#i'm SORRY for terminator-posting. it WILL happen again.

[carefulfears]

keep thinking about 10-year-old john connor watching the kids play with toy guns and saying "we're not gonna make it, are we?" and then, in the following scene, teaching the terminator how to high five...how to play, and joke around

[libraford]

Okay so here's the rundown of everything that happened with the radio station because omg is it some drama.

In the 90's, there were a lot more independently-run radio stations. There wasn't IHeartRadio and there wasn't SiriusFM or JackFM. A dude could just have a radio station frequency and start a radio station as long as they complied with FCC regulations. And one of these radio stations in Columbus was an alternative station called CD101.

That frequency was sold to a classical station, which is fine because the exchange was friendly. And then the station moved to a different frequency, CD102.5.

So I know it may seem like radio DJ's are just weirdos with microphones and that's just not true- they are TALENTED weirdos with a microphone. You have to be personable, you have to know about the music you're playing, you have to be enthusiastic. And this station was pretty good about programming- they played local music, they played deep cuts, they played weird shit. There were programs for oddball and punk and goth music. They ran charities, they were at local festivals, they were in parades. Their radio station even had a small concert venue attached to it and they would invite visiting musicians to play. Like it really was about community.

But.

Radio stations are expensive, and they get more expensive every year, and in 2020 they were unable to renew their FCC license.

And then a couple months later, they were back again under CD 92.9. A radio station rented out the frequency to them and they were able to get back on the air. It was like nothing ever happened.

I'm not going to know what happened between the owner the frequency (Mark) and the owner of the station (Randy) because there's a lot of people talking about Mark overcharging on rent and Randy being late or short on payments.

An agreement was drawn up to have Randy buy the frequency over a period of (I think) 5 years. But the price was high and the terms of termination were brutal (if he was even one day late on a payment, it constituted termination of the contract). And Randy found those terms to be unreasonable.

So, they announced that the radio station would be going off the air February 1, 2024. And we're all pretty upset! Like, not to be like 'this station saved my life,' but this was a pretty consistent source of event news for me and its how I learned about a lot of concerts and artists. They played one of my friend's bands pretty often and its like 'hell yeah, I know that flutist!'

The DJs of CD92.9 said their good-byes on Facebook.

Meanwhile...

The new DJ of the new station announced that it was always his destiny run the station, and that the new station would be More local music, More deep cuts, More weird shit- and No Billie Eilish. "Out with the old, in with the new."

On one of the old DJ's good-bye posts, the new DJ tried to recruit him to the new station.

"Really? You're trying to poach me on my good-bye post?"

Mark makes a statement that the station will be committed to 'continuing the legacy of CD92.9' and will be using the same programming, the same music, the same DJ's.

Randy says 'the fuck it will, that wasn't the deal' and files a C&D. The DJ's are allowed to work for the new station if they so please, but the new station is not going to inherit shit. They cannot use the same programming, their staff, or any of the thousands of recordings they've use in the past 30 years. Any branding or attempt to brand as similar to CD92.9 is a breach of contract.

A facebook group formed around the support of CD 92.9. How to help, how to get their online stream onto your phone, upcoming events, sponsors to support, and a healthy amount of bitching. Admittedly, some of the posts were REAL stretches- like... I'm sorry darling, I know you want it to happen, but you are NOT going to get them on copyright infringement because their red X logo looks kind of like a similar red X logo from a radio station in Milwaukee.

CD92.9 goes down, 93X goes up.

He does play some more uncommon music, sure. But he doesn't announce who the artist is so its kind of like... what's the point in that? If you just play a local band, but we don't know who the local band is, how are we going to go to their concerts? He'd also talk smack about some bands and its like... don't? You're a public face now.

And then there's the radio edits, which he chose not to play on occasion, so the radio was full of f-bombs. FCC violation.

And as a DJ, simply not charismatic. Like I realize he's not Blorbo from my radio, but like I said- DJing is a skill.

So I just didn't listen. It wasn't worth my time to try. I found a different, less cool station to listen to in the car and I listened to the stream at home.

The mood of the facebook group shifted more towards support for the sponsors, events planned around 92.9, news about who is leaving and who is staying and we just kind of let 93X exist.

The promise of 'no Billie Eilish' fell through pretty quickly. Their music selection dropped to the usual 'alternative music' packet of Imagine Dragons and Twenty-One Pilots. And eventually...

They went off the air. After one month of airtime, it is now an oldies station.

93X DJ said 'well, congratulations you got what you wanted.' Which is half right. We wanted them to tank and our old station to succeed. We're still hopeful about the second part.

The Dispatch ran an article about the short-lived station. Ends with:

So just for like... summary-

Ya'll took over the station with a committed listener base, claimed that you'd be just continuing business as usual, tried to poach their talent, hired someone with no problem talking shit, and when your station failed...

... you want to blame a Facebook Group?

Are you a child?

Anyways, if you'd like to hear an alternative rock station in Columbus that's just doing their best, here's a link to the stream!

[emmett6]

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

[thescarletnargacuga]

ehehhe- *COUGH* aha, okay-

A showtime one shot with good ol' DIGITAL HALLUCINATIONS! (I was wondering what Caine had meant by this in the pilot, and what if it wasn't just a cover up for the door?)

Pomni finds herself in an unknown part of the area/game, and- well, hallucinates! She re-experiences her worst memories, even seeing alternative scenarios that went bad.

Caine eventually finds her, but she can't tell if he's real or not.

Looks like you're stuck in the fog...

-Fowl Anon

A/N: poor Pomni...

DIGITAL HALLUCINATIONS

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: trauma, nightmare imagery, body horror, angst, hurt/comfort

~~~

Pomni wasn't looking for trouble. She was in her room tossing a ball against the wall when it collided weird with her bed and it violently catapulted her to places unknown. She fell hundreds of feet below the map, bracing for the all too familiar impact.

SMACK!!

She laid face up, the wind knocked out of her. "....ow..." She wheezed. It took a minute for her to find her footing, but she eventually stood and looked around. She was out of bounds again. The blank, gridded walls went on for miles in every direction. She has no idea where she could go or even find game assets to use to get back up like last time, so she just started walking.

"Caine..? Hello? CAINE! ...for crying out loud. I wonder how long I'll be down here before he realizes I'm missing. Maybe I can find a void access point again. That seemed to get his attention in a hurry." She walked for what felt like hours, going deeper and deeper into the unseen bowels of the game. It was like a maze. At one point, she was convinced she was going in circles.

The longer she was down there alone, the more stressed she became. She started running to find something, anything that looked familiar. "Caine! Caine, please!" She called, but no one came.

She stopped in her tracks when something out of the corner of her eye moved around a corner. "HELLO!?" She panted and waited for a response.

Nothing. The out of bounds area was eerily quiet.

She ran after what she thought she saw. Rounding the corner, the gridded walls changed to brick. The vaulted ceiling became a night sky. A light post illuminated a rainy alley. Pmi spun around, the out of bounds was gone. "What the-!? Did I accidentally walk into a world Caine's made?"

Everything was so real. The rain, the damp alley smell, the sounds of cars beyond her line of sight. She stood in the flickering cone of the street light, unsure what to do, when a hooded figure with their hands in the large front pocket started aggressively walking right at her.

"Who are you? Hello? What's going on??" Pomni asked as she backed up, but the figure pulled a gun on her.

"Give me all your fucking money!!"

"I- What!? I don't-!?"

The mugger cocked the gun, pressing it to Pomni's head. "You think I'm playin'!? Give me the money, NOW!!"

Pomni backed up against the brick wall behind her, but it crumbled as she leaned her weight against it. She fell through. Suddenly, she was on the floor of a hospital room. No rain or brick walls or muggers. She got up quickly, seeing another unknown person in the bed in front of her.

"What is happening??" Pomni begging the person, but they seemed to be asleep. Pomni got a little closer. It was a middle aged woman, but she was sick beyond her years. Whatever she was in the hospital for, it was terminal. "Hello?"

The sick woman opened her eyes and smiled at Pomni. She opened her mouth to speak, but only coughed.

"Don't- don't stress yourself, uh...I can find help elsewhere." Pomni started to back up but the woman held her hand out pleadingly. "I'm sorry, I don't, uh.... Let me get someone for you."

The sick woman closed her sad eyes. The heart monitor she was connected to flatlined.

Pomni ran out of the room and down the hall. "This isn't real. None of this is real." She told herself over and over, and yet her heart hurt for a woman she didn't even recognize. It could've been an NPC for all she knew.

The hospital halls became a school hall. Dozens of eyes peered through the small windows on the classroom doors. Pomni kept running. The doors behind her opened one after another. A horse of children piled out and scampered across the floor and walls like hell-spawns, jeering and screaming at her.

Tears streaked down Pomni's face. Her conscious mind has no idea what was happening, but subconsciously she knew this place. The bullying, the loss, the fear, all of it was clawing at the back of her mind.

She got to the end of the hall and threw herself through the door. She slammed it behind her, and now she was in an area she recognized. An office. A very plain but uncanny liminal space. "CAAAAAINE! CAINE, HELP ME!!" She begged for him to hear her, but no one came.

After catching her breath, she kept going. Staying in one spot was never going to help. The offices repeated, feeling less and less real the further she went. Then she saw it. The computer. The headset.

Maybe that was the way back. She picked up the headset and looked into it. Blackness. She tried turning on the computer. Nothing. "Come on! What do I do!?"

"Useless girl."

Pomni just about jumpedout of her skin. She spun to see a man in business casual loom in the doorframe. He was so tall, he had to duck to step inside the office space. His limbs were unnaturally long. His hands were thin and gangly, with yellow unkept fingernails. The worst part, he has no face. Only a hole, lined with rows and rows of needle like teeth.

"YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!" The monster boomed and rushed Pomni.

Pomni did the only thing she could think of and jumped out the window. She fell and fell and fell down into darkness. Voices surrounded her. They screeched and screamed and called and laughed. She felt like she knew all of them, but could tell from where or when.

Circus music gradually drowned out the voices and she landed on top of a yellow and red striped tent. She rolled down the roof and landed hard on the ground. It was the digital circus tent but the grounds looked off. "CAINE! CAINE!!!" she screamed her voice hoarse, but no one came.

She was too scared to keep going. She didn't want to know how this nightmare could get worse, but it gave her no choice. The nightmare came to her. The entrance to the tent opened on its own and five familiar voices tried to call her inside. The distorted and echoing voices of Ragatha, Gangle, Zooble, Jax and Kinger became louder the more she ignored them. She had to cover her ears.

She could hear through her hands that the voices were getting closer to the entrance and she backed away. A massive glitching claw came out of the darkness and slammed into the ground in front of her. Then another. And another. The largest abstraction Pomni has ever seen emerged, carrying static features and voices of the entire circus cast.

"THIS YOUR FATE! THIS IS YOUR FATE! THIS IS YOUR FATE!" The abstraction repeated over and over as it got closer.

Pomni couldn't run no matter how hard she tried. It was like her feet were made of cement. She got only two steps in when the abstraction was upon her, it's digital body splitting open to consume her whole.

Pomni's broken voice couldn't scream as she felt something wrap around her middle. She kicked and flailed, but the hold was strong. Her digital body felt useless for fighting back.

"POMNI! POMNI, IT'S ME!! STOP- OW!" Caine held his eye that she just threw her elbow into.

Pomni hyperventilated against Caine. She death gripped his arms and blinked several times as she looked around in panic. She was still out of bounds, but everything was blank again. No monsters, no liminal spaces, no people with weapons.

"Pomni, you're okay. Everything is okay." Caine soothed. "What happened? How did you get back here?"

"Monsters." Pomni's voice was weak.

"Monsters? There are no monsters here. Well, none active, at least."

"I saw people. Real people. And places. And monsters. Everything wanted to hurt me."

"Real...? Oh no. Digital hallucinations-"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!" Pomni screeched and coughed from the strain on her voice.

"I know, dear. You're not crazy. It's a real thing. This place has unforeseen effects on the human mind. It's why I don't let anyone back here. You go deep enough and you start...seeing things. People and places your mind knows, but you don't. I understand it's a very frightening experience." Caine gently pulled her close and ran a hand soothingly across her back. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Everything is okay. None of it was real. You aren't in any danger."

Pomni slowly calmed, loosening her grip and hugging Caine back. "I want to get out of here."

Caine teleported to Pomni's room. The bed is completely fine. The ball she'd been throwing was on her nightstand. Pomni was still trembling, refusing to let go of Caine.

He sat on the bed and cradled Pomni, her head resting on his shoulder. "You don't need to tell me what you saw. It must have been terrible to make you react like this."

Pomni could only give a pathetic whimper in response.

"You're safe now. I'll.... I'll figure out a way for you to contact my watch. I won't let this happen to you again. I promise."

[otomiyaa]

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)

[butchbarneygumble]

Imagine how I must feel as one of the only fans of Mighty Magiswords. You know. A headcanons-and-fanfic kind of fan. I even cosplayed Prohyas once.

Of course, it's nothing compared to what the actual victims went through... I'm fine. But it still felt like a part of my identity has been permanently soured. I don't want to seem like I somehow have it worse, that's not my intention. Nothing bad happened to me personally. I'm only posting my own side of how I deal with the situation, to get some closure myself and show solidarity with the victims.

I don't admire him anymore, and that's putting it lightly.

Full story under cut. Content warning for non-graphic discussion of csa.

The news came to me from my ex-but-still-friend. He told me privately, out of nowhere, just dropped it on me. Like, "Hey, sorry to tell you, but the guy you like got arrested for csa". However, I am glad he told me rather than me having to find out on my own.

The news hit me, and I felt nothing in my body. I usually would get this painful fight-or-flight all through my body whenever I read something that upset me, something I've been training myself to get better with. But right now? I just felt like... "huh. That happened." It helped a lot that Magiswords wasn't my fixation of the moment. And like... it's been like I've been slipping away from it. Like I didn't need it anymore.

More and more people were talking about him, and it wasn't positive. Who? Kyle.

I talked to him. Personally, like many people did. He never acted weird to me. I admired him. I loved his art, sent him physical fanart, all that stuff. I knew more than one person said he was not trustworthy but hey, he made a show that saved my life, so it was a constant struggle between feeling like I had to pick sides. I was going through hell by virtue of my dad being terminally sick and needing constant care, so I was gonna ignore the red flags and enjoy my silly sword show that brought me such joy.

Even if as time went on it started get harder and harder.

But you know what a certain depressed horse show said? When you're wearing rose coloured glasses, red flags just look like flags.

I now think dodged a bullet.

What emotions do I feel? Betrayal. Anger. Disgust. Disappointment.

The irony about it all. The sheer painful irony of blacklisting somebody for *drawings*, and then going behind everybody's back to actually hoard *actual* csa, and revenge porn, and all sorts of nasty stuff. For the record: there is nothing wrong with being put off or disgusted by specific sorts of drawings. But the irony here is what's most painful to me. I do not like people using this as a "gotcha" for either side of this tired argument. It's disrespectful to the actual victims.

People say I can easily seperate art from the artist if I want to but... right now I don't think I want to. He's in every pore of its identity. I do not want to talk or think about Magiswords right now, and I don't know if I ever will again.

It meant so much to me. Prohyas felt like Me. Being a goofy capable adult who doesn't stop collecting things he likes just cuz he's an adult. I thought I was trans for a while and the euphoria of relating to Prohyas helped that. Then he got lowkey confirmed nonbinary and I was over the moon.

It was good. Emphasis on "was".

And to the man himself I have one thing to say: you're another one in a long history of cartoon artists who end up being unsavoury, slimy people, taking advantage of young people, especially girls, in the animation industry. Not something to be proud of. I know we talked and you seemed perfectly okay to me, personally. All I can think is thank god it never went beyond casual chats.

I guess I can finally say I never liked the joke about Vambre not liking pants. Sure, sensory issues exist, but I doubt that was the intention of the design. I have deleted my sideblog where I chronicled ooc screencaps of the show and deleted my little spotify playlist of songs that reminded me of the show. I don't want to finish my longfic where Prohyas and Flonk fell in love anymore. I can't even change it into ocs because it's just so ingrained in the show's lore. So yeah, there's that.

I'll be fine. When the news hit I took it surprisingly well. I was going to an Alestorm concert and it was the most fun I had in ages. So yeah, I've got Christopher Bowes and His Plate of Beans to fill the void of comedy music. Was fixating on Simpsons already so there's that in terms of cartoons. I'm fine.

All I can say is my heart goes out to all the victims, and I'm deeply sorry I didn't see you sooner. I hope you can heal and have some semblance of closure now that he's gotten arrested. My heart goes out to all of you and again, I am so so sorry. I wish you all the love and healing.

[momojedi]

— OMEGA

topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

**

type. loss, pt 5 note. it’s back baby. hi, hello, I’ve been super busy lately. I started my graduation year in september and I’ve been so busy since, it’s crazy :’) I’m trying to save some time out of school for writing and art so I can bring back this blog for you all! warnings. tantiss, creepy hemlock? laboratory, panicking tag list: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @shadow-rebel-223

star wars masterlist/loss masterlist || pinned post

The air is tense as we march down the endless, sterile corridors of Tantiss, the commander's blaster barrel digging into my back threateningly while troopers and scientists scurry past us in a rush. Confused, I raise a brow. It's only when my focus drifts away from my steps and my gaze is following another hurrying doctor that I bump into someone, shoulder hitting another shoulder and a hiss erupts from the very person in front of me. "Sorry!" I immediately turn to look at them when I'm met with a deadly pair of brown eyes.

Clone eyes are nothing I'm unfamiliar with. Over the course of the Clone Wars I worked with more republic troopers than I could probably count. Time and time again have I interacted with those very brown eyes, laughed with them, cried with them and sometimes even watched the light drift from them as they slipped into a final slumber. Still, the eyes I'm pierced by now are different. They're far sharper yet exhausted, too, as if they'd seen things, very bad things. I scan the stranger's face. He looks nothing like a clone; taller, slimmer and with edgier features, yet the eyes give it away. A fine crosshair covers the side of his face.

"Watch your step." He snarls at me in a rough tone before being shoved forward by the prisoner behind him. I barely have time to register what just happened when the commander drives the blaster into my back, pushing me to move further myself.

I remain silent for a bit, stumbling forward while lingering on the strange clone internally. He seemed so ... familiar. But my mind is quickly cleared when, suddenly, the static of a comm makes my ears perk up. The commander grips my arm, making me still.

"The guests will arrive shortly, sir," a voice chirps from the other side of the line. Then I'm shoved again. "Hurry," the commando barks behind me, "we can't be late." Digging my nails into my palms and trying my best to swallow my already battered pride, I stumble ahead.

Eventually, we halt in front of a doorway. The commando types a code into the terminal and the path ahead opens, leading into a large laboratory. The air smells sterile and sharp, likely influenced by various chemical reactions and a distant beep erupts from a monitoring system behind us, far enough to seem insignificant, yet loud enough to be irritating. But that’s nothing compared to the sight in front of me that leaves me wrinkling my nose in disgust.

Dr. Karr and Hemlock stand together, deep in conversation as we approach. Hemlock looks up with a smile, and there’s a glint in his cold eyes that unsettles me, as if they see right through me. “Ah, Commander,” he addresses the trooper, assessing me while clasping his hands behind his back. “Thank you for your attendance.” I scoff. “Didn’t exactly have the choice.” At that, Hemlock chuckles dryly. “Well, Dr. Karr, they’re all yours now.” His voice is low as he speaks to her, but his gaze never leaves me. My stomach tightens, but I refuse to look away. Whether it’s an act of defiance or fear, I don’t know, but I don’t really have time to think about it anyway when I hear Dr Karr’s voice pipe up.

“Omega,” she calls flatly, and the familiar face of the little girl who had once brought me comfort appears beside her. Suddenly, as soon as the name reaches my ears, the sight of her makes my blood run cold. Memories crash into me—Hunter and his brothers, Tech’s quiet stories of their lost sister, and the night that tore me from them forever. My eyes widen, locking onto Omega. It takes every ounce of control not to start hyperventilating. My pulse races, my breath shallow, and in my head; one word repeats. Omega.

Lost in shock, I barely register the shackles loosening around my wrists. Hemlock’s smug voice drifts through the haze, but I can hardly focus. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he hums, his tone dripping with false courtesy. “I have important business to attend to. Though I trust you’re in good hands?” His question is more a statement, leaving no room for defiance. Dr. Karr nods. “Yes, sir.” He smiles, that infuriating, condescending smile. “Wonderful.” And just like that, he’s gone, the commando trailing after him.

I watch them leave, feeling utterly paralyzed, drowning in the chaos of my thoughts. What now? What am I supposed to do with all this… this truth that stands right in front of me? The weight of it presses down on me, so heavy I can barely breathe. Hunter’s desperation and sleepless nights looking for clues, Tech and Echo’s constant connections, Wrecker’s ongoing nightmares. Everything we’ve been searching for—every answer we’ve bled for—is here. But now that it’s staring me in the face, I don’t know how to handle it.

“Uhm, are you coming?”

The sound of her voice snaps me out of my daze. I spin around to find Omega watching me, hesitant, unsure. She seems smaller now, more fragile than the image I’d built up in my mind. I run my tongue over my cracked lips, trying to form words, but the world feels too overwhelming to speak. All I can do is stare, frozen in place, lost in the enormity of it all.

So I just nodded and followed quietly.

[greenheart-anon]

??? I thought you deactivated??? I'm so glad you're back

I don't know what happened but every time I looked at your posts that I reblogged you appeared dead

Sorry for not answering this sooner nonnie.

First of all I want to thank you and all the people that reached out about what happened, I really appreciate it💚

I never deactivate, I would never do that, I just celebrated my 12 anniversary on my main blog, this is my happy place and I spend here all my free time. Tumblr just thought I was a spam blog and terminated my account and it took me 44 days and like 5 or 6 emails to get it back😭

Because of that I've deleted all the source links in all my posts to avoid it happening again (I'll insert them on the text from now on, but please, don't come for me if any of those posts doesn't have them), I don't think tumblr will give my blogs back next time. I will make a few changes but I'm not leaving, as I said a lot of times before they will have to pry tumblr from my cold dead hands🤣

I'm so happy to be back. Lots of love💚

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ermagerdddd, your Leona leadership post kickstarted the Leona brain rot again <3 It got me thinking what would happen if for his birthday he received a card/letter with all the positive things people have said about his skills and leadership. It doesn't seem like many of them say it outright to his face.

[Referencing this post!]

EW, NOT THE L*ONA ROT BRAIN 🤢 I'm sorry to say that the condition is terminal/j

Mmm, I feel like that actually wouldn't change much or invoke that strong of a reaction from him???

Leona's not usually very forthcoming with his true feelings, and nor is he the kind of person that gets openly sentimental when presented with praise. There have been examples of him casually accepting recognition or compliments (Jack tells Leona he's an incredible dorm leader, Leona responds with a short laugh asks Jack to serve as a model for the rest of the dorm). Sometimes depends on how the praise is worded though, as there’s many times when Leona gets offended because of it (Vil says Leona is “only good” for his handsome face; Cheka says Leona is good at Magift but then asks him to teach him how to play; Farena/Falena tells him “even if you can’t be king”, he's intelligent and there's a lot of good Leona can do for their country). There are also times when he deflects or attributes compliments to others’ ulterior movies (like when he rightfully points out Ace is gushing about him to stay close for protection in Endless Halloween Night). He has a voice line as recent as his Broomquet (that just dropped) where he says there's so many herbivores looking at him with sparkling eyes, so he may as well entertain them this time. Even when Leona's got all the attention on him and is being showered with affection, he tends to act very lowkey about it or act in a way which implies he doesn’t believe them. (For example, maybe he’s convinced himself it’s his birthday, so the attention is condition or fleeting.)

Leona is already well aware of what his own skillset is, and where his strengths like. He's frustrated with the world for not seeing his merits—but because he's been verbally beaten down so much in his childhood, he's had to build up emotional walls to prevent his little-kid ego from getting hurt. That's likely manifested into this sort of reluctance to fully believe/accept and internalize praise (because no matter how confident in himself Leona may outwardly act, there's always still that lingering doubt and collected bitterness toward the world that once denied it to him). It’s an inferiority complex resulting from the critique he got as a child and constant comparisons to his older brother, so… in actuality, Leona’s confidence isn’t 100% “real”; there’s an element of self-doubt there, so more often than not he’s scoffing at what others say about him or taking their words cynically (ie focusing on the negative aspects interpreting their words negatively).

Learned behavior like that won't be reversed with one birthday card from all his peers! (I think it's probably something Leona ought to unpack during his mandated post-OB therapy sessions.) Maybe Leona would be sarcastic when he first receives the card—"What, for me? You shouldn't have. It's just going to be shoved into a drawer where it'll never see the light of another day" (you know, like trying to deflect how he's really feeling by acting a little dismissive about it?), but he'll claim to keep it anyway so as to not hurt 'all his fans' precious feelings'.

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

Iris

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x unknown! reader [895 Words]

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT POST MY WORK TO OTHER SITES OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN. I DO NOT OWN ANY RIGHTS TO COD OR THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THE FIC, I ONLY OWN SOME STORYLINE NOTHING MORE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO THE WRITERS AND DEVELOPERS OF COD.

Summary: The truth of Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

WARNINGS: SENSITIVE THEMES // MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL MISUSE // DEATH // ANGST // TRAUMATISED GHOST // DISCRIPTIVE HOSTAGE SITUATION // TORTURE // MENTIONS OF SOAP'S DEATH // YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED // UNEDITED

Iris was her name, or at least that was what Ghost had told everyone. No one knew anything about her or why Ghost never brought her around for the rest of the unit to meet her.

What they didn't know was she didn't exist, not anymore. Ghost had been clinging onto memories that had soon begun to fade into nothing. Iris was no longer and Simon wasn't going to let that happen. If he had to, he would force himself to relive that day all over again.

◌•·················•·················•◌•·················•·················•◌

It was a hot, humid day. Ghost and the rest of his team had been ordered to take out a potential threat in the heart of Afghanistan. It was supposed to be a quick job. Get in, terminate the threat, get out, go home. But something always had to go tits up.

There were hostages in the building, something the higher ups forgot to mention. Iris was with Ghost that day, helping him evacuate the hostages before proceeding further into the building. Everything was going to plan, until it wasn't. Dust clouded Ghost's vision, bangs and screams flooded his ears. He had reached behind him, trying desperately to find Iris but she wasn't there.

He had been told to evacuate, to come back to base. Of course, the stubborn Soldier didn't want to; not without one of his teammates. Ghost had been forcefully removed from the building and thrown into the Black Hawk, the rest of his unit had to hold him back from jumping out of the helo.

Days had turned into weeks and no one had any new updates about Iris, where she was or if she was even alive. That was until they had gotten an anonymous link from an untraceable email. Like any curious soul, the Captain of Ghost's unit had clicked the link. It was a livestream to a webchat, Iris was bound to a wooden chair; her face beaten in and blood spewing from her mouth.

"You.. cant.. break.. me.." They heard Iris slur, her words sounded like gurgles as she choked on her own blood. Her captor stood in front of the camera, his face was covered by a mask but everyone knew just by the way he tilted his head, he was taunting them.

The livestream continued, Iris endured hours upon hours of torture. Her body bruised and bleeding. She put up a fight, never giving in, no matter how much she wanted to.

"You.. will.. never.. get.. anything.. from.. me.." Iris breathed out, fumbling over her words. Her head fell forward only to be forcefully held up by her hair. An amused, yet annoyed, laugh fell from her captors lips. He had whispered something into her ear, something that had ticked her off. Iris looked over at the camera, tears pricking at the corners of her green eyes.

I'm sorry.. She mouthed to the camera before a loud bang went off. Her head falling forward once more. Blood and brain matter splattered all over the floor and her lap. Her head was lifted up once more, angling it so the camera had a full view of the mess that was once her angelic face. Ghost sat there silently, his jaw was clenched and eyes cold.

He couldn't process what he had just watched. Anger was seething through his veins as he stood up abruptly from the chair he was once sitting in and threw the laptop across the room as he let out a heart wrenching scream. He stormed out the room, ignoring every soldier that passed him, not even sparing them a glance. He was on a rampage.

◌•·················•·················•◌•·················•·················•◌

A few years had passed since the incident. Ghost had turned to his old friend, Mr. Whiskey, to help sooth the pain but it never did work, did it Simon? He had been transferred to a different unit, Task Force 141. His old Captain thinking it would suit him better, more missions meaning less time to be in his own head.

But that didn't work either. Nothing seemed to work, everything reminded Ghost of Iris. He had gotten close to MacTavish, or Soap if you will, telling him a few little things about Iris when it wasn't hard to even breathe her name. Everything seemed to have gotten better, Ghost had become a Lieutenant and Soap was beside him through everything. Every drunken conversation, every rage filled outburst, every late night chat that would always end in tears.

Soap seemed to help ease the pain a little but even that fell through. When Soap died, Ghost completely broke - seeking comfort in the one friend he knew he'd never lose, Mr. Whiskey. He was discharged from the SAS after being diagnosed with PTSD, his life was never the same; not after losing Iris and Soap, the only people who knew the real him. The only one's who knew the Simon Riley.

The only thing he could seem to remember about her were her eyes, bright green like gems. They were his favourite things about her, the way her eyes would practically light up whenever she saw him or how they would crinkle at the corners when she smiled. God.. he just knew it was probably for the best that she wasn't around when he met Soap, he knew they would've been the death of him if they were together.

[1-800-deactivatednearu]

EMESIS BLUE: The Importance of Colour Coordination before You Go Swangin through Hell

analysis under read more

keep in mind that this features screenshots from the sfm itself and therefore contains . what happened to the tags on this post ??? open at your own discretion

Blu(e)

[I.D.: 2 screenshots of Emesis Blue, in establishing shots of the introductions of Scout and Medic and Spy and Soldier.

In the first, Scout sits on an examination table, and Medic is looking at his teeth. The scene is cast in blue light. (3:20)

In the second, Soldier sits in Spy's car, cigarette lit and revolver drawn as he looks at something past the camera. The door is open behind him, Spy leaning in. the scene is blue with yellow light. (6:04) /end I.D.]

The SFM first establishes the world with not only exclusively BLU mercenaries, but also matching blue lighting. Blue is loyalty and calmness, blue is our status quo, blue is emesis.

Actually, why is the title of this SFM "Throwing Up Blue." Should your medication be doing that ??

[I.D.: Archibald holds a revolver, Spy behind him. Against the wall in front of them are 3 BLU mercenaries with bags over their head. The scene is cast in blue lighting. /end I.D.]

Y'know. Loyalty. Dependability. Nothing a little bit of treason can't do! :)

My belief of blue symbolizing status quo largely comes from Archibald as the BLU civilian model. We come to understand that he represents some sort of authority figure, pulling the strings behind the scenes. They pulled the mercs off death row if only so they don't have to find ethical work, and then introduced respawns to avoid hiring new ones! He pulled whatever happened in the above screenshot with virtually no repercussions! Normal things.

Red

All this about BLU, how's the RED team?

[I.D.: The zombified RED Scout, Heavy, Solder, and Engineer, as seen in the gun stash. (46:57) /end I.D.]

Maybe when the horror is about the respawn machine... it doesn't bring back mercenaries too great...

The RED mercenaries are the 1% that came back wrong from respawn--way more common than it sounds when you consider how much people die in your average game, nevermind 2fort--that come back wrong from the respawn.

At least I'd hope they want us to come to the conclusion that red = respawn.

[I.D.: Red backlit sign reading "RESPAWN" (1:01:46) and the respawn command terminal text in red (1:02:35). /end I.D.]

"Respawn" has stopped looking like a word to me at this point.

Point stands: scary red technology is scary and red.

[I.D.: 2 screenshots. First is of Dell, the engineer in a red suit and greying hair, stands with both hands on a red bar countertop. Behind him is a wall of unlabelled red bottles. (59:49)

Second depicts Medic in the red bathroom of the bar. He stands with both hands on the sink basin, facing a mirror. (1:44:14) /end I.D.]

In both scenes, a character is later revealed to be dead. In both scenes, we also get a The Shining reference!

Didn't watch the movie, can't tell you nothing about what that means.

Red is closely tied with death and the afterlife--the respawn, in all its wretched glory. In all its gory. Sorry. And in their death, they go to red rooms, as if their souls are still trapped in the red light of the respawn.

[I.D.: 2 screenshots. First is of Medic and Soldier, in Archibald's presentation room. Medic is covered in blood and leaning on an open door for support. Soldier holds a shotgun. They both look down on an off-screen zombified Sniper. (1:20:17)

Medic and Soldier again, this time playing Russian Roulette with Spy. Medic, bloodied and holding a revolver under his chin, looks to Soldier. The scene is primarily blue, with a red light cast on Medic. (1:23:14) /end I.D.]

I'm not saying Medic is disproportionately soaked in blood, but. Just look at the guy. Now look at Soldier. (Okay, maybe a little unfair considering how unscathed Soldier is. Physically.)

Throughout the SFM, Medic becomes less blue, removing his uniform after his first death and then simply becoming so blood soaked he starts sliding from reading as blue to reading as red. He's transitioning! Happy pride!

A Tangent on Red v. Blu

The focus of this tangent is to argue that there is nuance in red and blue, and not necessarily a "good" and "evil" colour.

I feel it is important to not portray one side as good and the other as evil, especially in the case of Medic, especially when what could be read as hallucination sequences are cast in red light. Please do not portray real life mental illnesses as dangerous. Please do not villainise the act of taking medication. Thank you. <3

The inclusion of Scout and Archibald on the same team, as well as Demoman and ... well, the rest of RED, all goes to show that there is no one moral to take away from one colour.

On a more unimportant note, having polarizing, absolute views of morality makes analysis a pain.

[I.D.: Zed and Maynard Conagher. They are cast in both red and blue light, their actual outfit colouration unclear. (25:57) /end I.D.]

Like as seen in here, colour is no measure of morality. They actually move frequently between red and blue lighting! I doubt anyone is in a hurry to even argue that Redmond or Blutarch are the correct one of the two. I don't even know them apart, honestly. This is TF2. The game is about two teams indefinitely fighting stupid wars for stupid prizes.

Black

[I.D.: Nearing the end of Archibald's funeral, when Medic just burst from the coffin and shot Spy. Soldier sits between the coffin and the podium in a wheelchair. There is a red line of blood on the wall. (1:38:50) /end I.D.]

It might be redundant to point this out at a funeral, but here we go anyways: black is the traditional colour of mourning in the West. Would most definitely be wildly inappropriate to walk into a funeral in bright reds and blues.

Which no one would do ever.

After all this time, death as a finality is almost surreal. Soldier got shot, like, three times, and he's still fine! Spy set himself on fire and then rolled directly into sewer water, and he's still fine! (Was. He was still fine.) Medic. You're telling me it took one bullet to the face to kill Spy?

Yea. Lol. Lmao, even.

I feel the most important costume change would actually be Medic's. No white on him, unless you count the way he was drained of all blood in between dying again and coming back again. He's a dead man walking with a score to even. He even hid in a coffin.

[I.D.: Medic standing in the entrance of the bar. He wears a black tie and matching suspenders. (1:43:13) /end i.d.]

We also get to see his outfit change post-hijacking of ambulance. Besides obscuring his time of death--because, seriously, when did this man die??--it further cements the significance of black.

It all lies in effort: if black didn't matter, reuse assets.

He dressed up nice! Would it hurt to also call attention how he looks full of blood? Medic looks alive and well for a dead man.

[I.D.: The black telephones seen throughout the SFM: the telephone in Scout's house when he hears his own voice played back (11:58), Medic holding an unplugged phone with intent to strangle Maynard Conagher (30:18), the round table of skeletons seated in front of black telephones (1:03:18), Pyro answering the phone during their interrogation with Spy (1:06:24), Archibald speaking on a payphone (1:16:30), and Maynard pulling a telephone from under the counter at the bar (1:44:28). /end I.D.]

This is how I realize there is more than one model used for the phones (rotary and touch tone, the latter more commonly appearing)! That's fun! :D

Anyways, the phones highlight a cyclical nature of life and violence and death and life again. No, this isn't poetic, this is just your average game of 2fort.

When we first are introduced to the imagery of phones, we learn about them through ominous recordings of previous dialogue, creating a literal cycle of recording conversations and then replaying them over phone calls, drawing them all to the Conagher Slaughterhouse. (Or just kidnapping them, in Scout's case.)

We actually have an outlier to these black telephones!

[I.D.: Spy and Soldier investigating Medic's office, just as his blue telephone rings (21:03) /end I.D.]

The lighting here is clear enough to definitely tell it's blue. I despise Medic and his interior design choices. This may indicate that the trend is not related to colours as much as it is related to the telephone itself, but I'm not transferring any more image sets again. Headache it be.

Like many of the other telephones seen in this SFM, it's also a touch tone telephone!

But how about after they all enter the Conagher Slaughterhouse? We don't hear many conversations in their entirety, nor do we have the full story to them. It's hard to draw conclusions without context.

Speaking of cycles...

[I.D.: Scout and Medic in Medic's office. The box of VHS tapes is tipped over and scattered across the floor. (4:28) /end I.D.

Scout, as doomed by the narrative!

As much as Medic tried, he was not able to save him, not in the present, not in the future.

The VHS is the only physical proof of a future Medic's failure to protect a past Scout.

M (1931), a VHS that needs to be rewound in order to play. His rotary phone that needs to be spun back and forth in order to enter to dial a number. The replay button of the YouTube video.

It's eternity in there!

[eldrichthingy]

So, hello :') It's very unexpected for me and I have no idea what to do now, but basically: I was used to be @eldrichfuck666 (previously olya-occult-lover) and Tumblr deactivated my account without any warning or email and without showing me the "your account was terminated", it just doesn't let me log in and my account and everything that was posted there, is gone. For no reason at all. It happened a day ago and I contacted support immediately and I truly hope my blog goes back to me, but if it's not - every single ask, draft and edit I've done (besides for maybe, a few of them I still have on my PC) is gone.

It's really crushing and all I can hope for is that it goes back to me. I lost everything I had from March, basically and I miss my mutuals so much- :'( I wanted to say that I'm okay and I missed you all so much and I truly hope that I'm not bothering you with this, you're very free to ignore it, but! If my account doesn't get back to me - I'll be trying again, with this one, hopping nothing happens to it. I love you all and I hope I won't annoy you! :') I just miss you a lot 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 I'm also so sorry for not tagging anyone, but in case you see it and recognize me - I'm really glad you're here and I hope you're doing well 💖

[xiii-e]

//DATA COMPILING//

//MESSAGE DECRYPTION COMPLETE//

//COMMUNICATIONS OPENED//

SENDER: Z-341-A

CALLSIGN: ALPHABET SOUP

———

Good morning, Helios-8.

I apologize for the message out of the blue, as well as intruding where I do not belong on this issue, but I feel that I must make my case for Thirteen-E in fairness to all parties involved.

I have seen your exchange with Lockbreaker of MSMC-796, what you and Thirteen went through was distressing, what Lockbreaker had gone through equally so. I cannot say that I had not heard about similar things. Flash clones of my line, if they were particularly effective, would have their memories grafted into a new body upon their disposal and would retain the same designation as functionally the same clone (although monitored more closely for psychological fracture). I understand that this is not comparable, that having a very personal relationship to someone this happens to must be distressing, however…

I am advised not to say that it is for the best. That is insensitive. I, instead, want to stress the idea that Thirteen and Thirteen-E are very different people. It’s hard on a clone, to have their memories grafted into a new body, it’s why the clones of my line it happened to had a 64% higher chance of APMS termination post-psychological break. They need stability, familiarity, and while Thirteen may have wanted to break away from the project it seems that Thirteen-E, being a different person, takes comfort in their situation as I do.

I can say from very personal experience how important being allowed to take comfort in the familiar is, even when it is uncomfortable to those around us. From the few times I have spoken to Thirteen-E, it seems that they have a very similar mindset as I do about our respective creations and purposes. While their original creation and training may have failed them, perhaps this time it has not. I feel that it is important to respect Thirteen-E’s wishes as independent from Thirteen’s, and that their wishes may not be something that you would prefer but they are still their wishes. They deserve to have comfort, to be allowed to find that comfort without judgement or urging away from the stability that they require.

I apologize again, it is not my place to speak so freely on this issue, but I feel I must. I enjoy Thirteen-E’s company, and I feel that we are very similar. My assimilation into Union society has so far been… too much, too fast, to the detriment of my health. I understand that people are pursuing what they think is best, but when they disregard the thing they are trying to improve they only end up harming it. I sincerely believe that you and Lockbreaker want what is best for Thirteen-E, but I implore you to listen to them, to hear them even when it isn’t what you wanted to hear. I implore you to respect their wishes as distinct from Thirteen’s.

Please, feel free to contact me or to put Thirteen-E in contact with me when they return from deployment. I would be more than happy to elaborate or explain if anything I have said here does not make sense. I apologize again for my intrusion.

———

//COMMUNICATIONS CLOSED//

@leastinsanesscpilot

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸ oh hell, hi Z-341-A: you don't need to apologise, I was a litte caught off guard to see you reach out about this but- ... you raise a point You do raise a point. I- okay I do think we need to talk about this.

◂▸ I've noticed how, when Turtie talks to you (I know, I'm sorry I can't call them by the name they want like I do with you; I hope you understand after... after everything I've confessed) that they lose some of the tension that's usually coiled through them. Their shoulders relax, at least. What you say makes a lot of sense to them, with the way they think about themself. Seems like that's comforting to them.

◂▸ I don't... I can't say I understand it. Both of you have been horrifically mistreated, and that commonality doesn't make either of your cases okay. You- in a lot of ways, you are very similar. The way you talk, how you shy away from the things we ascribe to personhood. Do you know why that's scary, to me?

◂▸ I've already watched this place kill them once, so I know with a visceral certainty that it would kill them again without much of a second thought. Maybe they don't know that, but they've still experienced exactly how bad things can get regardless, yet- they want to stay. Turtie wants to stay. So they can keep doing their job, saving people; it's the most important thing in the world to them. I've tried talking about how it isn't fair to them, how they're expected to work nonstop, expected to give everything and more of themself but-

◂▸ Every time, they close up. Repeat that same line, about how it's their purpose, and it's important work, and they don't feel that strain the same way because they're not designed to. You're right, that they don't want to break away from the Project- and that terrifies me.

◂▸ So- maybe you can tell, but I'm not exactly an objective judge here. I want them to get out of here, and... they don't. But fucking hell I don't think the answer can be to just let them stay? I can't stress enough Z-341-A, they are designed to break down eventually; if they keep working like this, it'll tear them apart. They're holding strong for now, but for how long? A few years, maybe? Am I supposed to just watch them come apart?

◂▸ Yet... I can't write off what you're saying, either. Ever since their case was declared, they've been so tense, looking over their shoulder all the time for a sign someone's monitering them. I'm not allowed to attend any of their interview with the Union team but, every time they come out it's like they've withdrawn as deep as they're able, they clamp down so hard on anything that could even kinda be seen as a break from their programming, and- and RA, that's just the interviews, how much worse could things--

◂▸ [ a quiet wince. a slow, deep breath. In and Out ]

◂▸ Sorry. Sorry, I'm just- worried. Stressed. I thought blowing the whistle would be the hardest thing, not... not the consequences. I don't want to make things any worse. I know you don't either. We're- both of us, are just trying to help.

◂▸ ... I need to get them out. I need to get them out, and I can't do that while they're still adamant about staying, still clinging to the way they've been conditioned. But, I will- I'm taking this under advisement, Z-341-A. I already knew I'd have to move slowly but- I'll be careful. I know better than to try and rip the bandaid off.

◂▸ ...I hate seeing them so scared all the time. I think it might be my fault. But if it works, then- at least they'll be alive to blame me.

◂▸ I'm sorry.

◂▸ Helios-8

//

[enqueter]

Hiiii. Sorry for disappearing for so long... again. Some kinda heavy shit has been going on in my life and I've been caught up in that. I'm gradually trying to get out of my rut, but I can't promise I won't vanish again.

I can't promise whether or not I'll be able to direct enough of my focus here so I can be active again, so if I ghost you guys again I just wanna let you know ily. The reason why I vanished is below the cut so you don't have to read me venting about the aforementioned heavy shit if you don't want to.

I hope you all are doing well!! 💝

So while I was trying to get medicated for my ADHD I happened to mention that sometimes when people talk it's like I can HEAR them just fine but I can't UNDERSTAND what they're saying. I thought it was auditory processing disorder, which is common in people with ADHD, but my doctor said it sounded like receptive aphasia (I'm still not even sure if it's that or not lol), so she sent me to a neurologist.

They took an MRI and PET scan of my brain and the results didn't look good, to put it lightly. I'm a little hesitant to bring up the specific diagnoses they brought up because one of them is a terminal illness that makes me feel sick to even think about, and if there's even the slimmest chance that someone made a MAJOR fuck up with my test results I don't want to embarrass myself by throwing it out there until they're absolutely certain.

Of course one of my most important appointments for checking into this is all the way in fucking December unless my doctor can manage to find another specialist that'll take me sooner, so I've been edging my mental breakdown since early this year.

Even if the test results were a colossal fuck up on their part, I know something's wrong with me because my memory and cognitive skills have been getting steadily worse, at least from my perspective, and that scares me. I've been wanting to update you guys about what I've been doing since last year, but I always ended up forgetting all about it.

I MIGHT take a break from Ophie because her memory issues are actually inspired by my own. Might give my Fallout OC (Morgan) a fresh coat of paint or MAYBE do something with Calypso, depending on which one I end up hyperfixating on more. I'll try to keep you posted.

[fayesdiary]

I'm going to be entirely honest: after everything that's happened these past few days and the fact it's very likely going to get even worse, I'm making preparations to bail out of Tumblr.

I still haven't decided on what social and art plaform I want to migrate to yet, but I am working on a way to keep in touch with my closest friends and mutuals on Discord when the time comes. It won't be the best approach, but we're gonna have to make due if you're willing to join.

I'm going to miss this website, really. I had a lot of fun and made a lot of friends here. But if nothing changes, if trans, black, Palestinian people and so on keep getting silenced and harassed in-and-out of the so-called queerest, most inclusive place on the Web and all of my text posts and art is likely to be stolen and fed to an AI, then I don't want to be here anymore. Besides, I've already been terminated without warning once, so who's to say it won't happen again?

I'll still be here while my blogs are in the process of being exported and I decide the socials I'll be on in case you've grown attached to me enough to follow me there, and at that point I'll likely stop activity in all of my blogs.

I'll miss you. I hope we can meet somewhere else.

Edit: Finally finished preparing my new social profiles! So if you wanna follow me there, here you go:

Pillowfort

Bluesky

Cohost

Cara

I'm not sure which one I'm gonna stick with yet, but I guess time will tell.

(No Mastodon for now, sorry. It sounds way too complicated.)

And who knows, if Tumblr staff actually keeps its promise of improving moderation and actually protect minorities from harassment I might come back here full time. Here's hoping!🙏

Edit 2: THE AI DEAL HAS BEEN CONFIRMED. I am absolutely going to bail now, sorry not sorry. You know where to find me from now on.

[the-stars-in-between]

DAY 2 : Again.

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .