#but it’s mostly inoperable

[raeathnos]

.

[andrasta14]

Remember when shows used to have kickass theme songs so good you never wanted to skip the opening sequence even though you've seen it hundreds of times already?? They need to start doing that again. 🙏

[honeydjarin]

Tumblr only lets me click on some links and it’s seemingly random which ones work. Does anyone else have this problem?

[gods-perfect-idiots]

Okay bear with me folks, I have some ~thoughts~ about the Vanessa/Wade relationship (or frankly lack thereof) in Deadpool & Wolverine. I should start by saying that I am analyzing this with the (likely erroneous) assumption that everything on screen is 100% intentional and mindfully written to deepen the characters and inform their arcs. For the record, I don't necessarily believe that's true - there is certainly room for mistakes, lazy writing, confusing plot elements, or in this case, sidelining a potentially strong and important character for nebulous reasons (I'm guessing scheduling conflicts + run time concerns + actor's strike complications but idk for sure). (Also thanks to @gossippool and @kendyroy for encouraging me to post my thoughts instead of just rambling in the tags in the first place, y'all are the realest)

Long rambly post below the cut fyi

Now, granted, it has been a while since I watched the original Deadpool so I am not as well-versed in their early relationship as I am in the handful of scenes Morena Baccarin has in dp3, but I do think it is pretty canon that Wade generally struggles to express his deeper worries and feelings (without filtering it heavily through crude humor, sex, and pop culture references of course), especially after the events of dp1 and the physical and mental damage he sustains, and Vanessa is frankly no exception despite how much he cares for her. The entire first movie hinges on the fact that he doesn't really believe she could love him in his post-Francis mangled state, which is pretty contrived imo given that the film has established already how bonded they are, and she doesn't strike me as being written to be so shallow as to reject him based on a physical deformity. I mean iirc she wanted to stick around through chemo despite him being literally riddled with inoperable cancer, so she clearly is in it for the long haul (at least in dp1), messiness and all.

Now, in dp2, obviously she is shot and killed early in the film, and Wade spends much of the rest of the film wallowing in his very profound grief, trauma, and guilt over losing her due directly to his violent lifestyle. He goes to prison, he basically gives up on life and seems very resigned to dying once he has the power suppressant collar on, even excited to do so so he can be reunited with her. She is mostly sidelined as a Fuzzy Dead Wife trope basically, but the important thing here is that he spends weeks if not months in the throes of despair over losing the love of his life just as they were trying to start a family, and trying to reach across the boundaries of death to be with her.

Now, my first couple times watching dp3 I was frustrated by the trite narrative presented in the interview scene towards the beginning - specifically Wade's whole "my girl is getting tired of my shtick and I need to show her I matter". It felt contrived and disingenuous, and I just brushed it off as iffy writing, a means to an end, but the more I reflect upon it the more I think it is based in an emotional reality that is just handled with a very light touch by the film in favor of fanservice and Poolverine content (NOT that I'm complaining in the slightest - I think this movie is a masterpiece in many ways, albeit a flawed one but that's beside the point here), which for the record I am not against because I think it lends it an air of realism. This is Wade's story after all, Vanessa is a part of it but it is ultimately about him and his journey.

Basically, I think the combination of what happened to him in dp1 (the brain damage, the trauma, the awareness of the fourth wall, etc) followed by the events of dp2 (Vanessa's death, his grief and the associated guilt and trauma of being the direct cause of her death) led to an unbridgeable emotional gap between the two of them that ultimately leads to their breakup.

It's important to note that I don't think Vanessa has any recollection of her own death, given that Wade goes back and saves her before she can take the bullet, and so of course she can never fully fathom what Wade went through grieving her and their life together and their potential family, for however long he spent between her death and bringing her back with Cable's device. She can try (and she clearly does in the one scene I'll talk about next) but I fear she accepts, maybe even in that scene, that she can never succeed. He is beyond her reach by this point, and vice versa, his experiences having fundamentally changed him.

The one scene we really see from their relationship between dp2 and dp3 is the one where Cassandra mind-gropes Wade in the Void and we see Vanessa struggling to reach Wade across this aforementioned gap - she wants him to open up, she wants him to share what he's going through, she wants him to be the person she initially fell in love with (not even selfishly - to her nothing has changed really, because to her no time has passed). But not only does he not understand what she's really asking for but he responds in such a way that makes me think he has unprocessed issues that are only tangentially related to what she's saying - ie the stuff about mattering, about asking her if she even wants to be with him, etc. And he's not the Wade Wilson she met back in dp1 anymore. He watched her die and grieved her and brought her back, believing it would make everything go back to normal and they could resume their life together as if nothing had changed, but he has been fundamentally changed in a way that she can't grasp, even if he WAS good at externally processing his trauma openly without the artifice of wry jokes. She didn't "come back wrong" - instead, she came back exactly the same as before, but HE'S different now. Not wrong, per se. But changed.

It's an interesting scene because it's obviously a memory, and a crucial one at that, but you can see how Wade is misunderstanding what she's saying, viewing it through the prism of his own lack of self-worth and his own hopelessness - he takes away that she thinks he doesn't matter (even though like he says she didn't actually say that, but I don't think Cassandra invented that wholecloth - I think she pulled it out of his psyche because that's what he believes deep down, hence why his fixation on mattering even though she never said those words exactly), he takes away that she doesn't want to be with him, that she thinks he's nothing. Which would be frustrating as an audience member to witness as a pretty simple misunderstanding which could potentially be solved with one conversation, but it feels believable to me that these two people who have shared a great love would be fundamentally separated by unimaginable, cosmic trauma, and the on conversation they would need to have to rectify the misunderstanding is one that is impossible for Wade to verbalize and equally impossible for Vanessa to conceive of. It was one thing when they had shared trauma like violence and SA in dp1, but what Wade has gone through in dp1 and dp2, humor aside, is unfathomably traumatic, brain-breakingly so even, and that's not even factoring in the possible mental illnesses he now struggles with (I've seen folks suggest schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc. but I won't get into armchair diagnosing a fictional character here - suffice it to say he is canonically unwell as a result of what has happened to him, and yes it manifests as quirky fourth wall breaks and cheeky one-liners, but within the universe of the movies he is undeniably profoundly mentally ill, and that includes this humorous alter ego he created to cope with his trauma).

I think off-screen Vanessa probably really tried to reach him, maybe for years (the six year gap implies to me that they didn't break up immediately, that they tried for a while to stay together), trying to get her Wade back, but that Wade is gone. He struggled to express that to her until eventually he started to feel rejected because he couldn't express his trauma or how much he has changed, because even he can't fully conceive of the gulf that has formed between them. The truth is, he WANTS to be that Wade again, for her and for himself, but that Wade died when she died. Or maybe he had already started dying when Francis got a hold of him in dp1.

Anyway, all this is to say, I think Morena Baccarin WAS criminally underutilized in dp2 and dp3, but I think there is a strong argument to be made for the believability of their breakup regardless. I think even relationships built on enormous love can crumble due to trauma, and what Wade suffers over these movies is mind-bogglingly enormous trauma. It's especially heartbreaking that he blames himself for their relationship ending, talks like she just got tired of him, thought he didn't matter, whatever. But it is a credit to him that he never seems to feel anger towards her about it. He doesn't seem to feel entitled to her, though he longs for her and what they had and what she represented (hope, love, a future, a family), but ultimately she becomes more of a symbol of what he lost when he gained his powers, because let's be super fr right now - even if they had succeeded in having a baby, not only would they have lived in fear of her or the kid getting killed, but ultimately Wade would likely outlive both of them even if they managed to die natural deaths. The moment he gained his powers he was already destined to lose her, which is heartbreaking because she was the only reason he opted for the treatment in the first place - so he could stay with her.

I think a big part of Deadpool & Wolverine is watching Wade continue to process his own motivations (vis-a-vis Vanessa but also his other friends) and how he does eventually let go of the idea of "mattering" in favor of just saving the people he cares about (*cough* and being saved right back *cough* by Wolvie, as the final line and shot implies). And in the process he finds someone new who cares about him, who thinks he matters, who tries to sacrifice himself for him and his friends after mere days of knowing him, who comes home with him at the end of the story, who breaks his own centuries-old patterns, who has also experienced unimaginable grief and trauma, who has struggled with wanting to die and being unable to, who not only matches his crazy but matches his FREAK and also not only won't die on him but CAN'T die on him - and more importantly cannot be randomly killed by a stray bullet.

Idk if any of this makes much sense but I do think if you read between the lines and consider the potency of trauma and grief, guilt and emotional damage at play here, Vanessa and Wade's off-screen breakup is actually pretty realistic, and really heart-breaking to boot.

You can tell she still cares about him in so many ways - she shows up for his birthday party, she shows up to his welcome home party at the end, she finds excuses for physical contact multiple times, her eyes get soft when she looks at him, but there is a distance there that Morena Baccarin does an incredible job of portraying. She cares about him deeply, she has mourned the loss of their potential life together, she has let him go and accepted that the Wade she fell in love with is gone, but she wants him in her life even though she's moving on because she realizes he's gone somewhere she can't follow (literally and figuratively). And she wants him to be happy which is why I fully believe she would immediately clock the Poolverine of it all and not-so-subtly encourage them to make it official.

Anyway. Poolverine forever. Nothing against Vanessa at all - I think she delivers a nuanced and beautiful performance, I think their relationship is sweet and heart-wrenching in large part due to her acting chops, especially given how little she is given to work with - but I think their relationship was sadly doomed from almost the very start, because Wade becomes this traumatized superhuman and Vanessa would always be at risk in his orbit, but also would always on the outside of his multiverse superhero experiences. I think it's weirdly beautiful, even if I am filling in a lot of gaps and giving the writers maybe undue credit.

Anyway... thoughts? Please DM me or write in the tags, I am feral about this movie and just want to talk about it with anyone haha. If you have further insight into these characters too I'd love to hear it - I am by no means an expert in these movies or characters!

[stealingyourbones]

I bring you come Ethically Sourced Bones (antlers) and thing written at approximately 4 am. Apologies for typos or ramblings, as it is currently 4 am.

Timothy Drake is not a human. He may look it and act it, but he is not. With those he trusts he does not pretend he is human. He let's none of his features show but he will freely tell them, "I am not a human. I have never been a human. If I am ever seriously injured, allow me to tend to myself. Would be best for everyone if I did so."

None of his family believe that last part. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, Cass, Steph, Duke, and even Damian do not believe for a moment that Tim is better off locked in the Drake Manor by himself to heal on his own, no matter what he insists.

Tim does not tell them what he is. They all have asked at least once but Tim always tells them the exact same line. It is delivered with a smile and cheery tone that has undertones of something more sinister, "some secrets are best left as they are, for everyone's saftey."

Tim is not human. But this body he uses is, sort of. This body is actually a fake. It is something he constructs using psychic powers to walk and talk among People as People Do. He can only make one at a time and should this one be rendered inoperable well. It's a simple matter of concentration and a few days to remake the body from scratch. This is made easier by the fact that only one body sleeps at a time, his consciousness simply jumping between his Human Shape and his True Form.

Though sometimes, if Tim isn't paying attention and is feeling Very Relaxed, his forms will... blend some. Mostly just streaks of color appearing in his hair or on his skin, his body taking on a strange texture, or on a few extremely rare occasions long tentacles will peak out from under his shirt or jacket, wiggling and waving to show he content he is, like a dog wagging it's tail.

Far, far away, deep under the ocean his True Body rests, many colorful limbs wrapped tightly around the downed nuclear sub he dragged into his nest dozens of years ago. Tim's True Form is Large and Old. So large it hurts to imagine. He knows that in a hundred years he will miss this family dearly, but accepts this fate. He will always love them and cherish them and if they called for True Help.

Deep in the ocean, a smile spreads across the face of Titanus Na Kika as he thinks of his family so far away, yet so close as he brushes a shoulder against Jason.

Ok so according to a quick google search, this is Titanus Na Kika:

And my dude, I absolutely adore this.

Even if Tim DOES tell his family what he truly looks like, he knows that they’ll never see his true self. He’s far too deep underwater and far too dangerous to comprehend visually without any barrier to their vision.

The Batfamily knows that something is slightly off though. Superman has mentioned to Bruce that Tim’s vocal range seems to reach far higher and far far lower than a human should be able to speak. These strange guttural drones and clicks are combined with his speech like it’s simply apart of how he talks.

I’d like to think that eventually when he tells everyone, they grow used to Tim’s more relaxed form. Obviously he isn’t the true behemoth colossal creature from the deep, but he certainly no longer resembles a human in this state. They accept Tim’s strange hums and chitters and clicks as vocal inflections to his speech, they’ll high five a tentacle as they walk past Tim and hand another tentacle a hot coffee that said tentacle lifts towards a mouth that previously didn’t exist and pours the nearly boiling beverage into its open maw without flinching from the scalding heat.

Tim is a bit strange and weird, but he’s their Tim.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Beach Vacation

Warnings: Chaos Space Marines, Death Guard Astartes, tell me if I need to add more. Illness, thoughts, mental discussion of physical ailments, Death Guard Shenanigans

Author’s note: Hura’s debut! An Explanation that spawned this AU. Prologue, Next

Summary: Hura in Mermay!

Another Author's Note: I put Keep Reading line, in case there is triggering content that I haven't tagged. Again. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @egrets-not-regrets, @barn-anon, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bleedingichorhearts, @whorety-k

@kit-williams, @whorety-k-k Did it work this time?

You had been informed by your doctor that you had cerebral aneurysm and that where it was placed in the brain that it was inoperable. At least with human medicines and technology, there were rumors that the Mer-people, the Space Marines, which swam through waters, space, and the air, that had arrived one day long ago in various iterations of ‘loyalist’, ‘renegade’ and ‘chaos’ variants that they might be able to help with the situation. There were folk tales that, for a price, humans could become immortal. But, that was just rumors and myths, you doubted that it was actually true.

You are at the beach, having decided to take a short vacation from work and normal life when you’d finally found out what was wrong with the headaches that you’d been getting. You were not within the normal age range for getting a Cerebral Aneurysm. Mostly it was older people who got aneurysms, or people that did a lot of illegal drugs, or where hit in the head really hard, either once or repeatedly. It’s also, sometimes thought to be genetic. So, that had been a long, painful conversation with your family. To warn them, just in case the genetic factors of blood were partially responsible.

Finding out from your mother that your dad- the dad that you had known all your life was your step-father, not your actual father had been both a surprise and not a surprise. He’d always favored your younger sibling over you. You had thought it was because your younger sibling was more similar, in looks and personality to your dad, but now you wonder if it’s because he knew that you were not his child, but some interloper’s child. Someone that your mom had once loved, but had left because he was not a suitable partner. Part of you wondered what that random stranger with a genetic tie was you like, your mom had told you that you reminder her of him, sometimes.

You wonder if that’s a good thing or not, but mostly your dad that you know is the dad that you love and view as. Who cares about some random stranger that your mom left because he was a manipulative unstable bastard. Or at least that is what you’d heard your grandmother hiss sometimes. How He had once threatened both your mom and your grandmother while she had been pregnant with kidnapping your mother and making sure that she’d, and you, you suppose, would never see your grandmother ever gain. You’d heard, that had your grandmother explode with rage and then drag your mother away from him and insist that she live with your grandmother until she could get on your feet again.

It was… odd. You felt upset, yet numb and wondered if you might have half siblings out in the world that you don’t know about. But as you watch the waves wash on the sandy beach and walk in the sand with bare feet scrunching your toes in the sand and humming to yourself. The stupid brain grape is in a relatively stable position, but it could kill you at any moment, yet you could potentially live a long healthy life. It sucks, and you blink tears from your eyes, you don’t want to die, and while there are treatments for brain grapes, they are very expensive, and you aren’t the best candidate for surgery.

You have a weak heart. The doctors had said, that was something you had long known about. Having benign heart murmurs, four, one in each valve, you’d often joke with your younger siblings and family that you have a sieve of a heart. Also, it caused issues with dizziness and funky heart rate, also, whenever someone heard your heart beat, they’d get a disturbed look on their face, or be Alarmed at your resting heart rate being so low, despite having such a squishy body type. Most of the time it was funny, and you’d tell them why your heartbeat was funky. Perhaps it was a little mean to play such a prank on medical professionals?

Besides, some of the times you’d warn them beforehand and they’d give you a look of ‘your full of shit’ and then listen to your heart and realize you weren’t full of it. You looked out at the ocean and walked in a bit, having the waves lap at your feet and up to your ankles. The water was cold, but it was nice for this warm, hot day as the sun beat down overhead. You sigh and rub your face, you’d come to the beach to try to distract you from your woes, not have your thoughts betray you with the shit hand you’d been dealt with. There were other people who had it much worse than you, so really, you were lucky that you weren’t worse off.

You blink when you feel, more than see at first a large shadow block out the sun, you lift your head and look around and see a massive mer-space marine swim to you. You step back, he’s a massive fellow, with the mutations that set him as a Chaos Marine, whatever that was, mostly you’d heard that they tended to be more aggressive. You step back and out of the water, but are stopped by the large Space Marine, who croons at you, tilting his massive head as he peers down at you, reaching out towards you. You back off more, he was a large, strange sentient being you’d never met before, you often didn’t like strangers touching you, finding the contact like barbed wire pricking your skin, and sand paper scrubbing at you, making you feel like your skin was going to bleed, and yet nothing of the sort was actually happening.

“Hey, big fella,” You say cautiously eyeing the massive mer-marine. He has massive spines all over his frame, and he has dark green and grey spots along his tail.

Your brain twinges a little at the sense of something is wrong. The massive creature croons at you again and you get distracted, you make the mistake of looking into where his eyes should be and a wave a calm comes over you and your defensive posture relaxes as the mer-marine croons at you again as you get into the water and head over to him. Your brain has gone fuzzy, why had you been so scared before? He just wants to say hello. You notice that you were also near one of the caves that was partially submerged with ocean water during high tide. Perhaps you had gotten too close to where he’d been resting? You grab a seashell that you’d picked up from the beach, it was a mostly intact sand dollar and offered it to him.

“Sorry for disturbing your rest buddy,” You say and the mer-marine tilts his head as he looks at the offered sand dollar.

The only whole sand dollars were found in the gimmicky tourist traps that suckered the non-locals into buying such overpriced things. However, the mer-marine carefully reached out a clawed hand and you gently placed it in his palm. He gently curled his claws around the sand dollar and brought it up to his face to look at. You carefully back away and out of the water, heading back up the beach. Perhaps, you should go back to your hotel room, or something.

A few hours later you are trying to wash your legs, you have developed welts along your feet and legs where the ocean’s water had touched you. They were itchy as hell, and you were trying to google to see what you could to do help resolve the issue without going to the doctor’s office. They were super itchy, and they weren’t bug bites, great, you’d developed hives from being in the water. You head to the store to get some over the counter allergy meds, making sure to wear a face mask as you had started to develop a wicked cough. Ugh, of course you started to get sick while on vacation, just your luck.

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes from the Gaza Strip, where local residents and family members say their farewells for Palestinian journalist Salem Abu Tyour and his young son. The pair were killed on Monday following an Israeli occupation airstrike targeting their residential home in the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip. At least 142 journalists have been killed by the Israeli occupation forces since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🚀🏘️💥 🚨

ENDLESS BOMBINGS MARK THE 206TH DAY OF "ISRAEL'S" GENOCIDAL WAR IN GAZA

On the 206th day of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 5 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 47 Palestinians, mostly women and children, while another 61 others have been wounded over the previous 24-hours.

In a conversation with the families of Israeli hostages held by the Hamas Resistance movement in Gaza, the Israeli occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, told the families that the IOF would invade Rafah regardless of any truce deals made with the Palestinian Resistance.

“The idea that we will stop the war before achieving all its aims is not an option,” the occupation's Prime Minister is quoted as saying to the families.

“We will enter Rafah and we will eliminate the Hamas battalions there — whether or not there is a deal — in order to achieve total victory.”

In a statement released by the Prime Minister's office, it is claimed that the families of the hostages urged Netanyahu, and National Security Advisor Tzachi Hanegbi, to continue the war and resist international pressure.

More than 1.7 million Palestinians are currently packed into the small southern Gazan city of Rafah, with most living in giant tent cities erected following the Israeli bombardment and invasion of the northern Gaza Strip, early in the war.

In a report published by the International humanitarian medical organization, Medicines Sans Frontières (MSF), also known as Doctor's Without Borders, the organization describes dire healthcare conditions for the civilian population now displaced and living in Rafah, warning that Palestinians face severe risk of disease outbreak due to the harsh living conditions in the city, and the systematic destruction of the Palestinian healthcare system in Gaza.

"The lives of people who fled bombardment are now at risk due to the looming threat of disease outbreaks in Rafah, where living conditions are dire, where there is a desperate shortage of clean water for drinking or bathing, and where rubbish and raw sewage accumulate in the streets," MSF warns in its report.

"People’s needs are skyrocketing and the healthcare system no longer has the capacity to respond. One by one, hospitals in Gaza are being rendered inoperable as they are attacked, damaged or destroyed by Israeli forces, or have insufficient fuel and other supplies to provide services."

MSF further warns that it is "gravely concerned" about what the devastation of the healthcare system will mean in Gaza for many years to come.

MSF goes on to point to the "few medical facilities" that still function, which are being pushed to the brink, "overwhelmed with patients with conflict-related trauma injuries."

"As a result, people with other types of medical needs, such as pregnant women with complications and people living with chronic conditions, are unable to receive the care they require."

MSF goes on to warn that "Gaza’s entire healthcare system has been decimated and the population is under siege. Without access to medical care, thousands more lives will be lost, beyond those killed in the Israeli bombardments seen in the news – these are Gaza’s 'silent killings'."

At the same time that MSF warns of the collapse of Gaza's healthcare system, the Palestinian Civil Defense of the Gaza Strip appealed to the International community to pressure the Israeli occupation to allow the entry of specialized equipment for the removal of bodies from Gaza, and to exhume those buried under collapsed buildings.

According to Gaza's Civil Defense, more than 10'000 missing Palestinians remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters, with crews unable to recover them due to continued Israeli destruction and the lack of specialized equipment.

They warned that this leaves Civil Defense personnel in a precarious situation in which they attempt to recover the bodies of the dead as buildings continue to collapse around them.

The Civil Defense further warned of the accumulation of thousands of bodies under the rubble, which already begins to spread disease and cause epidemics as high temperatures accelerate the rate of decomposition.

The Palestinian Civil Defense further added that working without specialized equipment would mean it could take 2 to 3 years to recover the bodies of the dead, estimating that over 37 million tonnes of rubble is strewn across the Gaza Strip.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's bombardment across Gaza continued unabated, and further intensified over the last several days, with Israeli airstrikes pummeling the southern and central Gaza Strip, while bombings also continued in the north.

In one of the latest Zionist atrocities, IOF warplanes bombed a residential building belonging to the Al-Afifi family, in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah City, in the south of Gaza, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian women, all sisters.

Occupation airstrikes also targeted agricultural lands west of Rafah, luckily without any casualties, while Israeli occupation gunboats continued shelling Rafah's western coastline.

Also in the south of Gaza, local Civil Defense crews said they'd recovered the bodies of 6 Palestinian victims of Israeli occupation bombings from buildings in the Al-Amal neighborhood, west of Khan Yunis.

Later in the day, occupation bombing targeted the Ma'an neighborhood of the same city.

Elsewhere, Israeli fighter jets bombarded a civilian home belonging to the Akhil family, in the Al-Daraj neighborhood of Gaza City, in the north of the Palestinian enclave, killing the family's grandfather along with his grandson.

The Zionist atrocities continued when an IOF aircraft bombed another residential home on Al-Sikka Street, east of the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in a number of casualties.

The Israeli occupation continued its war crimes with an airstrike on a residential house belonging to the Abu Tuyur family, in the vicinity of the Al-Qudsi supermarket in the "Camp 1" area of the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, martyring three civilians.

Further atrocities were committed when an IOF warplane bombed a home east of the Al-Masdar neighborhood in the central Gaza Governate, while at the same time, Zionist artillery detatchments shelled the Nuseirat Camp with an intense mortar bombardment.

Occupation air forces further bombed a house in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood of Gaza City, slaughtering two more civilians and wounding a number of others.

Simultaneously, Israeli fighter jets bombed the Al-Daraj and Sheikh Radwan neighborhoods of Gaza City.

Zionist occupation forces continued its bombardment on neighborhoods west of Rafah City, in Gaza's south, while also launching several raids targeting the outskirts of Beit Hanoun, in the northern Gaza Strip.

Occupation shelling also targeted the Juhr al-Dik area of central Gaza, while also shelling the southern neighborhoods of Gaza City.

According to local sources, as a result of the Israeli occupation's intensified bombardment of the Gaza Strip yesterday, at least 34 civilians were killed, of which, 26 were killed in the Rafah area.

Meanwhile, the occupation renewed its bombardment in the morning, with several casualties recorded across various areas of the enclave.

Intense occupation airstrikes centered on the northern and western neighborhoods of the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian civilians, and also wounding at least 15 others.

Three occupation airstrikes also targeted the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, resulting in the martyredom of three civilians and the wounding of 10 others.

Zionist fighter jets continued its crimes by by repeatedly bombing the town of Jabalia, along with the Refugee Camp of the same name outside the town, both in Gaza's north, resulting in the wounding of 7 civilians, including 3 children.

Israeli artillery shelling also targeted the Al-Bureij and Al-Maghazi Refugee Camps, along with shelling the Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and Al-Zaytoun neighborhoods of Gaza City. Zionist shelling additionally targeted the Sheikh Zayed neighborhood of Beit Lahiya.

Israeli artillery similarly targeted residential homes in the eastern neighborhoods of Khan Yunis.

As a result of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the current death toll in the Palestinian enclave has risen to exceed 34'535 Palestinians killed, including over 14'690 children and 9'680 women, while another 77'704 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

April 30th, 2024

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#source9

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[ryanstillwrites-if]

“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.” - Mitch Albom

On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.

Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.

You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.

You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.

More Than Me is a story about love, friendship, found family and acceptance. It will deal with heavy topics such as death and illness, and may be uncomfortable for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

Demo: Chapter One, Part Two • Character Descriptions

Customise the main character in appearance, gender and personality

Meet and befriend a cast of characters, four of which you'll be able to pursue a romance with

Experience a new world as you road trip cross country with your new friends

Live your live to the fullest while you still can

Adelaide Scholz - 29 • F • RO

A bit rough around the edges, Adelaide is a personality that takes some getting used to. Sharp tongued, self deprecating and blunt as baseball bat, Adelaide always has something to say - most times at the annoyance of others. But a stage 4 lung cancer patient such as herself doesn't have the time nor patience to care what anyone thinks of her. With her leather jacket and a carton of cigarettes in her back pocket, doomed to forever be unlit, she's ready to see the sights and if need be, kick some ass. She'll try, at least.

Hayden Della Rocca - 31 • F/M • RO

Hayden is probably the happiest person you'll ever meet, despite their failing heart. Diagnosed with cardiomyopathy just shy of graduating university, they've been on the transplant waitlist ever since but they haven't let that stop them. Having been cooped up in their studio working as a freelance artist, they're now ready to take on the world, pacemaker and all; and heaven help you if you try slow them down.

Gabriel Torres - 30 • M • RO

There's not much to say about Gabriel, mostly because no one knows anything about him besides his chronic liver failure. He's silent and mysterious but he's always happy to spare a smile if he catches you staring. Though preferring to keep to himself, he's more than willing to share his secrets as long as you're willing to listen.

Jordan Michaels - 32 • F/M/NB • Non-RO

Your support group's therapist, somewhat unwillingly dragged along on your adventure. Very straight-laced and a stickler for rules, Jordan fears the worst the second they agree to join you. Now the designated driver and parent of the group, Jordan tries their hardest to keep everyone in line. But despite their initial reluctance, they'll learn to let loose and finally have fun; so long as everyone takes their meds.

Mavis/Maverick Chen - 31 • F/M • RO

A quirky and eccentric bartender you meet on your journey. Longing for a change of scenery, they jump at the offer to join you. Beyond their eccentricities - somehow both charming and strange - they fit in surprisingly well among your group, bringing new life to the party; pun intended. They help open your eyes to new experiences and hey, if all else fails, they can at least make you a mean drink.

Kade Weston - 22 • M • Non-RO

After being in remission for almost four years, Kade is forced to step back from medical school when his leukemia relapses and hits him hard. Unwilling to endure chemo for the second time, he is all too happy to pack his bags and hit the road. It’s clear he’s running from his problems, in spite of all Jordan’s hardwork, but maybe this trip is exactly what he needs. But whether he finds acceptance or continues running to the very end, he knows all of you will stand by his side.

Margaret Evans - 84 • F • Non-RO

A sweet old lady who’s always willing to lend an ear, share a story or offer one of the many caramel sweets she keeps in her purse. You’re shocked to discover the secret wild side she keeps beneath those wool cardigans and breast cancer diagnosis. She’s the ultimate wing woman and, though you hate to admit it, a better dancer than all of you combined.

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday and Moodboard of WIP + Phrase/Dialogue

Tagged by @icecutioner @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic and @shallow-gravy

Tagging @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @voidika @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard and @alypink + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

(Update: So if you happened to have been pinged again, sorry, I edited/corrected a mistake and suddenly that made the tags inoperable so I had to make them functional again).

One song for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles each and two moodboards for a WIP in The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore is a Fallout fic series, and Fallout is mostly set in America, and what better to describe the best parts of America than John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads". While I know there's a Fallout version for this song sung by Spank, I'll save that one when analyzing its role in What Happened To Vault Number 76? As for now, John Denver's version encapsulates Ortega "Ore" Brantley and Marissa "Ress" Bishop's journey, as well as my Fallout protagonist OCs. Narrative-wise, this song describes both Ore and Ress' acknowledgement of their beginning roots (Appalachia and New Reno in New California respectively) and the comfort these homes bring, but also how they'll never lose sight of their true home, and how no matter their father, Arcane Urias, attempts to persuade them otherwise, they'll always trail their roads back home.

"Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River Life is old there, older than the trees Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze

Country roads, take me home To the place I belong West Virginia, mountain momma Take me home, country roads."

What better fic from The Silver Chronicles is suited for Vance Joy's one-hit wonder than my Six of Crows fic How Good Is A Heist If It's Improvised? A song that acts like a relatable tune about pop culture but is a cleverly disguised bittersweet tale of love and longing mixing with the emotional turmoil of escapism from reality, and my fic which acts like a comedic modern-ish retelling of the Dreg's heist against one of Ketterdam's richest motherfuckers filled with action, drama and romance but is in fact very depressing in reality only made humorous (dark or light notwithstanding) through the perspective of the fic's only two unreliable narrators, my traumatised criminal OCs Isiah Popov and Gemini Teal. Anyway, enjoy!

"Here's this movie that I think you'll like This guy decides to quit his job and head to New York City This cowboy's running from himself And she's been living on the highest shelf

Ah ooh-ooh-ooh, ah oh And they come unstuck

Lady, running down to the riptide Taken away to the dark side I wanna be your left hand man I love you when you're singing that song And I got a lump in my throat 'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

I just wanna, I just wanna know If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay I just gotta, I just gotta know I can't have it, I can't have it any other way

I swear she's destined for the screen Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen."

The Time Guard is an original work set before, around and within the canon events of The UnTitledverse. It follows Timekeeper, a droid who's purpose was to observe the Time stream and properly utilize the Time Watch only when absolutely necessary. Despite using it during dire circumstances in the events of the Jagged Instincts Novelisation, the Time Court, overseen by the Time Bureau Authority's supreme leader, Judge Khronos, and with the prosecution lead by Leviticus, declared Timekeeper had stepped out of line and also lost the Time Watch to a Time Vortex in the process. So Timekeeper is demoted as expendable and decides to found a team that will do Khronos' dirty (and often life-threatening) jobs to get in his good graces again, calling it the "Time Guard". A multitude of characters in the beginning of its foundation (and even after) come and go, though two have never been more linked than a Carmine scout drone designated "J.O.E" and Edward Carmine's most loyal security drone subordinate, designated "K.I.L.L.J.O.Y", not only coming from Jagged Instincts, but also after The Perfect Storm saga, and they're relationship during The Time Guard can be summed up as "cheerful naive optimist and brooding angry pessimist forced into a get-along brother shirt". So here's the closest song I believe emphasizes.

"Ah such a beautiful day, uh Yeah, the sun's shinin' in a beautiful way, uh Gonna take a shower, brush my teeth, and-" "Life is ultimately meaningless."

"Uh, uh, but I'll get out of the house. Get on the road, top down, hands out. Put on my favorite song and nod to the rhythm." "The planet's being destroyed by your carbon emissions."

"Oh! But I, I, I'll head to class Try my best on every test till I pass And my grades are screamin' in my face (Hey!)" "Ninety-eight percent of what you learn is a waste."

"I get to hang out with all my friends My friends are the friendliest friends Can't think of a better way to spend my time." "Your brain is flawed, and all your friends will die."

"Never mind, I'm alive in the greatest nation, so proud of-" "The exploitation of the natives?" "This graceful bird means freedom for all!" "Tell that to the slaves, and bald eagles aren't bald!"

"I can live in the moment, milk every second." "At any time, you could get clinical depression." "But I'll just be happy, no matter what's in store." "It's quite genetic, and we have no cure." "Uh, at least

We are young ("Not for long") Life is fun ("It only goes downhill") We gotta make the most of it, make the most it ("Or you'll regret it") We are young ("For now") Life is fun ("To some people") We gotta make the most of it, make the most of it!" ("Good luck")

And lastly two moodboards + an excerpt phrase/dialogue for WIPs from The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

WIP: The UnTitled Stories - Prologue

If I may... I'd like to ask you a question. One which has plagued me ever since I was introduced to it. What do you think dictates humans: The mind? Or the body? This was a query originally formed by French philosopher Rene Descartes in the 17th century; one that drove him to develop a concept called dualism. A concept that elaborated the distinction between the mind and body as separate entities, whereas the mind procured thought, mental processes and housed consciousness, the body focused on structure, our instincts, the neurons and the brain itself. Descartes had implied the mind could control the body, but the body could also influence the mind when it needed to, though ultimately had no control. However, despite Descartes' famous words, "I think, therefore I am", modern psychologists didn't believe it to be that simple. Humans worked like a machine, our organs merely cogs serving a function in the system. To take out even one has irreparable consequences, a disruption that could lead us to falter and break down and supposedly become useless, or our certain demise, which earns the same results of uselessness. Now, to deprive humans of one of these components leads to total system failure, regardless if its because of disuse or death. In other words, neither the mind nor the body can continue without this system. On that note, if this system is keeping the human body functioning, the question re-contextualizes from whether the mind controls the body, and vice versa, to instead what this system is trying to keep operating; itself, or our consciousness? The complexion of this debate can be hard to wrap your head around, especially if your introduction to it came from a source as dubious as mine had been, but this did not diminish my personal affinity towards it. To be clearer, I had been led to believe that if the system exists to function, then it must be to either support itself or the battery that drives it, not both. It's believed that by determining the dominating source that dictates humanity, a whole slew of concepts and functions will become clearer to understand, easier to deduce an explanation and an answer. To cease the uncertainty in our lives, which is the only thing that makes everyone equal in this meritocracy. By identifying the force that drives us, we can better understand ourselves, making arguments like free will and determinism, instincts and self-control, nature and nurture, our ability to change and adapt in socialization, perception of our identity and sense of individual self, among other things... well, clear cut. Or at least, that's what I had been told to believe. Not so much now. Though if anyone had asked me about my opinion on the matter back then, riding as a passenger on that bus, and if I felt inclined to share, I would have spouted my blind agreement to the belief. That never happened though. I had been lead to believe that to reach the conclusive answer to the dictating source of our actions; whether it was the mind or the body, I had to be placed in an academically social environment that would push my boundaries for the next three years. Determine the dominating victor of either consciousness or reflex, and take satisfaction in the answer to my curious nature. And though I would later discard this goal... the fact remained, it had been my original intention, one I had gone to such costly lengths for as demonstrated in our first year. And the fact remains that, while on that bus, on our way to this very school, I had every intention to follow that pursuit through til the very end. That is, of course, until I had met you…

WIP: Silva's Hope [Content Warning: Descriptive depiction of a violent death]

An ugly croak escaped from the Peggie's lips, his mouth agape like a lake trout. But instead of suffocating from a lack of air, he was choking from the dagger that pierced through his throat. Silva gripped the handle as she dug the blade further into the man's esophagus, blood seeping out of the opening. The red flowed down, staining his shirt and her gloves. The Peggie swung his arms out weakly, one hand managing to futilely claw at her wrist. She paid no mind to it. Is this all I am good for? She twisted the blade, gritting her teeth as she kicked the Peggie's knee down, swiftly sinking her knife down further. His grip went slack, and his eyes began to glaze. But she wasn't done yet, not with the burning fire eating through her veins. Is this all I'll ever be? Her free hand caught the man's blonde hair. She dug out the red-stained silver blade and slashed it across his throat, widening the cut. A source of fear? A beast with bloodied hands? She stabbed the blade against his head, pulling it out, then puncturing again, repeatedly, like a butcher chopping thawed meat. I gave you a chance, didn't I? A chance to turn back, to put the gun down, to turn a blind eye while I made my escape... Pulling the blade out, she tried to breathe, to calm the rage engulfing her heart, cascading over her mind. But it refused; it demanded it's release, to have her take it out on the man who's eyes have glazed. ...And yet, he did not choose to value his life, instead the words of his Profeta. Fraudulent lies that outweighed common sense, self-preservation, and moral understanding. Her teeth gritted, breathing rapidly, ignoring the bullet that inflamed the skin in her thigh. She raised her knife, red dripping down onto her head and shoulder. Looking down at the Peggie, she shouted out the wrath stuck in her voice, and broke through his skull. If this is the path they all will follow, then she won't waste time giving them chances they won't take.

[20dollarlolita]

Once upon a time, in Rufflechat, someone asked a pretty common and boring question. The question was if you could wear ballet flats in lolita fashion. This is a very common question and the thread normally would have a very low comment count. However, something different happened on this one.

Someone that I have always remembered as the Ballet Flat Spammer got involved. Everyone who did not have 100% support of ballet flats, in all situations, was responded to with the same copy-and-pasted comment, accusing that commenter of ableism.

Since there are many people who are disabled in the lolita community, this was met with responses such as, "I'm disabled, need to wear specific shoes because of my disability. Ballet flats are not the right choice for me for many coordinates. There are better lolita options than ballet flats, which can still fill the physical capabilities that ballet flats offer." The Ballet Flat Spammer, however, persisted.

And I watched some people who are not disabled (not yet disabled) have a very bad take on the whole situation. However, they also did not seem to know that this was a very bad take. The take was, generally, "it's okay to wear ballet flats, if you're disabled."

Over eleven years ago, I was diagnosed with pretty severe bipolar disorder. The medications that I'm on to control that have always had an impact on my body. While I quickly came to terms with this, and eventually got okay with the idea of having a psychiatric disability, I always considered my body to be mostly healthy. Over the past two years, however, I've had to reconsider that state several times. I've had to go from "Injured, but will heal," to "inoperable, but will be able to have a normal life," to "physically disabled, maybe one day won't be, maybe." Changing this part of how I think about myself has been more difficult than any of the actual pain and loss of ability that I've experienced.

Everyone's ability level is different. I can't speak for everyone, and I can't even begin to. But being able to say this about myself has really solidified something in my head that I had been thinking for a long time.

One of those things is that, "ballet flats are okay, but only if you need them for a disability," is absolutely ableist as fuck. It may not feel that way. After all, you're including the disabled people. You're making this more inclusive, right?

Here's where the problem sits: people who are disabled do not need people who are not disabled to make rules that apply only to disabled people. What disabled people need is for people who are not disabled to listen to disabled people when they say what they need.

Fashion and comfort have always had a complicated relationship. This relationship affects everyone, regardless of ability level. This goes back as far as fashion has existed. Every single person has a time where they say, "this is less comfortable, and I will still wear it," and times when they say, "this is too uncomfortable for me to wear." Many abled people make this decision based on what comfort level they want to feel, while many disabled people have to make this decision based on what they physically, mentally, or psychiatrically are capable of. Abled people often say they won't wear something in a certain situation, where disabled people often find that they can't wear it (possibly in any situation).

The problem is when we have to start making rules about the fashion that impact other people. And, with a fashion that is as rule-driven as lolita fashion, this does have to happen sometimes. We sometimes make rules that not everyone is comfortable with, and we sometimes make rules that not everyone can reach. Lolita fashion has never been the most affordable fashion (despite my best efforts), and it's never been the most comfortable fashion.

But here's the thing: disabled people who are involved in lolita fashion are people who want to wear lolita fashion. Someone who is in the body that is disabled is much more aware of what they want and what they need than anyone else can ever be. And they know what they need, and what they're able to do.

And this means that many disabled people will find creative ways to solve their problems and accommodate their disabilities. A lot of people who are disabled will come up with ways to make lolita fashion comfortable and safe that abled people could never come up with.

If you look at people on Closet of Frills or another coordinate-posting site, you're going to find many more "I love how you incorporated your cane/walker/braces/crutches/any other visible disability aid into your coordinate," than you'll find, "sorry but your coord is ruined by showing your disability." When you let disabled people incorporate, or hide, their disability, they're going to do it much more effectively than any person without that disability will be able to.

And that means that, "I wear ballet flats with this coord, because I'm disabled and need to," and "wearing ballet flats is okay if you're disabled," both demonstrate the same physical effect on the coordinate, but are so massively different in what they're actually saying about inclusion and ability.

Also, when you listen to people who are disabled, you often find solutions to problems that you have. Someone who can't wear heels finding cool lolita-usable shoes without heels will help you if you just find heels uncomfortable. You can learn from us. You can find that people who must solve a problem can have better solutions than people who kind of would like to solve the problem.

And for what it's worth, people who need to accommodate comfort or safety in their coords are not required to tell anyone that they're disabled, or about the accommodations that they have to make for that disability. Some people share it, and some people don't. If you want to be inclusive, one thing you can do is to provide concrit (when asked) as if you're critiquing someone who isn't visibly disabled. This gets back to the concept of letting disabled people tell you how to address their disability, instead of making assumptions about what they want. You can provide concrit on an outfit, instead of just commenting on the wearer's wheelchair. If someone says that they don't want concrit on an element of the coord, don't concrit it, even if you really like it or feel like it takes away from the look. This is a thing to respect even if you can't tell if a person is disabled or not.

So, when someone says, "I did this in my coord, to accommodate my disability," listen and learn from it. In all aspects of your life, supporting someone by listening to what they say they need provides more support than assuming that someone needs something. Respect that not everyone has the energy to hold your hand and guide you through every step, so you can use research and past judgement to help you be accommodating without needing a constant feedback from that person. Just be ready to change what you're doing based on what you've been told.

That was a really long way to say that it's ableist for a not disabled person to say that ballet flats are okay in lolita for the disabled to wear, but not ableist to respect a disabled person accommodating their disability by wearing ballet flats.

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Caves of Qud - The Tombs and the Children

Welcome again, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! Last time left us off on the start of a quest of contrasts. Ancient children, a life sentence in a monument to death, a choice to make. Much to ponder, much to do.

This is Part Three of my journey through the Tomb of the Eaters. Thankfully, due to this dealing mostly with the grind upwards, a lot can be condensed, but it's still quite the journey. With that in mind, there's a key and a lock waiting.

...Okay, before anything else, I mentioned "the children," so I'm contractually obligated to link this (I am not contractually obligated to link this).

This has nothing to do with anything in this report. Anyone else who grew up with this, you know who you are, take the walk with me.

We all back? Alright, then.

So! Actually, as it turns out, I'd run into one of those four children of whom Lebah spoke on my way to the mopango enclave. Only a brief glimpse, not long enough to think of getting a better look, but the mopango's assigned watcher is in the enclave, and is able to tell me more.

Fair point, but seeing as I don't have the repulsive device that Lebah mentioned yet, I go searching for that first. The Folk Catacombs are large, but before long I find my quarry.

Despite k-Goninon's vaunted hunger, I'm able to talk with it, but then it started trying to eat a mopango, tracking acid everywhere, and I decided in the moment to side with the mopango. One five-finger discount later, and I have what I was looking for.

I...can certainly tell one reason why it's called repulsive, though considering Lebah's words, there's far more to it than that. I bring it back to Yona, and ey has more to say on it.

I see. So, the prison is...whatever fugue state those children are currently in, and the repulsive device will bring them back to themselves...

...but only one.

It also leads to another set of questions: Was this some kind of sentence? Is this prison in a closer-to-literal sense?

If so, for what?

Granted, what could possibly merit a sentence of this severity for as long as these have been thus? Was this length even intentional?

And why would it be that only one key exists?

That last one, I shrug off, at least. Perhaps more existed but were lost to time or damage, until at long last the cruelty and mercy of time are left to me to finalize.

Despite my pondering, my exploration proceeds apace.

I find a way up and out of the Folk Catacombs, which further leads upwards to the next leg of the journey, the Crematory, which I did not have a chance to take any screenshots of because FUCK THE CREMATORY.

Not only is it subject to the Bell of Rest, not only does the Bell take you to the start of the whole place so you have to go through all of it again if you get caught, not only are there no other tomb-tethered areas so you have no pit stops, you have to go through hallways with conveyer belts leading to fire-spewing vents, scattered deep shafts leading back down to the Folk Catacombs (and plenty of fall damage), more industrial fans that can blow you into the shafts, robotic arms that can pick you up and put you in the shafts, and robotic strip flies that can steal your equipment and fly away with it.

And that's just the first map!

The second map has that plus mechanical crushers that can deal 100+ damage easily, and close regularly enough in large enough numbers that getting around them is the clearly preferable option. Oh, and yeah, more strip flies. No real surprises after those two the rest of the way, but still.

FUCK.

THE.

CREMATORY.

First order of business is tell my crew to stay in the mopango enclave while I get through this without having to manage my team so they don't die to fire or fall into a shaft while I'm looking the other way. Second order of business is patiently work my way through all the hazards. Every vent, I hack to inoperability with my pickaxe from an angle they don't cover. Every fan, I deactivate, plus the generators powering them and the arms for good measure. I proceed cautiously with my force bracelet ready to snap on if I even see a strip fly anywhere within ten miles of me.

Thankfully, while all of this is a massive undertaking regardless, I do have preparations that make it manageable.

Firstly, I have the bits and power sources needed to make good use of a reprogrammable recoiler to set checkpoints. If I ever get caught by the Bell, I just recoil back to where I was. The machine walls sealing off shortcuts and ways past the hazards drop lava, but this is a boon in disguise, because I can store those in tinkered-up gyrocopter backpacks which, despite being designed for use with oil, are lava-safe and hold a ludicrous amount of the stuff. Given lava's high trade value, this is only molten icing on the cake. Combat is largely a non-issue so long as I'm careful about the strip flies, and I steadily work my way through, dropping any filled backpacks and spare items I find off with Oboroqoru before heading back in.

After a long time seeing nothing but further ways to ruin my day, I finally emerge in the Columbarium, a much more sedate place populated only by docile urn dusters...and another of the children and its associated mopango watcher.

Each watcher's communion tells me a bit more about eir charge, only enough to whet my curiosity. Dagasha before this, a leader. Kah, a wanderer. I wonder at the rest.

The journey through the Columbarium (which I brought my team along for) is blissfully uneventful and brief, and soon we find ourselves at the stairs up to the confusingly-named Lower Crypts.

The crypts can perhaps be best described as a floor-sized shallow lake with the crypts being tomb-tethering scattered islands sometimes connected by bridges. Each crypt has a robotic minder that also serves as a guard if any interloper tries to disturb the crypt's contents, whether the bodies in the sarcophagi or the grave goods in the reliquaries.

...Given that many of the reliquaries contain vials of brain brine and other such, I am indeed one of those interlopers. I'm far from alone in that, however. Aside from graverobbers, the place is crawling with crypt ferrets, wily agile biters that grab what they can from the crypts and teleport away. Unlike the crematory, my team comes in extremely handy in this place, seeing as sheer numbers is a necessity to handle all the ferrets.

Aside from them, there are death pilgrims from the various sultan cults in here too...and another of the children of the tomb.

From this and the conversation I had with its nearby watcher, Dadogom, I confirm that Va'am is a creature centered around defense, both in a physical and philosophical sense. More to consider.

The Upper Crypts are similar, with the same hazards and occupants, albeit with different types of items in the reliquaries. Where the Lower Crypts are noted to be for tutors and warriors, these are for priests and royals. The Folk Catacombs, the Crematory, the Columbarium...

...those are for the people who didn't matter enough to the builders for this.

I am a tinker, a seeker of knowledge myself, and while war is of little appeal to me, I understand the practical necessities of defense.

And what of those that make their work possible?

The craftsfolk who make the weapons and armor? The makers of the roads? The masons who built the schools? Doctors, cooks, artists?

Perhaps they had developed their world such that those professions either did not exist, or were too rare to accord importance. I am reminded of the becoming nooks I find in some ruins, places where the Eaters or the True Kin can augment themselves with implanted machinery. It would not be inconceivable for those devices to have included conveniences and automated functions such that the Folk Catacombs could be filled with simple grazers, though that idea almost dizzies me with the sheer amount of scale required. I wonder once more what kind of world these people saw when they opened their eyes.

Likewise, I wonder at the past of the fourth and final child of the tomb.

In addition to my conversation with its watcher, Doyoba, I easily glean that Nacham is a teacher, or at least connected to knowledge, skill, technology. A being after my own interests...

...But would that be enough for my decision?

Despite my survey, I have not found a single inkling of what happened to these four beyond some vague mention of betrayal (not even of the traitor's identity, or in what way they betrayed their fellows), and to however many of their fellows lost to time. Why are they sealed like this? Who delivered the sentence?

...Can it be anything but a travesty to free only one but doom the others to their fugue?

I ponder in this manner for a while. Decisiveness, motion, defense, knowledge. All important in their own ways, and yet, what kind of choice could I make here? Shall I say to one, "go free, but your siblings will remain"? Would it be possible to free all four, at any point in time?

...I suddenly realize that one of them is likeliest to be able to help find that answer.

I accept its gift with humility and hope, and proceed onward. While I look forward to seeing what Nacham will be able to help with, I am here on more urgent matters, and as such I must journey upwards. Beyond the crypts of tutors, warriors, priests, and royalty...

...up to the tombs of the sultans themselves.

[jenniferstolzer]

Left-handed drawings from tonight since my right hand is currently in a brace. I learned a lot from this exercise. Mostly that I have a long way to go before I call myself ambidextrous. The circles were the hardest part and the animaniacs were the hardest characters because it was difficult to do all their round shapes and also to color in their black bodies because my left hand does not have the muscle control that my right hand does. I think Peter turned out the best of the whole set but part of that might be because I had such joy that someone actually wanted to see one of my @threadcaster characters! (Thanks @editoress !) I need to work on the sequel maybe I will do that while my arm is inoperable.

[thatpointything]

Just had a random idea for a Doctor Who/Still Wakes The Deep crossover. My idea is, in essence, three daleks that have been assimilated by The Shape. Don’t ask me how the daleks got to the Beira D., just assume they got there as part of a recon mission. Please note that the quotes provided are not all of the quotes I had in mind. Feel free to come up with your own though!

Dalek 1: Found on the underside of the rig. Seems to have burst out of its dalekanium outer shell like an exploding grenade, as large chunks of said armor can be seen stuck to its body. Aside from the tentacles, it developed three large, three-fingered arms that it uses to cling to the oil rig’s underside, with the non-functional gunstick seen emerging from one of its fingers. Seems to be in a state of denial while also being somewhat aware of its surroundings despite its delusional state, but it confuses Caz for one of its superiors. Ultimately loses its grip and falls into the waters below during a chase.

Idle quotes:

“I MUST… ALERT THE FLEET…”

“I AM A SURVIVOR.”

“I AM… NOT IMPURE.”

“I CAN BE… PURIFIED. MY GENETICS CAN… BE FIXED.”

Spotted Caz:

“DO NOT EXTERMINATE, I AM DALEK! HALT!”

Dalek 2: Found in one of the legs. Most of its body emerges from the dalek’s shattered neck area and it can retract into the rest of the body at will like a hermit crab. Sensitive to sound to the point where simply walking a bit too fast is enough to draw its attention. Talks like an asylum dalek would. Is presumably killed after the events of SWTD’s ending.

Idle/Searching quote:

“E- E- E- E- E- E- EXS-”

“EEEEEEEXXS-”

Detected noise:

“EEEEEXXTEEEEERRRRMMMMIIIIINNNN-”

Chase:

“EEEXXTEERRMMMIIIINNNAAATE!!”

Dalek 3: The leader of the three daleks that arrived on the rig. Found in Processing Quad. Immobile and appears to be attached to a fleshy growth coming out of a wall. Its plunger arm and gunstick are visibly contorted in an unnatural manner, rendering them inoperable. Tendrils of flesh grow on its chassis and its eye stalk appears to have been mostly replaced with flesh, even including an eye at the very end. The most lucid out of the three daleks, it continues to see itself as above humans (including Caz) despite its sorry state and sees humans as only worthy of extermination, but there’s not much it can do about it now. It also recognizes that the flesh is a threat to the dalek race, and it even says as such. It eventually orders Caz to destroy the flesh and its source. It never says Caz’s name, only calling him ‘SLAVE’ after it orders him to destroy the Shape. Is presumably killed after the events of SWTD’s ending.

Don’t have any quotes for this one, sorry…

[she-karev]

The Worst Day (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Angst with a Happy Ending)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of Three

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Warning: Panic Attack

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 6

AN: Here we go guys, the bad episode we wish never happened is happening here but don’t worry there’s a happy ending coming. As far as I am concerned the last 18 minutes never existed and DeLuca’s injuries weren’t that severe. But that doesn’t mean there’s not gonna be angst so be prepared. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think and if my description of a panic attack is on point due to never having one myself. And don't worry I'm not a cruel person so the next chapters will be released today with the next one coming at 12 and the last one coming at 6.

Summary: Andrew DeLuca was stabbed and while unconscious he has flashes to the day he and Amber Karev first met. Meanwhile Amber comes to the hospital where she finds out what happened.

Words: 2970

May 3rd, 2020

Andrew DeLuca is lying on his side in the mostly empty train station clutching his stomach. He was so focused on following Opal and making sure the cops knew where she was going that he barely registered a man bumping into him to make it look like an accident when really he was stabbing Andrew. One minute he was running after a sex trafficker and the next he is lying on the floor in unimaginable pain without anyone to help.

He is barely able to discern what is happening, but he can make out Carina coming to him. He can see the devastation and panic on her face while she presses on his side trying to stop the bleeding. He sees the other firefighters gathering around him while Maya holds Carina back so they can work on him. He can barely hear what they’re saying as the pain in his side makes him feel woozy and his hearing muffles the sound around him.

Time feels like it’s going both slow and fast for him. He feels like their going slow around him and not getting him off the floor soon enough. But then he can barely remember when they put him on the gurney and loaded him into the ambulance convinced, they were working at warp speed. He must’ve lost consciousness during that time, or his body went into shock from the excruciating agony. Either way his body doesn’t feel like his own, he feels like he’s drifting off into nothingness.

He tries to fight it off knowing it’s his body shutting down, he knows he needs to be awake so he can live. He wishes he didn’t know what was happening in his body right now. He understands the term ‘your life flashes before your eyes’. It feels almost like he’s going to another world as his mind flashes to three years ago when he first met the woman he loves.

July 17th, 2017

“Can I get an iced mocha latte with an extra shot?” Andrew DeLuca asks the barista at the coffee kiosk outside.

He’s in his baby blue scrubs and lab coat as it’s the uniform for a second-year resident like him. He’s getting a coffee for Amelia Shepherd as she has a tough case with a 14-year-old that has osteoblastoma on his jaw. Seeing his boss work so hard to try to operate on an inoperable tumor has him worried she’s taking a big risk. But she’s his boss and he knows better than to question her methods.

The barista gives him the open clear container with the latte inside. DeLuca gives him the cash and takes the lid and straw ready to head back until he bumps into someone he didn’t know was behind him. The female gasp causes him to see that the coffee he’s holding sloshed as he bumped into the woman causing a good amount to splash on her upper breasts that are covered by the sweetheart line of the black dress she is wearing.

He looks down in wide eyed shock before looking up at the distressed woman and it makes him want to kick himself that much more. The woman that was behind him waiting in line is drop dead gorgeous with her blonde hair that is neat in an updo and her eyes that are wide with shock. He can’t discern if their blue or green or gray but either way he is flabbergasted that he just spilled his boss’s coffee on a beautiful woman he would normally ask out if they met under better circumstances. He decides to put that aside and try to repair his massive error.

“Oh my god I am so sorry.” It’s the only thing he can say, and he says it with all the regret and shock he can to the woman who shudders looking down at her dress.

“Cold coffee in my breasts very cold.”

Andrew turns around and grabs a stack of napkins, “Here let me help-”

“Ow!” Andrew felt a pain in his elbow that he realizes was from hitting the woman in the face because he turned too fast without looking behind him.

She groans in pain gripping her nose with her eyes closed while Andrew looks even more horrified by his ability to make this so much worse. If embarrassment could kill, he would be dead on the sidewalk at that very moment.

“I am so sorry…again, are you okay?” Andrew asks the woman who groans letting go of her nose before kneeling down. He sees that in the midst of the chaos she dropped her purse, and all of her items fell out as a result.

DeLuca once again tries to mend his mistake and kneels down to help the woman who looks like she could be a runway model, “I’m fine I just have coffee in my dress thanks to you and I probably need a rhinoplasty thanks to you but hey at least this hospital has a plastic surgery wing.”

Andrew grins slightly as he picks up white tube-like objects he now sees are tampons as does the woman who speaks out in humiliation as well, “Please leave my lady essentials alone before I die of embarrassment thanks to you.” DeLuca curses himself again before quickly dropping the items that the woman quickly picks up before standing and rubbing herself with the napkins he offered, “Who do I thank for this short moment of physical and emotional torture?”

“Um Andrew DeLuca, hi.” He holds his hand out offering a shake at the woman in the hopes she isn’t too mad at him. He is proven wrong with the narrow eyes that could stare daggers at him and the frown on her red lips that he feels creeping in his soul. Andrew see’s he’s not gonna get on her good side and returns his hand before clearing his throat, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The woman chuckles in a way that makes him feel worse for his transgressions, “I don’t know you could dislocate my shoulder or shave off my eyebrows if you didn’t get your fill in today.”

“I’m sorry it was an accident I swear.” Andrew says once again and tries to make it up to her somehow pointing at the kiosk behind him, “How about I buy you a coffee?”

“No thanks I’ve had enough, and I don’t trust you holding liquids around me so…” The woman starts to walk backwards as if afraid his mere presence will cause more injuries for her, “I’m just gonna ring out my dress, shove these tampons up my nose and I’m sure the people interviewing me won’t notice so thanks a lot.”

With that sarcastic statement the woman briskly walks away from Andrew who she doesn’t see dropping his head down in shame. He closes his eyes and groans under his breath for driving a woman away without even trying. In that moment he can say for certain that would be the first and last interaction they have and it’s fitting for him that it would be a complete disaster.

Present

Amber walks along the ambulance bay feeling nervous about today, or more accurately running into Andrew DeLuca. Last night she left him a message telling him that she is willing to give their relationship another chance. It’s what he wanted for weeks, and she hasn’t given him the time of day because of the things he said and did to her while he was having a mental breakdown.

But now she can see that he’s working hard to overcome his illness and be the best version of himself like he promised her last night. It’s something she wanted him to do when they were together, and she gave up on him convinced he was never gonna be the man she loved again. He proved her wrong by getting better and taking his meds, but she was still hurt and angry at him.

It wasn’t until he checked on her everyday when she had covid and she could see up close from behind a closed door that the Andrew she knew wasn’t gone. She could see that his priorities have evolved. She could see that he was working hard to earn back her trust. And it wasn’t until last night after her talk with April that she decided to give him that chance. Now she’s anxious to see what his answer is to her voicemail and what is about to come next for them.

“Morning.” Amber sees her oldest brother, Alex, walk next to her looking like he is about to start his day too, “I would have added a good, but you know.”

“I know, what are you doing here? I thought Hayes was covering your service today?”

“He is but Jo told me that Val is feeling worse than she lets on.” Amber remembers Val as the mother with the baby in her liver that they took out, “I thought another familiar face in there might be good for her. And maybe I can find a way for her to see her kid outside a screen.”

Amber is surprised by her brother’s generosity, “You’re going to a lot of lengths for this family. Does Jo need to be concerned?”

Alex rolls his eyes at his sister’s half joke, “Shut up. It’s hard enough having a baby in a pandemic let alone having one come from your liver and be in an incubator for weeks. Plus, Val got in touch with Luna’s father last night, he signed away his parental rights.”

“Isn’t that what she wanted?”

Alex fumes, “Yeah but having the father of your kid respond with a two worded text and a baby emoji makes you feel worse than you already do. Here I am wanting a kid with the woman I love and this guy just tosses his like week old garbage. I don’t know why I’m so mad.”

“As a woman who was also abandoned by her father as a baby I share your anger.” Amber tells her brother, “But it’s good that they have you there.”

“I just hope me and Jo are enough to keep this family from falling apart.”

The Karev’s are close to the pit entrance when an ambulance comes blaring in with Owen Hunt and Levi Schmitt already gowned up. They stop to let the rig park and wheel the trauma in when what comes out stops Amber and she looks on confused.

“Carina?” Amber asks her ex-boyfriend’s sister who comes out looking disheveled. Alex widens his eyes as he knows the look Carina has all too well. It’s the look he had when his little brother or sister would get hurt.

“It’s Andrea.” Carina tells a shocked Hunt and the gurney coming out stops Amber cold. Andrew is on the gurney with an oxygen mask on and 4 by 4’s against a bleeding wound in his abdomen. Amber gasps in horror at this and wants to reach out and help but her brother holds her back by her upper arms knowing she would get in the way.

It hurts him to see DeLuca come out of that ambulance knowing Alex was another reason for his trauma visit four years ago. Seeing him like this because of someone else makes him want to go back and kick his younger ass for doing this to another human being. However, he knows his sister needs him in this time as she is frozen in shock and can’t ask questions so he does them for her asking Warren and Bishop.

“What the hell happened?”

“Stab wound to the abdomen, possibly into the chest.” Amber shudders at Warren’s description as a thousand thoughts run through her head that feels like it’s gonna explode, “Slightly hypotensive and tachycardic after one liter of NS.”

“What happened?” Schmitt asks in shock.

Bishop explains, “He was following a sеx trafficker, and she attacked him.”

“They got her.” Even through the blood pounding in her ears Amber can hear the struggle in her loves voice, “I-I think I'm okay.”

Alex is still holding Amber by her arms as Owen talks to Andrew, “DeLuca, try not to talk. It's Dr. Hunt. You're at Grey-Sloan. Let's get him to trauma one. Let's move. Schmitt, let's go.”

The team wheel the gurney in with Amber breaking out of Alex’s hold to follow. Her chest feels like it could burst with her heart beating so fast, her feet feel tingly with every step she takes but she persists needing to see how he is.

She stops outside the trauma room where the door is open so she can see what’s happening. While her sight is working her hearing stopped at some point and all she can hear is a ringing that would drive her crazy if she wasn’t face to face with her worst nightmare. She’s done enough trauma to see that they’re inserting a chest tube into DeLuca.

So far, a few scenarios run through her head of what could go wrong in a chest tube. The blood could overflow, the clip could be taken out too late, the tube could miss the target completely and hit his heart instead causing it to give out. All of these thoughts in her head make her chest tighten like a MagicBag and she can discern herself rubbing her own chest trying to lessen the constriction, but it doesn’t work. The mask on her face feels like someone is suffocating her and it makes the large building around her swirl like she’s on a roller coaster.

Amber doesn’t know what she looks like at this moment or if she’s even reacting to Andrew obviously being in pain from the chest tube insertion. She feels like her brain is somewhere else and all she is doing is standing and seeing. She doesn’t even know if she’s breathing at this time, but she has to be even if it’s a little because she would be passed out if she wasn’t. On the other hand, her chest tightening could indicate she’s having trouble breathing but she can’t bring herself to worry about that, not with Andrew suffering in front of her eyes.

Her feet suddenly move backwards, and she can feel someone pulling her back as Andrew is wheeled out of the trauma room. She begins to lose sight of him as they turn a corner down the hall. Her worries are still with her as she knows where he’s headed too well, and the scenarios run through her head at hyper speed.

Most of these scenarios end with Andrew dying and each one brings her that much closer to collapsing on the floor as her knees get weaker by the second. The ringing in her ears is still there but she can see Alex standing in front of her with worry in his eyes. He is holding her upper arms, but she can’t feel his hands around her. She feels like her body is dying.

Alex pulls his mask down and for some reason, seeing his lips move makes the ringing in her ears lessen. She can hear herself babbling ‘oh my god’, she tries to stop but she can’t. It’s like the little girl who was locked in that trunk possessed her mind and her body and she can’t let go of the woman in that pit right now.

“Look at me, look at me.” Amber can hear her brother but it’s like he’s miles away. She looks up at him as he instructs, and she can tell he’s concerned about her. Alex remembers the techniques Jo’s therapist gave him in case she ever had another panic attack and decides to use this to help his little sister who looks like she’s about to faint.

“Can you name five things you can see?” Amber is still mumbling under her breath, so he tries again, “Amber? Name five things you can see around you now.”

Amber swallows her mumbles and takes a shaky breath before starting. Her eyes look around the building that seems like it’s falling to her, but she makes out the things her brain can ascertain, “Um…you…floor…the walls…crash cart…IV pole.”

Amber’s surroundings begin to still in her vision and her hearing becomes clearer as she can hear the familiar voice of her brother who continues the steps, “Good your doing good. Now can you name four things you can touch?”

Amber puts a shaking hand on her arm. Even though it’s hard she tries to follow Alex’s instructions knowing it’s the only way to get out of her racing head, “My-My jacket…the zipper…my shirt…my jeans.”

Alex nods in pride still holding his sister by her arms, “Good, three things you can hear go.”

Amber closes her eyes and focuses on the sounds around her feeling her chest begin to relax, “Um Carina next to us…wheels turning…the intercom.”

“Okay we’re almost done. Name two things you can smell.”

Amber takes a deep inhale for the first time and her brain processes the familiar scents, “Antiseptic…and your cologne.”

“Last thing, name one thing you can taste.”

Amber swallows and tastes her own mouth, “Um the coffee I got on the way here.”

Amber registers that her body is grounded at last, and all of her senses are stable. And with it the heartache that comes to her like a wrecking ball. Her sight becomes blurry with tears and the next sound that comes out of her is small gasping sounds that follow with heavy sobs.

Alex frowns in despair for his little sister before pulling her towards his chest and holding her against him as she sobs. The sibling stand there in an embrace as the worlds feels like it’s crashing down for one of them.

[white-collar-cannibal]

some. thoughts on gl!charlie eating so much "slime". includes: discussion of cannibalism, brief injury description.

The first time it hits him, he really gets it, is on a pretty morning when Ranboo swears and leaps up, clutches the gauze over their face and runs to the bathroom, as bright brilliant red seeps through their bandaging. Charlie, of course, of course, jumps up as well and follows, ever desperate to be a helpful hand and not an anchor, a heap of dead weight being heaved around. In the bathroom, they peel back the layers and there is so much red everywhere. The face has so much blood in it, all the time, a wild animal gnashing to be let out, to aerosolize. He’s walked without thinking into a cloud of metal-smell, and his mouth is full of saliva, guts twisting in not just hunger but hunger-want-familiarity. He can almost feel the heat of the stage lights, someone ruffling his hair to congratulate him for finishing his plate. It’s terrifying.

He prays that, when he smiles at them reassuringly, all his teeth are pristine and flat, because Charlie is good, Charlie is good, Charlie does not bite people or start fights or try to run away. Charlie is a perfect untouchable lamb and he is not so so hungry right now, thinking about how hard he tries to keep half portions of wet grain down, and how easy it would be to put his teeth into the bleeding flesh - the meat of Ranboo’s face where the stitches have split, and rip and tear and chew until he didn’t have to think about it anymore. 

He’s not a monster - he doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want any of this. He just wants to be good and right, all of the righteousness of a martyr, the moral high ground of some slaughtered creature. He wants to not remember how wrong he’s been made to be. He wants the nightmare to be over, gone, to stop haunting him, to not be built so deeply into his body and mind that it’s inoperable. He wants to not want it back so badly. He wants to be sick forever knowing that Showfall fed him people for decades, but he isn’t, and he’s hungry. 

After he swallows his pride, and all of the saliva in his mouth, and moves to help Ranboo tie delicate sutures to pull the holes of their face shut, he will find Sneeg later that night, in the dark of the kitchen. He will join Sneeg as he cuts cheap flank steaks into thin slices of raw meat, sit with him as they eat from it with their hands. It feels like a communion. It also feels like a relapse. His body is so quiet and at ease, sated and full without being sick, a rarity these days. The sight, taste, texture of it should make him sick, he knows this, agonizes over it.

He’s not built for this, the hilt end of the ritual knife. He wants to be better. He doesn’t know what better means, who gets to define it for him, who he needs to lay in the lap of and ask whether or not he’s good enough. It’s probably himself, dreadfully. Independence, growing up, means doing your own employee evaluation, holding and grading yourself. This must be failing, he thinks first, before remembering that failing probably meant giving in, biting down. This doesn’t feel like passing either. In the pitch dark of the kitchen, sounds of traffic filtering in from outside, sat in peace with his brother, eating from the same plate for the first time in so long, it mostly just feels like surviving.

[forgetmenautical]

Iterator ideas for a rain world x stray crossover!

Text under cut!

1. Instead of using their superstructures processing power to ponder solutions to the great question, Iterators now border the edges and fill the underbelly of the dome. Each one of them is individually in charge of regulating things like electricity and water in their designated area.

2. In order to check the waters chemical levels, it’s drawn directly to the iterators inner chambers for closer assessment before being re-filtered (if necessary) and moved back into piping towards their designated area.

3. Iterators can only filter water up to a certain point. if they don’t draw out enough water, their systems will slowly begin to shut down until they are completely inoperable and need reactivation. With humans now out of the picture, and there being no existing robots who can access their respective gates to fix them, being completely shut down now means death.

4. In a very rare and extremely lethal glitch, an iterators structures can have a higher water intake than intended—eventually resulting in rupture and flooding the general area. This most usually happens to older iterators, and a common aftereffect is the water in the area becoming toxic.

5. While the structure as a whole was being divided into each iterators sector, construction errors were still made, and thus there ended up being a handful of sectors that were too large for a single iterator to handle.

6. This resulted in areas where two iterators had been built in far closer proximity than regulations would normally allow, along with both of their structures being used to regulate the same water source.

7. Both iterators in their area must work together to distribute the water, and often end in arguments and shortages of power throughout their sector.

8. Almost all robots living in the cities don’t know the iterators are there, as their existence only benefitted humans, which mostly kept it to themselves as it was irrelevant information for them.

9. The few who do know they exist cannot open the iterator gates, which allow access into the iterators inner structure.

10. There was a brief effort by an iterator (sliver of straw) who wanted to be permanently disconnected from their structure to be free alongside the robots in the city. They managed to compel a human, and diverted a some of their resources into giving the human all that they needed to create an organism small enough to go into the iterators chambers undetected and disconnect them from the grid.

11. While this succeeded, the organism that was created, now called Zurks, quickly became rampant and its population had an unstable explosion in growth. They fed off of flesh, and resulted in the humans extinction in the dome. No other iterators know where the zurks came from, or how sliver of straw escaped.

and here’s all the stamps I used for the drawing as a treat!