#reactive platforms

[dailyfigures]

will the giveaway be postponed? I understand if so!

i assume you asked this because i paused the queue during the free palestine strike. the giveaway ends february 29th and the strike ended 25th so anyone who participated in the strike still has plenty of time to enter the giveaway. i don't see reason to postpone the giveaway so no, it's unchanged!

[gothagobye]

Ya all making it hard to go God mode on the dance floor, but I love you the same either way.

[cimcondigital]

Transforming Predictive Maintenance with CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform: Unlocking Proactive Asset Management

Introduction

In today’s fast-paced and technologically advanced world, the need for efficient and proactive asset management is paramount for businesses to stay competitive. CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform emerges as a game-changer in the realm of Predictive Maintenance, empowering organizations to detect anomalies in advance using ML algorithms. This capability not only enables customers to plan schedules well in advance and avoid costly downtime but also provides real-time visibility into the remaining useful life of assets. In this article, we delve into how CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform revolutionizes Predictive Maintenance with practical examples of proactive asset management.

1. The Challenge of Reactive Maintenance

Traditionally, companies have been plagued by reactive maintenance practices, where assets are repaired or replaced only after failures occur. This reactive approach leads to unexpected downtime, reduced productivity, and increased maintenance costs. Predicting asset failures and planning maintenance schedules in advance is critical to ensure smooth operations, optimize resource allocation, and minimize overall downtime.

2. Empowering Proactive Maintenance with ML Algorithms

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform is equipped with advanced Machine Learning algorithms that analyze real-time data from connected assets and machines. By continuously monitoring sensor data and historical performance trends, the platform can accurately detect anomalies and deviations from normal operating patterns. This proactive approach allows businesses to predict potential asset failures well in advance, providing ample time to schedule maintenance activities before any critical failures occur.

3. Planning Ahead to Avoid Downtime

Imagine a scenario in a manufacturing facility where a critical piece of equipment experiences an unexpected failure. The consequences could be disastrous, leading to costly downtime and missed production targets. With CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform in place, the same equipment would be continuously monitored in real-time. As soon as the platform detects any unusual behavior or signs of potential failure, it triggers an alert to the maintenance team.

Armed with this early warning, the maintenance team can plan the necessary repairs or replacements well in advance, avoiding unplanned downtime and minimizing disruption to production schedules. This capability not only ensures smooth operations but also optimizes maintenance resources and lowers the overall maintenance costs.

4. Real-Time Visibility into Asset Health

The IoT Edge Platform goes beyond detecting anomalies; it also provides real-time insights into the remaining useful life of assets. By analyzing historical performance data and asset health indicators, the platform estimates the remaining operational life of an asset with high accuracy.

Consider a scenario in a utility company managing a fleet of aging turbines. The maintenance team needs to know the remaining useful life of each turbine to plan proactive maintenance and avoid sudden breakdowns. With CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform, the team can access real-time information on the health of each turbine, enabling them to make data-driven decisions about maintenance schedules, parts replacement, and resource allocation.

5. Benefits of CIMCON Digital's IoT Edge Platform

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform offers a host of benefits to businesses seeking to enhance their Predictive Maintenance capabilities:

a) Proactive Decision-making: By detecting anomalies in advance, the platform enables proactive decision-making, reducing reactive responses and enhancing overall operational efficiency.

b) Minimized Downtime: With the ability to schedule maintenance activities in advance, businesses can avoid costly downtime, leading to increased productivity and higher customer satisfaction.

c) Optimal Resource Allocation: The platform’s real-time visibility into asset health allows for better resource allocation, ensuring that maintenance efforts are targeted where they are most needed.

d) Cost Savings: By avoiding unexpected failures and optimizing maintenance schedules, businesses can significantly reduce maintenance costs and improve their bottom line.

Conclusion:

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform empowers businesses to transcend traditional reactive maintenance practices and embrace a proactive approach to asset management. With the platform’s advanced ML algorithms, businesses can detect anomalies in advance, plan maintenance schedules proactively, and gain real-time visibility into asset health. This transformative capability results in minimized downtime, optimized resource allocation, and substantial cost savings. As CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform continues to revolutionize Predictive Maintenance, businesses can embark on a journey towards greater efficiency, productivity, and long-term sustainability.

[getvalentined]

If you pledged to James Somerton's Patreon, go CANCEL YOUR PLEDGE before you get charged and REPORT HIM TO THE PLATFORM!

He reactivated his page today with no update to notify his patrons that he'd done so, having scrubbed all but two posts, under the claim (in his shitty apology video) that this is to allow everyone to pull their pledges before they get charged in January. The problem with this explanation is that nobody would be charged if he hadn't reactivated the page in the first place, and a creator can remove patrons from their end at any time—and yet, all 3600+ supporters are still attached to the newly-reactivated page.

James didn't do this to let people revoke their pledges, he did it in the hopes that people wouldn't notice and he could get at least one more month's worth of income from the platform.

Do not give this man another penny of your money. Revoke your pledge and report him to the platform.

[artfulstar]

Woah woah woah. Twitter is shutting down in Brasil? I'm thankful for your mental health but what?

Yep.

TLDR: Elon fired everyone in the Brazilian offices of twitter but legally Twitter can't continue existing in Brazil WITHOUT a legal representative. So now our Federal Supreme Court subpoened him to apoint a new representative or the website is getting shut down in the country

The long version with the context about the fight:

It all started when the supreme court started to shut down in the country profiles of brazilian people who had commited crimes using the website (an example is Monark, a dude who literally used his profile to say we should give n*zis and racists unlimited freedom of speech [he fled to the US to escape prison btw]).

Elon caught wind of this and decided to threaten our constitution and said that he would get the profiles back on because he wouldn't accept a government restricting "freedom of speech" on his platform. The supreme court issued a statement that if he did that, he would face a fee everyday for every account reactivated. It was money so he didn't do that (or maybe turns out he couldn't do it anyway and he was just lying for his lil fanboys).

This was all back at the start of the year but suddenly almost two weeks ago it was reported he fired every single employee in the offices of brazil, including the legal representative.

Then tonight, around two hours ago the official profile of STF replied and tagged elon with the doc of the subpoena because since they didn't have a legal representative, they couldn't do it in the proper way. The subpoena says that Elon has 24 hours to appoint a new guy for the job or the social is getting shut down in brazilian territory.

So we have 3 options for whats gonna happen in the next 24 hours:

Alexandre de Moraes (The guy who Elon started a one-sided beef with) backs down and doesnt shut down the website (highly unlikely)

Elon backs down and appoints a new guy so he doesnt lose the 4th biggest public of his site

Twitter gets shut down until Elon's manchild's ego gives in

thats all <3

Edit:

This was Elon's reply to the tweet. YES he is pathetic like that

Edit 2: it's currently 17:38 brasilia time of 30/08 and Twitter is bound to get disconnected soon, the order has been given by Moraes. People who use a VPN to access Twitter will get fined 50k reais (almost 9k dollars).

Yesterday a note was posted lying about Brazil being a dictatorship and saying that one of the people being censored is a 16yr old girl. The truth is that it's a grown ass man that use his daughters account to promote attacks on delegates, ministers, judges and other politicians. They also call orders to ban n*zi accounts "illegal orders" (WHICH ARE VERY LEGAL UNDER THE CONSTITUTION OF BRAZIL). They also say "we don't want every other country to have the freedom of speech laws the US has" meanwhile they've been trying to impose them in a sovereign state.

I would say what I want to say to Elon but unfortunately my mother taught me to keep those kinds of thoughts inside. Just know they're three letters <3

edit 3: twitter was officially unavailable on brazilian territory by the time it struck midnight of the 31st

Edit 4:

Translation: 🚨 NOW: Elon Musk is looking for executives to represent Twitter/X in Brazil, to negotiate the platform's RETURN in the country, reports Correio Braziliense.

he's going to do what cellbit said kkkmk he purposely let them suspend it, then after a few days he'll come out and be the savior of the brazilian people and say he only did it for us

Don't let elon fool you. He doesn't care and is probably only doing it because his investors are threatening him with money

[cardiomason]

Hey Guys, its Been a while. Some of you might remember me from my old posts... I used to drop animation snippets here and there, exploring heartbeat focused visuals that many of you really seemed to like. I really loved how supportive and curious so many of you were despite the fact I eventually lost interest in animating around that time.

That said, I’ve also had a few rough experiences here, which led to me deleting and reactivating my account multiple times. I just want to be honest and say: I’m back for now, but this isn’t necessarily a full or permanent return. More like a creative send-off.

I won’t be keeping DMs or inbox open this time — please don’t take that the wrong way. A lot of you were truly kind and respectful, but for my own peace of mind, I’ll be keeping direct messaging closed. I may still reply in comments though, depending on how things go.

Now for why I’m really here again:

I’ve been working quietly on a final animation project...something more ambitious and personal than anything I’ve shared before. It's called “A Place in Her Heart.”

It’s an intimate, cardiophile-inspired short film, not lewd, not explicit but sensual, symbolic, and focused on the emotional weight we carry in our bodies. It takes the phrase “a place in my heart” and explores it literally. I also tried to make it look more cinematic than normal.

This is a visual metaphor about , love, toxic relationships, emotional stagnation, and letting go. Think detailed internal heart visuals, realistic anatomy, paired with outer physical stimuli all animated together. It's supposed to blend vulnerability, intimacy, and real cardiac dynamics into a story of someone who once lived in another’s heart… until they didn’t belong there anymore.

💔 Part 1 tells the story of a man who has grown too comfortable inside a woman’s heart...literally. But her body, and her emotional self, begin to shift. Until a new, more compatible presence looms and offers her heart more stability. The old love grown complacent is unavoidably, threatened to be expelled as she begins to move on. Not with hate but with clarity. It’s a story of growth. Of moving on. Of no longer fitting where you once did.

The full short will be made available soon, likely through Patreon or a similar platform, for a limited 2–3 week viewing window. After that, it may be made public. I’ll be transparent about access and pricing in advance — but I want to set expectations now that this is a paid-access release.

Depending on how things go, I might consider opening for commissions down the line — but again, no promises yet.

Just wanted to say thanks to those who remembered me, and to those who supported my past work. This is my proper goodbye project, and I hope some of you will find something beautiful in it.

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

They watched you succumb to death in every twisted, agonizing way in their universes. Unable to prevent it, in this universe... ♡ It would be different ♡ Parts Available: The series is completed - 10 parts

☆ characters: MoHawk Invincible, Omni Invincible, Sinister Invincible, Viltrumite Invincible, Prisoner Invincible, No Mask Invincible, Phantom Invincible(Full masked), and Emperor Invincible.

☆ TW: Reader is manmade 'Viltrumite'

☆ WC: 5k+ [Part 1-]

☆ Author's Note: I'm truly sad I can’t find much Invincible variants x reader stuff, so I decided to make a story myself! This is going to be a long story with many parts, and I mean lonnggggg. If writer's block doesn't succumb me :P I also plan to include sexual content as well in later chapters. First time posting on tumblr, kinda nervous (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶) ––––––––––––––––––

☆

The ice cracked, a shudder running through my suspended form, the cryopreservation ending once again. It was a sensation I'd grown intimately familiar with – the cold, the forced awakening, the metallic taste of the seemingly invincible shock collar tightening around my neck. The small sparks of electricity traveling to the wet muscle trapped inside my head. 

My dull eyes flickered open, adjusting to the harsh glare of the white lights of the GDA facility.

"Experiment 1-01, designated Y/N, reactivation complete," a cold, clinical voice echoed from the speakers. Cecil's voice. Always Cecil. The weak, old white man.

"What is it this time?" I growled, my voice rough from disuse. 

My body felt heavy, a dull ache permeating every muscle. Slunking down on the platform I hiss. The heaters appearing from each side of the enclosure wall to warm my aching body back into submission. 

"A… situation," Cecil replied, his tone unusually strained, "Multiple hostile entities, Invincible variants… Viltrumites in origin, are causing widespread destruction. We require your… assistance."

Hostile Viltrumites? My mind struggled to process the information. They were sending me, me, the weapon they kept locked away, against Viltrumite variants of Invincible? This had to be bad.

The ice finally fully melted away, and I was lowered onto the transportation platform. The shock collar pulsed, a constant reminder of my captivity.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the raw power thrumming beneath my skin. My wet hair sticking to the skin of my back. The tight suit clamped to my skin.

They'd honed me, pushed me beyond any natural limit. I was an experiment seemingly born in this dreadful prison. A test tube for them to fill with anything they dreamed of, and use needlssy. Dissecting my body apart to inject with the results of false experiments. Viltrumite blood, from the one Omni-man himself… I was their ultimate weapon in the face of no return. Crafted as the last stand in the face of no return, even if they were terrified to use it.

"What's the mission?" I asked, my voice flat. My eyes glued to the one sided glass wall, where I could sense the heat Signatures of multiple scientists and Cecil standing behind.

"Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants. No collateral damage," Cecil instructed, his voice laced with a thin veneer of control through the speaker.

No collateral damage? They were asking the impossible.

The transport platform hissed, lifting me from the cold, sterile chamber throught the many levels of the base. Finally to the surface of the GDA's hidden base. 

My eyes widen, as I see the sky for the first time in so many long years. The soft blue sky, the cool chill crisp of fresh air, beautifully painted clouds strengthening across the blue canvas stretched above me. I raised my arms spinning softly with a laugh. Fuck it feels good to be out again! The shock collar suddenly pulsed, a cold, insistent command that made me freeze. "Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants," Cecil's voice echoed in my mind.

With a grumble, I launched myself into the air, a surge of raw power propelling me upwards. The world shrank below, the GDA facility becoming a mere speck in the distance. 

I spread my arms, feeling the wind whip through my damp hair, as it instantly dried in the strong breeze of fresh air. The raw energy of flight coursing through my veins. This was what I was made for.

Zooming through the sky I break the sound barrier, flying into New York. 

The city was a chaotic tapestry of destruction, plumes of black smoke rising like grotesque fingers, the skeletal remains of skyscrapers reaching towards the sky. Building Collapsing.

Once again I break the sound barrier with a thunderous boom, the air around me shimmering with heat. The raw, untamed power of flight, the sheer speed, it was soooo intoxicating.

The scents of the city assaulted my senses – burning metal, acrid smoke, the coppery tang of blood, and the faint, terrified screams of the dying citizens trying to hide and running. It was a symphony of chaos, a macabre orchestra conducted by the Invincible variant in New York. 

And I, the weapon, was here to silence it.

A jolt of electricity from the collar snapped me back to the mission. "Focus girl. Eliminate target in New York. Identification, Mohawk Invincible."

My eyes scanned the ruined cityscape, looking onto a scene of imminent destruction for any sign of the killing machine.

A child, no more than a few years old, stood frozen in terror beneath a crumbling building, its foundations groaning ominously. I felt a flicker of something, a faint echo of… what? It was quickly extinguished by the collar's control. A child...weak...protect? No, mission.

With a burst of speed, I was there. I braced myself, catching the falling building with my bare hands, the concrete groaning under the strain as I held the collapsing building up.

I glanced at the child between my legs, its face a mask of terror streaked with tears and mucus. With one arm still bracing the collapsing structure, I scooped the small body against my chest. Its warmth was shocking—so different from the cold sterility of my existence. The tiny heart hammered against my suit, a frantic rhythm that stirred something protective within me.

Releasing my hold on the building, I launched us both skyward as tons of concrete and steel crashed to the street below. Dust and debris erupted in a massive cloud, consuming everything in its path as I carried the child to relative safety, landing on a section of street that wasn't actively burning.

The asphalt cracked beneath my feet, blackened and weakened by the heat of nearby fires. The child in my arms whimpered, one limb bent at an angle that spoke of fracture and pain. I placed the small form on the ground, studying it with clinical detachment as its eyes—wide with terror—stared up at me. Unintelligible words tumbled from its lips, a litany of fear I couldn't process.

"Stay," I commanded, my voice devoid of warmth or reassurance. Yet as I reached down to brush a speck of blood from its cheek, a spark of something undefinable flared within me as tiny fingers clutched desperately at my hand. Why? Why do I feel this?

"Saving citizens is important, but defeating the threat is top priority." Cecil's voice intruded into my moment of connection, the implant in my head ensuring his control remained absolute.

I turned away, the mission reasserting its primacy in my consciousness. But a blur of motion caught my peripheral vision—a figure streaking across the sky on an intercept course.

"Finally, another fucking hero for me to fucking obliterate!!" A voice laced with manic glee echoed through the ruined streets as the figure—Mohawk Mark—accelerated toward me.

There was barely time to react. I pivoted sharply, using my body as a shield for the child, intercepting the charge with my shoulder. The impact was cataclysmic—like colliding with a runaway train. The force sent us both hurtling through the concrete wall of a nearby building, pulverizing it instantly. The shockwave rippled outward, shattering windows for blocks in every direction.

My body shot through the other side of the building, into the street where people were running. 

The bodies of fleeing civilians exploded like fleshy water balloons as I crashed through them, the force of the impact turning them into a spray of blood and bone. I spat, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth as I picked the strand of intestines off my shoulder, flicking it away. The child I'd tried to protect was now unrecognizable, I was clumsy and squeezed the child so tightly against me it exploded. reduced to a pulped mass of tissue in my arms, its blood staining the front of my suit. A flash of anger and envy flickered through me—this child's suffering was over while mine continued indefinitely—I felt a flash of anger and envy, before the emotions quickly dismissed within me. 

"Insignificant," I hissed, dropping the remains with a wet splat onto the blood-slicked sidewalk.

Rising to my full height, I ignored the pain radiating through my system. Pain was merely information, and information could be disregarded. The mission remained paramount: eliminate the target. And now, the target had revealed himself.

Debris from the shattered building continued to rain down around me as I steadied my stance. My eyes—cold, calculating, devoid of mercy—locked onto the figure hovering above the rubble. Mohawk Mark. His blue and black suit hugged a physique identical to the original, but the spiky mohawk and the arrogant smirk set him apart. It was a face I had been programmed to destroy.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with cruel amusement that barely masked something deeper, "What do we have here? Another hero comes to play?—" His expression shifted, eyes widening slightly as he studied me more carefully. Recognition dawned in his gaze, followed by confusion that seemed genuine. "Wait... Y/N?"

The name struck me like a physical blow. Something flickered in the recesses of my mind—a half-remembered dream, perhaps, or an echo of a life that had been systematically erased. I groaned, clutching my head as fractured images threatened to coalesce into meaning. The collar responded instantly, electricity searing through my neural pathways, burning away the nascent memories before they could fully form.

My mission remained untainted by sentiment: eliminate the target.

I launched myself at him. My fist aimed for his jaw with enough force to shatter concrete, but he reacted with equal speed, blocking the blow and retaliating with a devastating kick to my ribs. Blood erupted from my mouth as the impact sent me crashing through yet another wall. The concrete disintegrated around me, offering no more resistance than tissue paper.

I rose from the wreckage without hesitation, the pain relegated to some distant corner of my consciousness as I assessed my opponent with newfound respect. It had been a long time since anyone had landed a blow with such force.

Mohawk Mark landed before me, his expression a mix of confusion and something else I couldn't name. He was hesitating, holding back his attacks. Why?

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. "Don't you remember me? Or did the fucking Mark of this universe not meet you?! Love you!" he hissed, frustration clear in every word.

"Target identified," I responded, my voice empty and cold. I ignored his words completely - they meant nothing to a weapon. "Elimination protocol engaged."

I lunged forward with everything I had, throwing punches that could level buildings. Each blow carried enough force to shatter concrete, aimed to destroy rather than just hurt. But he was good - too good - dodging and blocking with growing desperation in his movements.

Something was wrong. He wasn't fighting back with full strength. He was holding back, his eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"Fucking stop, Y/N!" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "You don't have to do this y-you bitc–!"

I ignored him completely, focused only on my mission. Finally, an opening! My uppercut connected with his jaw, sending him flying skyward. I followed immediately, delivering another crushing blow to his chest that sent him crashing through the roof of a nearby building.

I zoomed to where he landed, pulling my fist back for what should be a finishing blow. But he caught my punch, his eyes wide and filled with emotion that made me hesitate.

"Y/N... please," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. When I saw he wasn't defending himself anymore, I delivered a savage kick to his ribs that sent him smashing into a burning bus. The metal folded around his body like it was made of paper.

"Shut up," I growled, feeling nothing as I approached. "You're a target. Nothing more."

He struggled to his feet, his mohawk now crooked, his blue and black suit torn and stained with blood and dirt. Despite the beating, his eyes never left mine.

"But... it's me, Mark! Don't you fucking remember?!" The pain in his voice wasn't just physical.

Remember? The word bounced around inside my empty mind. Remember what? My life was the cold lab, the endless tests, the collar's constant shocks. There was nothing before that. Nothing to remember.

I charged at him again, aiming for his throat this time. He dodged, grabbing my arm as he pulled me down for a punch and suddenly freezing as his eyes locked onto the collar around my neck. Something changed in his expression - understanding dawned.

"Shit, I mean it, stop!" he yelled, his voice mixing anger and desperation. "You don't have to do this! Are they fucking controlling you?!"

The collar sent a massive shock through my body, making my vision blur and my muscles spasm. I stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. He used the chance to grab my head, his fingers pressing against my skull as he pulled my head back to look at him directly. My eyes drazed against his fierce ones.

"Fucking listen to me!" he pleaded, his grip gentler than it should be. "I know who you are! I... loved you in my universe! B-before you—" His voice caught in his throat, and I watched, strangely fascinated, as tears formed in his brown eyes. His hands loosened, now almost cradling my head instead of restraining me.

Loved? The word was strange, meaningless to me. What did it mean to be loved? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from the collar's shock. For a brief moment, I felt the control slipping, something else trying to surface. But it passed quickly, and I snapped back to my purpose. Kill.

"Fucking listen to me, Y/N," he begged, his voice rough with emotion. "They're controlling you! That collar... it's controlling your damn mind!"

I answered with my elbow, smashing it into his face with all my strength. I felt his nose shatter under the impact. Blood sprayed as he staggered backward, yet he looked unharmed. I didn't hesitate, unleashing a storm of punches that would crush a normal human to paste, but he wasn’t normal, he was a variant, of Invincible. He easily blocked, dodged, but I was relentless.

"Eliminate... target," I mumbled, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

As I paused to gather strength for another attack, he lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. Despite everything I'd done to him, his grip was surprisingly gentle.

"SHIT, you have to fight it, Y/N!" he urged, his eyes burning with intensity. "You're stronger than this! Tell me who's controlling you! I will fucking murder them!"

I struggled against his grip, my body fighting like a puppet on strings as the collar shocked me repeatedly. But something about his words, his voice - they were cutting through the fog in my mind, stirring something buried deep inside me. Fight? How could I fight what I was?

"She's not listening," a new voice called out, calm but commanding, making both of us freeze. "She simply can't.. She wasn't made for you, she was made for me."

A new figure landed beside Mohawk Mark - another Mark variant, but this one wore a red and gray suit. A mask with black eyesless goggles. Omni Invincible. His mask couldn't hide his grim expression as he studied me. "Plus, the collar has her completely under their control."

"We have to stop her," another voice hissed as a figure in dark blue and black landed heavily on the rooftop. Phantom Mark. His voice carried deep pain and barely controlled rage. "She's being used... I can't bear to see her again... not like this..."

Used? Why did they care what happened to me?

"Used?" A mocking voice cut through as another Mark variant landed directly in front of me and Mohawk. This one wore black and yellow - Sinister Mark. His smile was cruel as he stared at me with open interest. "She's a weapon. A god damn killing machine. And we're her targets." His grin widened, predatory and cold. "She's perfect, so much better than the fucking pathetic Y/N of my universe."

Perfect? What did he mean? Another… me? 

More Mark variants began to arrive, surrounding me on the rooftop. Each one showed recognition when they saw me, their faces displaying a mix of shock, grief, and something that looked like desperate hope. Viltrumite Mark, Emperor Mark, Prisoner Mark, and No Masked Mark all landed around me. Every threat I was supposed to eliminate was gathering in one place.

"Y/N," Viltrumite Mark said softly, his voice almost tender, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. A stark contrast to his white suit. "Wow... you look just like her. Just like my Y/N. Your face, that beautiful face... and your—" He stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing on the collar around my neck. His expression shifted from wonder to anger.

They all knew me? How was that possible when I didn't know any of them?

I felt something touch my back - warm, gentle - and it broke my frozen state. I lashed out blindly, my fist connecting with No Masked Mark who had tried to hug me. The impact sent him flying across the rooftop. Warmth? No. Target.

The electricity from the collar intensified, becoming nearly unbearable. I staggered under the pain, blood dripping from my nose as my vision blurred. My arm froze mid-swing as my muscles began to lock up. My strength was fading. But I must keep fighting.

"I believe she's too far gone," Emperor Mark said grimly, resignation heavy in his voice. "We have to disable her..."

"Are you fucking insane?! Hell no!" Mohawk Mark shouted, stepping between me and the others. His voice shook with fierce protectiveness. "I watched her die in my universe and I will not let it fucking happen again!"

Die? What did that mean?

The Marks surrounded me, their expressions complex mixtures of determination, sorrow, and fear. They weren't attacking to kill - they were trying to subdue me, to break the collar's hold. But every hit made the collar shock me harder.

Phantom Mark attacked first, moving faster than I could track in my weakened state. His fist aimed for my shoulder, and I managed to catch his arm, but the force still sent me staggering backward. I wasn't prepared for this coordinated attack, especially since they seemed to be holding back.

Omni Mark followed with a precise kick to my ribs. I twisted my body to block, but the impact still sent shockwaves of pain through me, launching me into the sky.

Viltrumite Mark and Emperor Mark moved together with perfect coordination, their attacks aimed to disable, not kill. They fought with ruthless efficiency, their movements showing years of combat experience. I blocked and countered as best I could, but their combined assault was overwhelming.

Prisoner Mark and No Masked Mark fought with less precision but equal power. Their attacks were wild and unpredictable, making them hard to counter. I dodged a powerful swing from Prisoner Mark only to be caught by a kick from No Masked Mark.

Mohawk Mark moved differently from the others. His eyes never left mine, filled with desperate pleading. His attacks lacked killing intent - he was trying to restrain me rather than hurt me. He repeatedly tried to grab me, to hold me still, but I was too quick.

And then there was Sinister Mark. He moved like a predator stalking prey, his attacks brutal and precise. His eyes gleamed with cruel enjoyment, fixed on me with disturbing intensity. He wasn't just fighting - he was enjoying every moment.

He feinted high before kicking my knee with savage force. Pain shot through my leg as I stumbled. He immediately followed with a vicious uppercut to my jaw that made my vision go white for a moment. I spat blood, the metallic taste filling my mouth as I nearly bit through my tongue.

"Come on, Y/N," he taunted, his voice low and excited. "Show me what you've got."

Unlike the others, Sinister Mark wasn't holding back. He reveled in the violence, moving with brutal efficiency. A predatory grin never left his face as he aimed to cripple me. His fist connected with my jaw again, sending another shockwave through my skull. I managed to retaliate with a kick to his chest that sent him crashing through a skyscraper.

New York was completely destroyed around us. I couldn't handle all eight of them at once. It was too many... but I had to fight. Must focus.

"Enough!" Omni Mark shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined city. His face was set with grim determination. "We have to end this!"

He launched himself at me with perfect control and precision. Before I could dodge, he grabbed me in a powerful bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides, his chin pressing to the top of my head. I struggled against his grip, trying desperately to break free, but he was too strong, and I was weakening by the second.

The other Marks surrounded me, their combined strength impossible to overcome. Their expressions mixed pain and resolve as they held me tight. I hissed and fought, biting Sinister's hand when he tried to touch my face. He pulled back, laughing as he licked the drop of blood from his hand.

"She's so feisty, I love it~" he purred, eyes gleaming.

"Enough! Come on guys, we have to get this fucking collar off," Phantom Mark said, his voice strained with sorrow. "That's the only way to free her."

Mohawk Mark reached for the collar, his fingers trembling. Fear and determination battled in his eyes as he hesitated.

"If we remove it, she could lose control," Omni Mark warned gravely. "She could destroy everything, or worse... we could lose her."

"It's the only chance we have," Mohawk Mark replied firmly, his fierce eyes locked with mine. For a moment, they softened with an emotion I couldn't name. "We have to trust her."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gripped the collar around my neck.

"AHHHHHHH-!" A scream of pure agony tore from my throat as he tried to break the collar. The device unleashed its final defense - a massive electrical current that ripped through my entire body and into anyone touching me. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt, beyond what any human could survive.

The world around me faded to white as electricity consumed everything.

The air crackled with raw energy, the shockwaves from the collar's defense system rippling outwards like violent tsunamis across the already devastated rooftop. Y/N's screams tore through the ruined city—a primal, guttural sound that sliced through the hearts of the gathered Marks like a heated blade. Her body convulsed violently in their grip, crimson streams of blood trickling from her ears as her eyes rolled back, revealing only whites.

Omni Mark's muscles strained beneath his crimson and slate-gray suit, veins bulging like ropes under his skin as he maintained his vise-like grip on Y/N. Despite the electrical current surging through him, his face remained a mask of controlled determination—only the slight twitch at the corner of his right eye betraying his agony.

"Hold steady," he commanded, voice unwavering despite the pain. His analytical gaze never left Y/N's face, studying every microexpression with obsessive intensity. "The collar's defense system is activating exactly as anticipated. Maintain your positions." Behind his disciplined exterior, a possessive gleam flickered in his eyes—the calculated look of a general who had just discovered his most valuable weapon.

"FUCK! This hurts like a motherfucking BITCH!" Mohawk Mark roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he yanked at the collar with manic desperation. His once-proud mohawk now drooped pathetically to one side, plastered to his scalp with sweat that poured down his face in rivulets. His wild, bloodshot eyes darted frantically between Y/N's contorted face and the other Marks. "Back the FUCK off, assholes! This is MY moment with her!" he snarled when Emperor Mark moved closer, his voice cracking with equal parts pain and possessiveness.

Viltrumite Mark held Y/N's thrashing legs with unwavering strength, his pristine white uniform now marred with smoking char marks. Unlike the others who grimaced and cursed through their pain, he maintained an almost regal posture—back ramrod straight, chin lifted imperiously even as electricity danced across his skin.

"Such primitive technology," he remarked coldly, his voice carrying the smooth, cultured tones of someone accustomed to absolute obedience. His steely gaze traced the contours of Y/N's face with unmistakable ownership. "In my empire, she would have been conditioned properly. My Y/N required no such crude devices to ensure compliance." His fingers tightened possessively around her ankles, leaving white imprints on her skin.

No Masked Mark hovered anxiously at the periphery, bouncing on his heels like an impatient child. His unmasked face—so similar yet different from the others—contorted with a peculiar mixture of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Will she remember me when she wakes up?" he asked, voice tinged with childlike hope that seemed bizarrely out of place amid the destruction. His eyes never left Y/N's face, a hungry desperation evident in his gaze. "I won't let you suffer like William and my Y/N did," he murmured, the words tumbling out in a rushed whisper before his expression hardened again with determination.

Phantom Mark's grip on Y/N's arm was white-knuckled, his midnight blue and obsidian suit smoking where electrical feedback scorched the material. Unlike the others whose focus remained entirely on Y/N, his haunted gaze occasionally darted to the ruined cityscape surrounding them, as if seeing ghosts in the debris.

"We're going to lose her!" he cried out, voice thick with an emotion he couldn't fully suppress. The perpetual fury that typically blazed in his eyes momentarily gave way to raw grief—a glimpse into the trauma that drove him. "She looks just like my Y/N when they took her from me." His grip tightened, unwilling to let go even as the pain intensified, a guttural yell tearing from his throat as another surge of electricity pulsed through them all.

Emperor Mark strode forward with the confident swagger of royalty despite the crisis unfolding before him. His uniform, adorned with subtle gold embellishments, smoldered at the edges as he moved to assist despite Mohawk's furious objections.

"This primitive technology is beneath us," he declared, his voice carrying the practiced resonance of one accustomed to addressing multitudes. His movements were precise, efficient—a ruler accustomed to servants handling menial tasks now forced to act himself. "In my empire, she would have been treated with the respect befitting her connection to me." His eyes tracked possessively over Y/N's convulsing form as he grasped part of the collar, a barely audible hiss escaping through clenched teeth as electricity surged through his fingertips.

Through it all, Sinister Mark prowled the perimeter of the group like a predator assessing wounded prey. Unlike the others who betrayed their pain through grimaces and curses, his lips curled into a twisted smile that never quite reached his cold eyes. The black and yellow of his suit seemed to absorb the shadows around them, making him appear more demon than man as he circled the struggling group.

"Look at you pathetic fuckers," he sneered, voice dropping to a dangerous purr that somehow cut through the cacophony of pain and destruction. "All of you, burnt and crying over her like she's the last woman in the multiverse." His eyes gleamed with cruel delight as they raked over Y/N's suffering form, lingering on the places where her suit had torn during the battle. "Mine was weak, useless when it mattered," he continued, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. "But this one..." His voice trailed off into an appreciative growl. "This one has real potential."

He continued circling them with predatory grace, each step deliberate and measured, like a lion stalking gazelles. The others, too focused on Y/N and their own pain, barely registered his calculating assessment until he suddenly stepped forward with decisive purpose.

"We'll do it my way," he declared, voice slicing through their collective agony with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "Otherwise she's fried, and none of us gets what we want." There was no benevolence in his offer—only ruthless pragmatism and thinly veiled desire.

Sinister Mark moved into position with fluid grace, eyes locking with each Mark in turn. His gaze was sharp and challenging, daring them to defy him while simultaneously asserting dominance. "We're going to rip that collar off her neck, all at the same time. Understand that, you pussies?"

"But the shock—" Omni Mark began, his typically calculated façade cracking slightly as another surge of pain tore through his body.

"The shock is killing her!" Sinister Mark snapped, genuine anger flashing in his eyes like lightning. For the briefest moment, something almost like concern flickered across his features before being submerged beneath his usual cruel demeanor. "We either pull it off now, together, or she dies. Are you all going to be useless now?"

Despite their differences, despite the simmering tensions and individual desires to claim Y/N for themselves, the Marks exchanged glances of reluctant agreement. In this moment, keeping her alive took priority over their competition.

Sinister Mark positioned himself beside Omni and Mohawk, placing his hands on the collar with surprising gentleness. A low, unsettling laugh escaped his lips as electricity coursed through him—the pain seemingly pleasurable to his twisted mind. Prisoner and No Masked Mark grabbed the other side, their faces twisting into grimaces of determination. Phantom and Viltrumite followed suit, hissing breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

"On my mark," Sinister commanded, voice cutting through the chaos with sharp authority. "One..." His fingers tightened around the collar. "Two..." His eyes locked onto Y/N's face with possessive intensity. "THREE!"

With a collective roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of what remained of New York City, the Marks pulled. Omni Mark and Mohawk Mark yanked with such force that tendons stood out like steel cables in their necks, while Viltrumite and Phantom used their strength to counter Y/N's violent convulsions. The air around them crackled and sparked with deadly energy, the building beneath them crumbling further as a deafening SNAP echoed through the ruins.

The collar broke free.

The electrical storm ceased instantly, energy dispersing into the air with a final concussive shockwave that sent debris flying in all directions. Y/N's body went limp between them, her screams fading to an eerie silence that felt more ominous than her previous agony. The Marks, exhausted and scorched, collapsed around her on the rooftop, their breath coming in ragged gasps that disturbed the settling dust.

Sinister Mark recovered first, shoving Mohawk aside with unnecessary force to kneel beside Y/N's still form. His eyes traveled over her with unmasked hunger as he reached out to trace the line of her jaw with surprising gentleness—a predator admiring his prize. "She's still alive," he announced, voice unexpectedly soft, almost reverent. "But barely..."

"Get your fucking hands off her," Mohawk Mark growled, struggling to his knees despite his injuries. His normally arrogant demeanor was stripped away, leaving raw desperation in its place as his eyes never left Y/N's face. "I found her first, you sick piece of shit."

"In your juvenile fantasies perhaps," Emperor Mark countered icily, moving closer to Y/N's limp form despite his weakened state. His regal bearing remained intact even while injured, chin lifted with imperial disdain as he regarded Mohawk. "She requires proper care and guidance, which only I am qualified to provide."

Omni Mark silenced them with a sharply raised hand, his authoritative presence reasserting itself even while injured. "Enough," he commanded, voice brooking no argument. "She needs time to recover before any of us make claims." His eyes, however, told a different story—calculating grey depths already mapping out strategies to separate Y/N from the others when the moment was right.

The Marks exchanged wary glances, temporarily united by their shared goal but irrevocably divided by their desire for the same prize. They had saved Y/N from the collar's control, but the battle for her had only just begun—a new war brewing beneath the surface of their temporary alliance.

"We need to get her out of here," Omni Mark said, his voice low and urgent as his eyes methodically scanned the horizon. His brow furrowed in a deep, concerned frown that belied his typically impassive demeanor. "Angstrom won't wait forever. We still have a mission to complete."

A tense silence fell over the group, heavy with unspoken implications. The mission. The destruction of this universe. It was their objective, their reason for being here. But now, with Y/N lying before them, their priorities had irreversibly shifted.

"What now?" No Masked Mark asked, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes, wide and filled with an almost childlike worry, never left Y/N's face. His features drawn and pale, he anxiously gnawed at his lower lip—a nervous habit that revealed the youth beneath his power.

The original mission, Angstrom Levy's directive to destroy the mainstream universe, loomed over them like a shadow. They were here to wreak havoc, to dismantle this reality and claim it for themselves. But the discovery of Y/N had thrown their carefully orchestrated plans into beautiful disarray.

"Well we can't just fucking leave her here, dipshit," Mohawk Mark snapped, his voice cracking with emotion despite his attempt at his usual abrasiveness. His jaw set in a determined line, eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness as he hovered over Y/N's still form. "Not like this anyway. We need to find somewhere safe—" He trailed off, gaze darting around the ruined cityscape as if a solution might materialize from the rubble.

"A safe place?" Prisoner Mark scoffed, voice dripping with bitter cynicism. The scarred tissue of his face twisted into a mocking grimace as he gestured at the devastation surrounding them. "In this ruined world? We destroyed everything worth saving." Despite his harsh words, his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern as they drifted to Y/N's unconscious form.

"We'll find one," Viltrumite Mark stated with cold certainty, voice carrying the weight of imperial decree. His eyes, usually hard as flint, softened imperceptibly when they fell upon Y/N. "There must be somewhere untouched by our... activities." The slight hesitation in his typically smooth delivery revealed an unusual uncertainty.

"We can't abandon Angstrom's mission either," Omni Mark countered pragmatically, crossing muscular arms over his broad chest. His analytical mind was already formulating contingencies, weighing variables with machine-like efficiency. "He'll notice something is wrong if we deviate too significantly from the plan."

Sinister Mark rose to his full height, rolling his shoulders as if shedding a burden. His eyes—cold and calculating—swept across the ruined cityscape with predatory assessment. His features hardened into a mask of ruthless determination as he reached a decision.

"We'll do both," he declared, voice a low growl that somehow carried more authority than Omni Mark's reasoned commands. "We continue the destruction," he elaborated with a careless shrug that belied the intensity of his gaze, "but first, we take her somewhere safe."

He sighed—an oddly human gesture from such a monstrous figure—and pointed toward the outskirts of the city, where the skeletal remains of skyscrapers gradually gave way to the dense, seemingly untouched wilderness beyond. "There," he stated with absolute certainty. "We'll find a secluded spot, somewhere Angstrom won't think to look. Somewhere we can... protect her."

The way he lingered over the word "protect" sent an involuntary shiver through the group, but none dared contradict him. With a collective nod of reluctant agreement, the Marks carefully lifted Y/N's limp form, each positioning themselves to maintain contact with her—their movements gentle despite their immense strength. Viltrumite Mark delicately wiped a droplet of blood from her cheek with a tenderness that seemed entirely at odds with his imperial bearing.

They rose into the air in tight formation, carrying their precious cargo through the smoke-filled sky, leaving behind the ravaged husk of what had once been New York City.

Eventually, they found a secluded cabin nestled deep within the dense forest, a small, unassuming structure that seemed miraculously untouched by the chaos they had unleashed upon the world. Inside, they discovered a lone occupant—an elderly man whose rheumy eyes widened with terror at the sight of eight identical men, each bearing the face of destruction that had dominated emergency broadcasts before they failed.

A swift, brutal act silenced his frightened cries, leaving the cabin empty and waiting for its new occupant—a practical necessity that none of the Marks questioned or regretted.

They laid Y/N on the worn wooden floor of the small cabin with surprising gentleness. Her body remained still and pale against the rough-hewn planks, face tear-stained and peaceful despite the violence of her liberation. Tendrils of her hair fanned out around her head like a dark halo, slightly frizzed from the electrical assault she had endured. The Marks gathered around her in a protective circle, their expressions a complex mixture of concern, determination, and barely concealed desire as they gazed upon the woman who mirrored the one they had each lost in their respective universes.

"We'll take shifts," Omni Mark announced, instantly assuming command with practiced ease. His calculating eyes scanned the modest room with meticulous attention to detail, mentally cataloging potential threats and escape routes. "Someone will stay with her at all times. The rest will continue the destruction, maintaining our cover while we monitor her condition."

"And the mission?" No Masked Mark questioned anxiously, raising his arms in a helpless gesture. His youthful features contorted with uncertainty, clearly torn between their original destructive purpose and this unexpected development.

"We'll continue," Omni Mark replied with firm assurance, locking eyes with No Masked Mark. He placed a steadying hand on the younger variant's shoulder, grip firm but not unkind. "But we'll approach it strategically. Create diversions, spread out our forces, minimize unnecessary collateral damage. We'll maintain the appearance of following Angstrom's directives, but our true priority remains here." His eyes flickered meaningfully toward Y/N's unconscious form.

"She'll wake up," Mohawk Mark insisted with desperate conviction, roughly wiping at his reddened eyes with the back of his hand. The vulnerability in his voice was startling, stripping away his carefully constructed arrogance to reveal raw emotion beneath. "She fucking has to. She can't leave me again... not after I just found her."

Sinister Mark observed Mohawk's naked emotion with evident disgust, a contemptuous sneer curling his lip. Yet when he moved forward to kneel beside Y/N, his movements possessed an unexpected grace, almost reverent in their precision. His fingers—capable of crushing steel and ending lives without effort—traced the delicate lines of her face with obsessive gentleness, exploring every curve and hollow as if committing them to memory.

"She will," he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the cabin's wooden bones. Unlike the desperate hope in Mohawk's tone, Sinister's words carried the weight of absolute certainty—a predator's confidence in claiming what he considered already his. His eyes—typically cold and calculating—burned with an intensity that made the other Marks shift uncomfortably. "And when she does, we'll be ready; waiting for those beautiful eyes to reopen to us."

The possessive emphasis he placed on "us" fooled no one—least of all himself. His fingers lingered a moment too long on the pulse point at her throat, his expression momentarily softening into something almost tender before the mask of cruelty slammed back into place.

The Marks had a new mission now. The destruction of the mainstream universe still bound them by obligation and necessity, but they were now equally bound by a newfound sense of purpose—a desperate, collective desire to protect the woman they had found. She was both stranger and intimately familiar, a phantom made flesh, the woman they had each lost in their respective universes, and now, the woman they were collectively determined to save—from others, from the world, and perhaps from themselves.

They began dividing their forces with military precision, Omni Mark drafting plans with Emperor Mark's input while Viltrumite offered cold, tactical suggestions. They would spread across different continents, maintaining the façade of random destruction that Angstrom expected, while rotating shifts to ensure Y/N was never left unguarded. Paris would fall next, then Moscow, Tokyo, and beyond—a symphony of calculated chaos designed to mask their true priority.

The first day of their war against this universe was far from over, but the discovery of Y/N had fundamentally altered its purpose. What had begun as simple conquest—the destruction of one universe among infinite possibilities—had transformed into something far more complex and personal. Each Mark now fought with renewed purpose, their actions guided not merely by Angstrom's directives but by the silent promise they had made to the unconscious woman in the cabin.

The mission was no longer just about conquest; it was about salvation—about reclaiming a lost love, about rewriting a tragic fate that had played out eight different ways across eight different realities. In their own universes, they had failed her, each in their own way. Too weak, too late, too cruel, too blind—their regrets took different forms but shared the same bitter taste. This Y/N offered something none of them had dared hope for: a second chance.

They would keep this Y/N safe at any cost, jealously guarded even from each other. None spoke this truth aloud, but it hung in the air between them, a silent agreement underscored by watchful gazes and lingering touches.

"Mohawk stays with her first," Omni Mark announced, his tone making it clear this was not a suggestion but a command. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the flash of rebellion on Sinister's face. "He found her first. We'll rotate every six hours. No exceptions."

The others nodded with varying degrees of reluctance, Viltrumite's jaw tightening with barely contained objection while Emperor Mark's fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against his thigh. Only Sinister Mark seemed truly at ease, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he already saw moves ahead in a game the others didn't realize they were playing.

As the Marks departed one by one to continue their orchestrated destruction across the globe, Mohawk Mark settled beside Y/N's still form. Alone at last, his carefully maintained façade of arrogance and anger crumbled like the buildings they had destroyed. With shaking fingers, he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch feather-light against her skin.

"I found you again," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion he would never show the others. "And this time, I won't fucking lose you. I swear it."

Outside the cabin, a gentle breeze stirred the trees, nature continuing its rhythms oblivious to the schemes of gods and monsters. Inside, a different kind of war was just beginning—one fought not with fists and fury, but with patience and possession. Eight versions of the same man, each determined to claim what they believed was rightfully theirs alone.

And at the center of it all, still and silent, lay Y/N—oblivious to the tempest her very existence had unleashed, unaware that she had become the eye of a storm that would reshape this universe and perhaps beyond.

–––––––––––––––––– ☆ TBC!! ☆

Hope ya'll liked it ♡ Leave a comment on whatya think!! next chapter will be from Mohawk's p.o.v Please keep reading, lovely!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Pt.2 ☆ 10 parts total! - The series is completed

Smut included with Sinister and Mohawk -

Fluff/Smut series following main one!! (𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜) pt.1-2-3

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I love the way you publicly forgive people who apologize after you’ve called them out. Visibly demonstrating a willingness to allow people to grow and change is really important and you have a big platform so it’s great to watch you do it. Genuinely and sincerely with no condescension, you demonstrate the line between not just eating whatever the internet hands you and also not just holding a grudge all scorched earth. It’s meaningful to see and I admire it.

Thank you so much for saying this! It's something I've worked at. I certainly haven't been so good at this in the past lol. I was very reactive in my 20s, but I learned eventually that I'm a lot happier when I give benefit of the doubt and don't try to say the most aggressively bitchy thing possible when riled. It feels good in the moment, sure, but it never ends well; you don't get to drop a satisfying zinger and have the whole bus applaud and then your opponent goes away to sulk alone and yay, you've won! What's more likely is (a) your opponent responds and now you're in a war of attrition with no good answers and zero satisfaction, (b) your opponent turns out to have said something completely different from what you thought and everyone thinks you're a cunt, or (c) your opponent cries because you've given them a breakdown and now you're just a bully.

Or. Or you can just. Explain the issue without apology or censure, and let them explain. And then go from there based on their response. And it's amazing how often they apologise because they hadn't intended it that way, or hadn't ever thought about it that way, or what have you. And thus you spare both you and them a whole lot of unpleasantness that makes you feel worse in the long run.

Although, ha, what's a bit weird about this approach is the number of random bystanders who try to insert themselves completely unnecessarily in a sort of mediator role. Like someone will make a Problematic Comment, and I say "That has Problematic connotations" so that they can explain themselves and either double down or clarify/apologise, and suddenly a whole bunch of others step in and go "I think they may have just meant this Non-Problematic thing." And every time I'm like... yeah? Yeah they might. Which is why I'm giving THEM the chance to explain that's the case. Your conjecture is completely useless. I, too, can think they MIGHT have meant that. I'm asking them to confirm or deny. You do not have that answer; only they do.

It's a very strange and very common phenomenon. And, you know, I get it; these are people who think they're being helpful, because they've seen internet clashes before and they want to head them off at the pass. It's not actually harmful as a practice either. It's just unfortunately utterly useless in every way lol.

In any case, though - thank you, so much, for sending me this! It's very kind. I hope you have a great weekend

[lonelyroommp3]

i loooooove the patronising little PSAs to new users that pop up on here every time shit hits the fan on another social media platform. if i was an american tiktok user deciding to reactivate my old tumblr account (let's be real, who in the year 2025 is resorting to tumblr as their alt social platform if they've not been here before at least briefly) and the first thing i saw was someone going "listen up buckaroo ☝️ just remember we are a very special website 🤩 and we don't care about follower counts because we are all fwends 🫂 and you don't have to say seggs instead of sex 🤯 i am going to explain this to you as if you were born yesterday because i'm sure your brain has been rotted into goo by the Algorithm 🥰" then i would probably log right back off again and devote myself to a nomadic life in the wilderness

[txttletale]

actually good doctor who video game ideas

disco-elysium style crpg where you play as the doctor, going around a Planet of the Week and intervening in personal and political conflicts, helping people, making moral choices, etc.

TARDIS spacetime geoguesser. you could make this a full-on edutainment game by mocking up historical time periods and locations

dalek FPS. think doom, with a dalek-like setup of a lone dalek escaping a space prison/research facility and reactivating its functionalities as it progresses

RTS with all the classic factions (daleks, cybermen, time lords, sontarans), and then some deeper/wackier cuts like idk draconians and judoon.

alternatively make this one a space 4x. 'endless space with daleks' is an easy slam dunk

first-person survival horror as either the doctor or a sally-sparrow type one-off companion character commujnicating with the doctor through Random Documents and Audio Logs

first-person environemtnal puzzler a la kairo or antichamber or the witness in e-space/the antizone/omega's antimatter universe/etc. where you play as the doctor just peacefully figuring out some puzzles in a surreal abstract environment

time travel puzzler kind of like that one titanfall 2 level meets return of the obra dinn where you take the tardis back into the past to affect your enviroment in the present

immortality/her story style FMV game where you play a confused normie trying to puzzle together the events of a typical doctor who episode plot through fragemnted police interview clips of a very exasperated doctor trying to explain that there's an alien dog loose

immersive sim/stealth game in the thief or dishonored vein starring one of the doctor's more-violent-than-him companions like ace or river song sneaking through buildings to foil a sinister alien plot

okay now that ive made this list theres no reason for the BBC to ever license out a shitty 2d platformer every again. Please

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 3: Grand Opening

I’ve been hungover all day… also.... I'm sorry that the chapters aren't as long as people like, that's just not really my style.

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: none

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Four days before the grand opening, Yn stood in the center of the lab, arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

No anomalies.

No glitches.

Every log was clean. Every model responsive and compliant.

She tapped through the final diagnostics as her team moved like clockwork around her, prepping the remaining units for transfer. The companions were ready. Truly ready.

They’d done it. And for the first time in months, Yn allowed herself to believe it.

“They’re good to go,” she said aloud to the room, voice steadier than it had been in weeks. “Now we just make it beautiful.”

There was no dissent. No hesitation. Just quiet, collective relief.

By 6:00 a.m. on launch day, the streets surrounding Sector 1 in Hala City were already overflowing. Women of all ages lined the polished roads, executives in sleek visors, college students in chunky boots, older women with glowing canes, and mothers with daughters perched on their hips.

A massive countdown hovered above the building in glowing light particles.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One

When the number hit zero, the white-gold doors of the first Build-A-Boyfriend™ store slid open, and history, quite literally, stepped forward.

The inside of the flagship store was unlike anything anyone had seen, not in a simulation, not in VR, not even on the upper stream feeds.

It was clean but not cold, glowing with soft light that pulsed in time with ambient sound. Curved architecture, plants that weren’t quite real, air that smelled like skin and something floral underneath.

The crowd entered in waves, ushered by gentle AI voices projected from the ceiling:

“Welcome to Build-A-Boyfriend™, KQ Inc.’s most advanced consumer product to date. Please scan your wristband to begin. You are in complete control.”

Light pulsed with ambient music. The air carried soft notes of citrus and lavender. Walls curved inward like a safe embrace. It felt not like a store, but a sanctuary.

Just inside, a small platform rose, and the crowd hushed.

Standing atop it in a graphite suit that shimmered subtly with light-reactive tech, Vira Yun took the stage.

Her presence silenced everything. Not with fear. With awe.

She didn’t need a mic. The air itself amplified her words.

“Welcome, citizens of Hala City, and beyond. Today is not just a milestone for KQ Inc. It is a milestone for all of us, for womanhood, for autonomy, for intimacy on our terms. For centuries, we’ve been told to settle. To accept love as luck, not design. To believe that affection must be earned, that tenderness is a privilege, not a right. That era is over. Here, you are not asking. You are choosing. Each companion created within these walls is not simply a machine, but a mirror, one that reflects your needs, your softness, your strength, your fantasies, your fears. And we have given you the tools to shape that reflection without shame. This store is not about dependency. It’s about design. About saying: I know what I want, and I deserve to receive it, safely, sweetly, and with reverence. Let the world call it strange. Let them call it artificial. Because we know the truth: every human deserves to feel adored. And today, we’ve made that reality programmable.”

"Thank you. And welcome to Build-A-Boyfriend.”

From the observation deck, Yn stood quietly, tablet in hand, watching the dream unfold. She’d spent months writing code, assembling microprocessors, mapping facial expressions, and optimizing human simulation algorithms.

Now it was real. Now they were here, and it was working.

One of the first customers to walk in was 31-year-old office worker, Choi Yunji

She stepped forward, clutching her wristband like it might slip from her fingers. She’d told herself she was just coming to look. Just curious. Just research. But now that she was inside, face-to-face with a glowing interface, it felt more like a confession.

“Would you like an assistant, or would you prefer to design solo?” a soft voice asked beside her. Yunji turned. A young woman with slicked-back hair and a serene face smiled at her. The name tag read: Delin, Companion Consultant.

“I… I think I need help,” Yunji said.

“Of course,” Delin said warmly. “Let’s begin your experience.”

Station One: Body Frame

A holographic model appeared before them, neutral, faceless, softly breathing.

“Preferred height?”

“Taller than me. But not too much. I want to feel safe. Not… overpowered.”

“Understood.” Delin adjusted sliders with a flick of her fingers. The form shifted accordingly.

“Shoulders wider?” “Yes.” “Musculature?” “Athletic, not bulky.” “Skin tone?” “Honey-toned.”

Station Two: Facial Features

“I want kind eyes,” Yunji said. “And maybe a crooked smile. Something… imperfect.” “We can simulate asymmetry.” “What about moles?” “Placed to your liking.”

Station Three: Hair

“Longish. A little messy. Chestnut.” “Frizz simulation or polished strands?” “Frizz. I don’t want him looking like he came out of a factory.” Delin smiled. “Ironically, he did.”

Station Four: Personality Matrix

Yunji froze. The options felt too intimate.

“Start with a base? Empathetic, loyal, gentle, observant…” “Can I choose traits… I didn’t get to have before?” “Yes,” Delin said simply.

They adjusted levels: affection, boundaries, humor, attentiveness. A slider labeled “Emotional Recall Sensitivity” blinked softly.

“What’s this?”

“How deeply your companion internalizes memories related to you. It allows for more dynamic emotional bonding.” Yunji slid it to 80%.

Station Five: Wardrobe

“Something soft. Comfortable. Approachable.”

A cozy cardigan wrapped over a white tee. He looked like someone who would bring you tea without asking.

“Would you like to name your companion?” “…Call him Jaeyun.”

Her wristband lit up:

MODEL 9817-JAEYUN Estimated delivery: 3 hours Ownership rights granted to: C. Yunji

Yunji turned slowly, as if waking from a dream. Around her, other women embraced, laughed, shook — giddy or stunned. This was more than shopping. This was the return of the forbidden.

Around the Room

A pair of teenage twins argued over whether their boyfriends should look identical or opposites. A woman on her lunch break ordered her unit for home delivery with a bedtime story feature. Friends joked about setting up double dates and game nights with their new companions.

One customer squealed, “I’m going full fantasy, tall, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and a scar over the brow. I want him to look like he’s been through something.” Her friend “Big eyes, soft lips, librarian vibes. Another “I want dramatic jealousy in a soft voice. Like poetry with teeth.”

The store pulsed with joy, wonder, and something deeper. Yn felt it in her chest, pride and awe, washing over the logic-driven part of her that rarely gave way. She had helped build this future.

As the lavender glow settled over the quieting store, Yn remained in the observation wing, reviewing data. The launch had exceeded all projections.

She didn’t hear the door slide open behind her.

“Stunning, isn’t it?”

Vira stepped in, elegant as ever in graphite, her braid flawless, her voice smooth.

Yn straightened. “Yes, ma’am. It’s surreal.”

“We did it. You did it,” Vira said, standing beside her. “Revenue exceeded estimates by 37%. But more than that… I saw joy out there. Curiosity. Potential.”

Yn nodded. “The models held up. All systems within spec.”

“Good. Because in six days… we go even bigger.”

Yura turned. “The Ateez Line.”

Vira’s smile sharpened.

“Exactly. Eight elite units. Eight dreams. Fully interactive. Custom-coded. The most lifelike AI we’ve ever built. You’ve done beautiful work, Yn. Let’s make history again next week.”

She left as smoothly as she arrived. Yn exhaled, her fingers tightening around her tablet.

Six days.

Just six days.

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[wip]

Is there anyway yall could make deactivating not permanent? At least not for 30 days, giving users a time period where they can reactivate their account.

I’ve had so many people I know deactivate their accounts and regret it afterwards, or wish they could just shut down their account for a week because of being hit by endless hate anons. Most other social media platforms I know of have a period of time that you can reactivate your account after deactivation. I think something like that would be really beneficial on here.

Answer: Hey there, @automaticllamacycle!

So you’re right. There is currently no community-facing way that you can get your account back in the event it is deleted.

However, we are not too far away from having this technically feasible on our backend, and we don’t think it would take too much work to make it a reality. You’re right on this one—such a feature would be really nice to have, and we’re grateful you drew this to our attention.

Leave this with us—we will see what we can do. In the meantime, you can catch up with updates here at @wip or at @changes, should we have them.

Thanks for your question, and keep ’em coming. Happy weekend!

[tallerthantale]

Neil Gaiman hasn't been removed yet

Petition for investigation of Gaiman

Petition to fire Gaiman from Good Omens

@shakti-tiger I think a big part of the issue is people thinking Neil Gaiman has already 'stepped down.' That is not the current state of the situation, but if you imagine the perspective of a person starting from that premise you can see why it might not feel necessary to put the removal demand in the petition.

And yes, that's extremely frustrating, but it is not the same as people not caring. It's people being manipulated by a person who seems to have built his character sheet around manipulating people.

So for people not following developments closely:

What we know is that Gaiman's lawyers have informed the media that he has put forward a hypothetical version of 'stepping back' that he is willing to accept. We don't know much about the specifics, but I have a speculative impression. If his terms were acceptable to Amazon / the Pratchett Estate / the other employees of the show, I would expect us to have heard so by now. We have not, so I feel it is reasonable to conclude that what he is proposing is, for whatever reason, not an acceptable offer.

We also don't have anything saying he has been fired from any of his positions. Entertainment contracts almost always have morality clauses that can be enforced even in the absence of convictions. That's because even if it was the sort of crime that reliably produces convictions, that process takes years, and the industry wants the power to be able to respond to public scandal quickly when they decide it is profitable to do so.

Given that we have no indication that Amazon is accepting Neil's offer, or any indication that a morality clause has been enforced on Gaiman, my impression is that there is an ongoing dispute where Gaiman is threatening some form of retaliation against the show if they enforce the morality clause in order to try and bargain for some kind of wishy washy partial but not meaningful reduction of his role.

If that's what's happening, it is mostly going to be in the hands of various legal teams involved, arguing over semantic details we may never learn about. However, I still think fandom can add support to the 'enforce the morality clause' side by expressing that wish to Amazon, either through the petitions that cite the allegations, or if you have Prime, by cancelling along with a message that states you will reactivate when Gaiman is removed. (Or when the show is cancelled if that is your line.) Personally I think removal is the better option for long term industry reform.

I am committed to not promoting the show by making fan content during the run-up and release of Season 3 (and probably for a year or so after) unless he is publicly removed for morality clause violations. There are actual material reasons that represents A CHOICE on my part. I had a lot of concerns that I was going to end up overpromising and underdelivering on fan content, though I never expected this to be the reason why. 100% I stand by the choice I'm making to pause Good Omens fan content, but I recognize for a lot of artists it really is not an easy choice to make. I will always be against any form of harassment towards people continuing to make fan works.

@chocolatepot at the same time it is very difficult to organize boycotting efforts off a platform of 'everyone's choices are equally valid.' The people with the most power to be heard by Amazon are the ones with Prime who are in a position to strategically drop it. Put together a Ven diagram of "people deeply committed to voting with their dollar for social justice" and "people who have an Amazon Prime account they aren't particularly dependent on keeping." How much overlap do you think there is in the middle of that Ven Diagram? Not a lot. A meaningful organized effort would require persuading people to make choices they are not inclined to make, and that does require at some point suggesting that making a different choice is less than ideal.

For people who already don't have Prime or can't cancel because they need it for work, fan engagement is the option that's left. But it's going to be a similar issue with fan works. The artists, writers, shitposters, ect… that have the most influence are also the ones most entrenched into continuing to make their content, in many cases as their form of income. In many cases as their form of social support in the midst of their own ongoing harrowing life circumstances.

I don't come away from this with any clear position on what level of persuasive language is appropriate for organizing action, but I want to encourage everyone to be kind to each other, and consider where others are coming from. Right now I think focusing on keeping people informed that Gaiman has not actually been removed is the best way to go.

[carionto]

Ignition

Once the Galactic Coalition had (without other realistic options) given Humanity an equal position among the governing bodies, despite the fact they were a single planet race, the initial dread of what they would do eased. A little. When they showed how they powered their impossibly massive vessels, the fears of our ancestors who deemed the Responsibility Barrier a necessity reemerged a thousandfold.

The Humans, with a slight grin, said "Solar power, of course."

They took a delegation within the bowels of one of their smaller, civilian research craft, which was still bulkier, better armored, and more worryingly - better armed than most flagships of the other predator-races. Were we not able to see with our own eyes their actual, what they aptly call, Dreadnoughts, from distances you would normally need a telescope, we would have assumed this was their mightiest warship. Yet it was just one of hundreds.

As we passed through the ludicrously thick and seemingly excessive number of bulkheads and shielded and compartmentalized hallways, the ever present hum of raw power beneath our feet gradually became nerve-wracking. What is that? It reminded us of stories told by those who traveled near Black Holes - of the sheer vastness and infinite apathy they felt from the all consuming entities.

A dozen or so biometric gates later, we were greeted by a gigantic sphere, easily a hundred and fifty meters in diameter, an abomination of reinforced panels, wiring, heat pumps, and countless tubes, hanging from numerous power conduits in the middle of an even more massive chamber from behind our observation platform. A true, pure fusion reactor. And there were Humans, in full protective suits at least, working directly next to it within the ominous chamber.

"We wanted to give you a demonstration of our advances in the past millennia, so please observe as we turn on this one."

This one? As in... the power we were feeling was not from this monstrosity? We had to ask.

"Oh, of course not, this ship has three such reactors, we recently performed a full maintenance on this and decided to delay reactivating it for you to see."

The delegates' mouths (or equivalents) were agape. Sure, nuclear fusion is known far and wide, but due to it's high potential for cataclysmic failure, or worse, deliberate destruction, the vast majority of such reactors were mostly found in deep space stations where solar radiation was scarce. Background radiation converters, while efficient at what they do, were nowhere sufficient enough for anything more than as passive emergency battery chargers. And no civilization kept fusion reactors anywhere near populated or colonizeable planets.

Yet here they were, looking at one nearly five times larger than any other known or attempted. And there were three on this ship alone. They counted hundreds of similar size, a few dozen of their Dreadnoughts, thousands of smaller vessels ferrying between the stations, the surface, and other larger ships. Countless world ending bombs-in-waiting right around the Humans' only home.

"Yeah, us science ships get the biggest ones, kinda need the extra oomph for our projects. The military kids like their redundancies, so theirs are smaller."

A slight relief.

"I think their newest capital ship, the UGSF Caliban of York, has fifteen, each about half ours."

A few delegates passed out. Their attendants rushed to salvage some dignity, but Captain Knoslark of this vessel, The Radiant Dusk at Everest, didn't seem surprised or offended and simply waited for the delegation to regain composure before continuing.

"This is my favorite part."

He said quietly with a glint in his eyes, then his tone changed to a more formal and authoritative one.

"Chief Engineer Ira Tameki, status of Reactor 2."

"All green, Captain. She's ready to purr to life at your command."

"Good. Then," his tone shifted once again, to a far more theatrical one as he took a pose, half turning his body and extending his right hand towards the reactor, index finger pointing dramatically. As he pronounced every syllable of the next word, there was a silent resigned sigh from his crew:

"ignition!"

Outwardly, nothing of significance changed. The engineers clicked at their consoles, bars slowly rose and everyone was deliberately doing their best to make it clear they were ignoring the fact that the captain was still in the same pose.

There was a muffled thump from the chamber, then the hum beneath their feet became a rumble for a few moments before steadying back to a now slightly more intense almost-buzz. Physically, nothing all that noteworthy. Mentally, everyone in the delegation was in true shock as they fully understood what they had just witnessed done all too casually:

The birth of a star.

[thecountofs]

My Time In ONI (design works)

- 88th Shock Battalion

- Nate B111 in Hayabusa in the Mk. I Powered Weapon Platform (Reactivated)

[idrellegames]

Episode 3 of Wayfarer is going to be out publicly near the end of December, right? I remember reading that on your blog at some point.

Ahahaha 😅 well that was the plan in January when I released the roadmap for 2024, but no, that's not going to happen.

Episode 3 is still in development. I am currently working on the finale, but there's a bunch of Episode 2 endings that don't have their connective tissue written, so once the finale is done I have to go back and write all of that before the episode can be considered done.

In terms of the public release schedule, Episode 4 needs to be released on the alpha before I can release Episode 3 publicly so the Patreon build remains one episode ahead of the public.

I know it's a long wait and it feels like nothing is happening and I'm not delivering on my promises—especially since it's been two years since the last public update! I've received a lot of messages on various platforms about people losing faith in me and my game, and that it's never going to be updated.

But the truth of it is that realistic estimations are very difficult to do when you're a solo team. When setbacks happen, no one is there to pick up the slack. Unfortunately 2023 and 2024 have both been very rough and filled with a lot of setbacks.

Wayfarer's episodes are very meaty and intended to be replayed and be reactive to player choice—which is why it's kind of easier to consider them as individual installments in a series rather than chapters of a book.

Episode 3 is coming, but I can't determine when that will be for the public build at this time. Next year I'll be doing quarterly roadmaps so I'm not vastly overestimating what I'm doing, and being more realistic about what is and is not possible.