

Look who’s at the devils game tonight. Areceli, the girl Quinn unfollowed

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA Il Mattino di Oggi lunedì, 30 settembre 2024

[grox]

why arec you the nostalgia critic please change back

I fucking lost no nostalgia critic november. And so has the world.

[pilebunkers]

Horrific postgame extension of "the road to 621's personal hell is paved with their good intentions" where Walter gets stuffed into HAL as the mindfucked brainbox in every timeline and after downing him they become just. Irrationally obsessed with trying to fix him. After not being able to save Kabuki and Operetta and every other Raven from the Jupiter War, not being able to save O'Keeffe from his forty year spiral, not being able to save Carla and Pater from their dogmatic ideals, not being able to save Ganymede from the corps, not being able to save Rubicon from (spoilers), they're so desperate to save anything they care about that they plunge Walter into a hellish half-existence with a mind they had to scrape off the walls of a cockpit and pack back into a server rack that still leaks no matter how many times they patch and seal it. And it's still broken. And he has a twisted metal body with the wrong number of limbs and he doesn't feel pain but something more existential that begs 621 to finish the job and in their absence from the dark corner of the salvaged CYNOSURUS he occupies, he somehow manages to come close to sparking the Fires again or perhaps becomes so violently set upon it by what Arquebus did to him in AREC they have no choice but to put him down messily, brutally, humanly, for the second time, with no QUIXOTIC between them and the thing they're forced to kill.

[arece]

So………lolz you already expected this BUT whats readers background? How did she meet Aurelio? Layer on that angst

Seven

♤ Summary: How reader came to be. The masterlist

♤ Warnings: Implied domestic and child abuse, but no explicit details.

♤ a/n: I may be slow but I am working through these requests. I kinda like how this one turned out, back on my angst shit. (1.3k)

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you

I’d lose-

No. 

Try- try and sometimes…

The words were slowly escaping you.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You were sprinting as fast as your small legs allowed you to, giggling as you stared straight ahead you, could almost imagine you were flying. Slowly you rose your arms from your sides, shrieking in glee as you nearly felt yourself begin to float. 

“My bumbling little bee!” You were scooped up into the arms of a woman, her face forever blurred in a way you’d never be able to recall, but the safety she radiated would forever be imprinted in your mind. 

She let you go, hand caressing over your head. Kneeling down to your height she held you close by your arms, a nervous smile fluttering from her lips, “and how much did you collect today?” 

You brightened, digging into your little pockets and pulling out three wallets. You watched as she took them, carefully scanning through the contents of each. “Did I do good?” So eager for her praise.

“The best. Are you sure you’re not an actual pirate?” She playfully scanned you over. You giggled, shaking your head as if just the thought was so silly, “no, I was just playing!”

She scooped you back up, heading in the direction of a daunting house that suddenly turned your colourful little world into melancholy shades of gray. “Well, you had me fooled, busy bee.”

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You sat in your room, fiddling around with your toy sword as the sun began to set. A rumbling could be heard in the distance, you stood from your spot on the floor and looked out the window. Outside was the car that held the monster, the one that always played hide and seek with you.

The woman came rushing into your room, she looked more frazzled than earlier, hair out of place and her eyes containing distress. “Come on now, bee. Time for hide and seek.” You grabbed her hand as she led you over to the slightly rotted closet, hidden by an oddly placed bookshelf.

She sat you inside, trying to get you comfortable with the mountain of blankets, pillows, books, and a flashlight you collected from your multiple games. “He’s not very good, I hide in the same place every time and he never finds me.”

The woman stopped her frantic movements, looking at you for a moment before brushing her thumb over your cheek, “and he never will.” Distantly you heard the door open with a heavy thud. She swiftly kisses your forehead before shutting you in the closet.

She claims that she’s giving you a head start. She’s really good at it because you stay here all night until he gives up in the morning.

You click on the flashlight, weary of the dark. Shattering echoes throughout the walls followed by a loud roar. You remember the times you’ve met the monster; he’d show up during the day before your game.

He didn’t like you, you made too many mistakes. You broke too many things, said the wrong things, were too loud. This is why you had to hide, you couldn’t bother the monster, couldn’t let him find you.

You hid your head under the pillows to drown out the screams, eventually able to fall asleep in your little haven.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Out in the fields your head laid on the woman's lap. She was lost in thought while your twirled bright green blades of grass between your fingers. You plucked two, tying the ends together as you looked up at her distorted face.

“I think our house is haunted.” She blinked twice, switching to lean back on a single hand as she brought the other to poke at the tip of your nose before resting against your cheek. 

You pulled the ends too roughly, snapping it apart. The two strands were slowly carried into separate directions by the wind. “Why do you think that?”

“At night there’s lots of noises. The monster’s extra angry, that’s probably why.” You casually turned back to playing with the grass, missing the bitter sadness that tainted her expression.

She pulled you up from her lap, forcing you to face her. “You can’t tell anyone about our haunted house.” Her lips pressed together a new wave of determination settling into her disposition.

“Why?” you had naively tilted your head to the side. For the first time ever the comfort and safety you felt with her was cut, the same fear you were used to facing with the monster blossomed. 

Her expression grew wild as she slightly shook you by the shoulders, “you just can’t, cross your heart that you won’t.” You tried to move back but the grip she held onto you with wouldn’t release you.

“Okay,” you cried out, “I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart!” Suddenly she let you go and you scooted back, slightly curling in on yourself. Your eyes grew glassy and your bottom lip began to quiver.

She saw the error in her panic and immediately pulled you into a hug, brushing a hand over your head to hold you closer. She whispered profuse apologies, shushing your sniffles as you wiped at your runny nose.

“I’m sorry. I love you, my bumbling bee.” She poked at your sides, receiving a high pitched screech that melted into delighted giggles.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

For weeks you haven’t had to play your game of hide and seek. She says that the monster left and he wouldn’t be back. The house felt lighter. You enjoyed getting to sleep in your bed, her tucking you in with the melodic whispers of her lullaby. You slept that night comfortably, a doll wrapped tight in your grasp, safe in your brighter home. 

The familiar roar woke you up, immediately you buried yourself back under your blankets before remembering you weren’t in your hiding spot - he’d find you. You swiftly crawled out of bed, prepared to make a run for it before the woman bursted in, closing the door behind her and moving furniture to cover it.

“I have to go to the closet!” You yanked at her leg to get her attention. She carefully pulled you off of her before moving to a bag, placing some of your things into it. “No more hide and seek, now we only play pirates.”

She brought over a sweater, wrapping you into it tightly before securing the bag over your shoulders and handing you your doll. “What do you mean?” You asked, finally noticing her puffy eyes and angry red cuts scattered along her face.

“Today you leave the house and you never come back. You run and you be a pirate to survive - a real pirate.” Her breaths were unsteady and you could see her hands begin to shake. You grab onto the hand as she moves over to the room's window.

“What about you?” She opens the window and a gush of cold air wafts around you. “The monster’s very strong, he’ll always find us so I have to stay. You have to go, I’ve never been really good at hide and seek.”

She lifts you over the window, your feet plopping onto the ground as she helps you jump over. She kisses your forehead as she bites off a whimper, “you do what you have to and survive. Give them all hell.”

The door starts to bend underneath the weight of the monster’s banging, she looks over her shoulder before focusing back on you with a new sense of urgency. “I love you, little bee. Now go and don’t look back.”

You begin to run off, once again gliding. Behind you she mutters, “someone save my baby.” A silent prayer before accepting her fate and facing the monster behind the door.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

It’s been a few years since you’ve been playing pirate, successfully surviving off of your skill for stealing. The one time you messed up would soon turn into a blessing in disguise.

“You're pretty crafty, street rat.”

You can’t remember her face, but you remember her comfort and how she saved you. You’d carry that love she held for you forever.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart