#mild callout

[lizardboyscalesmcstuffins]

*this is a post from 2021*

Hi guys Anthony liked my idea

[i-looove-dillydallying]

It’s always funny to me how modern day hipsters deem formerly popular music cool and obscure just because it’s old(er), because all I can imagine is future hipsters agonising over their deep thoughts to Despacito or Gangnam Style or some shit

[gooondocks]

and if your heart wears thin — evan buckley.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: after taking an unfortunate spill on the job, buck's fiancé decides that life is too short to wait any longer.

─── pairing: evan buckley x gn!reader.

─── warnings & notes: angsty angst and then fluffy fluff. near death experience, descriptions of drowning and rescuscitation, brief mention of needles (not graphic), incorrect medical procedure for Plot purposes. no use of y/n. title is from 'beside you' by marianas trench. this starts out with some mild peril but devolves into some of the fluffiest shit i've ever written so. enjoy. not proofread bc i'm lazy.

─── word count: 3.9k.

     YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN EXPECTING IT, is the thing.

     The callout comes about halfway through the shift. Intoxicated male on the boardwalk at Echo Park Lake, bleeding from a head wound, having tripped getting out of one those damn swan boats. Dispatch warns that he’s been hostile and combative to both employees and civilians on scene, and that a police unit has also been sent to assist.

     So really, you should have been expecting it. Aggressive patients aren't exactly rare in your line of work, unfortunately. Hell, this wasn’t even the first confrontational call you attended this week. So you're pretty used to being on your guard on these kinds of calls.

     Except.

     You turned your back for only a second, just to grab something from the medkit. Buck and Eddie are doing their best to coax the patient onto the gurney, gritting their teeth as he hurls slurred curses their way. Hen quietly asks you to grab the pulse oximeter out of the bag, and so you turn, crouching down at the edge of the dock to rummage through the kit.

     You’re not sure what causes it. Why the patient decided to lash out at that exact moment. But there’s a gruff roar behind you and the man flails, edging around Eddie to give you an almighty shove. Crouched like this, your center of gravity suddenly shifts. You lose your balance.

     And then you're in the water.

     Panic floods your body as you breach the surface. It's instinct to gasp for air, except there isn't any; you take in a lungful of the lake instead, sputtering and hacking beneath the water as you try to kick towards daylight.

     It’s deeper than you thought it would be, so close to the shore. You keep kicking and kicking, but your boots never scrape the bottom, nor do you find the surface. It’s cold, too. Colder than you thought possible, in a lake in the middle of Los Angeles. But it’s winter now, you suppose. A grim, chilly February. Most of it has been spent curled up beneath a blanket with Buck, the pair of you ensconced in your cosy apartment.

     The past week has been overcast and windy. And the water is never as warm as the air temperature. Buck laughs every time you run into the surf at the beach, squealing at the sudden, sharp chill of it lapping at your skin.

     How cold can a human body become before it’s dangerous?

     You try to remember, but cold water curls around your limbs like heavy iron shackles, dragging you down. You can’t remember. Buck would know. Buck wouldn’t even have to think about it, he’d just reel off the answer in a heartbeat, and you’d smile proudly and kiss his cheek and insist, once again, that you should do a quiz night at your wedding reception.

     Your lungs are burning. God, your whole body’s just screaming for air, but you can’t find it. There isn’t any. Just endless, depthless water and the occasional wink of sunlight, mocking you from high above, then gone again. Never around long enough for you to find it. Never long enough to save you.

     Instinctively, you suck in another breath. Another barrage of lakewater floods your lungs. Dark spots start speckling across your vision.

     On the dock, Buck is screaming.

     He’d had one hand on the patient’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle as he helped Eddie guide the guy onto the stretcher. You’d ducked out of sight for a moment, but Buck had been focused on subduing the patient. He tried not to grimace as waves of hot, rancid beer breath crashed over him.

     Then, with a strength that surprised them, the man wrenched out of Buck’s grasp and staggered away from them. Buck doesn’t think he shoved you on purpose, but it didn’t matter; one moment you were suspended, wobbling dangerously close to the edge of the dock, and the next—

     The next, you were gone.

     The patient’s still yelling nonsensically, curses and insults blending together into one unintelligible mess, but all Buck can hear is white noise. He blinks, but you’re still missing. He sees the gurney, the patient, Chimney’s pale face, the ripples spreading over the surface of the lake.

     But no you.

     Terror bolts through him, and without hesitation he’s sprinting to the edge of the dock. No, no, no. Ragged breaths tear out of his lungs as he scans the surface of the water, frantically searching for any sign of you.

     You’re okay, you’re okay, he repeats under his breath, over and over. Any moment now, your head will bob into view, and you’ll shoot him a waterlogged scowl, and he’ll laugh at you doing your best impression of a drowned cat, and everything will be okay.

     But the seconds tick by, one excruciating breath after another. There’s no sign of you.

     Buck shouts your name. A heart-wrenching cry. No, no, no.

     The rest of the team leap into action. Some of them load the patient quickly into the ambulance while Bobby radios for another RA unit. Eddie scrambles to grab the life preserver as Buck tears off his jacket, kicks the heavy boots off his feet. Hen and Chimney prepare their equipment for the worst.

     Please. Please. Buck doesn’t believe in God, but he spares a moment to pray before diving into the lake after you.

     The current catches him off-guard, tugging harshly at his clothes. It rained a lot earlier this week, so the lakes and rivers around Los Angeles are more swollen than usual, but the strength of it sends a spark of fear zipping up his spine. Falling in here, disoriented and panicking…

     He can barely make out your figure through the water’s murky gloom. Kicking hard, he swims down to you, loops strong arms around your waist. Wrapped in Buck’s unrelenting grip, he drags you back to the surface.

     “Eddie!” Buck calls out as he breaks through. Eddie wastes no time in tossing the life preserver towards him, who grabs hold of it with one hand, his other arm coiled tightly around your limp body, trying to keep your head above water.

     Bile rises in his throat as your clammy skin presses against his. You’re so cold. Panic wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, hard, with every inch he gets closer to shore.

     Eddie and Bobby are quick to pull you both back to the dock, using the life preserver as a tow line. Hauling you out of the water, Buck lowers you gently to the ground. Your head rolls limply sideways, your face unnaturally pale, lips tinged blue from lack of oxygen.

     “They’re not breathing,” Hen murmurs worriedly. She sets the pulse ox on your finger while Chimney tries a sternal rub. You don’t flinch. “Respiratory arrest. Starting CPR.”

     Buck hovers at the edge of things. His chest is tight like a vise, steadily squeezing all the air of his lungs and replacing it with cold, slippery dread. He watches Hen and Chimney work over you, counts the reps in his head alongside them.

     He can’t tear his focus from your hands. They’re so still. Like a doll.

     Or a corpse.

     Please. You can’t leave him. You can’t. He hasn’t had enough time. You’re supposed to be getting married. Walk down the aisle together, spend a lifetime together. You were talking about getting a dog just last night. Planned a trip to the shelter for your next Saturday off. You were going to ask Chris to come with.

     And between one breath and the next, all of that could just be… gone.

     “Buck.” Eddie clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, wrapping a blanket around him to stave off the chill. Oh. He’s shivering, hands quivering at his sides, soaked clothes clinging to his skin. The blanket is tiny compared to Buck’s broad frame, but it’s something, at least. “Buck, breathe.”

    On the ground, Hen keeps administering rescue breaths. Every few seconds, she'll pause to check your response, but you remain frighteningly still every time.

     Buck can’t breathe until you do. He can’t.

     He feels so hyper-aware of everything around, the onslaught hitting all at once. The crowd of nosy onlookers gathered at the end of the dock, held back by frazzled park employees and a few other members of the 118. The wind ghosting over his skin, chilled gusts that ruffle his damp curls and creep beneath the blanket seeking wet skin to freeze.

     But most all, you. Always you. He can’t look away.

     Eddie’s hand on his shoulder feels like a tether, not quite breaking him from his thoughts completely but keeping him from falling over the edge of the precipice.

     “Buck, breathe.”

     His whole body shudders as does, finally, sucking a ragged breath into screaming lungs. His vision blurs just slightly. He blinks to clear it.

     You’ll make it. He cannot allow himself to think the worst. He won’t give up on you, won’t acknowledge the dark thoughts creeping in from the corners of his mind. You’ll make it. You have to.

     "Come on, kid," Chimney whispers as Hen administers another round of rescue breaths. "Come on, kid, you've got this—"

     And then between one second and the next, your whole body jolts, and you're vomiting out lungfuls of water. Hen rolls you onto your side, rubbing a soothing palm along your back as you wretch onto the ground.

     "That's it, baby, get it all out," she murmurs. You're gasping and hacking and sputtering lakewater all over the place, still not quite conscious, lips still a little blue and face still startlingly pale, but at least you're breathing.

     A wave of relief crashes over Buck and it almost takes him out at the knees. His heart’s still racing dangerously in his chest, trying to break past his ribs to reach you, and his hands still shake, but you’re breathing again.

     You’re breathing.

     He sways a little as his legs go weak. Buck feels lightheaded just witnessing you expel all that water, and sudden nausea grips his stomach in a vice. But he fights through it, unwilling to take his eyes off you for even a moment, even as his vision begins to blur again.

     Tears gather along his lash line, threatening to fall. He remains silent, not trusting that he won’t dissolve into tears the moment he opens his mouth.

     You’re still gagging, heaving onto the deck, but at least there’s no more water.

     He’s itching to reach out, touch you, feel your pulse flutter beneath his fingers to prove he’s not hallucinating. His hand twitches just slightly, like he almost does, but he feels rooted to the ground.

     Body wracked with violent tremors, you start to relax back onto the ground, limbs limp and leaden, throat and lungs burning like wildfire from the water you expelled. Your breath hitches every few seconds, still shallow and slow, so Hen fixes an oxygen mask to your face as Chimney mutters something about getting you to a hospital just as the second ambulance arrives on scene.

     You don't hear any of that. Blinking once, twice, the light is bright enough to make you squint as your mind swims hazily between waking and unconsciousness. Your head is pounding. You feel like you got hit by a goddamn truck. A pained moan whines out of you as you squeeze your eyes closed again to block out the weak, grey daylight.

     Buck bites his lip bloody as he watches you drift, your eyelids fluttering and your slow, stuttering breaths. His eyes are fixed on the oxygen mask. With every exhale, it turns foggy with condensation, and another knot of worry in his chest starts to loosen, but it’s not enough to put him at ease. Not yet.

     He’ll calm down only once you’ve been checked over at the hospital. Preferably with a second (or third) opinion, just in case.

     “Buck.” Eddie’s grip on his shoulder tightens momentarily as he nudges Buck gently forward. “They need you.”

     On the ground, you're only semi-conscious, still not fully aware of your surroundings. But you feel like you're looking for someone. Like there's someone missing, and you reach out blindly with one cold, trembling hand.

     Buck’s own fingers flex in response, but his legs still feel too heavy. He looks to Eddie, who nods at him, before Buck allows himself to be pushed towards you.

     Eddie’s right. You need him.

     Stumbling forward, he drops down to his knees, a dull thud echoing up from the wood that nearly makes him wince. He edges closer, eyes flicking all over your face, taking in your gaunt, washed out features, that cyan tint to your lips, the way you’re reaching out to him.

     Slowly, so slowly, he hesitantly takes your hand in his, curling careful fingers around yours. He squeezes tightly, and then it’s like he’s afraid someone will steal you away from him, because his grip turns almost tight enough to bruise.

     “I’m here, baby.”

     The hand encircling yours is warm and huge and comfortingly familiar, and when his voice drifts over you, something in your mind flickers with recognition. Your eyes flutter as you search for him, ignoring the way the light feels like skewers in your brain. "Buck?" Muffled by the oxygen mask, your voice is barely more than a whisper, throat rubbed raw from expelling the water.

     "Let's get her on a gurney." Hen is all business, but there's a soft, relieved smile on her face. "We'll start an IV of warm fluids in the ambulance to bring your body temp up. You weren’t down for too long, but I want to get you checked by a doctor soon in case there's any neurological issues."

     She’s addressing you, but it’s Buck who’s listening, taking in what she’s saying. He squeezes your hand again, trying to be a tether to consciousness as you weakly nod. He watches as your eyes search for him again.

     “You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

     It’s more to reassure himself than anything.

     They're quick to transfer you to a gurney, and soon you're being wheeled towards the ambulance. Buck's hand in yours is a comforting anchor to reality, even as your whole body aches with pain.

     "Cold," you mutter once the doors have closed. Chimney's driving. Buck's in the back with you and Hen. You wouldn't have let go of his hand if they'd even tried to separate you, but they didn’t.

     Buck watches over you like he’s scared you’ll stop breathing if looks away. The lines of his fave are still creased with worry, but his thumb is soft, tracing soothing, mindless circles over your skin.

     When you speak his head snaps up slightly, eyes immediately locking with yours as you call out for him, murmuring in a raspy voice that you’re cold.

     “I know, it’s okay. Here, let me.” Hen wordlessly passes him a heated blanket and he’s gentle as he strips you of your wet shirt. Expertly avoiding the leads and tubes attached to your body, he tucks it around you, still holding your hand all the while.

     "Mm." You make a small, pleased noise as the blanket's warmth envelops you. It barely registers when Hen reaches across to take your other hand, wincing a little as she inserts a cannula to start you on an IV of warm fluids.

     "ER is ten minutes out," she murmurs quietly, and settles back to monitor your vital signs, offering you and Buck a little privacy.

     You're still shivering beneath the blanket, even as the warmth of it starts seeping into your bones, but that's more of an aftereffect of drowning than actual cold. You squeeze your fiancé's hand as hard as you can. "Buck?"

     “Right here, baby,” he murmurs softly, squeezing right back. His free hand moves to your head, fingers gently running through your damp, tangled hair.

     "Wanna marry you."

     The words that spill out of you are little more than a mumble, your eyes still closed, face still hidden beneath the oxygen mask. Soaked strands of hair drip murky lake water onto the floor.

     Buck is already your fiancé. You're already engaged. But there's an urgency settling in your gut, twisting up your insides in the worst way.

     You want— no, need to marry him.

     As soon as possible.

     It takes a few seconds to understand what you said, but when the words finally register, it feels like they’ve grown talons that tear right into his chest. The urgency in your tone makes his eyes still, and his heart starts to race all over again, threatening to beat right out of his chest so it can live next to yours.

     Eyes softening, he moves his hand from your hair to rest his index finger under your chin, gently tracing his thumb over your lip.

     “Marry me, huh?” he mumbles softly. You’d never be able to tell that on the inside, his brain is screaming gleefully that he’d marry you right now if Hen were ordained.

     He taps your nose over the oxygen mask, and if you were a little more awake (and not encumbered by the oxygen mask), you’d nip at his finger, a playful smile toying at your lips.

     Instead, you make the cutest grumbling sound he’s ever heard. "Mm. Now.” Your engagement ring is tucked safely in your locker back at the station, replaced on shift by a black silicone band that won't get damaged on a call.

     You squeeze his hand again, tugging insistently on it. Blinking against the harsh light of the ambulance, your gaze finds his, eyes still foggy and unfocused. “Marry me.”

     If another day passes before you’re married to this man, you may actually lose your mind.

     Butterflies swirl around Buck’s stomach, a far cry from nausea that rolled through him not that long ago. The small smile on your lips and the way you’re tugging on his hand make him feel all warm and gooey.

     He laughs softly at you, tapping his finger against your nose again. “Right now? We’re gonna get married right now? With you in the hospital?” He’s got no hope of masking the amusement in his tone. He wants to marry you yesterday. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you with a quirked brow.

     You nod a little, trying not to wince as that sets off the pounding in your head. God, you pity those who get regular migraines. This is torture, and you only suffered a little oxygen deprivation!

     But Buck is smiling.

     He’s smiling and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You thought you'd never see it again. You want to see that smile every moment for the rest of your life

     "Mm-hm," you mumble, leaning into his touch. "Eddie can be flower girl. Wedding night in a hospital room. Scandalise the nurses."

     You're not sure how much of that was coherent, but you hear Hen snort, so you figure it was mostly audible.

     Buck’s grin broadens at your suggestion, but he bites his tongue to stifle the laugh bubbling in his chest. “Scandalise the nurses, huh.” He glances at Hen out of the corner of his eye, catching her trying to smother a similar smile.

     You huff at him, as if he’s being particularly difficult. As if you didn’t almost die twenty minutes ago. As if there aren’t more important things to focus on than the elopement you’ve suddenly decided you need.

     Besides. They’re nurses. You’re pretty sure they’ve seen worse.

     “Sucked your dick in the broom closet at work,” you mutter, your eyes falling closed again as warmth and safety wrap you up like a swaddled baby. “We’re pretty scandalous, baby.”

     Hen is barely able to muffle her squawk in time, hand clapped over her mouth, and you can't help but smile at the bright sound of it. You're sleepy, and you've got no filter, but at least everyone else gets to enjoy it.

     Buck, meanwhile, almost chokes on his own saliva. Eyes wide, jaw slack, a rosy flush creeps up his neck. It’s Hen’s reaction that makes him laugh, though, and he finally lets it out, quiet but affectionate as it tumbles from his lips.

     He shakes his head a little as he looks back down at you. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” His thumb keeps tracing lightly over the back of your hand, and the expression on his face is impossibly soft, his heart still racing in his chest.

     "Eddie in a pretty pink flower girl dress," you mumble, nonsensical images flitting through your mind of your friend drowning in tulle. You sigh. "You'd still be prettier. Just wanna marry you."

     The way he’s looking at you makes you feel warmer than any blanket. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud instead of stretched out on a gurney in the back of an ambulance.

     You want nothing more than to curl up in his arms right now, at home in your bed. This situation is certainly not ideal.

     "Bet we could get Eddie to wear a dress." More sleepy grumbles. You try to roll over, shuffle closer to your fiancé, but annoyingly, your body feels far too heavy to cooperate. "Play the I nearly drowned card. That would work. Bobby can officiate. Hen gets the cake. Can't wait another day."

     Buck snorts at the idea of Eddie in a dress, but his heart feels so full it’s like his body can barely contain it. The urge to wrap you up in his arms, to hold you close and never let go, hits him like a baseball bat to the head.

     “We gotta wait until you’re able to talk without being a smartass,” he says teasingly, tapping your nose again.

     You whine, frowning like a grumpy, tired child. “Then we’ll never get married.”

     Truly, if you have to wait for until the day you stop being a smartass, the world might end first.

     You look over at Hen through sleepy, puppy dog eyes. "Back me up here, Hen." You're so drowsy, exhaustion pulling you into its delicious embrace, but you’re pretty sure you'll remember all of this when you wake up.

     Hen certainly will, at least.

     A slow, sly smile creeps onto her face. Buck feels distinctly like he’s being ganged up on. For once, he really doesn’t mind.

     "Well, we as a firehouse are well-known for our impromptu party planning..." Hen recalls her vow renewal, and Chimney's wedding to Maddie, and every back-to-work celebration she ever organised. They are pretty damn good at this. "As long as the doctors clear you, I don't see why we can't plan a shotgun wedding in your hospital room."

     A triumphant, extremely sleepy grin spreads across your face, and you look back at Buck. "So marry me, hotshot."

     He huffs a melodramatic sigh, as if this is the world’s biggest inconvenience for him, but he cannot hide the way his ears turn pink, the way his whole body lights up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

     “A shotgun hospital wedding it is,” he says, bright with glee as he lifts your hand to his mouth, brushing a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

     With that settled, contentment curls up beneath your ribs like a cat in a patch of sunlight, and you doze off into a dreamless sleep, feeling like the luckiest person alive.

[velvetvexations]

i was listed in the original transandrophobia truthers blocklist by transmisogyny/-/explained. i was 15 with a tiny blog of 6 followers and i had only dipped my toe into transandrophobia theory and reblogged like 4 posts about it. i woke up one day to over 200 followers and saw that i had been tagged in the blocklist. i appeared in the second tmra blocklist too, but not in any others. but like it shook me enough to basically shut me up about transandrophobia. i suffer from mild paranoia but suddenly exploding in recognition triggered a bad paranoia episode. i had lots of harassing anons and i didn't know what to do. i was on tumblr to have fun, i saw someone talking about the specific challenges transmascs face and it really resonated with me so i reblogged a few posts about it, i had zero idea how much drama surrounded transandrophobia until i was in the fucking blocklist. and now i can't speak about it on my blog because of the paranoia it triggers.

transradfems are saying that callout posts against them are transmisogynistic but then the tmra blocklists have hundreds if not thousands of notes and bully people like me into shutting up. it's so hypocritical

I'm sorry, I know what it's like to have paranoia stuck in you real deep after you've been harassed like that. I'm still dealing with what I went through on Tumblr over a decade ago. Your voice matters and I hope you feel comfortable expressing your opinions in the future, but even if you keep your head down you're still a good person who didn't deserve the scars they gave you.

[rolyjulioli]

ARTISTS BEWARE

Didn't wanna have to do this but apparently he's still going at it.

Block these accounts. Full story below.

CONTENT WARNING FOR ABLEISM, R*PE THREATS, SEXUAL HARASSMENT

Two days ago i got a dm from him, asking me for a drawing. I explained that i don't do such for free and take c*mmissions, and how i had them closed as all slots were filled up.

This was when he started nagging me over how he didn't wanna wait, and despite me trying to reason as clearly as i could he would not take no for an answer. it was when i put my foot down that he started acting rude

More nonsense. This was when i blocked him.

Cue him now making several instantly to send me more messages. first it started out mild, then he moved onto ableism, and then the infamous r*pe threat i posted about yesterday (fun)

I forgot to screenshot his messages afterwards bc they got way more disturbing but after that, he started to s3xually harass me along with making an alt impersonating me. this went on for a few more alts until he seemingly stopped after nonstop blocking

Turns out he wasn't done, just a few min ago he sent me yet another vulgar message. and now we're here. like i said i didn't wanna give him further attention. i really didnt. but atp i wanna be left the fuck alone.

Putting this in certain fandom tags bc he's had other callouts on him, and said callouts were directed towards ppl in these fandoms. please stay safe yall!

[crippled-peeper]

me a guy with a severe physical deformity that’s been visible for 20 years: I am deformed and I don’t mind being called deformed

person with mild in-toeing: that’s actually an offensive slur and I demand you kill yourself right now to apologize to everyone you just offended. fucking gross you’re so evil. callout time

[astranite]

Love is Stored in the Pasta

Scott, John and pasta.

This started off from a tumblr post 'cause somebody needed to cook that guy some pasta!!

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, really very mild scott is hangrysad, ft john's space issues, Chronic Illness, as thats what im treating it as and its not the focus here he's just living with it, Scott Tracy has ADHD, this is important, Autistic John Tracy, lowkey here but also Important to me, this is fun and fluffy and i love them, i hope this is like a warm comforting bowl of pasta to you too

---

“We need to talk,” John said.

On the other side of the call, Scott’s hologram slumped over his desk, his head landing in his hands. “Oh God.”

“I found your search history…” John began.

Scott peered out sheepishly from behind his fingers. “I can explain!”

“It’s just pages and pages of pasta?” 

John was puzzled, honestly. Five to ten recipe blogs and that was Scott trying to decide what to make for dinner during a meeting or while he was struggling to concentrate on work. During lulls between callouts, he and John would sometimes debate options together. More than forty separate sites visited at 3:12pm on a Tuesday afternoon and Eos had flagged it for John, on suspicion that Scott’s computer had been hacked by a malicious entity or some other AI virus.

Scott went from double facepalm of despair to full on faceplant, his head hitting the desk with an audible thunk.

“Why so much pasta?” John questioned. Now his curiosity was piqued, he couldn’t let it go or he’d be doing EVA work later, still turning over possibilities in his mind, which wasn’t conducive to the constant concentration needed while floating around in the vacuum. Outside, any misstep would be your last.

“I dunno. I just feel like pasta,” Scott mumbled into the wood.

Scott sounded…weird. Like he was about to start laughing, or coming down with a cold.

“Scott? Are you okay?”

It had better not be another flu; corralling Scott to take care of himself was hard enough even if he wasn’t feverish. John wouldn’t be able to come down either, quarantined up in Five unless he already had it. Was the slight tug of a headache at his temples from his sinuses beginning to clog up too?

Scott hadn’t looked up yet; his shoulders were shaking. John wiggled his fingers anxiously.

“Scotty?”

Big brother’s head shot up at the nickname John so rarely used. Had John intended to provoke that reaction? The name had been a slip of the tongue but if he was was honest, he sort of had meant to jar Scott out of his thoughts. He never called Scott, Scotty unless he was scared though. And Scott not answering him did tick tick tick up his system from yellow alert into red.

“I’m fine, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Scott’s words ran over each other in an attempt to come first. His voice sounded oddly wet.

Tears, yes those were indeed tears dulled by holographic format, tumbled down Scott’s cheeks.

As soon as he saw John looking, Scott turned away.

Suddenly, John landed on the spark of insight that he had a hunch would crack the code to his big brother’s distress. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

Scott dug around for tissues in a drawer of the desk and gave a half shrug. “I guess not—not really? I tried to before you say anything. Got a mouthful of breakfast in and then there was a call out. Lunch didn’t happen, there was a meeting, I had to make coffee, I ran out of time. I don’t really feel hungry though…”

That did explain a few things. It was well known family lore that Virgil and Alan got hangry, and Gords went all sad and mopey. Scott and John himself though, they got …really, unstably emotional. 

So yeah, hence the unexpected bursting into tears. John got the whole shit interoception and not even noticing if you needed to eat while you were buried in work thing; Scott was way too used to ignoring his body too. 

John took a deep breath. “Scott, and I’m one-hundred percent serious about this, do you want me to come down there and make you some pasta?”

Thunderbird Five systems whirred around John in the quiet as Scott hesitated.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “Or you don’t have to, I’ll wait, Virge’ll be doing dinner in a bit anyway.”

“Virgil won’t be up until past sunset after the hours Thunderbird Two was out yesterday and into this morning,” John said gently. “You need to eat before then.”

Nor would an overwhelmed Scott and the kitchen be a good combination at this point, and John saw the moment Scott realised this, while fidgeting with the rubix cube on his desk. 

“I want to do this for you,” John told him.

Scott dashed at his eyes, sniffled a few times and finally capitulated. “Okay. Thanks, Jay.”

John smiled and signed off, heading for the space elevator. He was usually so far away, he was right now, but it was in his power to close off that distance when he needed to and today he could use that. 

He farewelled Eos; she so often missed him but the opportunities to run the space station on her own that weren’t emergencies where he was incapacitated excited her. They showed how much he had come to trust and rely on her. Plus she got full reign of their virtual chess set.

On Earth, Scott was waiting for him as the elevator docked, his hands stuck casually in his jeans pockets but looking as pale and wobbly as John felt. His face was still tearstained.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too.” John took a few heavy steps before throwing himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly, all the while careful not to knock him off balance. Scott stiffened then melted into John. 

Usually that interaction went the other way around. 

Scott used the extra height space gave John to rest his head on him without having to duck down like with everyone else. John hugged him close and comfortingly as his fingers tap tap tapped their rhythm at Scott’s shoulder. All of it meant I love you.

“Pasta time?” John said eventually.

Scott nodded silently, following when John started off towards the kitchen. The raw rock wall of the hanger was rough and vividly solid in its three dimensions, as John ran his hand along it for balance as he walked that initial part. He was touching the Earth, he was in the Earth, he was on Earth.

With cold water from the fridge dispenser and the fizzy, brightly coloured tablets shook out of their tube, John made up lidded cups of electrolyte drink for himself and Scott. John needed to be sculling the stuff perpetually to stay upright down here, and he would not be at all surprised if Scott was dehydrated too. It might to something for John’s headache, could go either way for the nausea coming on.

He put a large pot on the heat. One advantage of having a stove so high powered that it could nuke anything it touched was that any volume of water boiled fast. 

An entire packet of fettuccine got tipped into the enthusiastic cacophony of bubbles. John poked at it with a pasta scoop, regretting that he hadn’t snapped the long pieces to actually fit in better. Ah well. 

He shook in an excessive-to-anyone-not-him amount of salt with a shrug ‘cause he needed it, before having another go at separating the pasta. The pasta scoop was quite an effective implement for that, there were reasons after all it was Gordon’s favourite utensil as John remembered from previous discussions. One could also use it to mash potatoes when held vertically, if one so pleased. His second favourite was the tongs as they could be clicked like crab claws and used to pinch unsuspecting siblings. 

Scott watched from his place slumped over the kitchen bench on a stool, chewing on the ragged skin at the edge of his thumbnail. He was trying to work on a couple of screens pulled up as holomonitors, as unsuccessfully as could be expected. John came over and hopped up to sit on the bench, clipping through the projected email inbox and meeting minutes so Scott dismissed them. It was with a sigh of relief.

They smiled tiredly at each other.

The pasta! John tapped at his uniform comms watch. “Eos, set a timer for the pasta, please?” John shaved the minute that had already passed off of the box time and then another couple to ensure it wouldn’t come out mushy.

“So what sort of stuff on pasta do you feel like? There’s a good lot of options you were looking at earlier.”

“We don’t have the ingredients for most of those, I checked. No eggs and no mushrooms so no carbonara. Technically that wouldn’t be authentic carbonara though. No cream cheese. We missed this week’s supply run so we don’t even have any frozen peas!” Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“Hmmm. You feel like something creamy?”

“Yeah. Honestly at this point I’d eat anything.”

John swung his legs and tapped his fingers on the counter while he thought.

“I believe some bacon is hiding in the bottom of the freezer so that’s something. And…” he trailed of as he moved his head too fast and set off a wave of dizziness as he looked around the kitchen.

“Avocado!” Scott exclaimed.

“Avocado?”

“Funny story, we ended up with several cases of them after that rescue on that farm where we saved the whole village and nearly all their trees from catastrophic flooding. They really need eating too and there’s only so much toast you can stand.”

“I have heard theoretically of putting avo on pasta and it does sound good. Mmmm bacon and avocado, John hummed. “Worth a shot?”

Scott reached towards the fruit bowl in answer, grinning at John. “Soon we will have pasta!”

John peeled off the upper half of his uniform and tied the arms around his waist in preparation. In the subtropical summer down here he was already getting too hot and while the temperature regulation built into his suit would do its best to make up for his own body’s lack thereof, it felt weird to have everything covered up from fingertips to neck down here while he was cooking.

Scott began to giggle.

“Huh?” John said, extremely eloquently.

Scott gestured at him. 

“My suit?” Was something up with his suit? The full gloved hands and sleeves flopping about without John in them had been known to amuse the lot of them on occasion, ever since he’d used the empty suit as a phoney decoy of himself to trick Eos. It was pretty funny now no one was in mortal peril and Eos was his friend.

“Your face!” Scott exclaimed.

“What’s wrong with my face?” 

John frowned. Was it his fringe that never could survive true gravity? He hadn’t gotten freckles while he’d been down all of half an hour and inside, had he? Then he looked down.

His t-shirt had a photograph of his face printed on it, and across the chest, emblazoned in neon orange read the words ‘Space Face’, courtesy of one particular fish brother. Ah yes. That.

John sighed, resting his chin on his hand to hide the smile he couldn’t quite control. “Not exactly subtle, is it? In my defence this was the only one in my closet that was clean and you can’t exactly see it beneath my suit. It’s all Gordon’s fault anyway!”

Scott was still laughing, albeit a touch hysterically and at him, but John took it as a win regardless.

Eventually Scott grabbed himself a cutting board and knife to get to work on the avocados as John carefully slipped off the bench, steadying himself on the counter as his ankles went noodley so he could handle the bacon. 

Bacon, bacon, now where had he seen that bacon? He had the image of it in his head, but that was only one piece of the puzzle, a photograph, humanly imperfect, memory woven out of instinct. Digging about in the deep freeze which the evidence pointed to as best John could tell had his fingers feeling like he’d stuck them out in space with out gloves on. They ached sharply as John cursed his crappy circulation. 

He gladly found the bacon though, lurking at the second darkest depths. He would not be willing to venture into the midnight zone of Unidentified Frozen Objects and charred dinner leftovers put away for ‘later’. He chucked the packet into the microwave and thawed out his hands by running them under lukewarm water, wincing all the while. If he’d thought this through, if he’d been smart enough, he would’ve put his suit gloves back on—his space rated, cold proof, most definitely impervious to domestic appliances gloves— and saved himself the pain.

Scott came over to rinse his avocado green hands. He dried them off then wrapped his arms around John’s waist so he could lean on him, giving in for a moment in face of daunting gravity. With Scott, he could because Scott got him; they both could.

“You alright?” And there was big brother smotherhen coming out.

John flexed his defrosted fingers. “I will be.” He turned and smushed his face into Scott’s neck for a little bit, hugging back, Scott rested his head on John’s, and they stayed there for a while.

They were both fading. The pasta would help with that, Scott really needed to eat and so did John at this point, the half a dry bagel for breakfast and another at lunch hadn’t really been enough. The trick now was finishing the task that felt as if it expanding faster by the second than the Universe, as measured by the Hubble Constant was. They could do this though. Together.

Scott chopped up the bacon roughly and John cooked it, hissing back when it spat hot oil at him. 

When Eos notified them the timer had gone off, and John had very scientifically tested the pasta was done by nomming on a bit, he called Scott over carry the large pot to the colander in the sink to strain. 

“Gravity plus boiling water plus my space noodley arms are probably not a good combo,” he laughed. 

He was getting better at knowing his limits. Scott’s smile was small and proud, he saw John.

Scott stared at the bacon with the intensity of a starved wolf with its mouth watering, then stole some pieces hot from the pan and burnt his mouth. Scoff Tracy strikes again. 

They dumped the pasta in a big mixing bowl with the mashed avocado, a little lemon juice, the bacon, and a whole lot of salt, pepper and parmesan cheese, mixing it together with the big pasta scoop.

John swayed on his feet then, grabbing onto Scott to stay upright for long enough to decide actually the best place for him right now was sitting on the kitchen floor just here. John folded himself down to the ground in a slithering pile of too long, too bendy limbs, Scott wordlessly guiding his descent. 

“You want me to grab some sporks to eat with?”

“They’re splayds, technically,” John remarked. He gave Scott the thumbs up anyway, while he rested his spinning head on his knees.

Scott waved about his ‘sporks’ acquired from the cutlery draw with a victorious grin before he sunk to the ground to join John.

John took one, passing the pasta to Scott once he was settled, lanky legs stretched out for miles, bumping into John’s.

“We forgot plates,” Scott said.

John shrugged. “At this point, who cares. We have pasta.”

“We do.” Scott blinked for a moment. “I didn’t before and I wouldn’t’ve but now we do.”

He hugged the warm pasta bowl to his chest, and when John observed more closely he saw the tears collecting on Scott’s eyelashes, sparkling in the kitchen light as he looked up at John.

“Thanks. I love you so much, Jay.”

John gave him a gentle smile, ducking to knock his forehead against his brother’s shoulder like a cat. “Love is stored in the pasta.”

Scott smiled back at him and they both dug in.

It was good pasta.

Really good pasta, because he was here with Scott and through everything they had made it, together.

[dragonageconfessions]

The performative moralizing of this fandom is exhausting. Are there grifters and people overly critical? Sure. But even expressing mild concern for some of the news coming out rallies cries of “Oh so you want the game to FAIL? You want the devs to LOSE THEIR JOBS?? You expect them to TAILOR THE GAME TO WHAT YOU WANT?” It’s ridiculous. Not even the nitpickers are asking for any of those things, and I’m EXCITED for the new game. But I shouldnt have to get snide anons sent at me just for not being blindly happy at any crumb of news given me.

Obviously, discourse of all kinds is on the rise with a new game out, and some Dragon Age fans are fending off rude messages -- or sending them, or receiving and sending them. General fandom-critical callouts are no fun for anyone so unless it's specific and not an attack on fans for the devs, please just know that you're not alone but that this is perhaps not the best space to scream into a pillow about feeling done with fellow fans. The people who follow this blog are Dragon Age fans. I'd also suggest that everyone expand your fandom horizons if you're not having a good time. Places like Tumblr and Bluesky and Pillowfort (etc) allow you to control what you see and which accounts you follow. Existing in a fan community and enjoying yourself is entirely possible, and probably a lot more fun than what some folks are experiencing.

[florenceisfalling]

to my followers unaware of what the fuck im talking about re: toonimal, txttletale, and tyler

tw for csa and transmisogyny

edit: check comments after reading

toonimal aka ezra orena is a tumblr user who also ran a website for "big three" paraphiles (pedo/necro/zoo), including those who are pro-contact and including minors. this obviously led to a bunch of pedophiles sexually engaging with minors and exchanging abuse material.

ezra was already known for being pro-contact in some spaces and had been called out for it. ezra was thus banned on aethy, which is an 18+ proship website, i assume due to the following rules:

there was mild pushback to the fact that aethy also banned ezra's callout, not just ezra; however, this was due to the fact that spreading a callout about ezra's website would also spread links to a pro-csa space:

despite the aethy ban, ezra wasn't called out in the mainstream (to my knowledge) until more recently, when a super huge google doc rolled in with evidence of the abusive behaviors on his website

also despite this, when this doc dropped, some people targeted and doxxed a completely unrelated moderator of aethy for something they had no involvement in.

the google doc. is bad. i understand the good intentions, but it includes irrelevant fantasy as evidence and, more importantly, does not censor victim names. it also does exactly what aethy mods were seeking to avoid by providing a platform for this site, rather than sending it to the proper authorities and letting it get handled properly. statement from an aethy mod:

however, the doc includes lots of evidence for toonimal and his site's users being abusers. its Bad. really really really bad.

because many people did not know toonimal was advocating for abuse prior to the doc being shared, toonimal had some popular posts on tumblr.

one of these posts is a post about "killing the cop in your head" re: accusing people of being degenerate or dangerous over fetishes and kinks that are taboo. while the post might seem weird with the context that ezra is a pedophile, this post was incredibly popular among people who didn't realize. it was just a solid discourse post at the time:

in fact, i checked, and i reblogged this post back in the summer, before i knew that toonimal was advocating for pedophilic contact. this post was not part of some "niche pedophile community." this post currently has 19,000+ notes. it does not mention contact with children. it mentions kink and shipping. drastically different from the content on ezra's site!

and even if you did elect to check ezra's about page before posting, ezra isn't an "open" pedophile. there's a reason his site was secret.

neither of these things mention paraphilias. you have to click on a separate link in the about page to see the tags/warnings that mention lolicon (which is fiction anyway) or illegal paraphilias. even after clicking on those, ezra still upheld on tumblr at the time that he was anti-contact.

the above screenshot is from 3 months ago. now, ezra posts things in the pro-contact vein, but again: he was denying this three months ago. his post was popular even back six months ago. in fact, ezra denied he was pro-contact a week ago, but when evidence popped up he just resorted to insults.

now that we've established that ezra being a pedo was not common knowledge and his post was literally just a popular kink discourse post...

tumblr user txttletale aka healed, who is a trans woman, reblogged it with the following comment months ago:

and later makes a post expressing her opinion on games like stardew valley having somewhat problematic elements to them. in response...

random tumblr cis gay man gets mad and says that healed aka txttletale "markets incest shipping and loliporn as an inherent part of queer sexuality" because she reblogged the toonimal post with 19k notes MONTHS before ezra was called out

reread the toonimal post. there is no mention of loliporn.

even if there was, thats a drawing. its fiction. just like the farming simulator is fiction. who cares

roadhogsbigbelly then doubles down and says that, well, healed might not have mentioned loli, but ezra would support loli. the problem is, again, ezra was not even entirely open about this. why on earth would healed be endorsing that solely by reblogging ezra's post?

then, people start to accuse healed of being in a secret pedophile community with ezra and other popular trans women on tumblr, like predstrogen and maia crimew

a bunch of them notably being from a group of bloggers who love to harass people over stupid shit, be exclusionists, and make conspiracy theories about "closet pedos" and generally just talk shit about anyone they deem below them - especially tgirl bloggers

most of this harassment operates on the idea that healed was mutuals with ezra or aware of ezra's behavior, meanwhile she reblogged ezra's post 3 reblogs down a chain and literally didn't directly interact with ezra at all. neither of them followed each other

people also brought up healed's past controversies, most of which have been apologized for or were simply not fucking relevant

even if healed did follow ezra, the insistence that loli aka drawings is what is sooo sketchy about ezra rather than the fact that he had a site full of ADULTS INTERACTING SEXUALLY WITH REAL MINORS is absolutely fucking batshit

also healed has posted stuff against loli and proship fic/art before. healed literally doesn't approve of that stuff fucking anyway which is imo hypocritical to the kink thing but still proves the accusations against her are false

roadhog guy continues doubling down on how ageplay/cnc/incest shipping/etc is Bad; yet argues that pup play is fine. he thinks ageplay is pedophilia but zoophilia isnt a problem to this guy i guess

despite the fact that the guy who made the pedo website is a trans dude and the victims in the doc were overwhelmingly transfem, random trans women who had no idea ezra was a creep are becoming the main targets of a ridiculous harassment campaign. its such blatant fucking transmisogyny it makes me want to crack my skull open

the neotrances/tyler friend group continues to be weird about it, including getting furious that healed defended herself from pedophilia allegations rather than vetting literally every blog she interacts with or trying to needlessly battle against adults engaging in consensual kink

i hate all of this. so deeply

ultimately my opinions are

ezra has done so many completely fucking awful things and deserves every inch of the backlash he received. he deserves no support for all of this. avoiding him seems to be the best course of action at the moment. part of that involves letting the legal shit go down rather than trying to out-twitter him and his friends over sex crimes. his site probably already had feds on it tbh.

having paraphilic feelings isnt a crime, but involving real children is. genuinely fuck all of the adults on ezra's site

aethy and its moderators experienced targeted harassment over shit they were uninvolved with. this included doxxing and harassing their families. this is especially cruel since they seem to be one of the few sources of common sense in the situation

the targeting of healed, avery, maia, and others: completely just transmisogyny. this shit is insane and nobody should be held to the batshit standards they were held to. please pay attention to this shit and dont let it happen again. don't let stupid discourse un-person a trans woman for something she literally didn't do.

raging about loli/ageplay/whatever the fuck is completely stupid, especially in this situation. when faced with an actual group of pedophiles who are targeting actual, living and breathing children, why do people scream about the fictional expressions of abuse rather than the real-world examples of it?

again. so much of this is just transmisogyny.

fuck tyler and his little clique . all to hell

the people who spread the doc tended to treat csa as a joke. the doc put victims on blast. the doc mishandled evidence.

apologies for any inaccuracies im somewhat late to the ordeal

[necromancelena]

Callouts failed when they went from “this person has an established predatory modus operandi and uses this site to find victems, PSA please stay safe if this this person starts interacting with you they could hurt you” to “interacting with this person is icky stay clean keep feeling clean don’t interact with the icky”

I'm going to be honest I remain unconvinced that there has ever been a time when people weren't using the language of the former when actually expressing the latter. The purpose of a system is what it does. If there is a specific framework of post designed to unperson a specific kind of hypothetical "bad person", there is no scenario in which that framework isn't going to be abused.

Ultimately the term "callout" is too vague to even have a cohesive stance on though. I've seen it used to describe anything from mild criticisms to whole tomes of vitriol explicitly designed to get someone killed.

I don't know. These days I don't even feel comfortable mentioning people that have actively harassed me by their usernames at the risk of getting hate spread their way. I can't really imagine the appeal of singling out a person and then posting about how much they suck. I don't even care if the person they're calling out does suck. I just don't feel safe around anyone that posts like that.

[bookwyrminspiration]

im gonna be real with you i did expect some amount of confusion and blocking but i didn't expect a whole callout??? ToT

all i do is make silly drawings... it's not that deep...

but if this is how people are discovering me: hi! im cg (ghost if we're friends), ive been in this fandom for a while now, and i used to be a lot more active a few years ago.

to clear up some things, i dont consider myself a proshipper (i find anti/pro labels useless) and yes, i have been making "problematic" kotlc content for a long time. im very well aware that it's unhealthy/gross/whatever word you want to use, it's just what i find interesting and i don't feel the need to apologize for that.

i honestly didn't expect the tam/linh post to create the stir it did--my "darker" works have usually just slid by unnoticed in the past and i expected that to happen again. and while i don't personally care what people think about my art, (or fics for that matter) i am upset that people decided to "call out" one of my friends for?? reblogging a very mild artwork??

this is the internet, you're going to run into things you don't like, and other people are not responsible for your online experience. filter tags, block, and move on.

back to you quil: sorry for using your blog as a microphone but uh. you do have a larger following than i do and i just wanted to clear some things up. and tysm for your posts on the matter <3 (and thank you to everyone else who's made one!)

sorry to everyone who uses the kotlc tag on the regular, i hope this little stir doesn't stick around for long.

No worries! I've got no problem serving as. whatever you want to call it. a microphone, a mediator, in-between, etc. People have done it before and will do it again.

And yes, sorry to those new and those more marginal and to the regulars who woke up to this. It happens from time to time, and will undoubtedly happen again. Just life

Especially sorry if its your first bigger discourse, as there's a lot of new people in the fandom--it's never as serious as it feels, and it will blow over. It always does

And, while my availability is currently limited, I'm more than happy to talk as I can. anons are on, too :)

[hostilemuppet]

The Twitter Drama AU Timeline

finally, after months, we finally have a timeline. this is not exhaustive (i tried to mainly include the super important parts, and some less important parts i thought were REALLY funny), and is probably only 75% accurate due to the non-linear nature we wrote the fic in to begin with, but it is better than nothing! updated as of chapter 10 (low hanging fruits)

12th March 2023: Tiny Diamond is born, Creek is his other dad, which is kept a secret from everyone except Guy and Creek.

November 2023: The events of Band Together, almost completely identical. Following which, Brozone get back together and start working on their reunion album. Now that Branch is in the spotlight, Barb is forced to acknowledge her ex girlfriend (one night stand) Poppy is a lot happier with a transfem butch, which sparks Barb’s descent into terfism. Val and Creek briefly see each other.

December 2023: John Dory gets his Twitter confiscated by Clay. Floyd gets his sex tape leaked (by Creek). Clay throws Viva under the bus for the first time. Clay accidentally gets Bruce accused of cheating on his wife, but they pin it on Branch, who just organised a fake breakup with Poppy because he was uncomfortable with all the smutfic. Riff leaves Barb’s band, and collabs with Creek but calls him an asshole. Velvet gets out of prison and writes a callout thread on Floyd. Floyd gets cancelled for the first time. Creek and Floyd start seeing each other in secret.

January 2024: Val publicly comes out as nonbinary and is kicked out of Barb’s band, then outs Barb as a nepo baby as revenge. JD tries to sneak back onto stantwt but is doxxed. Floyd tells Branch about his relationship with Creek; Branch is surprisingly fine with it as long as Creek is suffering, and boy does he suffer.

February 2024: A misunderstanding leads everyone to think Branch broke up with Poppy because he’s a gay man. He comes out as a lesbian but is immediately met with vitriol of both the exclusionist and transmisogynistic varieties. Barbtwt have a bone to pick with Hickory but he comes out on top. Clay throws Viva under the bus again but this time she's had enough, and releases an expose video on him and kicks him out of the pod. Viva and Floyd become BFFs.

March 2024: Dating rumours about Smidge and Poppy start, which Smidge does nothing to help. Barb accuses Smidge’s actual boyfriend of being a pedophile, and gets ratio’d. Creek and Floyd go public with their relationship.

June 2024: Guy Diamond gets into controversy after soliciting a camgirl and his family vlog channel goes on hiatus. Clay and Viva get back together, and Viva records revenge porn of him to “keep him in line”.

August 2024: Biggie gets into mild controversy that escalates into cancelation when he responds in character as Mr Dinkles. Clay and Vivas relationship becomes undeniably abusive, but they’re really good at hiding it.

September 2024: Floyd and Creek get married! Satin & Chenille have Velvet on their podcast. Guy Diamond gets cancelled after being outed as Pro-Life. 

15th December 2024: Floyd and Creek have twins, Brad and Angelina [LASTNAME]-[LASTNAME2-.

April 2025: Creek and Floyd drop all pretences of thinking they’re a healthy couple.

12th May 2025: Creek aborts his second egg. They would have been named Shiloh. Floyd is distraught and gets harassed on Twitter again for being Pro-Life.

August 2025: Creek and Floyd divorce.

September 2025: It comes to light that DJ Suki is stealing from her niece CJ.

December 2025: Creek and Floyd get back together. Val stops hiding their racism from twitter and get doxxed by KPop fans. They have to live with their mother.

January 2026: Harper starts drawing Bruce as a transphobic caricature, a skinny feminine twink.

February 2025: Viva stops taking birth control. Branch gets doxxed for the first time (by Cloud Guy). Dante starts stalking Branch.

March 2026: jdtwt find out that JD used to have a thing with Delta Dawn, and harass her a bit. The two get back in touch, and Delta tells JD that they actually had a kid together (Holly Darling). JD is thrilled about being a dad. Holly is initially apprehensive but eventually comes around. JD gives Delta Cooties (it’s okay, there’s a cure). Sky Toronto buys Twitter.Crimp gets run off the internet for uncomfortable roleplay with Tiny Diamond (pretending to be 14). Velvet gets cancelled for workplace abuse. Smidge starts queerbaiting by selling merch of referencing her and Poppy’s fake relationship.

April 2026: Tiny Diamond reveals he is not actually 14, he is physically 3 years old (but for our purposes he is functionally 9 because Trolls age weird). He loses all his OOMFs (CJ, Preiscilla, Keith (all approx 13)) and has his account suspended. Branch gets really jealous over Smidge and publicly shittalks her. He and Poppy “get back together” but set the “boundary” that any smutfic about either of them can only be Broppy (obviously not everyone follows this rule).

May 2026: Cloud Guy leaks Smidge’s miscarriage after being paid off by Barbtwt. Branch gets doxxed for the third time. Poppy demands Sky Toronto take action so he permabans Cloud Guy’s IP. Cloud Guy goes to live with his parents.

June 2026: Gust Tumbleweed is violently homophobic to Synth during an LGBT charity event, but faces no consequences because he starts flirting with his fellow straight male friends again. Poppy gets sick of Dante stalking Branch so she prepares to take matters into her own hands. Holly Darlin starts selling snake oil, from the same company that supplies for Satin & Chenille. Holly and Satin start dating.

July 2026: Satin & Chenille (both Creek’s exes) are invited to the Floyd and Creek household for dinner to ‘bury the hatchet’, where they witness blackmailable activities and force them both to come on their podcast and embarrass themselves (mostly Floyd).

August 2026: Demo falls in love with Gust after being flirted with for several months, breaks up with his current girlfriend (DJ Suki) and gets very VERY aggressively turned down by Gust. Dante sends a glitter bomb to Branch’s pod, so Poppy beats him up, but Dante calls the cops on her and she faces legal trouble. Harper starts drawing Creek as a trans man, even though Creek is a cis man, because she felt like it. It catches on. Biggie gets cancelled for something unspecified but really, really bad.

September 2026: Guy Diamond faces controversy for thinking Troll babies sleeping in beds causes Autism, which he got from Creek, who he used to date and is now interested in again. Clay starts nearing his brink wrt Viva and stays with JD for a bit. Viva finds an egg in her hair, which she soon loses (19th). Cloud Guy kills himself. Biggie overdoses while playing Overwatch. Veneer gets hit by a bus.

October 2026: Sky Toronto and Nova Swift get divorced (she leaves him for a trans Troll). Branch and Poppy get an egg, and Viva is the first they tell, so she manipulates them into thinking they’d be awful parents and she can take care of it for them. Viva uses the egg to convince Clay to come home.

31st October 2026: The egg Viva stole from Branch and Poppy hatches. Their name is Ha’Penny Hatch. Since the kid looks nothing like either “parents”, Clay figures that Viva cheated on him and finally goes grey.

November 2026: Harper deletes all her socials when her proship side account is found. Gust tricks Demo into thinking his feelings are finally returned, only to crush his heart again publicly during a subathon.

December 2026: BrozoneRonpa resurfaces. Branch accidentally says something offensive about Guy Diamond publicly, and Guy capitalises on the potential controversy, which leads to intense Guy VS Floyd beef (they are both interested in the same man (only Floyd is married to him). Nova Swift moves to Mount Rageous, leaving S&C in need of a podcast producer, and Fuzzbert is their only hope but expects a big paycheck.

January 2027: Guy Diamond reveals that Tiny Diamond is actually Creek’s son. Floyd goes to stay with Branch. Bruce finds out the real reason Clay went grey and his immediate plan is to fake Clay’s suicide and take him with him to Vacay Island. JD, Viva and Penny are the only members of Clay’s immediate family who don’t know he’s still alive. Clay’s funeral is livestreamed on Twitch. Holly Darlin’s newly rekindled relationship with her dad is halted in its infancy. 

[st-just]

I think that the people moralizing their career paths were born from callout posts, honestly. Like there's a lot of information available online, including all of your pet career atrocities, from pharmacists to doctors to firefighters. And a lot of people bring these topics to light using social media, sometimes as a discussion point, sometimes as a bullet point in their callout (remember Mardoll). So I think that's where the need to be morally pure in all aspects of their lives comes from (cont

Cont) (also not defending mardoll just using xir as an example). But it's like, there is no such thing as a morally pure career. Some are worse than others, and if your job is to shoot people or build bombs I suggest you stop, but. I'm gonna judge the guy who says that there are no problems in his dairy farm and there never has been than the non-LEO park ranger who says "yeah the NPS has a really shitty history." I think that acknowledging this is the first step to making positive change.

re:

So I think that's a bit of it, but honestly I was mostly thinking of e.g. reporters, visual artists, basically every particular type of academic in the humanities, literary authors/poets.

Which like if I had to draw a connection here is that the remuneration for that kind of word is kind of ass and (not unrelated) the competition for one of the few slots where you even can do it for any kind of living wage is absolutely vicious. And both cause and affect of those dynamics is that being an ~artist~ or a ~journalist~ is prestigious entirely out of proportion to how much you actually make doing it, and as the money and competition gets worse the prestige gets more and more important to the (most annoying online minority of) the people whose identity is entirely tied up in doing that work. Hence 'if you don't have a BA can you really be trusted not to kill and eat the first guy who cuts you off on the highway?'/'if you don't have a portfolio on artstation do you even have a soul?'

(Related are nurses, schoolteachers, etc, where the money is better but the working conditions are so, so much worse that there's pretty much always a shortage of people willing and able to do it for what's offered, leading to what ime feels like mild industry-wide martyr complexes. Which are much messier because those jobs basically necessarily involve being in positions of immense power over some very vulnerable and dis empowered people).

[szilverer]

hewwo

made this blog primarily to dump oc content & maybe liveblog a bit (its my first time engaging in a fandom space like this so im pretty lost, do lemme know if i mess up with tagging or etiquette or smth. more about me here.)

my main FL acc (Hreisz) is from 2016 but i only really started playing last august! ive finished my ambition in october but theres still a lot i dont know about the lore n stuff. recently made two alts & am slowly getting around to write/draw nice profile pages for everyone.

"H. Reisz", aka The Twilight Phantom // The Clawed Captain | LF (Looked Upon Fondly) | Oneirotect Silverer | ???

Hyacinthe R., aka The Sombre Pursuer | Nem | future Correspondent & Seeker | English-Romanian

"Zé Brito" or "Sev", aka The Zealous Backlander | BaL | future Monster-Hunter | Mixed Brazilian-British

feel free to send a CC or even just random in-character letters & menace help reqs :3c im a lil rusty but i'd love to write more

always open to asks/interactions here as well, just keep in mind i might take A While to respond as i am but an hermit with the barest of executive functions

trying to use this hyperfixation to practice digital art so there'll be random experimental doodles here as i try to find out wtf i am doing. everytime i open a canvas its a surprise. youve been warned

tags:

#chaindoodles -> art tag, #chainrambles -> text tag #fl liveblogging, #flore (fl lore)

#the twilight phantom -> the (main) blorbo

#nightmarriage -> my blorbo hoards trash. block this to be spared from witnessing their arguably most questionable decision (i.e chaining their stalker to themself so they won't be alone)

content warnings:

#light fingers spoilers (also general tag for LF) #nemesis spoilers, #evolution spoilers

just to be safe, i tag eyestrain/bright colours for some art.

#suggestive in case i draw (or write?) smth that can be perceived as saucy, spicy, horn knee, overtly kinky or implied nsfw. there wont be anything Actually explicit here though

i like #blood and injuring my characters both mentally and physically. so uh. that. possibly violence.? jokes aside, i like exploring heavy themes: mental health & psychological issues; abuse; general horror; death & grief; alienation; one's relationship with pain & self-destruction, intentional or not - these are all concepts that are gonna be present in the things i make one way or another. some mild religious iconography as well bc although im not religious i was raised catholic & i like playing w/ the aesthetic.

#body horror (mostly the shapeling arts kind)

??

#poor edward

So who's this "Twilight Phantom"?

I play a strict game with myself when it comes to my main blorbo: 99% of what the FLPC does, in the exact order i do it, is canon.

This also applies to small things like their possessions/wardrobe, for example - they pretty much only have the in-game items I own in the account to wear. Finding out reasons to explain why they keep the things they own is part of the fun. (this game made them out to be a weirdo, naturally.)

It's been lots of fun to see this clean slate (and i do mean clean - i knew nothing about the setting/lore, or who they were as a person, so. well. this guy didn't either) get shaped by RNG, the narrative, And my mechanical wiki-fueled optimization decisions.

another extra rule i made for myself as a treat was making them a sponge to compensate for their inherent emptiness. this means they incorporate something from each important NPC they get involved with. they are a singer because of Clara and her twin. they only own a lab & got interested in studying & research bc of Dr. Vaughan. they got a taste for exercise bc they accompanied Hephaesta's workouts for so long. and so on and so forth.

ill make a better, dedicated profile post eventually but for now have a playlist + an old vague intro + some early refs below:

[last updated: never. this is my self-callout to write abt recent developments bc ohh boy evolution was an entire year's worth of timeline progression.]

The first thing you notice about them is the cowl lazily draped around their head and shoulders, swaying behind their back like a cape in the colours of sunrise-- or, perhaps most familiarly, the velvety twilight that the newest star every so often provides to London.  The second thing is the deep scars covering one side of their face, and the third thing would probably be the heavy eyebags under their sharp, dark eyes.

A relatively freshly-minted Silverer, H. Reisz spends more time in Parabola than London nowadays. Not that they had been in London for too long anyway, and it's not like anyone knows where they were before that either. The surface, yes, but it's a big world out there, right? They don't actually remember seeing the sun, or the sky, but H cannot deny the soft colours of twilight and sunrise have a special place in their heart. They recognise it without the memory of experiencing it, just like they recognised love in the depths of a certain Labyrinth. Hmm, two Labyrinths, actually. There was that one heiress too... and the Orphanage was inside one hell of a maze too... if they had a coin every time they found themself inside labyrinths, they'd... Uh, where were we? Well, anyway, being a new face, they had nothing to be known for so they simply gave out their surname instead. Or well, what they assumed to be their surname. "H. REISZ" were the letters sewn-in on a diminute corner of the tattered black veil that wrapped their head back when they woke up for the "first" time. They were surrounded by near-empty bottles of dried mouldy honey, absinthe, and who knows what else. Ah, the decadence... they couldn't even remember what honey could do at the time but they could recognise the stench of self-destruction right away, haha.  Alas, if things were so bad they got to that point-- maybe this explains why moving on was so easy. Maybe they had somehow lobotomized themself on purpose. Who knows? They sure don't. It was only now, a year or so after waking up, that an epithet has started to stick around-- specifically by their actions as a Silverer and the services they provided. From nightmare-slaying to fishing out vestigial memories (the irony of an amnesiac doing this is not lost on them) to guiding and safeguarding lost dreamers, their glimmering signature cowl and the way it flowed rather phantasmagorically in Parabola started to leave an impression. To many dreamers, seeing a hint of pastel twilight colors signaled safety. It signaled someone you could trust to get inside your head. :)

[egg-emperor]

It's true . In my experience most callout posts are made by bullies who want to utterly anhilate their victims and render them pariahs, modern day lepers that nobody wants to associate with. If the victim makes money via online commissions they are especially fucked since their livelihood is essentially destroyed by rumors/lies. After all nobody wants to commission from anyone who [insert nasty allegation here]

The victim becomes an acceptable target and thus the behaviour sometimes escalates into real world consequences such as doxxing the victim and contacting the victims school/employer to get them fired or expelled.

Yeah it's true a massive amount of callout style posts are disingenuous and deliberately malicious instead of intending to be helpful. Like 99%. Leaving out important info, twisting things to suit their narrative, making stuff up, or airing things that didn't need to be everyone's public business. So often it's really over not knowing how to privately communicate, or wanting it to go public to turn everyone else against them too and an excuse to bash publicly. This is most obvious when they keep building up more reasons to convince everyone to side with them, going from accusations of something petty and mild to serious crimes. Very slimy

There's also many cases where they'll pretend it's really a care and concern for people they might interact with and their actions when really it's all personal. They have a grudge and hate that person and will do anything to get others to hate and attack, ostracize, shame, and isolate them too. Sometimes over petty stuff like wanting everyone to dismiss everything they have to say or provide in a fandom or something, they think they can immediately "win" by saying "don't listen to them, they're *insert buzzword being used in a situation so far removed from its original context here* !!!!"

Which is so crazy and so scary that it's so normalized. It disgusts me that people will make such serious accusations against people all for selfish, disingenuous, malicious reasons where they don't even really apply. The way people are so quick to easily believe everything they're told even without an ounce of solid proof is just as concerning too. The former have a secret agenda to cause that person pain instead of helping others by "warning" about them, and the latter are either so blindly naive or also have a bias that makes them want to believe there's a "valid" reason to hate them. And they all like how they can feel superior and virtue signal

It's upsetting to see the targeted people's lives get ruined and horrific abuse they can face too. People will gleefully stoop to levels of putting them in harm's way to the point of physical danger irl and destroying their livelihood. As a believer of human rights, I don't think anyone should be treated some of the ways I've seen people treat people in hate campaigns, even if they were guilty. Including people that have hurt me directly and are guilty of something awful because of it, they're still human and have rights. I don't believe human rights should ever be revoked, that would set a harmful precedent

So I don't like seeing how people will act like it's a good thing in situations like callouts and act like no wrong can be done against someone, especially when they're innocent. But even if they're not, it discourages growth. Attacking and isolating someone doesn't teach or help them understand if they did something wrong. People can't violently force people to bend to their will, it won't be genuine. They have to give a chance to acknowledge, grow, and change if it really is necessary and beneficial. In fact, giving them a horrible time may just strengthen their current position because people were assholes or put them in genuine danger

I wish callout posts didn't turn into common things people make when they want personal fights and grudges to have an audience that joins them in attacking them, broadcast sensitive private things to everyone to humiliate, and act morally superior to invalidate their existence and virtue signal to others. It's watered down serious subjects and crimes and taken away all possible reliability or usefulness. It so often destroys way more than it helps, especially when so many innocent people are attacked too. They're rarely tools compared to how often they're weapons now and people need to be more careful and considerate before putting blind good faith into them

[gabrielultrakill-bigboobs]

The Official Risk of Rain Discord and its hellish state.

(Raw text because iirc titles fuck up screen readers: "The Official Risk of Rain Discord and its hellish state." End raw text.)

fuck it. you know you've really fucked up when providence from risk of rain 1 is banned from the official discord. this post is extremely long and contains a lot of information. so do be warned lol. i will make a video with visual evidence at some point

I'm Providence, also known as unmatchedpowerofthesun and comically large ukulele on Discord as a whole, and "john fiberglass #1 paladin fan" in the official Risk of Rain discord -- which will be referred to as Officialcord. As you may know, I'm banned. I was banned yesterday. All because I got muted for disagreeing with one of the moderators (Sai) while having a 'problematic' role (…meaning you have to walk on fucking eggshells not to get banned) thanks to putting 'paladin sex gang' in my username (alongside some friends' usernames. they joined in) at some point.

Over the past few months, I have discovered numerous shitty moderation practices in Officialcord.

Why should you care? Well -- simple.

It's because Officialcord is one of the largest, if not the largest part of the Risk of Rain community, being where people are most likely to go for help, for looking at & posting RoR-related content, and for finding people to play multiplayer with. Yes, other games' official discords have shitty moderation. But that's not the point here. The point here is that I'm, to put it bluntly, disappointed in the server's choice of moderators and community manager.

Before continuing, I should say that this callout of the server's moderation practices has mentions of pedophilia and zoophilia.

Most of my sources will be kept anonymous.

Please keep this in circulation for as long as possible. I will be pinning this on my profile and linking this on burner Twitter and Reddit accounts in just a moment.

As far as I remember, my investigation started when Kirn, a known dickhead in Officialcord, caused several major modders to leave the server. Pelontrix (pelontriques on here) was punished with a mute for pointing out Kirn's behavior. The mute was of excessive length, and was only fixed when I jumped in to argue with the moderators. It took a long, long time for the moderators to even do the slightest thing about Kirn's behavior towards other members. People have asked to get rid of Kirn numerous times and it never worked (which is funny, because one of my friends' friends was banned just because people kept asking him to be banned). It took him repeatedly telling a new member to go fuck themself to get muted, and took even longer for him to get the problematic role. And it only took 'paladin sex gang' to force me and two friends to walk on eggshells around the moderators.

During the time between Kirn causing modders to leave and my banishment, I was able to discover a lot about the server with the help of various other people, including some who were around during the era of game-discussion-1.

Before talking about GD1, though, I should talk about the modern Officialcord. The moderators claim not to have time to moderate the art chat despite one of the mods (TiltedHat) being one of the major active members of it (and random new, potentially innocent members being banned thanks to all of the alt account incidents that've happened lately). Rules against sexual content exist in the server, and while I'd normally say full power to people being horny on main, couldn't they all take it elsewhere? A friend of mine was effectively blamed for someone sexualizing his work without his consent, and if I remember correctly, it brought him to the point of a breakdown. Every channel should be moderated with equal rules. If nowhere else in the server allows even things as mild as adding 'paladin sex gang' to your nickname, then TiltedHat posting sexual art of his Lemurian OC shouldn't be tolerated in the art chat. He's a moderator -- he should know the rules. Sai has given a pass on this, even.

For some reason, here and there, people who want to fuck Acrid appear and talk about their desire for the acid dog and are left unpunished. One of them even pinged SeventeenUncles, the community manager, and talked about wanting to see Acrid and Heretic smash. According to my sources, there was someone who talked for hours (unexaggerated) about wanting to fuck Acrid, and was never punished. The moderators are more concerned about people posting 'offtopic media' than they are about Acridfuckers. Someone's first warning was a 12-day mute and a "this is your last warning" message over offtopic imagery. Another person was muted for three days and given snarky comments over Modmail for posting a barely emote-sized gif of a cat.

At some point, someone mildly disrespected my boundaries and was erased from the server. Somewhat excessive, in my opinion. They could have just been left with a verbal warning, but y'know, problematic role and all… You have to be ridiculously fucking careful not to get banned when the moderators label you problematic.

Onto my banishment. Somebody with Huntress ass in their profile picture said "i'm actually bandit main but i aint homo", and while I can vaguely understand where Sai was coming from, his reaction was fucking unwarranted and outright admin abuse. People explained to Sai how 'homo' is just the abbreviation of 'homosexual', Sai claiming that it hasn't been a "socially acceptable way to refer to people in a long time". GetterRocka, a bi man, explained that he takes offense not to the word but rather to the fact that Sai was offended on others' behalf. Sai additionally made extremely dickish comments towards MonsterSkinMan. I disagreed with Sai's point, was muted, and then I was banned because I had the problematic role thanks to the whole 'paladin sex gang' thing. Sai tried to change the topic afterwards, diverting from his admin abuse. One of my friends disagreed with Sai and was immediately nuked.

My ban appeal was denied. I talked about how my ban didn't make sense, about the problems the moderation team displays, and even mentioned how I wanted to see it improve. I went to SeventeenUncles, telling him directly about moderation problems. I was also ignored. It's somewhat ironic, how the moderators talk so much about how you can appeal bans and how you can go to Modmail to speak your problems about the server, yet tickets and appeals are rejected and ignored more often than not.

Finally, the potentially triggering subjects I mentioned early on -- pedophilia and zoophilia.

The user, Withor, is known to be a sexual predator by various members of the Risk of Rain community. The Officialcord moderation team doesn't remove people so long as they follow the rules of the server (even the New Blood staff were willing to ban a zoophile I found using external evidence FROM the Fall of GD1, and the NB discord is known for also being poorly moderated). Withor has sent sexual images to fellow community members, including minors, and falsely accused Noop of grooming her. She once also said that the age of consent should be 14.

One of the moderators, Charlotte, had defended a zoophile in the past. Someone said "…according to the mod team of this discord server you can be the most decrepit human being possible but it's fine as long as you behave well and stay on topic…" and Charlotte confirmed this, saying "yes because no one would ever know. whats is so difficult to understand". During the Fall of GD1, barely anything was done about the zoophiles in the chat, each one barely getting a slap on the wrist meanwhile people posting MGR:R reaction gifs were banned.

I guess, as long as you're on-topic, ([cough] SeventeenUncles defending people harassing Hopoo Games over the Gearbox deal, because it was on-topic [cough]) anything goes.

From here I'll post additional content, including my ban appeal, my message to Suncles, and a callout post on Reddit from James, Paladin's creator and one of the sparks that brought my plan to reconstruct the moderation team to life -- before it was ruined by my ban.

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"Why did you get muted/banned?" My answer: Speaking out against one of your moderators -- Sai in particular, who you should know well enough by now is an issue. All I said was that 'homo' is the shortened form of 'homosexual', which is a more formal term for a gay person (I, myself, am asexual, so I have the right to talk about this -- Sai is offended on behalf of people that don't care). Sai was more concerned about that word than about the person in question having Huntress's ass as their pfp. And then I was muted because I had a problematic role for the dumbest reason imaginable -- putting 'paladin sex gang' in my nickname, when the art chat has discussed far more in-depth sexual topics instead of just a little joke between friends. I had not been given any punishment before that, outside of a non-punishment: getting a system warning for posting off-topic media.

"Why do you believe your appeal should be accepted?" My answer: See my ban reason for an explanation on why my ban doesn't make sense. I hope you all are willing to accept that your moderation team has a problem, and that I wish to see it improve.

"Is there anything else you would like for us to know?" My answer: That is it, for now.

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Next: My message to Suncles.

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Hello, SeventeenUncles. As you may be oblivious to, the server that you serve as the manager of has numerous problems. From the moderation to the community itself. The moderation is either biased, nonexistent, excessive, or all three at once. Even a new member, the horny Huntress pfp guy who’s also a source of evidence to prove the moderation team’s failure, was able to point this out. I feel like that should prove the point that I and many others have been trying to make for a long, long time.

I originally started investigating this server’s moderation practices when the team refused to do anything about Kirn making major modders leave. Then there was that whole thing where Pelontrix was muted for pointing out Kirn’s behavior, for an excessive time, and it was only fixed when I argued against it.

Then I discovered what happened during the era of GD1. You can’t ignore the fact that one of your moderators, Charlotte, defended a zoophile. You can’t ignore the fact that barely anything was done about the zoophiles in the chat. Even the New Blood discord, which is also poorly moderated, was willing to get rid of a zoophile that I found the ID of when I brought in evidence from Officialcord. And your moderators instead banned people who were posting MGR:R gifs, over actually doing something about the zoophiles. Taxipone also accidentally pasted MLP BDSM during a mass mute.

Meanwhile, your moderation team refuses to get rid of people for external reasons. My source? The whole zoophilia incident. Alongside the fact that you have a sexual predator in your server — Withor. While I don’t have direct screenshot evidence of her behavior, I’ve been told about it by several people. She once said that the age of consent should be 14 (because that’s the AoC in her country, I guess), falsely accused Noop of grooming her (why?), and has requested to send sexual images to multiple people, including minors.

The art channel is very shittily moderated, as is everything related to sexual content. Three people who put ‘paladin gex sang’ in their nicknames are given a 3-day mute and the problematic role — great job. Great fucking job. And our opinions meant nothing as a result of that, because every minor slip-up could get us banned. One of your moderators clearly liked me for whatever reason, because someone who was mildly disrespectful towards my boundaries was instantly obliterated… which is somewhat excessive. But. Still.

Oh, yeah, remember when MSM was tempbanned? And when Tizi was tempbanned for posting fucking header text only a few times? What’s with all of this?

Finally, that brings us to what happened today. Sai was offended on behalf of the most bullshit reason imaginable, more concerned about someone using ‘homo’ than the fact that their profile picture is Huntress’s ass. Funny, because paladin sex gang got a 3-day mute and a problematic role. But regardless — Sai’s dickish comments and them banning two people (including myself) and refusing to appeal our bans (while mine contained a lot of evidence against them… which further proves my point) cannot be excused. Sai being fine with Hat’s unmatched horniness and punishing people for, again, minor things like ‘paladin sex gang’, cannot be excused either. Nor can Sai attempting to divert the topic from all of the proof against them.

By the way, someone once directly pinged you with a message talking about how they wanted to see Heretic and Acrid smash. What are your thoughts on that? :]

To summarize: Your moderation team is a failure. Fix it. I have heard that the server has become worse ever since you became community manager, but I haven’t been in the Risk of Rain community long enough to confirm.

Ban appeals aren’t listened to, and neither are modmail messages, no matter how much Sai tries to direct people to modmail.

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Next up: James' Reddit post. I was given permission to add it to here in text form.

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Source: The top comment of this post now that the original was deleted. James' post also includes screenshots from the Fall of GD1.

After having been in the Discord for three years, I was recently banned for, I assume, informing people of the lack of care and the level of incompetence that is shown by a few moderators in the ROR2 Discord and the sheer lack of authority that is being enforced over them.

I was never given modmail, never given the opportunity to appeal, despite having been there for a long time. A good friend of mine was also in there and decided to help answer questions about my team's mod, Paladin, in my absence. He was shortly banned as well. What was strange is that he received modmail and they quickly denied his appeal in seconds without even reading the appeal.

We've come to the conclusion that as time has gone on, moderators like Charmlie, Sai, and TaxiPone have proven time and time again their lackluster and failure as moderators with repeated mistakes and false bannings. With my time in the Modding Discord, I have received countless DMs from users that also never received modmails for why they were kicked or banned, or that were caught in crossfires from said bans/kicks.

I will provide an image as well as to some context to these next sentences. Charmlie had given a half-assed apology and was saying that, paraphrased, "zoophilia was not something for them to worry about." Sai is arrogant and talks to most of the users in the Discord in a demeaning and "I'm above you" manner, shutting down almost anyone that dares to try and speak up about them in a negative manner. I am appalled that these two are still moderators after this long of this nonsense.

The image provided was during the fall of General-Discussion-1. I had wanted to talk about this some time ago when this had happened but I decided to hold my tongue as, while it proved a lot of the faults and issues of the existing moderators, it was still really damn funny. However, after recent events, I've decided to actually speak up about this. While I dislike Reddit as a whole, I felt this was too important to bring up.

There needs to be a reform. There needs to be a new selection of trustable moderators that actually CARE about their community. I can understand why I was banned, sort of, because I was rather persistent in my disdain for the existing moderators and their lack of competence and lack of care for their fellow server members. However, the false banning of my friend Infinite#2473, a good bud of mine from highschool, and claiming he was nothing more than an "alt," and then blatantly ignoring and quickly denying his appeal was finally enough.

I will not be responding to any comments or DMs in regards to this. I am not here to discuss outcomes, solutions, etc. I am here to only push awareness to this idiocy and to promote a change. I don't care to be unbanned nor does Infinite. Since I was never given the option to appeal, why bother asking for one now, especially when they REFUSE to explain to me why?

I send this message in hopes that the community will stand up and improve instead of allowing itself to be pushed around in such a manner. I say these things because I care about the ROR2 Community I've been a part of for years and it's infuriating to see how bullied and abhorrent it has become because of these higher ups that clearly don't care about you in the slightest.

See you on the other side, I hope you improve instead of sweeping these issues under the rug for the fourth time, pretending like nothing happened, like you did with the meme channel, GD1, GD2, etc. Be better and change for both yourself and the community, instead of this megalomaniac nonsense. I will not be talking any further on Reddit or about this matter, so do not expect any form of response on this platform. This account was meant to be nothing more than a prevention of impersonation and to keep an eye on things. Goodbye.

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