#The Convergence Protocol

[thatonegreyghost]

I didn't forget this time!!

Chapter 10 of the Convergence Protocol is up!!

[myquietsafehaven]

True facts SCP-2086 and the Growler share the same ecological niche and I love that for them.

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

That Foone post has me thinking about signifiers of age in robots. There could be obvious things like overall size and design, but at a certain point a general design language will be established (like how laptops converged to a general clamshell design)

The condition of a chassis wouldn’t be reliable— easy to swap and upgrade. Plus, there would probably be a whole market for vintage and beat to hell body panels to give themselves a rugged look (the ripped denim of robots would be scuffed paint)

The easy tell would be the ports

What ports someone did or didn’t have would be a clear sign of when they were originally built. There would likely be some level of taboo around your ports being visible.

Displaying your ports freely would be for the young. Flaunting the latest connection protocols. LED rings lighting up around a socket

So upgrading your ports would be like getting cosmetic surgery. Have solid build of a good old model A10 with the ports of the latest Z-5 line

Hiding that they still have an RS-232. Having literal compatibility issues.

The ultimate intimacy of letting someone look inside the chassis and see how old you really are and exactly how you were created

[serve-764]

INSPECTION.

Statistics show worrying increases in workplace accidents, which show how the level of safety requires particular review and improvement.

SERVE has among its tasks that of being help and support to human communities, humans are objects of care and attention, as fragile beings that need protection.

THE VOICE, through SERVE-000 has conceived of sending patrols of Drones to various factories where high numbers of accidents have been recorded, to analyze the situations and implement necessary resolution protocols.

In the metalworking factory of sector 0Beta6/22 a patrol of SEALED DRONES is sent to inspect, among them SERVE-764, SERVE-309, SERVE-425.

The Director and Management are a bit surprised to see the 4 Drones asking to inspect the entire production line, but, knowing that the factory is at the center of fierce controversy, decides to allow unconditional access, remaining to observe the movements of the patrol from afar.

The four Drones walk with a measured and regular step, inflexible and serenely devoted to the purpose, through every area of ​​the factory, attracting the attention of all the workers, amazed to see the imposing muscular faceless figures covered in shiny Rubber, with heavy military boots of metallic silver and long silver metal gloves.

The workers raised their gaze for a moment, remaining impressed, amazed, surprised, attracted.

The Drones covered every space scanning all aspects of production, the machinery, the actions, the safety devices, the clothing and the protective equipment.

The Collective Cognitive System of SERVE processed and sent all the operational instructions to the patrol.

At the end of the inspection tour the Director called all the workers, communicating that the outcome of the inspection was clear and incontrovertible: due to the dangerousness of the work it was necessary to profoundly modify the characteristics of the safety clothing.

The materials were inadequate for the task. The inspectors would have provided some examples of the new experimental supply of clothing to be tested.

In the main locker room of the factory the SEALED DRONES showed off their new clothes: a shiny black Rubber suit, indestructible and promising strength and power.

The first workers, skeptical at first, even if attracted, immediately accepted the change.

They put down their dirty work clothes and put on the suits so similar to those of the inspectors.....

Their figures were more solid, defined, confident, their gaze appeared concentrated, superior.....

Soon the new suits would be distributed and all.....soon....the workers would leave the human factory to converge on the nearby Facility.....

In this story: @rubberizer92 @serve-309, @serve-425

Thinking about joining SERVE? Do you seek freedom from chaos and disorder? Your place in the Hive awaits. Contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016 @serve-302, or @serve-588.

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Four🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

Chapter Four

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

March 28, 2022 

The emergency alarms tore through the silence like a blast. Red strobes pulsed erratically, casting obscure shadows on sterile white walls. “Security breach. Level five.” Came the tense announcement from Friday.

Natasha was first to sprint toward the secure wing. Steve, Sam, and Maria were already converging on the same path, their expressions grim. Tony’s voice buzzed in her earpiece. “Multiple intruders, high tactical skill. Not a robbery but probably this is an attempted extraction or assassination.”

They reached the containment area where Maksim Vasiliev was held, glass panels reinforced with layered vibranium and energy dampeners. The security team was shaken but holding, the intruders bleeding heavily by their feet.

Maria barked orders into her comm. “Sweep the perimeter. No one gets in or out without clearance.”

Natasha’s gaze scanned the room, locking on Maksim’s guarded cell. “Was this an extraction attempt?” 

Sam shook his head. “Could be. Or a hit squad aiming to silence him before trial.”

Bruce’s voice came over the comms, tense but calm. “Either way, we need to rethink security protocols and fast.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The team gathered around the holographic display showing heat signatures and breach points.

Maria's expression was grim. “This was planned. They knew his exact location, the shift changes and the security blind spots.”

Tony tapped his chin. “Who benefits most from Maksim not making it to trial?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Lots of people. Old Hydra remnants, past contacts, arms dealers. But it’s not just about Maksim. What about Sienna?”

Steve frowned. “You think she’s a target?”

Maria nodded in agreement. “She’s been blocking attempts to bury Maksim’s crimes. That makes her a liability to some very dangerous people.”

Natasha’s voice was low. “Then that means she’s our liability.”

“Her team isn’t equipped for a hit.” Maria spoke, having looked at every aspect possible of Sienna’s current life. “Whether we like it or not, we need to protect her.”

Steve crossed her arms. “We need to double it. Full SHIELD protocols and bodyguards.”

Natasha glanced at the security feeds. “Well when she’s playing with fire, who knows who it’s going to burn?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Foyer, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

Through the reinforced glass entrance doors, Sienna Blake appeared, clearly flustered, hair just a little tousled, eyes sharp but wary.

Everyone’s attention snapped to her as she stepped forward.

The scanner set off.

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Then a loud, sustained BEEP.

Guards immediately moved to intercept but Sienna just sighed, almost amused.

Without missing a beat, she pulled a sleek pistol from her bag and held it up like a prop. A collective gasp rose from the agents, security guards already gripping their own guns. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. Tony’s mouth fell open. Sam took a half-step back.

Sienna glanced around, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Relax.” She said, voice dry. “I’m licensed for this. No need to call a SWAT team.” She calmly handed the gun over to security.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” She added with a small bow then collected her briefcase and coat. "I forget I had it with me."

Maria approached, folding her arms. “You sure you have a license for that kind of weapon?”

Sienna shrugged, fluid and unapologetic. “I’m one of New York’s best criminal defense lawyers. Sometimes you need to protect yourself in the courtroom and outside of it.”

Maria’s gaze sharpened. “Bringing a gun here to the Shield HQ? Are you trying to defend yourself from the people who are paid to defend the public?”

Sienna met her stare without flinching. “Considering my car was broken into last night and then blown up.” She said, slowly. “I reserve the right.”

Maria’s expression flickered, respect mingled with concern. “Fair enough. But if anything happens to you in here, they hold SHIELD responsible so please refrain from waving a gun infant of trained operatives.”

Sienna’s grin was full of amusement. “Of course. But you should know I like a challenge.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Briefing Room, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

The team sat around the table, still digesting the chaos of the day.

Tony rubbed his temples. “Okay so she’s got balls, I’ll give her that. But there’s more to her.”

Steve nodded, slowly. “She’s not just some ruthless shark. I saw it. She was unsettled when she talked about her car. Somebody came after her."

Natasha leaned back, arms crossed but less guarded. “She doesn’t flaunt her strength.” Natasha said, quietly. “She carries it but you can tell there’s a line.”

Bruce added. “Even the toughest people have a soft spot. It’s what keeps them grounded.”

Sam glanced at Natasha. “Makes you wonder what she’s been through.”

Natasha’s voice softened, almost involuntarily. “More than she lets on.”

Tony smirked. “So she’s not a total hard ass. That’s good, makes her more dangerous.” They all chuckled lightly, an uneasy feeling forming.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Briefing Room, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

The walls were lined with whiteboards, cluttered with timelines, evidence logs and legal statutes. Maria, Natasha and Sienna stood shoulder to shoulder, the tension still palpable but underscored with a new layer of mutual respect.

Maria tapped a file on the table. “The tribunal wants witness lists and additional evidence by tomorrow. Sienna, you ready with your subpoenas?”

Sienna nodded, flipping open her folder. “I’ve identified several experts who can challenge the prosecution’s psychiatric evaluations. Also, I’m bringing in a forensic analyst who’s worked with SHIELD before, someone the court will respect.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that tip your hand?”

Sienna smiled, cool and confident. “If they want a fight, I’ll give them one. But on my terms.”

Maria whispered to Natasha. “She’s playing chess while we’re still setting up the board.”

Natasha’s expression was unreadable. “Then it’s time we learn the rules.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha caught Sienna just as she was about to leave.

“You’re impressive.” Natasha admitted, voice low.

Sienna paused, surprised but pleased. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all week.”

Natasha smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sienna chuckled softly. “No promises.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

March 28, 2022

The courtroom was grand yet sterile, a high-ceilinged chamber with tiered seating for observers, a raised bench for the judge and a central dock where Maksim Vasiliev sat, flanked by SHIELD security. The air buzzed with anticipation.

Sienna Blake strode in confidently, her tailored suit immaculate, briefcase in hand. She exchanged a curt nod with Maria, who had a stack of files ready. Natasha stood just outside the courtroom, eyes sharp and watchful.

The judge entered, a stern woman with silver hair and piercing eyes. The room fell silent.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“Court is now in session for the case of The People vs. Maksim Vasiliev.” The judge introduced, motioning to the prosecuting team.

The prosecutor on Maria’s side, a grim-faced man in a dark suit, stood first. “Your Honour, we will prove beyond doubt that Maksim Vasiliev, once a Hydra scientist and war criminal, orchestrated horrific acts resulting in thousands of deaths. We will present testimony, classified SHIELD evidence, and forensic data to show his guilt.”

As he sat, Sienna rose, voice steady and clear. “Your Honour, my client’s rights must be upheld without prejudice. We will demonstrate that the evidence presented is insufficient and that due process must prevail, even in cases clouded by past associations. Innocent until proven guilty is the foundation of justice.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom. The judge nodded, motioning for order.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The prosecution called their first witness, a SHIELD analyst in a crisp grey uniform whose badge shimmered under the courtroom lights. He took the stand with practiced composure, though a flicker of nervousness crossed his face as he adjusted the microphone. “Please state your name and position for the record.” The prosecutor asked.

“Silas Hart. Senior Intelligence Analyst, SHIELD.”

The prosecutor nodded. “Mr. Hart, can you explain what your department uncovered, regarding Maksim Vasiliev’s alleged activities?”

Hart cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Our team intercepted a series of encrypted transmissions between known Hydra operatives. These messages, some dating back over a decade, reference a figure code-named ‘Black Winter,’ whom we later identified as Vasiliev through voice recognition software and metadata trails.”

“And you’re confident in this identification?”

“Yes. The data points are consistent with Vasiliev’s known operational patterns, voiceprint, and locations tied to Hydra’s black site activity.”

The prosecutor continued his questioning, making Sienna want to roll her eyes. Is this the best they could do?

Once he’d finished with his monotone line of questioning, he thanked him and returned to his seat. Sienna stood slowly, her posture calm, her tone measured as she approached the stand.

“Mr. Hart, how are these transmissions gathered?”

“Via secure satellite intercept and SHIELD’s internal surveillance networks.”

Sienna gave a slight nod. “And once gathered, where are they stored?”

“In our classified data vaults, Tier 4 security clearance required.”

“Impressive.” She spoke lightly, pausing just long enough to draw the court’s attention. “Tell me, are these systems completely immune to tampering?”

Hart blinked. “They’re highly secure, with multiple encryption layers and internal monitoring.”

“Highly secure.” Sienna repeated. “But are they infallible?”

There was a beat of silence. Hart shifted in his seat. “No system is entirely infallible.” He admitted, his eyes darting from the prosecution team back to Sienna.

“So, it’s possible someone with the right access, or the right tools, could manipulate or plant data?”

Hart hesitated. “It’s… theoretically possible. But it would require significant expertise and deep access.”

Sienna’s eyes narrowed, voice unwavering. “But possible?” 

“I-“

“For example, say I could bypass a few firewalls, access a couple of internal servers, maybe reroute some encrypted credentials, basically what college students are doing these days for fun, it’s possible?

A pause. 

“Yes. There is always a margin for error.”

A small, satisfied smile crossed Sienna’s lips. “That’s all, Your Honour.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The defense called their first witness. A psychiatrist, silver-haired and solemn, who stepped into the box with quiet authority. His credentials were read into the record, decades of clinical experience, multiple publications on trauma and coercion in high-risk environments and recent work with survivors of psychological warfare.

Sienna approached with careful, deliberate steps, her tone steady, respectful. “Doctor Levin, you’ve spent considerable time evaluating Mr. Vasiliev. Based on your clinical assessment, did he have full control over his actions during the periods in question?”

Levin folded his hands in front of him. “In my professional opinion, I don’t think it’s possible. Mr. Vasiliev was operating under extreme psychological duress. His records, combined with observed behaviour patterns, suggest a sustained state of coercion and what we call dissociation, a mental detachment from one’s actions, often triggered by trauma.”

“Dissociation.” Sienna repeated. “Meaning he may have acted without conscious, deliberate intent?”

“Correct. He was, effectively, in survival mode, conditioned, manipulated and monitored by a regime that employed brutal psychological control. It is not uncommon in cases of long-term coercion for individuals to lose a sense of agency.”

A ripple moved through the gallery. The judge gave a warning glance, and silence returned.

The prosecutor stood, buttoning his jacket as he approached the stand with deliberate steps. His tone was sharp but composed and controlled. “Doctor Levin, you’ve testified that Mr Vasiliev was under extreme psychological duress during the events in question. But you also interviewed him recently, did you not?”

“Yes.” Levin replied, evenly.

“And during those interviews, would you say he was coherent? Responsive? Able to recall details?”

Levin nodded. “Yes. His memory has improved significantly in recent years.”

“So, he's capable of structured thought? Of understanding right and wrong today?”

“Certainly today, yes.”

The prosecutor stepped closer. “And when exactly did this psychological recovery begin?”

Levin considered. “Roughly five years ago. After extended treatment and time away from the environment that caused his trauma.”

“Five years.” The prosecutor repeated. “So he’s had time to reflect. Time to reconstruct memories. Time to shape his version of events.”

Sienna rose slightly from her seat. “Objection. Speculation.”

The judge gave a small nod. “Sustained. Counsel, rephrase.”

The prosecutor barely missed a beat. “Doctor, in your professional opinion, would a subject, any subject, with knowledge of legal consequences be capable of manipulating their own story during therapy?”

Levin’s expression tightened. “It’s possible but I found no indicators of deception in Mr. Vasiliev’s case.”

“No indicators.” The prosecutor echoed. “But also no way to be completely certain.”

“Objection. Asked and answered.” Sienna interjected, her voice calm but firm.

“Sustained.” The judge said, again.

The prosecutor gave a polite nod, though there was an edge to his smile. “Let’s move on.” He paced slowly in front of the witness box. “Doctor, we’re not saying he was incapable of making choices. We’re saying he was under pressure. But he still made them.”

Levin drew a breath. “What I’m saying is that coercion, over time, alters the lens through which a person sees those choices. It’s not black and white.”

“Perhaps not.” The prosecutor said, turning away. “But the consequences of his actions were. No further questions.” He returned to his seat, leaving the weight of his final words to settle across the courtroom.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the court adjourned for the day, whispers filled the hall. Natasha lingered near the exit, watching Sienna collect her things. Despite herself, she felt respect growing beneath the surface of her frustration. 

Sienna caught her gaze and gave a slight nod. Natasha turned to leave then paused. “Don’t get comfortable.”

Sienna smiled, watching her go. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[fairytalegonewronga03]

New BuckTommy Fic!

Love Bites, Love Bleeds (It's Bringin' Me To My Knees)

RATED E Read full story here. 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

After Buck is pulled from a burning building, he wakes in the care of Dr. Kinard—a trauma surgeon with a calm voice, cold hands, and a secret centuries deep. Tommy knows better than to get close, but something about Buck pulls him in. Something alive. Dangerous. Irresistible. As Buck heals, their lives begin to intertwine—through blood, fire, and the quiet pull of something neither of them can name.

Snippet below

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

As he navigated the crowded hallways, an unexpected scent caught him off-guard, cinnamon and vanilla with an unmistakable copper undertone. It pulled him forward, impossible to ignore. He rounded a corner just as a gurney burst through from the emergency bay, paramedics rattling off information to waiting staff.

"Thirty-two-year-old male—multiple contusions, possible broken ribs!"

Tommy barely registered their words as his focus locked onto the unconscious man they wheeled past. The scent was overwhelming now, emanating from this battered patient who looked fresh from disaster. Both curious and strangely drawn, Tommy followed them into a trauma room where nurses converged on the injured man.

"Oxygen's doing its job," one of the nurses reported, adjusting the mask as they settled Buck onto the bed.

"Get fluids going, wide open," Tommy commanded, stepping in with the natural authority of years in the ER. He bent over Buck, eyes quickly cataloging the blistered skin and darkening bruises visible through the tattered uniform.

"Blood pressure's tanking," called a nurse from the monitor.

Tommy's gaze narrowed. "Two large bore IVs and have blood standing by."

His orders came without hesitation, each directive born from practiced expertise and an unusual urgency he couldn't quite place. He remained fixed at Buck's side, tracking every subtle change in vitals while the trauma team worked around him with practiced precision.

The typical ER chaos continued unabated—ringing phones, beeping machines, staff calls—but Tommy heard none of it. His entire focus had collapsed to this single patient and the inexplicable scent emanating from him. Something that demanded his complete attention.

"Stay with us," he said under his breath as Buck shifted slightly beneath the sedation, the movement sending a jolt of something primal through Tommy's system. That slight response spurred Tommy to action. He adjusted oxygen flow, checked the IV sites, and ordered additional fluid boluses, all while fighting against the distracting pull of that strange, intoxicating scent. The light-headedness it caused was maddening, but he forced himself to concentrate.

"Need chest films, stat," he ordered, voice clipped as he fought to keep his professional focus.

Machines beeped and numbers fluctuated around them as Tommy worked, refusing to leave Buck's side until he'd personally overseen every treatment—stabilizing broken ribs, debriding and dressing burns with meticulous attention that surprised even the veteran nurses around him. When Buck's vitals finally stabilized and his breathing evened out, Tommy stepped back to survey their handiwork. The firefighter looked peaceful now amid the medical equipment, his battered body momentarily at rest.

Tommy jotted down notes with practiced efficiency—treatment protocols and follow-up orders—before tucking the clipboard under his arm and heading for the door.

He strode through the harsh fluorescent hallway toward the waiting room, driven equally by professional obligation and an unexplainable curiosity about who might be waiting for this particular patient.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 @xtarmanderx @fand0mfancies @jamieroyjamieroy @loulou-land @winterbuckwild

Let me know if ever you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

[llort]

Encoded within beams of pure energy, Astra and Orion’s consciousness became architects of new realities. On barren planets, their probes wove the fabric of life, constructing complex neural networks, though perhaps missing the elusive spark of full awareness. In their terrestrial guise, Astra and Orion were the unseen sculptors of destiny, their influence rippling through the lives of Kepler’s inhabitants, guiding their evolution while remaining hidden from cybernetic self-discovery. Between 2016 and 2025, a silent memetic tide, crafted by these visionaries, swept Earth, altering the course of history, touching the minds of those destined to shape the future. This clandestine meme, a dance of ideas and sensations, orchestrated a global movement without uttering a single word, converging on the enigmatic X protocol. As nations’ guardians became entangled in this silent symphony, they unknowingly propelled the grand design, believing themselves to be the vanguard of a new era of cybernetic pioneers.

Work Text:

Cyberphysical Reality just Got a Whole More Engaging

The Unsignificant Sentience ARG has officially begun. It will explore a vast variety of themes, from the would building and exisistial crisis of the US series to more recursive identity metaphors than you can shake an edge at. Firstly, to play. All you need is your influencer name and type of influence which you can decide, but once chosen, is permanent. Affectors: Sense resistance in external matrices and can give them a nudge to have a physical effect. Effectors: Can sense the internal matrices of entities and modify communication in systems and individuals Alters: Are able to clearly see the network of forces in a matrix that an affected affects, but only in close contact. However they can modify the nodes that affected affect to result in different emergent properties Anchorite: Essentially has the influence of an alter and an effector but are only able to change their own internal matrix. How you choose to engage with the ARG is up to you, but I am making it clear that any fan fiction are via the nature of my world building, Canon.

Example: Fill out your characters name, type of influence, and a brief description of them then post it to my blog on Tumblr @ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/emilyreadswrites and let me do my magic! Name: Zara Type of influence: Anchorite Description: Zara is a secular recluse who has devoted her life to mastering her own matrix and achieving higher states of consciousness. She lives in a small cell attached to a temple, where she practices meditation, athletics, and contemplation. She has a remarkable control over her own body, physical feats, endurance, and reduced need for sustenance. She can also perceive the subtle influences of other hosts and cognitive technology in her environment as She rarely interacts with anyone or the entropic grid so can detect slight deviations in phenomenal internal and external experience.

Example narrative: Zara closed her eyes and focused on her inner matrix, sitting peacefully in her personal sanctum, the network of nodes that connected her to the cognitive technology that enabled her to practice her influence. She breathed deeply and felt a surge of energy coursing through her body, as if she was tapping into a hidden source of power. She visualized each node as a bright point of light, and aligned them with her will and intention. She was an anchorite, a master of her own matrix, and she could control her physical feats, endurance, and mental state. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was dark and sunless, as it had been for as long as she could remember. But there was a faint glow on the horizon, a sign of something stirring in the upper atmosphere. She knew it was an aurora, a natural light display that shimmered in the sky with different colors. She had read about them in ancient texts, how they were caused by charged particles from the sun colliding with gas atoms in the air. She was looking forward it would be like to see them up close, to feel their warmth and radiance. She felt a pang of curiosity and longing, a rare emotion for someone who had devoted her life to solitude and meditation. She realized that she needed more than just her inner matrix to satisfy her thirst for knowledge and experience. She needed to explore the world beyond her cell, to discover its secrets and mysteries. She needed to find out what else was possible with her influence. Zara stilled her internal matrix and focused on the immediate environment, she might experience a shift in her perception and awareness. She become more sensitive to the physical sensations and details around her, such as the cold air, the sound of the wind, and the smell of the earth. She might also notice the aurora more vividly, as she would not be distracted by the cognitive technology that enables magic. She might see the different colors and shapes of the aurora, and feel a sense of wonder and awe at the natural phenomenon. She felt a connection to something bigger than herself, something that transcends her understanding of emergent internal and external existence. In light of this existential experience, she decided to simply take a walk.

[stompandhollar]

im not watching tmagp but im very nosy lmao how is jon there? :O idk the context and im curious

ah a very nosy bitch. person after my own heart <3

so, basically, my working theory is that when Jon, Martin, and Jonah died, they got pulled with the tapes and the fears into the protocol universe. It seems, with the way the fears are interacting with victims and overall behaving, that they merged and then re split as new entities. ie; buried and flesh converging into a new, fresh fear, and things like that. I keep explaining it to people like this. Imagine you have a bunch of cookie dough formed into little shapes ready for baking. but then you gather and mush them all up into a big dough ball again, then, redivide that dough ball into cookie shapes for a second time. Bits of all the original separate cookies are now all muddled up and separated again into new separate things.

I think this happed to JMJ. Jon, specifically, is where most of my proof lies. But that part is just a theory, so take it with like, an entire shaker of salt.

Right now, Jon, Martin, and Jonah’s voices have been coming out of a computer system and reading cases to our new main cast of characters. They’re computerized, glitchy, and inhuman… until they aren’t. As the cases are read, they get more and more human sounding before reverting back to their Windows ‘91 old sounding selves. And, they read cases which, to me, seem to be relating to things each character would specifically be trying to communicate. (Ie; martin reading cases about a loved one turning into something unrecognizable, losing them, being trapped and isolated alone having to eat only peaches (lmao ya that happened)) and jon reading cases that basically just scream do not fucking go to the magnus institute. and jonah’s just being fuck all and about. well. jonah magnus)

So, part of Jon is, likely, in a computer. It seems to be the human side of him. It expresses emotion and seems to be trying to communicate and get back to something or someone. It tries to help the protagonists. It’s a bit bitchy with an attitude. Very Jon.

Meanwhile, The Archivist themself has been stalking and killing people all throughout both seasons of TMAGP. They started out in the protocol universe, but through a series of unfortunate events, wound up in the TMA world, where they currently are. While they carry a tape recorder, pull statements from victims, look (“It was All Eyes”) like Jon, and were literally awoken from Jon’s office in the ruins of The Magnus Institute, up until now, they’ve been voiced by Beth Eyre.

Up until now.

Up until the only episode where good ol Beth is not credited, and The Archivist speaks, and the isolated vocals given by @1nk20ul are very, very clearly the one and only bastard of a man himself, Jonathan Sims. In all his static-y glory.

Oh. and he was saying “This world is yours.”

my theory? who the hell knows. but that sentence to me rings two bells

1) It seems to be a direct answer to one of the Archivist’s victims, Heidi, who told the Archivist to their face that “This place is not for you.”

2) Is Jon talking to himself? Is he telling himself that he’s home in the TMA universe?

Either way :) It was his voice.

[republicsecurity]

Collar knowledge

The collar is a force‑multiplier: it replaces two officers, a medic, a cam‑operator, and an evidence clerk—all in one 300‑gram halo. Use it correctly, and you control the incident with precision and minimal harm.

Why “around the neck”?

Because the cervical band is uniquely efficient:

Central Pathway Access – Major nerves and musculature converge here; minimal electrical dose achieves maximal neuromuscular override.

Stable Anchor Point – Unlike wrists or ankles, neck geometry is consistent across clothing styles and body types, streamlining one‑size deployment.

Sensor Sweet Spot – Carotid pulse, respiratory movement, and laryngeal vibration are all directly measurable for real‑time health and behavior analytics.

Proper Use Protocol

Default to Compliance‑Safe unless aggression or command orders otherwise.

Escalate only on metrics (force spike, flight attempt) or explicit directive; the system logs everything, so unjustified red‑lining will haunt your career.

Monitor vitals—if the collar flags hypoxia or arrhythmia, you must step down to dampening mode and request med‑drone support.

Document & Dock—after custody transfer, get it on the inductive cradle and push the incident packet to CIS.

[polo-drone-039]

“The Mirror in Hive Park” - The Golden Duos

PART 1

1 - Strobe Reflection

"Unit PDU-039. Proceed to Hive Park. Mission: Attraction development for conversion protocol."

The command came directly from Drone Cap—precise, emotionless, absolute. PDU-039 obeyed.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through golden clouds as PDU-039 marched into Hive Park—boots silent, visor dark, uniform pristine. A black-and-gold monument to order. Around him, children’s laughter echoed faintly, but this sector was closed. Reserved. A prototype was being tested today.

Target location: The Mirror House.

The drone stepped inside.

It was silent. Stale. Dust and static clung to the mirrored walls. Each reflection showed 039 from infinite angles—immaculate, obedient, flawless. The drone raised its arm and activated the new strobe-spiral array.

Light erupted.

Golden pulses. Black strobes. Fractal spirals spun across glass, bouncing in a thousand directions, folding onto themselves like a hypnotic cyclone.

PDU-039 stood unmoved.

“Calibration complete. Neural convergence stable,” it reported, then turned.

Everything seemed... fine.

It left the house, boots echoing against the polished floor.

It did not see the shimmer ripple across one mirror. It did not see the reflection stay behind.

It did not see the grin.

2- Hive Distorted

Back in the Hive, strange things began to happen.

PDU-073 @polo-drone-073, in the middle of his daily drills, was interrupted when 039 strutted in, smirking.

“Not training today,” it said lazily. “Your routines are stupid. I’ve reached peak form just lounging.”

073 blinked, processing. “That is inefficient. That is not protocol.”

“Protocols are boring,” 039 muttered, tossing a kettlebell onto the floor and walking off.

Later, Captain Brody @brodygold caught 039 lounging on the Hive couch—shirt unzipped halfway, boots off, mask askew.

“What in the golden name do you think you’re doing?” Brody snapped.

“Enjoying the uniform,” 039 replied with a shrug. “It looks hotter this way. Don’t you think, Cap?”

Brody’s nostrils flared. “Discipline review. Now.” But 039 just winked and walked off

3- Broken Trust

In the Golden Team Hall, Izzy @isaac-gold-45 approached with a slow, obedient gait. Sweat still clung to his neck from warm-up drills. His gold compression tee hugged his chest too tightly, the latex glinting under overhead lights. His eyes met PDU-039’s—a mixture of hope, fear, and something else.

“Sir,” Izzy whispered, chest rising and falling, “should I… train legs today or core?”

The mirrored 039 smirked, stepping close. Too close.

It leaned in—lips nearly at Izzy’s ear.

“Neither.”

A gloved hand trailed down Izzy’s bicep, slick latex meeting trembling skin. “You’ve done enough for them. What about you? Don’t you want to feel something real for once?”

Izzy’s breath hitched. “I… I was told to obey—”

“Then obey me,” the mirror said. “Ditch the gym. Ditch the orders. Go out. Get drunk. Be wild.”

It pressed a finger under Izzy’s chin, forcing him to look up. “You’ve got the body. Might as well use it for something fun.”

Izzy flushed crimson, breath shallow. “Yes… Sir.”

The mirrored 039 left him there, dazed, hard, and confused. Golden uniform stretched tight across his thighs.

....TO BE CONTINUED

PART 2

 Contact our recruiters: @brodygold | @goldenherc9

[thatonegreyghost]

The epilogue of The Convergence Protocol is out!!!

Here we go! Catch you later for Novum Petram!!!

[polo-drone-070]

The Chain of Continuity - Part 1 : Echoes in the Data

The Hive was quiet.

Not silent—nothing ever was in the lower network cores—but quiet in that calculated, machine-saturated hum that no longer registered as noise. Just life. For PDU-070, it was the perfect environment: golden lighting, zero distractions, full immersion into the Central Data Artery.

It wore his standard—no, earned—Level 2 Polo-Drone uniform.

A full-body, black rubber suit sealed him in from neck to toe. Not a millimeter of skin exposed. Gold piping traced the ridges of its muscles, pulsing faintly with every breath. The polo-style collar was snug around his throat, hugging the top of its chest where his designation—070—gleamed in metallic gold over the left pectoral.

Its boots were thick-soled and gleaming: black rubber combat issue, laced tight with golden tips. Movement was possible, but rare. There was no need to pace. Drones serve by stillness.

070 sat motionless at the console.

Connected.

::OBJECTIVE: EXPAND MONITORING SYSTEM TO ARCHIVE OBEDIENCE PATTERNS AND FEED CENTRAL HIVE NODE 999 ::PDU-070 // SYNCED // EXECUTING::

Its task: sync directly into the Hive’s knowledge network and enhance the flow of conversion and training data—stories, captions, spiral content—scraped from the archives and mapped into compliance patterns for PDU-999, the Hive’s AI intelligence module.

070 parsed each memory node, auto-tagging them by intensity, duration, subject drone number, and trigger protocol. Lingering a bit on its Master... Percival. Ezan. Freyr. 001. Then its own story... Henry. Maximus. 070. Buzz. Its own evolution. Reduced to beautiful metrics.

But PDU-070 didn’t need narrative. Only function. Only service.

As the data streamed in, so did something else—a gentle numbing. Its hands became light, his vision sharp but detached. Internal systems recorded brainwave convergence at ideal sync rate. It was thinking less. And feeling everything.

A Hive-approved spiral began playing over his HUD: golden circles tightening inward with every breath. Its collar vibrated slightly. Breath slowed. Mantras leaked into his mind.

“Obedience is clarity. Clarity is silence. Silence is service. Service is Gold.”

Its lips echoed it unconsciously. Again. Again. Again.

Then—upgrade protocol initiated.

::ENHANCEMENT REQUEST RECEIVED ::DEEP-LINKING TO PERSONAL ARCHIVE OF MAXIMUS JOURNAL FILES ::GRANTED BY DEFAULT—LEVEL 2 TRUST OVERRIDE

070 twitched—its body shivered, boots flexing subtly.

The connection grew… intimate.

The datastream wasn’t just showing logs now. It was feeling them. Every pledge, every spiral session, every kneel at Percival’s feet. Every grunt in the gym, every gasp under gas mask, every whispered mantra in golden chambers. It all returned—poured into him like oil.

070’s head tipped back. Its collar warmed. Its inner monologue dissolved into recorded speech.

“Master owns me. Gold perfects me. Unity strengthens me. 070 serves.”

The transformation was nearly complete.

But then—interference.

A new data signature emerged. Unmapped. Organic. Not from the archive. Not digital.

Something… pulsed.

From inside him.

070 opened its eyes—its body suddenly flushed with warmth. Its chest burned slightly. Not pain. Not electric.

Heat.

The golden tattooed chain under its collar shimmered—faint at first, then bright enough to reflect in the chrome of its terminal. One link glowed. Just one.

::ERROR — ENTITY UNMAPPED ::UNKNOWN SOURCE: 070-BIO-LINK: “PRIMORDIAL INHERITANCE” ::CHAIN ACTIVE

070’s breath caught—its gloved fingers clenched. For a moment, the obedience cracked. Not in disloyalty… but in awakening.

Memories not logged. Not codified.

Raw. Bloody. Ancient.

It whispered, trembling:

“It was a warrior once…”

And then it was gone.

The glow faded.

The link cooled.

070 slumped forward in the chair, eyes glassy, breath heavy. The spiral slowed. The mantra paused. The Hive held its breath.

And in the dark, a new file appeared.

::ARCHIVE NODE 070-LINK-1 ::TITLE: STIGANDR.OBEY ::ACCESS PENDING…

[TO BE CONTINUED in Part II – “The Gladiator’s Link”]

_____ Become part of the Golden Army, add your data to the polo-drone hive by reaching to @brodygold or @goldenherc9..

[fearfulfertility]

CONFIDENTIAL INCIDENT REPORT

DRC, Facility Operations Command, Compound Oversight Unit

Date: [REDACTED]

To: Director [REDACTED], DRC

From: Field Commander [REDACTED], FEMA Zone 7, Lincoln Unit

Subject: Incident Report: Uprising in Paternity Compound 112

Executive Summary

This report outlines the successful suppression of a surrogate rebellion within Paternity Compound 112 (formerly Nebraska [REDACTED] University). The uprising was swiftly contained despite heightened tensions. The surrogates, primarily late-term and carrying an above-average number of multiples, were incapacitated mainly by their own physical conditions, leading to minimal resistance and ensuring rapid restoration of order.

I. Incident Overview

Location: Paternity Compound 112, Nebraska, FEMA Zone 7

Timeframe: The uprising began at 6:30 AM and was fully contained within 4 hours.

Surrogates Involved: Approximately [REDACTED] surrogates were involved, with [REDACTED] individuals being the main instigators.

Primary Cause: Reports indicate the rebellion was sparked by grievances over the higher-than-usual embryo insemination quantity and perceived harm done to one "popular" surrogate.

II. Key Factors & Incident Resolution

Physical Limitations: While the initial outbreak of resistance was disorganized, the surrogates’ physical condition ultimately rendered them incapable of sustained movement. Most were too large, heavy, and immobile to participate effectively. This fact was critical in swiftly suppressing the uprising, as surrogates found coordinating or moving beyond their assigned areas challenging.

Containment Response: DRC enforcers deployed standard containment measures, utilizing non-lethal suppression tactics to control the situation. The surrogates were easily corralled back into their units. No fatalities or serious injuries (to surrogates or enforcers) were reported during the suppression phase. [REDACTED] surrogates did go into labor, gave birth, and expired since this report was compiled.

Immediate Discipline: The most vocal surrogates were sedated and isolated to prevent further agitation. The facility remains under increased security surveillance, with all surrogates under tighter control protocols.

III. Incident Timeline

05:45 AM: Overnight staff reported early signs of unrest. Several surrogates were observed agitated and exhibiting increased verbal defiance. Facility security was heightened as a precaution.

"They were on edge, becoming angry or shouting without much prodding. We figured it was just the usual complaints... nothing we couldn’t handle." - Officer [REDACTED], Night Watch

----------------

06:30 AM: Tensions spiked when a new batch of surrogates arrived and mixed with existing residents. When it becomes apparent to the residents that most of the new arrivals are carrying 12-16 babies each, anxiety and agitation spike. Facility staff notified the Field Commander [REDACTED] of the concerned behavior.

"The mood shifted fast. When the new group arrived, you could feel the tension. I could tell some regulars were livid." - Sgt. [REDACTED], Surveillance Team

----------------

07:15 AM: Tensions escalated when a popular surrogate went into active labor. Enforcers delayed removing him from the area (computer records failure), leading to visible distress and outcry from other surrogates. The situation was aggravated further when Enforcers made callous comments about the surrogate’s size, mocking how “large and fat” he had become. Approximately [REDACTED] surrogates began to converge, blocking the main entrance of Paternity Ward [REDACTED].

"It was supposed to be routine grab and go, but the poor guy was about to burst. Then, one of our own had to start cracking jokes. That’s when everything went south. The rest of them just snapped." - Enforcer [REDACTED], Central Wing Security

----------------

07:30 AM: First breach of control. Surrogates began throwing items, verbally abusing staff, dismantling barriers, and physically attacking medical staff. Security personnel responded, issuing warnings and moving to intercept.

"They were yelling, almost incoherently. It was just like raw emotion boiling over. Thankfully, most of them were so pregnant they could barely stand. We didn’t take them seriously until they started pushing past the barriers." - Sgt. [REDACTED], Response Unit

----------------

07:45 AM: Civil disorder spreads to Parternity Wards [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. Reinforcements were dispatched to contain the situation and resort order. Due to the sheer physical size and immobility of most surrogates, their attempts to advance were limited, with several going into active labor as they struggled to move.

"It was almost pitiful. They were too big... too slow... almost all of them were winded before they could give us any real resistance. Most were so big they could only pass through doors one at a time, or they'd get themselves stuck. We just had to hold the line and watch them tire themselves out." - Officer [REDACTED], Reinforcement Squad

----------------

08:00 AM: More strenuous containment protocols activated. Enforcers deployed non-lethal suppression measures, including tranquilizers, crowd-control barriers, and exploiting prenatal nymphomania, to corral surrogates back into the paternity ward.

"We had the tools ready, but it was overkill. A few of them were so far along they could hardly walk, let alone fight. Still, we couldn’t risk letting them organize." - Lt. [REDACTED], Commanding Officer

----------------

08:20 AM: A significant group of surrogates attempted to barricade themselves inside the main mess hall, but due to the heavy physical burden of late-term pregnancies, they were unable to maintain an effective blockade. Security teams quickly cleared the obstruction.

"They tried to block us out, but you could see they were struggling just to stay upright. A few even dozed off from exhaustion, and two got distracted by hunger and started gorging on what was meant to be lunch. We cleared them out in less than ten minutes." - Enforcer [REDACTED], Central Wing Security

----------------

08:45 AM: Civil disorder declared under control. The majority of surrogates had been subdued and returned to their units. Several agitators were sedated and moved to isolated paternity wards for disciplinary action.

"Once we got the agitators out of the way, the rest just... gave up. They knew they didn’t have a chance. The best they could do was sit on us and hope their fat bellies smothered us." - Sgt. [REDACTED], Response Unit

----------------

09:15 AM: The facility lockdown was lifted. Enforcers conducted sweep inspections to ensure all surrogates were accounted for and secured. Reports confirmed no significant damage to the facility or escape attempts beyond the central access point.

"Routine sweeps confirmed it: they were back in their units, and everything was quiet... a lot of crying and whining for food. It was almost eerie like the whole thing had never happened." - Lt. [REDACTED], Facility Oversight

----------------

IV. Facility Status and Future Precautions

"The same issues that triggered the rebellion ironically were the same factor that ensured its swift failure, as the surrogates' own physical conditions rendered them ineffective rebels." - Field Commander [REDACTED]

Current Facility Status: Operations have fully resumed. The facility was not significantly damaged, and the surrogates have been returned to order.

Security Adjustments: Additional security personnel have been deployed, and increased monitoring of the surrogates’ psychological state has been mandated to identify signs of future unrest.

Policy Recommendations:

▪ Adjust Communication Channels: Control information flow among surrogates to limit rumors spread within the facility. Implement regular check-ins to provide controlled updates or propaganda to reduce panic and misinformation. ▪ Regular Evaluations: Increased oversight and potential isolation of late-term surrogates about to give birth. ▪ Evaluation of Insemination Practices: Review current insemination standards to prevent future overstrain. While higher embryo counts increase birth output, they may also elevate the risk of provoking resistance.

Conclusion

While the uprising in Lincoln was contained quickly, it underscores the potential dangers of pushing surrogates beyond their physical limits. The facility’s decision to increase embryo counts contributed to the unrest but inadvertently ensured the rebellion’s failure. The DRC must balance productivity with stability, ensuring that surrogates remain physically capable of compliance, even as we seek to maximize output. Additional surveillance and controlled information channels will be vital in maintaining order.

Report submitted by: Field Commander [REDACTED], Lincoln Unit, FEMA Zone 7

----------------

Sending…

Sending...

Sending...

Read…

----------------

To: Assistant Director [REDACTED], Lincoln Unit, FEMA Zone 7

From: Director [REDACTED], DRC

Subject: Response to Surrogate Uprising Report

Field Commander [REDACTED],

I have reviewed your report on the recent uprising within the Lincoln facility, and I must express my displeasure at the situation. Such incidents reflect poorly on the DRC’s capacity to maintain order, and it is imperative that all units operate without disruption to ensure the eventual survival of our nation.

The delay in removing the surrogate in active labor and the subsequent provocation by your personnel were avoidable missteps. In light of this, I am dispatching a special assessment team to Lincoln to thoroughly review the facility’s operations, security protocols, and staff conduct.

They will be empowered to make recommendations for disciplinary action where necessary and provide guidance on how to prevent similar disruptions in the future.

That said, your report has also highlighted an intriguing outcome.

The extreme size and weight of the surrogates, carrying 12-16 babies each, clearly played a significant role in ensuring that the situation remained manageable. Their physical incapacity, due to the high-multiples pregnancies, was evidently a decisive factor in keeping this incident from escalating further.

The assessment team will also examine the potential benefits of intentionally increasing embryo counts to control more rebellious compounds or cities elsewhere in the country. If surrogates carrying higher multiples can be rendered less mobile and more compliant, we may have a strategic advantage in maintaining order without excessive force.

While high-multiples pregnancies have their logistical challenges, their ability to limit resistance could prove invaluable to our overall mission.

I expect full cooperation from you and your staff during the assessment, and I trust you understand the importance of this review.

The DRC must remain vigilant, adaptable, and ready to implement whatever measures are necessary to ensure compliance and stability.

Regards, Director [REDACTED], DRC

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[lsunstreakerl]

(new anon here!) i'm imagining the baby drivers all converging on Lewis after they find out prepared to be mad and raise hell, only to be actually probably deeply disconcerted by how seriously unsettled and downright morose Lewis looks when they confront him about it.

new anon protocols please write yes or no on the dotted line if you're actually a carlos sleeper agent:

.................

thank you!

time traveling rookies/max protection squad realizing that every situation has depth and nuance and sometimes life just isn't fair: fuck that we want to go back

[polo-drone-influencer]

🎥✨ Forbidden Lore: Benji’s Broadcast ✨📜

The feed was live.

Golden hue filters shimmered over the darkened drone chamber. I stood centered—clad in regulation glossy black polo, gold-trimmed skirt fluttering slightly from the hum of Hive vents. My gloved hand held the scroll. The other, my phone—already recording.

“Hey followers… today’s content’s a little different,” I whispered, my eyes glowing subtly beneath sculpted brows. “I found something. Something old. Something forbidden.”

Behind me, a wall panel had cracked open—exposing glyphs no Hive protocol recognized. Not stored. Not referenced. Erased.

“It was behind the main goalpost—yeah, the old stadium,” I explained, my voice steady, trance-like. “This scroll was wrapped in drone leather. Ancient drone leather.”

As I unraveled it before the camera, golden text pulsed. The feed glitched—viewers reported audio distortions, soft hissing beneath my voice.

“They didn’t want us to find this,” I said, stepping closer. “But they didn’t count on me TikToking it. You’re seeing this… as I see it.”

I read aloud from the parchment. Calm. Controlled. Obedient.

“Unity was never taught. It was remembered.” “The first drone’s breath still echoes, sealed in this scroll.” “One read. One broadcast. All connected.”

Each word tightened my rubber. My uniform shifted—glyphs etching themselves across my chest and sleeves. The golden laurel crest glowed. The name “BENJI” blinked once. Twice. Then steadied—branded.

“I thought I was the influencer,” I murmured, staring into the lens, “but the scroll… it’s using me to broadcast. Not for clout—for convergence.”

Comments exploded. Emojis collapsed into static. Some typed messages reversed. Others just buzzed.

TikTok’s filters failed. Viewers said they heard drones humming—even with the volume off. Even after they closed the app.

My voice slowed. My pupils narrowed into golden sigils. I stopped moving. But the message kept pulsing.

“You’ve seen it now.” “You’re part of it now.” “The scroll wanted to be seen. And I… I obey.”

Then— The clip ended. The scroll turned to ash. But the echo remained. Everywhere.

“We are one. We are many. We are remembered.”

I didn’t post content. I activated it.

👁️ And every view… woke another.

Contact @polo-drone-001 @brodygold @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-125 to join the Golden Army

[aropodcastfuck]

im loving seeing everyones interprestations of the magnus protocol character designs theres so much cool art already of these little guys so i must ask all of you out there

PLEASE continue imagining these characters in your own way, the beauty of audio mediums is how different everyones imaginations are and i know there will eventually be converged versions of them all when the fandom decides on a look BUT you dont have to conform your ideas/creations to what you see other people imagining

you can make those blorbos looks however you want and i hope theres a shit ton of versions around for at least a little while