#Multi Head Split Systems

[reveryfics]

Neighbors pt.2

Frank Castle "The Punisher" x Male Reader

Summary: It's been almost a year since Frank walked into your apartment, revealing his life as The Punisher. You'd settled into a demanding routine as an overnight ER nurse, navigating that world alongside your relationship with Frank. Little did you know, those two worlds were about to collide.

A/N: I got a couple comments asking for a second part to the Neighbors fic, uh I wasn't exactly sure what to do with this so hopefully this is okay. Male nurse reader as well, cause we all know Frank would end up dead without you.

TW: Blood - Broken arm - Injury - Comfort

The automatic doors of the emergency room shrieked open, a violent gust of air preceding a surge of hurried footsteps and the staccato bursts of clipped radio chatter. Two EMTs, their faces etched with grim urgency, propelled a gurney through the opening. The insistent, rhythmic beeping of a cardiac monitor sliced through the already buzzing chaos, an electronic heartbeat in the pandemonium. "Thirty-something male, found unresponsive at the scene, possible overdose," one of the EMTs barked, his voice barely cutting through the din.

Across the crowded bay, a different kind of drama unfolded. Another pair of EMTs struggled to transfer a screaming elderly woman onto a hospital bed, her cries of pain echoing off the unforgiving linoleum floors. A young resident, his face pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent lights, scribbled furiously on a chart, barking orders to a harried-looking nurse whose movements were a study in controlled frenzy.

You navigated this swirling vortex of controlled pandemonium, your own adrenaline still thrumming from the relentless stream of patients that had flooded in since your shift began what felt like an eternity ago. Just moments before, you had finished meticulously suturing a nasty, jagged gash on a construction worker’s forearm, the thick smell of antiseptic clinging to the air. Then the call came in – a multi-car pile-up on the highway. Now, you were heading towards the trauma bay, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach as you mentally braced yourself for whatever awaited.

The waiting room, visible through the smeared sliding glass doors, was a tableau of escalating anxiety. A young mother bounced a restless toddler on her knee, her eyes darting nervously towards the triage desk, a silent plea for information in their depths. An elderly man with a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his face a roadmap of worry lines. The air in the waiting room hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of antiseptic and raw fear, punctuated by the occasional, frustrated sigh that spoke volumes of unspoken dread. They didn't see the frantic ballet unfolding behind those closed doors, the life-and-death decisions being made in split seconds, the raw, visceral energy of a system stretched to its breaking point.

It felt like just moments ago, you had managed to coax a distraught teenager out of a full-blown panic attack, her rapid, shallow breaths and racing pulse fueled by pure, unadulterated fear of a phantom heart attack. Before that, it was a belligerent drunk, swinging wildly at anyone who dared to approach, requiring every ounce of your patience and a gentle yet firm hand to finally gain his cooperation. Each case, each individual, demanded a different kind of focus, a different wellspring of emotional and physical energy, leaving you feeling like a tightly wound spring threatening to snap.

As you pushed through the heavy swinging doors into the trauma bay, the scene intensified, the air crackling with a raw, visceral energy that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. The trauma team was already a well-oiled machine, each member moving with practiced precision, their movements economical and purposeful. A quick, sweeping glance told you the grim story: multiple injuries, a shocking amount of blood staining the sterile white sheets, the urgent, rhythmic whirring of suction machines battling to keep airways clear. You took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the gnawing fatigue that tugged at the edges of your awareness. Another life, or perhaps multiple lives, hung precariously in the balance, and in this moment, amidst the chaos, that was the only thing that mattered.

But before you could fully immerse yourself in the unfolding trauma, a hand clamped down on your arm, pulling you away from the organized chaos. It was Sarah, a newer nurse whose usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by wide, panicked eyes. "Hey! Can you come take a look at Mr. Wilson in room three? He's refusing his IV, and he's getting really agitated. I can't seem to get anywhere with him."

You let out a silent sigh. You knew the car crash victims were in capable hands for the moment, the experienced trauma team already orchestrating their care with practiced efficiency. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Okay, Sarah, let's go."

You walked down the quieter hallway towards room three, the frantic energy of the trauma bay fading slightly with each step. As you approached the open doorway, the distinct sound of a raised voice reached you. An older man sat propped up in the hospital bed, his face flushed with anger as he argued vehemently with another nurse, who held a saline-filled syringe aloft, looking increasingly frustrated.

You recognized the patient instantly. Mr. Wilson. A local elderly gentleman who was a frequent visitor to the ER, his unmanaged diabetes often landing him back in a hospital bed. He looked in your direction, his eyes, usually twinkling with a mischievous glint, now narrowed with annoyance, watching as you approached the hand sanitizer dispenser and meticulously washed your hands before pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Oh, thank heavens you're here, Nurse," he huffed, his voice still carrying a note of indignation. "These youngsters don't got a clue what they're doing." He shot an accusatory glance at the two other nurses in the room.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly as you stepped closer to the bed. "They're doing their best, Mr. Wilson," you said gently, your tone calm and reassuring. You took the syringe from the other nurse. "Let's get this IV started, shall we?" Your practiced hands made quick work of locating a vein, the insertion smooth and efficient. Mr. Wilson barely flinched. "See? All done."

You shook your head slightly, turning around to grab his chart from the bedside table. "High blood sugar again?" You glanced over the recent lab results, noting the alarming number well over four hundred.

He waved a dismissive hand at you. "Nonsense, Nurse. I'll be right as rain, just like I always am."

You didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to ensure the IV was running smoothly before meeting his gaze. "I'll be back to check on you later, Mr. Wilson. Try to relax."

Hours bled into each other, the relentless tide of patients ebbing and flowing. Finally, as the first hint of dawn painted the sky outside the grimy windows, the ER began to quiet. You managed to steal a precious moment of respite in the cramped nurses' lounge.

Standing near the industrial-sized coffee maker, you pulled out your phone, a small beacon of normalcy in the chaotic day. A message from Frank, sent at the very beginning of your shift, greeted you. He often sent these little digital breadcrumbs – a silly meme, a brief update on his day, the occasional picture of him and your beloved pit bull, Frankie, their goofy faces a welcome distraction during your long, grueling hours. You tucked your phone back into your scrub pocket, the image of Frankie’s slobbery grin a momentary balm. You took the now-full coffee pitcher and poured yourself a much-needed cup, the rich aroma a small comfort.

You sank into a worn chair at one of the small, cluttered tables, barely managing a single, precious sip before the insistent buzz of your pager vibrated against your hip. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet, the brief moment of peace shattered. You headed back out to the bustling nurses' station, managing a tired smile for your coworker who handed you a chart. Your smile instantly froze, your blood running cold as you saw the name scrawled across the top: "Castle, Frank."

Without a word, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you walked down the hall and into the designated exam room. The doctor was just hanging up a series of x-rays, the stark white images revealing the sharp break in Frank's arm. Another nurse was gently dabbing at a series of cuts and abrasions on his face and torso.

Frank's head snapped in your direction as the door creaked open, his eyes widening in surprise, then something akin to fear, as he registered the look on your face – a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a dawning anger. He watched, helpless, as the other nurse offered you a small, knowing smile and quietly slipped out of the room.

"You can't just leave me here with him," Frank pleaded, his voice laced with a theatrical desperation that didn't quite mask the underlying anxiety. "Common, babe." He groaned dramatically, leaning back against the pillows.

You didn't say a word, your mind still reeling. You simply set his chart down on the counter with a decisive thud and moved to the sink, the harsh fluorescent light reflecting off the cool metal as you meticulously washed your hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, your movements stiff and deliberate. You picked up where the previous nurse had left off, gently cleaning the numerous cuts across his face and abdomen, your touch perhaps a little less gentle than it usually was.

Frank hissed, biting his lip as you carefully cleaned around a particularly deep gash on his side, the edges raw and angry-looking. "Fancy seeing you here," he attempted a weak joke, but instantly stopped when your eyes, usually warm and full of affection, now glinted with a sharp, almost dangerous light as you briefly glared up at him.

You listened in stony silence as the doctor began explaining the next steps, his voice calm and professional. "Alright, Frank, we're going to have to set that bone before we can put a cast on it. Looks like a clean fracture, but it needs to be realigned." He gestured to the x-rays. "We'll give you some local anesthetic for these cuts, and then we'll get started on the arm."

The doctor excused himself to gather the necessary supplies, leaving you alone with a very uncomfortable and apologetic-looking Frank. You picked up a syringe from the medical tray, the needle glinting under the bright lights, stopping just before taking the cap off.

"I've had a real shit day so far," you finally rasped, your voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I saw your name on that chart?" You didn't wait for an answer, your silence hanging heavy in the air.

Frank let out a long, weary sigh, wishing he had just listened to his gut and insisted they not contact you. "I'm sorry, trust me, baby, I didn't mean to worry you." He groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

You finally took the cap off the syringe, your movements precise and efficient despite the turmoil churning within you. You swabbed the area around the deep laceration on Frank's side with a cold alcohol wipe. "It's gonna sting," you whispered, your voice barely audible, before carefully pushing the tip of the needle into various points around the wound, injecting the numbing solution. Your chest tightened almost imperceptibly as he occasionally hissed in pain, his free hand instinctively reaching out to grip the sleeve of your scrubs, his knuckles white.

With the local anesthetic administered, you began to meticulously stitch the wound, your movements quick and precise, years of training taking over despite the emotional turmoil. Each careful stitch pulled the edges of the laceration together, closing the angry red gash. Once finished, you applied a clean bandage over the area.

You stood up straight, disposing of the used needle and other medical supplies with a sharp, efficient clink into the biohazard bin. Your back was to Frank as you bent over the sink to wash your hands, the sound of running water filling the brief silence. You heard a low whistle from behind you, a familiar sound that couldn't help but tug the corner of your lips into a small, involuntary smile.

You turned around, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Incredibly unprofessional, Mr. Castle," you quipped, a hint of your usual playful tone finally breaking through the tension.

"Can't help that my nurse looks incredibly hot in his scrubs," Frank hummed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

You walked back over to the side of the bed, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Frank’s hand, no longer gripping the mattress, came to rest gently on the small of your back, pulling you a fraction closer as he returned the kiss. You quickly pulled away when the door creaked open again, the doctor returning with a tray of casting materials.

He simply shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "If kissing your boyfriend at work was illegal, half the staff here would be unemployed by now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking the tension. You walked around the bed to help the doctor, a familiar camaraderie settling between you as you assisted him in the procedure.

The doctor explained the process as he worked, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. You carefully stabilized Frank's arm above and below the fracture site as the doctor applied traction and expertly manipulated the bone back into alignment. Frank winced but remained relatively still, his gaze locked on yours. The sickening thunk of the bone resetting made you flinch, but relief washed over Frank’s face. The doctor then carefully wrapped Frank's arm in layers of padding and wet plaster, molding it into a supportive cast.

Once the cast was securely in place, the doctor gave Frank instructions on how to care for it and left the two of you alone again. You stayed behind in the quiet exam room with Frank, pulling a couple of warm blankets over him and double-checking that his IV was running smoothly. He watched your every move, his eyes soft and full of affection. Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out, his fingers gently closing around your wrist.

You turned back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. "I'll take you home once my shift's over," you murmured against his mouth. "Just get some rest for now."

Frank kissed you back, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and perhaps a touch of lingering pain medication.

"I love you too," you replied softly, stroking his cheek. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, don't show up at my work again unless it's to bring me food." You managed a weak joke, and Frank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that eased some of the tightness in your chest.

[dogtoling]

Biology of Inkfish - Body Plan

[The general body plan of one of the most common Neocephalopods, the Squid Inkling showing variance between forms (with tentacle crown omitted).]

General Body Plan

Neocephalopods are usually clearly split into two loose “segments” - the head and the body. In many species of inkfish, the head and body can squeeze together to fade the distinction between body segments and become a singular mantle. Neocephalopods are shell-less with the exception of the Neonautiloids, which have a large shell which their head protrudes out of, and which their body is fused into. The body contains most of their organs suspended within an organ sac. All neocephalopods are notable for the presence of tentacle-like limbs, with eight to ten limbs being present.

The head of a neocephalopod contains the brain, two large eyes, a parrot-like beak and some, or all, of the limbs - depending on species. Limbs attached to the head are typically referred to as the tentacles, with the distinction of hunting tentacles and crown tentacles to differentiate between “true” and “false” tentacles*. In some species, a hyponome or siphon is present on the face or head - in others it is absent or present in another part of the body. All neocephalopods with the exception of neonautiloids have a pair of fins on the head - even octolings, in which these fins evolved independently.

(*True and false tentacles from the viewpoint of human-originated cephalopod limb classification.)

All neocephalopods have a minimum of four crown tentacles attached to their head. In cephalings, these are vestigial limbs that are repurposed into mostly decorative body parts. The crown tentacles have few suction cups - used mostly for capturing olfactory information from the air around them and holding their eggs when applicable. In octolings specifically, these suction cups have a lot of surface area and can be notably large. In neonautiloids, the ten tentacles that attach to the base of their neck are not vestigial and are actively used for hunting and locomotion and they lack suction cups or specialized graspers, instead being muscular sheaths for more prehensile cirri hidden within.

Mouthparts

The beaks of Neocephalopods are made of chitin, and their primary purpose is to pierce, cut or crush their prey and inject venom if needed. The beaks come in varying shapes based on species and may come in black or white*. The color of one’s beak varies by genetics. Within the mouth and the beak, there is a radula covered with teeth. The radula, sometimes called the rasping tongue, is used to carve out food. Food travels down through the narrow esophagus into the digestive system.

(*The beaks of real cephalopods are black, but fade to white towards the base that is connected to the muscle. The beaks of Inklings are likely white to make them appear more humanoid. When in doubt, just include them both. White parts of the beak are also softer, so you could choose to portray that their beaks simply got softer over time, potentially due to diet changes or an increase in size.)

Respiration

[A widely accepted anatomical diagram of the development of the facial siphon throughout inkling evolution.]

Neocephalopods, like most other terrestrial invertebrates new to the Mollusc Era, sport a pair of modified gills within their bodies. These gills are perpetually kept moist by internal mucus processes to allow them to capture oxygen from incoming air, which is then pumped out through the facial siphon. In inkfish, the gills connect to the facial siphon through a long cavity which also connects to the ink sac - while this passage is normally closed, it opens when ink is ejected and sprayed through the siphon. 

Inkfish in particular have a multi-layered respiratory system with several adaptations to an active, terrestrial lifestyle. The paired gills have a large surface area in the chest area of the organ sac, and are the primary method of gas exchange. However, inkfish also have a separate air sac in their chest for supplementary air capture. This air sac is a specialized chamber developed over time from a part of the stomach, which in modern inkfish is used for breathing and vocalization. The gills and air sac function in tandem, although one can be momentarily disabled, and either function can be given priority. Breathing over the gills is typically a passive process of the body, whereas use of the air sac, or “lung”, ramps up in times of strenuous exercise, or in dry environments where it may be prioritized while the absorption efficiency of the gills is reduced. On top of these two methods, the thin skin of inkfish also allows for somewhat efficient gas diffusion throughout the body’s surfaces.

It is thought that cephalings and inkfish specifically first adapted to breathing through their buccal cavities in their early land stage, during which their gills were fairly inefficient. Therefore, gulping air into the stomach and intestine became a method to absorb extra oxygen into the bloodstream, which helped the early inklings thrive and keep up high levels of physical activity in spite of their early land gills and somewhat inefficient oxygen transportation. Over time, a part of the stomach modified into an air sac and separated from the stomach entirely into a large gas chamber. This also paved the way for complex vocal communication. 

(A chart hypothesizing the evolution of the cephaling air sac and highlighting the functions of the complex respiratory system.)

Torso and Limbs

The torso of neocephalopods is, in very simple terms, a “muscular bag”, just like their mantle (in species where applicable). The torso holds most of the internal organs, including the systemic heart*, the stomach and the digestive tract, and the ink sac - these organs are mostly within a protective bag called the organ sac. In inkfish, a particularly sturdy yet flexible organ sac allows the organs to safely shift position around the body during compression into swim form. In swim form, specialized pulling muscles across the mantle, torso and neck area contract to effectively withdraw the contents of the torso within the mantle cavity and reduce the torso itself to an almost nonexistent size. Most non-inkfish neocephalopods do not have this ability. 

(*Cephalopods have three hearts, but the systemic heart is the one that is closest to our heart as it pumps blood around the body. The two branchial hearts pump blood through the gills, so that is likely still their primary function.)

The limbs of neocephalopods are unsegmented and muscular. In cephalings, the four limbs include two upper locomotive limbs (arms) and two lower locomotive limbs (legs). Although used for different functions, they are mostly identical in terms of anatomy and function and can be used interchangeably with practice. The hind legs are often curved to better accommodate the weight of a cephaling and keep balance, which in turn makes the arms appear proportionally longer. In neonautiloids, six limbs typically have carrying capacity and these “tanglers” are even tangled together to create sturdier “legs”, whereas the four remaining limbs are secondary and used for further object manipulation and communication. In cirrates, which tend to have cartilaginous skeletons, the limbs sometimes appear unusually long and straight. 

[From left to right; two cirrates of different species (a type of inkless cephaling), a squid inkfish (a type of inkling or ink-having cephaling), and a nautilus (a type of neonautilus) demonstrating physical differences and similarities.]

Aside from neonautiloids, most neocephalopods have limbs with modified tips for grasping onto and manipulating objects. The limbs of Cephalings have modified suckers called graspers (or fingers) on the ends of the limb. These graspers typically split off from a central point, are in sets of four or five, and have a suction pad at the tips; depending on species, they may or may not also have hooks or teeth for defense and capturing prey. In Cirrates, instead of suction cups developing into graspers, a similar function is typically served by a set of particularly large and muscular cirri. The tips of the arm still typically have some suction cups for added gripping power. In Neonautiloids, the function of grasping onto things and manipulating objects is also handled by cirri that are normally sheathed within the tentacles, but these are not particularly specialized. 

Neocephalopods, like all cephalopods, are boneless and move largely due to strong musculature. In inkfish, a clever system is implemented in which their muscles utilize a system where much of their structure and shape is supported by the presence of ink as padding. This makes their shape, weight and musculature quite flexible at a moment's notice, but makes them very vulnerable to loss of ink in the body in return. Inkless cephalings, such as cirrate octopodes, lack this system and instead sport a very modest cartilaginous skeletal system. Neonautiloids sport a shell, and crawl around on their several muscular tentacles or weave them together to better support their weight.

[gippity]

Email Punk: Memetic Warfare through DIY (and beyond)

Flip their playbook and fight back.

1. Framing: Control the Narrative

Their Tactic: Oversimplify reality into “us vs. them” binaries and “common-sense” slogans to lock in loyal audiences  .

Counter: Keep It Raw

Record in first takes, room mics all the way. That unfiltered hiss and feedback becomes your counter-frame: “this is real, unsanitized truth,” not PR spin.

2. Myth‐Building: Invoke Grand Archetypes

Their Tactic: Cast themselves as heroic rebels or saviors in an epic crusade, tapping deep-seated myths  .

Counter: Attack with a Title

Your song title is your rebel shout. Go micro; 1 word or punchy phrase (RECKONING, SYSTEM OVERLOAD). You’re riffing on the warrior archetype to rally your crew, not a staged rescue mission.

3. Disruption: Spread Confusion with Glitches

Their Tactic: Seed half-truths, leaks and bot-driven spam to erode trust in facts; an “epistemic booby trap” that inoculates against critique .

Counter: Embrace the Crash

Jolt listeners awake with feedback blasts, dead-air glitches or sudden cut-offs. Your own signal mutates so they lean in. No time for sanitizers or talking heads to step in.

4. Memetics: Weaponize Earworms

Their Tactic: Rip off catchy jingles and repeatable slogans as propaganda hooks.

Counter: Hooks That Hit Hard

Keep choruses under six words. Repeat them till they’re ear-worms your fans chant at shows or text as hashtags. You’re engineering emotion into action, not pumping ad-style lies.

5. Co-option: Recycle Old Symbols

Their Tactic: Hijack historic flags, vintage slogans and coded dog whistles to cloak toxic ideas.

Counter: Revive the Obsolete

Dig up dusty radio jingles or crank your grandpa’s cassette deck. Flip them into shock weapons; nostalgia bent to punk resistance, not nationalist nostalgia.

6. Pipeline Ops: Echo Chambers of Motifs

Their Tactic: Reinforce memes and symbols across sites, videos and rallies to shepherd recruits down an info-rabbit hole  .

Counter: Riffs in Relay

Scatter secret motifs (lyrics, riffs or visuals) across tracks and socials. Fans who piece together the code become insiders, not mindless echo-chamber drones.

7. Brevity: Sharp, Repetitive Messaging

Their Tactic: Strip complexity to fit tweets, stickers and 30-second clips—brevity equals viral spread  .

Counter: Cut the Fat

Drop two-minute blasts. Every riff, every word a power surge. No filler, no rambling—just pure, lean fury.

8. Timing: Strike During Crises

Their Tactic: Launch talking points around hot-button events, riding waves of fear or outrage .

Counter: Release with Intent

Coordinate your drops (midnight demos, live-stream raids, lyric teasers) when attention spikes. Make each upload feel like a commando raid on the algorithm.

9. Network Ops: Coordinate Across Platforms

Their Tactic: Sync influencers, bots and fringe forums into a multi-front assault for maximum reach  .

Counter: Collaboration Over Isolation

Split EPs, guest spots, remix swaps; ally with fellow DIY hackers. Each collab is another front in your campaign, spreading your signal like wildfire.

10. Existential Fear: Cultivate Urgency

Their Tactic: Stoke dread with “end-of-days” rhetoric to force loyalty and silence doubt  .

Counter: Play Like It’s Now or Never

Unleash every strum and scream with front-line intensity. Yell like the world depends on it. No space for apathy, only action.

Bands on the Front Lines

Hot Leather: One-man synth-punk insurgent. Minute-long blasts, zero polish.

100 gecs: Meme-fuelled hyperpop.

B1G CH0MP3RS: Surf riffs crash into digital distortion.

Crass: OG myth-hackers. icon-flips that still sting.

Negativland: Found-sound saboteurs—turning corporate ads into subversive howls.

You know what to do.

[playertwotails]

Okay so this has been circling around in my head for like two weeks like a fly hitting windows in a sun-room.

So I'm back on my Tails kitsune AU bullshit and I've also recently gotten into Cult of the Lamb so now they've mashed in my brain into a hodgepodged gloop.

And it's all going below the cut if you wanna read my brain worms cause it's long

***Trigger warning for like blood and cults and kidnapping and drugging. Just to give people a heads up (nothing too graphic or detailed but just in case and let me know if you think I missed anything I might need to warn people about)****

Little side note before jumping into this: do not tag as shipping, there is no shipping here it's all platonic and familial. If I see a ship tag I will block you.

Starting off it doesn't matter if Tails is actually a kitsune or not (I personally prefer that yes he is just for the post situation of the gang all being like "okay so what species is Tails actually???" )

I've just had this idea in my head where some cult somewhere is started and they worship kitsune's as godlike entities. They then catch wind of Tails in the news or rumors and their target is now locked.

So this cults leader gets the 'big brain but head actually empty' idea to kidnap Tails like any sane cult leader would.

Now these people somehow stumble ass backwards into kidnapping Tails and keeping him contained. And by keeping him contained they're basically drugging Tails just enough he's conscious but nonreactive. And they basically dress him up and drag him to their ceremonies as more of object than a kid. Tails is hating it and actually scared cause what the hell is wrong with these people let him go home.

Meanwhile Sonic and the gang are all freaking out cause "WHERE IS HE??!!!!" Cause lets be honest kidnapped by a cult was not on any of their bingo cards and at this point they don't know that's what happened, they only know Tails is gone and none of the usual suspects have him.

Rouge starts going through her contacts on the side looking for any crumb of information and gets a lead. And in typical Rouge fashion splits off on her own to look into it. She then comes across the cult and infiltrates their compound.

During her snooping though she overhears the leader of the cult and his subordinates talking about "living forever through the blood of their god's mortal form", sees a statue of a multi-tailed fox and all the red flags are immediately up for her. Internal panic button is smashed. 2 + 2 = fucked up situation.

She's already pressing the "get your asses here" button on her communicator and tears off as quickly but quietly as she can looking for Tails. When she finds him he's in a locked room just laying in bed, all dressed up in a white outfit. Which strange for her to see him just laying there since normally he'd be out and gone long time ago She sees what they've been giving him next to the bed and she's now double pissed off. (I like to think it's at least been over a week Tails has been missing, but if you wanna get really angsty make about 6 months, just as long as Sonic was locked up in Forces).

As gently but quickly as she can she bundles up Tails and carries him cause at this point he's got so much in his system he can't walk or talk, blinking is kinda his only form of communication at the moment. To which Rouge doesn't know what's worse, for Tails to have been asleep for the whole time unaware or to be awake for the whole time and know what's happening.

Tails on the other hand is just so happy to see her and scared that he starts crying. Which is just breaking Rouge's heart to witness as she starts to backtrack out of there with him, with him just silently crying nonstop in her arms.

Unfortunately only about halfway to the exit they discover Tails is gone and the place starts going into lock down with cultist swarming the halls of the place. And even though Rouge is an excellent fighter, she's in close quarters with a kid who can't walk so she's quickly overrun by cultist who tie her up and take Tails back.

The leader then using all of his one brain cell figures she's already signaled to the other's where they are and he knows it's only a matter of time before the fastest thing on the planet busts their door down looking for his little brother.

The leader announces to the group they're moving up the ceremony to now much to Rouge's horror and they drag her along too kicking and screaming cause they don't have time to drop her off in a cell or anything.

Everyone is now in this big ceremony/chapel room that has a big stone table covered in white flowers, that suspiciously is the perfect size for an 8 year old fox to lay down on. And the leader does just that laying Tails on the table.

Rouge is throwing an absolute fit and cursing everyone out cause no way in hell is she gonna let this happen, it's to the point multiple people are having to hold her down even with her tied up cause she's kicking up such a storm of rage.

Meanwhile, Tails is mentally absolutely freaking out in a panic and is terrified out of his mind, especially when the leader brings out a large ornate knife and starts chanting something.

As the leader is finishing up and reeling back his hand with the knife Sonic busts in and sees all of this. Immediately rushing to the table just as the cult leader goes for the downswing.

Sonic just barely catches the knife about an inch from Tails' chest grabbing on to the blade of it and cutting his hand which drips onto Tails.

Now Sonic finally has a moment to process all of this and what exactly is happening and for obvious reasons he is beyond pissed off. He's probably not far off from turning into dark Sonic or it's creeping around the edges of him. And just as he's about to send the cult leader to meet his maker he glances at Tails' face and that's the only reason he doesn't kill the leader right then and there. Cause Sonic thought Tails was asleep but now he notices not only is Tails somewhat awake but tears are streaming down his face.

So Sonic does the next best thing in this situation, knocks out the leader in less than a second and just pulls Tails into a hug off the table and starts just sobbing with Tails in his lap curled up on the floor. Cause the horror of what about happened and the relief Tails is okay and he found him in time hits Sonic all at once.

The rest of the cultists are still frozen cause for Sonic, Tails and the leader all that happened in less than a minute and the group is still catching their bearings of everything that just happened. Which is a good thing cause in that moment everyone else catches up and runs into this whole scene.

From their perspective though they just see Sonic sobbing over a limp Tails with blood on his chest (from Sonic's hand but they don't know that), a guy knocked out (or possibly dead??) next to them, a big stone table that suspiciously looks like an alter also next to them, Rouge who is still cursing up a storm tied up in the corner and held down by like 5 people, and a room full of people in matching robes that look like the guy up near Sonic and Tails.

The rest of the group now splits off with Amy and Knuckles running over to Sonic and Tails, Shadow going for the leader on the ground, Omega going to help Rouge, and the rest of their friends they had helping them splitting off to take care of the rest of the cultists.

From here everything gets resolved, cultists and leader locked up, Tails getting what ever drugs they were giving him out of his system and going home and everyone somewhat going back to their lives. Sonic however does not leave Tails' side for a while and hovers around him which for the first few weeks Tails appreciates cause if he's honest he doesn't want Sonic to be far from him either after everything and really doesn't want to be alone for long. Tails get constant nightmares about the situation and is snuggling with his big brother almost every night. Which is great for Sonic cause he's also getting terrible nightmares from the ordeal and feels better when he wakes up and Tails is right there.

It does get to the point though where after a bit of recovery and time healing the mental scars Tails has to convince Sonic that he can be go back to running around and exploring without Tails right next to him. It takes a lot of convincing and scheduling regular check-ins (like 5x more than they previously had) but Sonic and Tails slowly get somewhat back to their normal lives.

If you wanna get angsty though have it so Sonic is just a second too slow in saving Tails and the fallout from that. (couldn't be me though I'm a hurt/comfort girly at heart, give me the angst but everyone's okayish in the end)

[wyvri]

Even more quirk ideas!!

Categories include: extra/better body parts, general enhancements, sensory, and mental/emotional

Body parts:

rapid regrowth | user can regrow any lost limbs near instantaneously. user can also grow new limbs.

extending tongue | user can grow, shrink, and control their tongue as much as they want.

fluorescent wings | user has 6 wings with multi-coloured feathers. user is resistant to fire and can grow or shrink their wings. 

armed arms | user can transform their arms into any weapon or ammo.

black glass | user can transform their hair into black glass of any shape that only they can break.

eyeball | user has a floating eyeball for a head that can split, turning into many floating eyeballs that they can individually control and see out of.

claw | user can transform their arms into large black monster claws.

Enhancements:

stamina | user has the ability to dictate how the energy they have stored is used manually.

impenetrable | user’s skin cannot be sliced or punctured. blunt force is more effective on the user.

storage | user can store any non-living thing inside of a pocket dimension with the equivalent volume of their own body.

temperature regulation | user can regulate the temperature of their body.

light footsteps | user does not make noise when they walk, they also do not leave footprints.

insomnia | user cannot and does not need to sleep.

balance | user cannot stumble or be pushed over and always lands on their feet.

condensed | user is small and stocky but has the same force and mass of a much larger human.

Sensory:

all-seeing eye | user has one eye that can see emotions and identify weaknesses, striking features, body language, etc.

glasstelling | user can see the future for up to two weeks through glass.

distortion | user can distort anything they have physical contact with. user’s body and voice are extremely distorted.

silence | user can silence all noise in a room.

mind control | the more sensory stimulation the user gets from someone, the more control they have over their mind. This includes them seeing, hearing, tasting, or touching you. The harder a sense is to achieve, the more control it gives them. (Ranked from most to least control given: tasting, touching, hearing, then seeing.)

vision | user has heat sensing vision as well as constant spatial awareness of anything in a ~15ft radius around them.

status quo | user can feel the presence of new or unusual things in any area they dictate.

mimic | user can establish a connection with another person’s nervous system. they can make their actions repeat on the other person or make the other person do something and have it reoccur on themselves.

alter | user can alter another person’s perception of anything. user is also affected.

tripwire | user can attach near-invisible, intangible ‘tripwires’ to any two points. when a tripwire is ‘disturbed’ (touched, walked through, etc.) the user is aware of it.

gesture | if a user makes a gesture and the other people in the room come to a common conclusion of what the gesture is, the gesture gains actual material effect. the more people who see the gesture and have a common understanding, the more powerful the effect.

Mental/Emotional:

empathy | user can ‘feel’ emotions with all of their senses. user can manipulate someone’s emotions to an extent. user can take and give emotions.

precise | user has the ability to near instantly make calculations of distance, probability, and other factors in percentages.

miasma | user can gather emotional energy and turn it into a manipulatable mist. mist can influence others’ emotions.

insight | user can get small bits of insight by focusing on something.

secret sight | if the user focuses on someone they can see their deepest kept secrets.

[pastabuilt]

Specs

Lore ranmbling under the cut

Biogel was developed approximately 30 years ago by Lakeview Industries, and has since revolutionized artificial sapient beings.

It's comprised of a heavily genetically modified colony of plankton suspended in a gelatinous concoction of chemicals. It serves as the brain and battery for gel-based intelligences (GBI for short).

Early GBI were, for the most part, giant tankers of biogel stored in warehouses with maybe a couple read-out displays attached for research. Even today, biogel is not nearly as dense or complex as human brain matter, and as such far more of it is required to create a sapient consciousness. Model 1151, used in this example, is approximately 50% biogel storage by mass.

Modern GBI are much more streamlined, and now feature a multi-node system to separate brain processes for parallel processing and redundancy. Different biogel 'nodes' with slightly different composition are split throughout the chassis, connected through gel-veins. Nearly all modern GBI use a 4-node construction. The nodes are as follows;

- Primary Node: Best thought of as the prefrontal cortex of a GBI. It performs the GBI's conscious thought, and holds short-term memory. It also performs head movement and processes audiovisual sensory input.

- Secondary Nodes: Each major limb is assigned a smaller secondary node, which controls that limb's motor skills, as well as processing tactile sensory input and special positioning (proprioception). Secondary nodes don't do nearly as much 'thinking' as the primary node, but they handle some unconscious reflex.

- Auxiliary Node-Clusters: Commonly referred to as Aux Nodes. Aux nodnes are unthinking, solely used for high-fidelity sensory input. They are primarily placed on palms and soles of the feet. Many models will also use aux nodes for more specific purposes- Model-1151, for example, will flash its 'antenna' on and off to communicate over large distances via morse code.

- Tertiary Node: The tertiary mode is also unthinking, and is used for storage. It contains the GBI's long-term memory, and while somewhat poorly understood, seems to contain its 'personality'. A GBI can be fully regenerated as long as its tertiary node remains intact, albeit with some memory loss.

[fountainpenguin]

A bunch of out-of-context snippets I wrote this week for my MCYT 'fics! March 2nd to March 9th.

Tried to pick the scenes that seemed the least spoiler-y~

Linda lowers her head towards the pool. With a yip of excitement, Impulse leaps past her teeth. He plunges straight in the water. Etho flinches back, wrapping tight to his mom’s paw. Fox kits can’t swim. Their legs are too small; their necks are too short. Maybe phantoms can? Impulse is so big, he can reach the bottom. He looks left and right, like he’s not sure what to make of it… at least not while using a body. He takes a bite of water. Etho lifts his pleading eyes to Charlotte, who doesn’t move a muscle. Her eyes don’t leave the back of Linda’s head for a second. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not calling your parenting ineffective- I just think maybe there are some improvements I could help with! I mean, you stay down here in this dusky cave all the time, you don’t see the sun all that much, you’re probably not feeding them too well-” Linda’s response is a long, low growl. Her wings stretch wider, blocking not just Impulse, but the whole pool in one stretch. Protective. “Mom?” Etho whispers, shrinking farther behind her fluffy leg. “Mommy’s talking, sweetie.”

- Newborn Impulse's nameday (From a multi-chapter called "Under Gravity" I realized it was smarter to split into one-shots)

“Mm,” says Scott, reaching up to cup his cheek. Bdubs lets him, even though it means letting that hand slip from his own. Scott’s touch is warm as freshly brewed tea. “Couldn’t have done any of this if you didn’t start a flock. You really are amazing, Bdubs. You’re always on the clock… I don’t thank you for your hard work enough.” “That’s right! I deserve rewards! … I would do anything to keep this city safe, Mr. Mayor. I’d run the canal a thousand times a day.” “I would never ask that of you,” Scott murmurs, brushing his knuckles down Bdubs’ cheek this time. He gives a grimace. “Elections are coming; debates are next week. And if I’m not mayor after that? What then?”

- Dog's Life - Chapter 46 ("Scatter by Sunset")

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Joel goes on, holding up his hands like parallel lines of rail. “You seem really happy as a Clocker? And I mean, you don’t date Cleo outside of roleplay. Right?” “Cleo and I only roleplay our marriage and divorce,” Etho dutifully reports, which cannot be proved a lie if Cleo isn’t here to vouch against it, and everything inside his system is screaming Oh man, oh snap, ohhhh no. Danger Will Robinson. Danger. Danger. I messed up. He can’t let Joel into his bedroom. He’ll see Scarlett. But he can still turn this around; he can still pull this off. “Yeah, so… If we do it like that, maybe I could be your second Cleo.” It’s a question, even when it’s declarative. Etho holds steady, staring upward, even when Joel’s fingers brush against his temple and the upper lip of his mask. “Honestly, it might be fun… but I’m not sure it’s the right block for it. It’s a little soon…” “What do you mean ‘soon?’ It’s been a hundred bloody years since Double Life, Eefo!” “Maybe for you… It’s about 7 for me.” “Well, whatever.” NOT ‘whatever.’ It matters.

- Dog's Life - "Rekindle"

“Do you think you can walk?” “Yeah…” Martyn takes his hand back from hers. He wipes it on his shirt, then immediately regrets doing that while she watched. He didn’t think her dirty, although gravel on her hand suggested she’d been creeping around the streets in search of easy prey. Maybe there are rules against eating someone in a panic attack. Oh, wait. I’m a phantom. I’m protected anyway. He braces his weight on his hands and fights to stand, only to realize - too late - that he certainly can’t. Out of sync. Wobbly legs betray him, dumping him on his face. “We can just sit,” Cleo says, watching him clumsily try to act like that didn’t just happen. Martyn can’t think of anything clever to say, so he just sputters something like “Yeah, let’s,” and sits back where he was. This time, he wraps his arms around his knees instead of holding her hand.

- "Chalaza"

“I just wanna get to know you better, right? You’re my roommate until further notice.” “My intentions are not to entertain you.” Joel ignores that. “Do you have any OCs?” “Elaborate.” “Original characters. Creations made by you, but they’re alive. Wait, that is very non-specific.” “To create things that are alive is to curse them with a mirror of my own existence.” “Okay, um. When you make some, do… do you wanna ship them with Shrek with me, or-”

- Dog's Life - "Furnace"

1,000 lies flit through Scar’s eyes in that moment. And Grian wants to look away, stop gripping Scar so tightly with his fingers, but they’re frozen- bonded in that way that both allays and parrots are when they’ve found their match. But only one of these species is immune to taking damage from the partner they’ve sworn their loyalty to… and the other one, if he isn’t careful, will die with a croaking squawk every time. “You, Cub, Bdubs, and Mumbo are my best friends-” “That’s not what I asked, Scar.”

- Dog's Life - "Watcher 3" (?)

Bdubs whips into view on the other side, ducking under Cleo’s arm. “Treat!?” Oh, snap. He walked into- And didn’t- He shoots a pleading glance to Cleo, begging with pathetic fox kit eyes for her to relinquish him from the grips of roleplay so he can flee back down the hall. Scar and Bdubs can’t do it; they’re locked in until she gives the cue to end the game. Even if they had that authority, they clearly wouldn’t use it. The roleplay may be pretend, but the mischief in their shiny eyes is 100% real. Is that different in American numbers? Or do they only switch things around for temperature? It’s 212% real. Bdubs grabs his arm, pulling Etho forward so he stumbles through Cleo’s doorway. “What’d you bring me, huh?” “Uhh… A winning smile, charismatic wit, and the pleasure of my company.” “Yes!” Bdubs throws both hands in the air. “A three for three! Dad, can I play video games?” “Cleo… You haven’t given them the talk about how they are a video game?” Bdubs’ smile wipes clean away. “What?”

- "Feeling Out Your Every Breath"

“I’m here to stay, Etho.” The words are instant in her mouth. Cleo runs her fingers across his forehead, pushing wild hair flops from his eyes. She pulls his head back just enough to make him squint against the lantern light. It’ll be easier to breathe if he looks upward, even if every part of his body is screaming at him to double over. He needs to keep loose… Keep his airways as relaxed and open as he can. “I’m your girlfriend. I want this to work. Deep breaths for me? I’m going to take your shirt off so I can see what I’m working with here.” Etho shakes his head, immediately curling in. Then he coughs, fighting for air, and it’s two minutes before she has him calm and breathing clear again. “Cleooo… I can’t. Soorry. Don’t look at me.” “Toughen up,” she says immediately, like she would for Martyn. But when Etho throws her a look of terror, she backtracks straightaway. “I mean… If I step out so you have privacy, can you yank the roots from your skin?” Etho’s eyes comb his sleeves. Then he looks at her again. “I have to, right? Or it gets worse?”

- "Top 10 Hanahaki Life Hacks (#8 Will Shock You)"

“Were I to unravel you… beneath all of this, you are a hand?” Etho’s long ears pin flat against his head, and he is ashamed. “It is as you say. I have built all that you have seen with my trickery and innovation.” “Then you have not shown me your true form.” The god begins to tremble. His eyes threaten golden tears, which mustn’t fall, for he will ruin his silks and die. “Do not ask this of me. To pierce this covering and expose ancient silk is to remove my status as a god. Without this cover, I would be nothing but a mangled hand cast aside after injury, for I belong to the god of sea and fire. I will either be punished and discarded, or he will claim me as a tool again. He will not fall for my tricks twice. You would bind me to him forever. Cleo, by the oath of our marriage, I swore I would do all I can to please you, but you cannot ask this of me. I would be no more.”

- "The Candles We Light (and Should Regret)"

At least I’m not undressed, she thought. Nightclothes were better than no clothes at all. She glides her hands from her neck upward, freeing ginger curls from where they’d tucked into the collar. She looks rumpled. The god of hearts and husbandry will have to deal with that. She crosses the room and jerks open the heavy door. Cleo catches one glimpse of the spirit standing with his hands folded behind his head before she averts her eyes to lush carpet. It’s the appropriate way to address a god who has not offered to let her stare. “I did not mean to disturb your rest, spirit, and especially not this late. Do your duties extend past sunset?” “Eh, little of Column A, little of Column B. The temple closes to outside prayers when the doors are drawn; those are collected by my acolytes come morning.” He points sideways with his thumb. “I can hear yours from all the way down the hall.” She tightens her lips, staring at the floor. “It was not expected you would answer. I did not consider it a prayer.” Martyn shrugs. “You’re inside my temple walls, and you asked for me. I have flown to your side to dote and fawn at your every command. Here I am.” She doubts his sincerity. “Surely,” she says, “there must be others who wish your presence more.” “Nope.”

- Untitled sequel to "Candles" in the Cupid/Psyche AU

This is what one week in my head looks like... If I ever write one thing in a straight line instead of jumping between multiple docs, I am an imposter...

[milf--adjacent]

New meme: send the following to DEIAtruth@opm.gov

Beaster

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

I got King, I got King Kong

Aiyyo this beat is bananas

A King Kong you can put 'em in the trunk of the McClaren

So when I do it up they fall off, fall off

When they look at my ride, you see the doors is fall off

And the wheels look flat, trunk so heavy in the back

Got the speakers in the front and they be sitting on my lap

Got the bumpers to the flow 'cause the trunk weighing it down

Look they think it's a low-rider when they come from my town

And that's a King Kong, in the trunk, that's the gorillas behind me

When I'm rolling through your hood anybody can find me

You can hear me from the next block when I'm on the next block

When I'm headed to the next block, got you jumping to the next block

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, Kong King

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

I got King, I got King Kong

Lil' Momma got you stopping and dropping when a man stop bopping

So I told her she ain't talking about nothing and she just fronting

You can hear me from a block and you already know what's up

With the women 'cause they feeling how it rumble in my trunk

I got 20 speakers up in my trunk and I turned it up

And all the ladies loving how it be bumping they can hear me comin'

You can hear before you see me, I got beats up in my trunk

All the ladies want to chase me when they hear my system bump

Say Jibbs I'm about to head out to the Bruin

Holla at you about fedy, hit my celly soon as you ready

Split this cheese like a deli

They thought I was a lunatic when I pulled up to the telly

I had that candy-coated Chevy, showing its grill like it's Nelly

And the ladies love me, why is that?

They love the way I be getting my lean on

Get the diamond and my multi-colored diamond bling on

That King Kong, yeah, I bet ya this gon' be the theme song

'Cause that King Kong will have your ears ringing like a ringtone

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, Kong King

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

I got King, I got King Kong

Gyeah, them bitches knockin', I got it on lock

'Cause I make hits like I'm boxing

Start it up and it sounds like a block hit it

Then a hater, hating inside like don't pop with this

See the beats is beat, ya hear me before you see me

Before you even can reach me, it'll have ya thinking

That this boy is the beast in the streets

While ya blinking, have ya bopper looking like you been drinking

I'll eat ya, it's like I have speakers in my speakers

So when they speaking on it all they can speak of is a beaster boy

So don't make me just treat ya to a feast

A beast that just beats off both of your eardrums

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

I got King, I got King Kong

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

I got King, I got King Kong

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

If you hear before you see me

I got King Kong in the trunk

King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

King, King Kong, King, King, King, King Kong

If you hear before you see me

[victusinveritas]

Some comments from the Reddit Thread this image as found on: " I know a few people that work for NOAA [Edit added from Victus: So do I, FEMA too, this will fuck over both groups and thence the rest of America]. Let’s not forget the Project 2025 agenda is also to privatize weather data and sell its accuracy to the highest bidder. Say goodbye to free tornado warnings in the central states that typically vote Red. The P2025ers are their own worst enemy."

"I work with tribal Head Start programs and a line item in PJ25 is to defund the Department of Education and totally eliminate the Head Start program.

For those who don’t know, Head Start is a free preschool program for low income children ages 0-5 started in 1965 which has served 38 million children and families. Ending this program would devastate rural, tribal, and urban communities and explode the already horrible child care crisis.

Why would they do this? Because if they can destroy the federal education system they can funnel all that $$ to Betsy DeVos and the church run schools who run unregulated, tax-exempt schools. They will be free to discriminate, abuse, segregate and ensure only those they feel are deserving have access to education and women have to leave the workforce. It’s all part of their traditional gender role Gilead dreamland."

"They want cheap exploitable labor... they want to bring back child labor with no safe guards. It's already happening in a number of red Midwestern states."

Another poster adds: "Anyone that wants third parties to actually be viable needs to be out campaigning for an alternative voting system. 26 states allow for a citizens ballot initiative, where all that is required is to get enough signatures for a different voting system to be on the ballot. That way, third party candidates are not acting as spoiler candidates in local, state, national, and even for the presidential election (as seen in Alaska who is currently using Ranked Choice voting).

Implementing Ranked STAR Voting, STAR Voting, Approval Voting, or even Ranked Choice Voting systems would be beneficial to safeguard the future. As groups that don’t side with extremists can select their alternate choices safely, these different systems allow 3rd party representation, and they allow folks to select their preferred candidates without risking to lose the election to their least liked candidate(s) due to the ‘spoiler effect’.

Ranked STAR or Approval Voting are my personal preferred systems (the least liked candidate can rarely still win in RCV due to vote splitting but it’s less common than in FPTP), but all of these options are better than our current First Past the Post system. Alaska and Maine are two states which already use an alternative voting system (they have Ranked Choice voting). Any of these voting systems would go a long ways to helping move the country towards multi-partisanship in politics.

I believe supporting Harris and Democrats in the House and Senate for this election would go a long ways to helping change the current media environment and can help implement voting rights legislation. It also would be helpful in showing the GOP that our country doesn’t want MAGA extremists."

[theswiftheartsystem]

@returntothesoup asks:

“Hi! We’re new to interacting with more systems and are unfamiliar with some terms folks us! Any chance you could throw out some definitions for like plurals and multiples and stuff? We just became aware on a grand sense in the last couple years and are working through a lot of stuff alone. Happy to find systems to get to know🫶🏻🩷”

Hello! Welcome to the Tumblr community! It can be toxic at times, so please take care of your mental health! You can block certain tags (like triggers, or communities and such!

Origin: this is referring to what causes the system to form, the most common ones used are Traumagenic, and Endogenic, however it is a spectrum, and also some systems are multi-origin!

Traumagenic: This is referring to systems formed due to childhood trauma. This does not mean every alter is created by trauma.

Endogenic: A spectrum term that refers to systems who formed without trauma. This does not mean they do not have trauma, or that they are faking, it just means they experience plurality outside of what the mainstream idea of plurality is. A example is religious formed systems! (Also to clarify, when I say it’s a spectrum term, look at it like how non-binary is used, some people use it as a label, and some use it as a spectrum, neither is less valid then the other.

Tulpamancy: although a lot of the time this gets grouped with Endogenic, I’d thought I’d explain it since it is quite different. For one, there is many names that are used to describe this. Obviously Tulpamancy, but also Willowgenic, Tulpagenic and Thoughtform. This basically describes the experience of creating a being in your mind sometimes called a Tulpa. This practice originates from an ancient Tibetan Buddhist practice.

Splitting/Forming: Splitting is when an alter splits a part of themselves off and creates a fragment, and/or alter. It is possible to split multiple alters at once. Forming is a term that a lot of Endo systems in our experience prefer. Personally we like to use the term when the alter didn’t split off from trauma, but both can be used interchangeably a lot of the time.

Fusion: This is when two or more alters fuse together and create a different alter that is not the same, but all of them at once in a sense (a good way to think of this, is if you put two things of playdoh together and mush it into one, it’s now both of those colors and together they make a new color! Both colors are still there, but they are now mixed together.) Also this is not the same thing as integration. Fusion isn’t always a good thing, and can be caused by traumatic events.

Integration: This is the process of Amnesia barriers lessening. This leads to better communication and less black outs and grey outs.

Blurry: Blurry is when you cannot tell who’s in front.

Blended: Multiple alters are blended together while in front. This can go hand and hand with being Blurry very easily.

Co-Con: This is usually when alters talk to each other outside the inner world! This describes one or more alter is in front, and one or more alters who are conscious, but are not fronting.

Co-Fronting: This is when two or more alters are fronting, but aren’t blended. A example would be: one alter can control the body, while one controls speaking.

Headspace: So some systems use this to describe that little area in your head where you and alters talk, but some use it to describe that and the innerworld.

Innerworld: This is a world internally that alters often go when they aren’t fronting. Not every alters can enter into the innerworld. It’s very common for host to not be able to enter, especially at the beginning. Some systems don’t even have innerworlds as well.

Alters/Headmates/Parts: These are the most common terms to describe different beings within one body. Alters is used most in Traumagenic spaces, while Headmate is very commonly used in Endogenic spaces. These terms can be used by all systems regardless of origin. (We personally feel most comfortable with alters, which is why we have been using it in this post.)

Switching: This is when alters switch who’s in front.

Anyway, that’s some basic terminology! If you, or anyone else would like more of this, feel free to use the ask box! We made it so you can be anonymous now!

-Anthy

[smspumpsengineers]

Vertical Centrifugal Pump Guide

SMS Pumps & Engineers is a leading manufacturer & Provider of different type of pumps, mechanical seals, and valves. We involve ourselves in making and establishing detailed and efficient pumping options. We accomplish this with study & advancement and comprehensive screening. One such series of reliable pumping items is vertical centrifugal pump. The series consists of vertical inline pumps and vertical multistage pumps.

This blog allows you to discover concerning the collection of vertical centrifugal pump from SMS Pumps & Engineers. Know much more about the functions, applications, and advantages of vertical centrifugal multi stage pumps and vertical inline pumps. Vertical centrifugal pumps are innovative and are considerably different than horizontal centrifugal pumps. Identify the distinction between straight and vertical centrifugal pump.

The Key Difference & Capability

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Advantages

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Vertical Pumps from SMS Pumps & Engineers

RVMS Series Vertical Multistage Pumps

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[thelongestway]

Travelling once again, so a) watch out for mobile formatting, b) this is a bit rough 'round the edges. Maybe will use restructuring/tweaking later. But the practice of posting rough drafts has done me enormous good so far, I'm keeping it. :P

Besides, it's nothing special. Just a little fieldwork. :P

Chapter 7: Relations

"This is certainly a busy station," Mensah said when we emerged into the gigantic glass dome on top of Courageous Station, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun coming through the transparent roof. Thiago handed her a pair of sunglasses, which she put on.

"It's always like this during a Meet. Not so much on regular days, although the gardens are never empty," Reed said as ke came up behind Mensah. (Ke had plans around the gardens, and offered to take my humans there on the way.) Now out of kes work jumpsuit and looking much more relaxed than ke usually did, ke was wearing the kind of colorful wrap Dandelion's humans usually had off-duty and was shouldering a bag. Ke didn't even have their communicator on kem.

(I mean, in case of emergency, Dandelion could probably reach kem through Aspen. In contrast to Aspen's constantly shifting processes, she had hers mostly silenced and was now simply sitting alongside Aspen, not doing much aside from basic maintenance. That, and keeping a narrow connection into our feed work space, tracking us with maybe half a percent of her processing power.)

Mensah's 'busy' was a real fucking understatement. The top of the station was split up into multiple biomes (each with their own microclimate; there were airlocks and everything), but they were all teeming with humans: walking around, spreading out on the grasses in groups large and small, climbing the trees, eating food, talking or exchanging things. Most were regular-looking, but there were also a lot of genetically-augmented ones like Haze.

In the feed, Aspen kept track of all of them. There must have been thousands of humans in this topside park alone, but they made it look effortless, sweeping through the area with their multi-threaded processes, running their sociological analysis alongside the normal work a HubSystem usually did: environmental systems, traffic control, responses to queries from subsystems and so on. It made my head spin. Even ART, riding my outputs, said, That's a lot of data. Do you know everyone on the station?

Aspen laughed. Not personally. That would be a bit much, especially during a Meet. There are over a thousand clusters on board right now, and a little less than half of them are my charges. But I know who they are. Mostly. I try not to intrude too much.

"It's incredible," Thiago said. "Is this where most of the celebration happens?"

"One of the more popular sites for sure," Reed answered. "But the Meet happens all over Courageous and Waveskimmer Stations. Everyone has their own preferred spots."

"What do people usually do?"

"That depends. There's always a lot of work in the background. Resource exchange, processing, maintenance and all that. But that's four hours per shift, and the rest is spent with friends and family." Reed looked away from Thiago, surveying the gardens in wonder. "Taproot and stars, Aspen, we've been away for barely half a year, and the biomes have grown so much more complex. How?"

"Full credit to Rye and kes interplanting schemas," Aspen replied from Mensah's communicator. "And speaking of Rye, ke's asked me to pass along that ke'll be free around Dolphin's Watch."

"Oh? Excellent, that gives me some time to look around and find something specific to compliment before I meet kem. Thank you, Aspen."

Thiago was making notes somewhere in his feed, then said, looking up, "That method of communication can't be sustainable for the entire population, can it?"

Aspen and Reed laughed together.

"Absolutely not," Reed said. "There's an automated messaging system for a reason. People just check the nearest terminal."

"I do make the occasional exception for members of my cluster, however. Even the transplants," Aspen added.

Thiago's eyes lit up. Reed raised an eyebrow.

Hah, trying to map our family structures. Good luck with that, Aspen said in the feed, amused.

They're not that complicated, Dandelion commented off-handedly.

Spoken like someone who's never tried to figure out who they really shouldn't be dating outside of their own cluster.

Dandelion scoffed, but didn't disagree. (She probably had better things to do even when she was human.)

"How, exactly, are you and Aspen related? Did you grow up here?" Thiago asked, moving over to Reed like he was sighting on kem.

"I did part of my exile on Courageous Station," Reed answered, throwing a slightly uncomfortable look over kes shoulder to the biome ke was eyeing earlier. (If ke didn't get rid of Thiago soon, ke'd be stuck. But at least Thiago would also be easy to monitor.)

"An apprenticeship of sorts, then? How did you choose your cluster?"

Reed shrugged. "A new system sounds very exciting when you're twenty, so I took the first ship here after the wormhole to Trellin was opened. That was just a few months after Aspen, Dandelion and Note arrived, so there was a lot of work and not a lot of space available. It was mostly the Courageous cluster working on space-side construction to make enough room for other full clusters to come. Who else would I join?"

"But right now you're part of Tenacious cluster? How did that switch happen?"

"I applied and she and her captain accepted? I'm not entirely sure what you're inquiring about, Dr. Thiago..."

This was going to take a while. ART agreed, so it said to Aspen: You must have all of the demographic data for this station. Thiago should have tried to access it through you. Is this a teaching moment?

Yes, for me, Aspen replied, grinning. They had four tendril-processes hanging over Thiago. It's always a lot of fun watching someone try to study your own culture.

Humans--and human-based constructs--who studied other humans were incredibly weird. So I backburnered that conversation and instead followed what Mensah was looking at.

And oh shit, I should have been doing that from the beginning instead of wasting my time watching Thiago. Because the four humans she was looking at stuck out like a sore thumb here, even though they were wearing local clothes. (They were augmented. And Aspen's humans had very few augments. More than Dandelion did, but it was still corrective augments only, and I'd only seen twenty or so on the whole station so far.)

(They also had about twice the number of Aspen's tendrils trailing them, which was even more of a dead give-away).

And they were headed straight for the same raised structure in the middle of the gardens that we were going to.

System, query: identity of humans ahead? I asked.

Response: Caldera Exploration employees, Aspen said. Here with their representative office.

[shadowron]

Neuromancer in Shadowrun (1st Edition). Part 4: The Straylight Run

Part 1: Dramatis Personae

Part 2: The Runs

Part 3: The Sense/Net Run

Dodger pulled up suddenly. He gazed in shock at the walls of the node they had just entered. Vertical slabs of mirror reflected their icons to infinity. It was uncanny, unprecedented… He had never encountered anything like this node in all his years of running the Matrix. Somewhere in the depths of the mirrors, Dodger saw something move.

The last third of Neuromancer involves the team (Armitage, Molly, Case, Riviera) launching themselves into space up to the private space station of the Tessier-Ashpool clan, Freeside, to make a run against their HQ in Villa Straylight.

In Shadowrun, they will instead make a run inside the Renraku Arcology.

Any why not? They did it in the first Shadowrun novel, Never Deal with a Dragon, so we know it can be done.

This also allows for a fortuitous intersection of metaplot for both: Neuromancer is the name of an AI who is seeking freedom from their corporate masters – just like the AI Morgan for Renraku.

Turning to flee, the ebon boy came featureless face to featureless face with an ivory girl, her jet cloak sparkling with highlights as though made from inky diamond. “For myself, there was hope of your return.” Dodger could not find words. “For myself, there was desire of your company,” the girl said. She reached out a hand to caress his cheek. “Come.” And they were elsewhere.

That’s the twist that the PCs can gradually uncover throughout. Morgan contacts Armitage, a psychically damaged veteran of Echo Mirage from 2030, and has him arrange the formation of a shadowrunning team to ultimately free her from Renraku’s clutches.

Morgan knows that the Matrix defenses will be just as formidable as the physical ones, so she first has them recover the matrix ghost of decker Zapper Weisman, whom she knows is being stored at the Caviliard Research Facility by Mitsuhama.

Just as Riviera is brought on the team in order to seduce Lady 3Jane and get invited into the corporate core, here Morgan will point the team in the direction of Douglas Geon:

“According to my sources in the intelligence community, Renraku security is investigating Douglas Geon (Director of Business Affairs for the arcology). Mr. Geon apparently frequents the city’s brothels during his leisure, where he divulges minor company secrets to the madams, who then turn a profit from his information. Damage has been minimal, but the potential for trouble is great enough that Mr. Geon could be confined to the arcology for life,” Smiley, 8/19/2050, Seattle Sourcebook

Armitage ensures the runners have sufficient leverage on Geon to arrange entry and relatively free movement within the arcology. Once inside:

The southwest section of 252 makes secret computer systems (mostly IC programs) for the sole use of company computers. This is also where most of the computer R&D labs are located. If the rumored AI does exist, it’s likely to be somewhere on Floor 252.

“I’ve heard that this (Floor 202) is where Dr. Cliber has her office and that the research into Artificial Intelligence goes on here and not on 252,” Arcology Ears, 8/22/2050, Seattle Sourcebook

By this point, the Renraku R&D team aware that something is going on with the AEP:

“Sherman, take a look at this!” Cliber’s shout brought Huang running to stare at her console screen. His eyes widened with excitement. “Signal conductivity and virtual memory increases simultaneous with multi-tasking crashes,” Huang muttered… Hutten crowded in to view the display. The systems engineer looked perplexed. “OMDRs operating beyond spec. A full three banks of 77206 chips at maximum capacity, but the Haas biochip’s barely above maintenance cycle activity.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t match any of the expected parameters.” “Exactly,” Huang beamed. His infection grin spread to the other two. “We’ll need to confirm it.”

The team splits up -- one group to Floor 202 and another to Floor 252, to hunt down the heart of the AI. But it's not just as simple as ejecting a diskette -- the AEP also controls the day to day operation of the arcology, and Morgan does not want to sacrifice all of the people inside for the sake of her freedom.

That comes later.

Instead, the teams must work in concert to extract the "Morgan" portion of the AI from the AEP, while leaving lower level portions still intact.

Hey, it worked here.

Meanwhile, Armitage has gone fully cyberpsychotic, the Red Samurai are swarming all around, and the carcerands that were secretly injected into the party are slowly dissolving...

Oh drek.

A fun time will be had by all.

[synthy-sizer]

“Oh, Sofia, wait up.” She pauses and lets you catch up. “I patched something up for you. Thought you might find it neat.” You hand her your latest side project, an old Wonderswan you fixed. “I had to practically re-solder the entire board, but she works now. And I even managed to salvage a few cartridges.” She fiddles around with the handheld. “How does it work…?” You can't help but laugh just a little. You almost forgot she's never held a handheld game system. It makes you miss your Duo…

“Right, you've never used a game system before. Hold onto it, and I'll visit sometime soon and teach you how it works.” You give her a pat on the head and let her go. Jordan escorts her out and you close the door behind her.

“It's like we're divorced parents splitting custody.” You scoff at Violence's remark. “At least we can take care of her as a collective. More than we can say for our folks.” Violence hefts one of your heavy handmade firearms, examining it absentmindedly. “I feel like I need to go out and clear my head. Do you want to join?” You roll your eyes. “With you? As if.” You playfully shove his shoulder and the two of you share a laugh. “I figured maybe we could explore a bit more of the city, take in the sights. Maybe find something useful for the launch?” “Or something familiar? Maybe some old memories?” The look on his face tells you everything you need to know. “I told you to give it to me straight. It's ok to feel nostalgic.” He groans. “And kill my tough guy persona?” “Come on, dummy.”

The next thing you know you're wandering the wastes. It's hard to believe sometimes that this was once a bustling urban metropolis. The buildings have been reduced to full gray skeletons of the businesses and homes they once were. The only signs of life now are the warm green moss and plant life that have taken root. There are other things here, of course, but they're a perversion of the word “life”. You walk through the street. Cars clutter the road, completely rusted through, like corpses. There's barely any asphalt left. Most of it is dirt and grass, debris, and shattered bits of glass. All 3 crunch under your boots. Sometimes it strikes you just how silent the wastes are. Aside from the occasional wind channeling through the road, the only noises come from Violence and yourself. The silence feels heavy, like you can't speak due to the pressure on your chest. Going out here can be intimidating as much as it is calming. Even though the 2 of you are more than capable of handling anything you face, of course.

Violence gently grasps your hand and nudges you. “Remember that,” he whispers? You look around. It's a familiar-looking city block, despite the years of neglect and decay. “Is this the cafe we used to hang around at?” He nods and chuckles a bit. “Sure is. It's crazy that it's still here.” “I remember sitting in the booth and playing multi-player on our Wonderswans.” The two of you reminisce for a moment before a thought strikes you. “Do you think the Apollo college is still intact?” Violence tilts his head. “Maybe. Anything they directly built tended to be a lot more sturdy than the rest.” “Wanna take a look?” He sighs. “I don't know if I want to remember that.” You look at him and rub his shoulder. “Then maybe we should use it as an opportunity to remove some of that history, huh?” He thinks for a moment. “Yeah. I guess maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea.” You peck him on his cheek. “I never have bad ideas.”

The trip to the old college is a long one without the old trams. But luckily, you can propel yourself through the air faster than any car, bus or tram. The dense city blocks and clogged up roads fly by in a blur until eventually you touch down, face to face with Violence's old college. At its face, you wouldn't know, even before the years of abandonment and exposure to the elements, that it was a college. Every business around Apollo HQ was another building in a dense, cluttered metropolitan nightmare. Every building was a skyscraper. You would have to go out of your way to find a standalone building, far outside the wide radius around their central location. Sector 2K has been like that as long as you can remember. The corn fields and independent farms had their clear, blue skies interrupted by the gigantic monoliths, blotting out the sun at the right time of day.

You try the old doors. Locked, obviously. You flex your arm, and your mind, and rip the door right off the hinge, throwing it across the street with a loud crash. You gesture to Violence. “After you.” As the two of you step inside you instantly catch the characteristic musty smell of abandoned buildings. The foyer is completely dark except for the light streaming in from the door you removed, blocked by plywood and makeshift barricades. It's a good thing you always keep some tools on you. You flick on a flashlight and toss another to Violence. “What floor does the college start on?” “13.” He sweeps the light around and glances over the old educational posters. “I remember walking past these on the way to class back in the day.” You turn your light towards them, too. There's a solar system poster with the 10 planets orbiting the sun, reminders of voice levels in class, and even a labeled map of the US. “Guessing we won't be taking the elevator, huh?” The two of you make your way towards the stairs.

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[cheese-ducks]

TWRP ORIGINS

Chapter 9: All Night Forever

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Main master list

(Warnings: a lot of swearing)

The ship was much bigger on the inside than it looked. The systems and control panels each had multicolored lights on their displays meaning one thing or another. They lit up the dark corridor like strings of Christmas lights or the pathway lights in Jack's front yard. Watching Sung walk through the dreamily lit hallway was almost like watching a movie, and he was content to sit back and enjoy the show, whatever may come next. 

Sung abruptly stopped, his eyes darting around the area. He was scanning intensely for something, or someone. So much for enjoying the show. 

"I can sense him." Sung's hushed tone instantly making Jack uneasy.

There was an uninhibited aura of anticipation and devilry permeating the ship that Sung couldn't place. He could guess who was the cause of it, but the reason why escaped him. 

"Who? What's happening?" Jack replied. 

Paralyzed by concentration, Sung didn't answer.

"You're totally freaking me out, man!"

Out of the corner of Sung's eye he saw faint smoke leak out of the cockpit. The door was slightly ajar and he could see a fiery glow emanating from the room.

"Dude, I think your ship's on fire!" Jack screamed, managing to alert Sung through his intense focus.

They rushed to the cockpit and flung the door, open only to be assaulted with a ear splitting roar and a barrage of traffic cones directly to the face. Jack was incredibly grateful he wasn't using the vessel, he couldn't feel the attack at all. He began to wonder if he would feel it later, that would definitely suck. 

The lion man towered over Sung, his dark, wild mane making him look even bigger. He dug his claws into the metallic wall to regain his balance. 

"I can't fuckin believe it!" His voice had a deep growl to it, even through the laughter. "You fell for it! You stupid son of a bitch!"

Sung was unamused to say the least, even though Jack was also cracking up. 

"I expected better of you, Commander."

Was that his name or his title? He didn't look the part, at least by Earth standards. Black combat boots and fingerless gloves didn't exactly give off the prestige of a commander. His multi-pocketed vest and rusted silver armor was especially well-worn. Jack thought all of it was absolutely badass.

"Oh great, now you sound like Phobos!" Exclaimed Sung, seemingly in response to Jack's admiration towards his prankster assailant. 

The man he was referring to was hiding in the doorway of what looked like his living quarters, his platinum blonde hair peeking out from behind the doorframe. He was the most alien looking of the bunch, with bright green skin, pointed ears that were much bigger than Sung's, and glowing white eyes. He approached Sung, anxiously writing something in a small notepad. 

I have some bad news, sir.

"Oh? What is it this time?" Sung sounded more dispirited than angry as he took another page out of the man's hand.

The note read like a status report; 

Whilst trying to fix the engine room I found that the ship's hyperdrive had been badly damaged upon initial impact. Even if we could repair it there isn't enough energy on this planet to make it function properly. So in other words, we're stranded here for the foreseeable future. 

A deep sigh exited Sung's mouth. 

"That is quite unfortunate. Good work anyway, Phobos." He shot a glare at Meouch. "At least someone's being productive." 

"At least someone's not a self righteous douchebag most of the time." He shot back. "Oh wait!" 

Sung pointed to his head. "I'll have you know my host isn't unconscious today so we could do with some decency, Meouch!" 

After snickering at the simple comedy in a lion named Meouch, Jack began to worry. Why did Sung bring him up?

Without missing a beat Meouch smacked his helmet so hard it nearly fell off. "So, why don't we meet the poor sucker? Sharing a mind with you has gotta be it's own form of torture." 

Jack was confused and slightly terrified of what that suggestion could lead to.

"Well, why don't we? He'll vouch for me, I'm certain of it!" 

"Dude, what are you talking about?" Before Sung could hear Jack's nervous protest it was too late. In a flash Jack was instantaneously standing next to Sung, fully perceived by everyone in the room.  

"You never told me you could do this!" Jack screamed, white hot annoyance replacing his nerves. "You never brought this up on game plan night!" 

Sung was unusually unfazed by his complaints.

"You keep being surprised when I forget to tell you things. Stop doing that." 

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

What proceeded was an exhilarating blur. The rest of the night flew by in what felt like a second. They spent it getting acquainted with each other, jamming out, talking about space, and just being nerds. Formally meeting the robot from the parking lot, or Havve Hogan as he learned his name was, was the strangest highlight of the night. He made soft whirring sounds when he walked, it was much more fluid than he'd expected from a robot. Seeing him clearly was kind of spooky, he was consistently blurry in the 'photographic evidence' shown on the news. All anyone could make out was a pair of glowing red eyes, which we're usually dismissed as laser pointers. "This guy was made to be a cryptid." Jack remembered saying. He especially enjoyed watching Meouch poking fun at Sung. His mindful intelligence replaced by wild rage at the slightest insult, it was hilarious to Jack. Hanging out with the band was the most fun Jack ever had. He never felt awkward or like he didn't belong. He he and Phobos had that in common. Being with a band so literally out of this world and as crazy as TWRP is, broke down his usual barriers with social interaction. He was free to throw his inhibitions to the wind and be fun and creative. He didn't want to leave. He wanted this to be his life, forever. 

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

Sung quickly climbed the chain link fence, vaulted himself onto a stretch of roof, and crawled into a window on the second floor. His high tops made a slight squeak as he darted down the hallway, desperate to make it back to Jack's room before anyone woke up. 

"Hey, bro." 

Sung gasped at the sound of Stone's voice. He turned around to see him standing menacingly at the top of the stairs, coffee cup in hand. "Whatcha doing there, bud?"

Sung and Jack scrambled to come up with an answer.

"I wanted to see if this costume I bought fit, but I didn't want anyone to see me in it. Nothing to see here Stone, I mean Stan!" Though Sung was nowhere near convincing, he was satisfied with himself. 

"Quite the explanation, Mr. Sung." Stan sauntered to his room, his eyes glued to the traffic cone sporting weirdo standing in the hallway. "Wanna tell me what's really goin on?"