Sep 6, 2024
Gideon: I give up. I am so tired.
Gricko: Get the emergency supply!
Frost: *carries Kremy and places him in front of Gideon*
Kremy: *smiles*
Gideon: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Yemen
seen from Netherlands
seen from Brazil
seen from Israel
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Russia
Gideon: I give up. I am so tired.
Gricko: Get the emergency supply!
Frost: *carries Kremy and places him in front of Gideon*
Kremy: *smiles*
Gideon: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO
The Secret to Happiness
One shot
Summary: After being found wandering empty roads, you’ve found home at a prison. You’ve grown a reputation of being a constant beam of happiness. After a spontaneous night of drinking and a game of truth or dare, one question burns bright. What is your secret?
Fluff/slight angst
Word count: 1443
Pairing: Daryl x female reader (or not female only gendered term used once towards the reader is ‘miss’)
Setting: prison era - season 4
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes
A/n: this is my first time writing in years, but it came to me in a dream. It’s also partially proof read but done so with the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses.
The night is cool as you sit cross-legged in the grass. Your skin heated from the heavy amount of Jack Daniels you have already downed. It’s safe to say, you are border-lining drunk. A constant smile is spread across your lips as you look at the group around you, illuminated by the small fire you’ve gathered around.
Maggie sat across from you. With one arm planted behind her to keep her up, Glenn lying on his side beside her, hand placed over hers. Sasha was on the other side of Maggie, with Rick beside her. On the other side of Glenn, Tyreese sat with an arm around Karen.
And finally, Beside you was Daryl. Silently taking sips of his whiskey.
“Okay!” Sasha chuckles, having just answered a question of ‘truth or dare’. “Who’s next? Daryl?”
“Nah, I’m not playin’”
“I know!” Maggie speaks up from where she’s sat, “How about little miss sunshine over here” She gestures towards you.
You lean forward slightly, grinning wide at Maggie. “Alright, give it to me!”
“Truth or dare?”
You cross one arm across your chest, the other being upwards as you tap a finger to your chin.
“Hmm. Let me think.. dare. ‘Cause I ain’t no pussy!” Laughter is heard from around the group. You keep smiling Maggie’s way. Drunk. You are definitely drunk.
“Okay,” Mirroring your grin. “I dare you… to kiss the hottest person here.”
“What are we, high schoolers?” You laugh, “Either way, I can’t do that. I’m already certain they can’t stand me, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll make them hate me more.” You say giggling, taking another sip.
“Okay then,” Maggie shifts slightly, “what’s the secret to being so happy all the time?”
“Well the thing is…” you draw your words out. still smiling wide, moving to position yourself on your knees, you can feel the cool grass making an indent on your knee where a hole has formed in your worn out jeans. “Secrets, are secret for a reason.” You beam widely.
“it’s the game, choose one.” Sasha chimes in.
You debate with yourself for a moment. Everyone awaiting your response.
“well, in that case.”
You turn to your side and place a hand under Daryl’s chin, stabling yourself as you place a short, yet sweet, kiss on his cheek.
Silence.
A surge of electricity goes straight through your chest as you quickly stand to your feet. “Well!” -anxiety- You exclaim, clapping your hands together, “I’d say that’s my queue to head off.” -panic- You brush off some grass that stayed sticking to the skin of one knee peaking through your jeans.
Everyone stuck in a trance of stunned silence.
“Goodnight!” You give a wave and make your leave.
Heart racing, your legs pull you across the grass, up through the gates. You don’t realise you’ve stopped until you’re planted on a bench in the courtyard.
You sit in a rigid silence for a few minutes. Internally screaming at yourself.
Why would you do that?
You can’t believe your actions.
You’ve had a crush on Daryl for a while now. But you never had any plans to act on it.
You were certain he could not stand you.
Anytime the two of you were left alone he’d not utter a single word. He wouldn’t even look at you.
And then there were the times you’d say something in your overly happy tone, he’d shake his head and you swear you could hear him scoff.
It seemed like he would avoid you at every chance he got, so it’s a surprise when the body that sits next to you belongs to the man himself.
You stay silent. Staring ahead. For once, not smiling.
Your peripheral vision allows you to see Daryl lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep breathe in, exhaling the grey smoke.
He clears his throat slightly.
“Ya think I hate ya?” His voice low.
You nod, not knowing if he’s even looking at you to see, as you keep your stare ahead.
“How could I not? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy my presence very much.” Your voice is also low, a little defeated. “You won’t even talk to me.”
“Nah, I don’ hate ya. S’just- you’re so damn happy. It’s blindin’. Your blindin’.”
You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. The smell of his cigarette wafting through the air.
“So wha’s the secret?”
“Hm?”
“Ta happiness.”
“Oh.” You let a small breathy laugh, looking down shaking your head.
“Uhm… I guess,” You pause, thinking for a second. “I Uhm, I don’t really know.”
Your voice gets quiet. “If I’m being honest,” you start picking at the frayed fabric of your jeans, “I don’t think I’ve ever truely felt happiness. It started as a way to distract myself from feeling any of the bad things. I somehow convinced myself that if I was going to put energy into anything, it may as well be a smile.” Daryl stays quiet beside you, “and it sorta just stuck.”
You finally turn your head to look him, but he’s already looking at you. The eye contact you hold felt heavy.
“Plus,” you break the eye contact to to stare ahead, “I think it’s better to have everyone see me endlessly happy than have them see me for what I really am.”
You both stay silent for a second before Daryl speaks up “And wha’s that?”
You turn your head to regain eye contact, your voice comes out soft, while with a small, a sad smile you state “a truely broken person.”
The two of you stay staring at each other, the faint sound of laughter can be heard from the group as a slight breeze carries the noise. Daryl bites his lip in that way he does, as his eyes flicker between yours and anywhere but you, simultaneously.
You clear your throat “I also want to say sorry.” “What for?” “For kissing you. I know it was just on the cheek, but still. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I am sorry”
“nah,” he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t be.” He moves his gaze ahead of him. “Was nice”
you feel your chest flutter for moment.
Staring at him, a lopsided grin growing on your face. “Yeah?”
He gives you a side glance before nodding again “yeah.”
With a new found confidence, carried by the work of Jack Daniels still in your system, your usual cheery persona returns.
“Well, if you liked that, I know a better place.”
He turns his head to you, confusion littering his expression.
“Better place?”
Your lips stretch into a wide closed mouth smile, as you gently tap your lips.
His eyes widen slightly, staring at where your finger now rests softly upon your lips.
“Would that be okay?” You ask, softly, but still confident. His body is a still as ever, eyes lifting to make eye contact once again.
He softly nods.
You turn your body to him, taking the hand that had once been pressing a finger to your lips, and use it to rest gently against his left cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he ever so slightly leans into your touch.
Your other hand moving down to rest on the bench infront of you to aid you in leaning closer to him.
You stop just in front of his face, looking to his still closed eyes and letting out a faint breath, before your own fall shut as you close the gap. Lips pressed together, gentle.
One singular kiss causing your whole body to send signals of pure joy throughout your entirety.
You part, faces still close, eyes still shut. The soft exchange age of air passing through both of your lips, the smell of whiskey and tobacco fill your nose.
He reaches a hand up to hold you. His index finger lay just below your ear, as your jaw rests just at the base of his thumb. Pulling you back in. This time the both of you lips move together, slowly, softly.
You both stop, lips still touching. Hands still placed on either one’s face. Slowly pulling away your face away, eyes opening.
The pair of you stare at each other, not saying anything.
Hands drops as you move back to your original position, both staring ahead. A small smile stuck in place.
Beside you, you hear a soft chuckle. You turn your head to look at him “what?”
He looks at you with the faintest smile, “nothin’.. just.” He lets out another chuckle as his smile grows a little more.
“Im thinking’ I just found my secret to happiness.”
A Little Christmas Event (Mapi Leon x Reader)
Day 9. Sorry this is late I forgot to queue it! Also this title is shit but I couldn't think of one so.
Him: Just fries Her: No ♥
https://archiveofourown.org/works/81834046/chapters/225365836
I wanted to keep writing but I'm soooo so terribly overdue for sleep ;w; Brain's-still-in fic-mode-but-body's-done-for-the-day kind of thing And sorry it's so short! 😭
Welcome page/ Masterlist 📍
“Did you feel that? How smoothly I drove over that last bump?” Rebecca asked, clearly still riding the high of her newfound skill.
“Yeah, yeah. Makes me wonder how you used to deal with them”
“I’m getting us fries” she announced excitedly, all of a sudden immune to criticism.
An inside look at the frontlines of the war on truth.
Caroline Orr Bueno at Weaponized Spaces:
In the summer of 2025, as the national debate over social media content moderation flared anew, most of us were watching the public fights — congressional hearings, new bills, platform memos, etc. Few noticed the quiet war being waged inside the moderation queues themselves. This is the front line of Moderation Sabotage — a deliberate, tactical assault on the capacity and timing of trust-and-safety systems so that disinformation, inflammatory content, and manipulation slip through unchecked. It’s not a glitch. It’s a stealth weapon in Trump’s digital arsenal — and it looks a lot like the weapon Russia deployed in 2016.
The Quiet Storm Inside Platforms
To understand how Moderation Sabotage works, picture the content pipeline of a social platform like Facebook or X. Reports backlog, automated filters flag borderline cases, and human teams process appeals, escalations, and high-risk content. They’re stretched thin even on a normal day. Now imagine a surge: hundreds or thousands of new, near-duplicate content items hitting just as staff shifts change, or during nights, weekends, or holidays. The filters get overwhelmed. The human teams scramble. Priority queues clog. Many posts stay live longer than they should — or, in many cases, indefinitely.
Russia deployed nearly identical tactics in 2016 as part of their effort to help Trump and hurt Hillary Clinton. I observed a pattern during the summer of 2016 in which Russian accounts would flood social media platforms with content in the early hours of the morning when most Americans were asleep and it was easier to influence trending topics given the lower volume of posts. Then, by the time most Americans woke up and checked social media, the topic would be trending, but the original accounts that pushed out content were buried beneath more recent posts. As a result, the manufactured trend looked like an authentic trend to the average social media user. The goal of these tactics is to keep content alive long enough to hit critical visibility thresholds: trending, recommended, or surfacing in other people’s feeds. Once the false or manipulative content achieves that endurance, even later removal often comes too late because its momentum has already done its damage.
[...]
Why the Right Leverages It Better (For Now)
Moderation Sabotage isn’t inherently partisan. But historically, Trump’s digital networks have had structural advantages:
High-volume infrastructure. Right-wing media, think tanks, podcast networks, and influencer ecosystems can be synchronized rapidly. That coordination turns multiple bots, pages, and accounts into distributed networks targeting moderation capacity.
Narrative framing. The right has long positioned itself as a victim of “Big Tech censorship.” As a result, when content is removed — or even delayed – it becomes argumentative fuel. Moderation actions are instantly weaponized as proof, triggering more engagement.
Proximity to platform debates. This network watches internal policy skirmishes closely (e.g. Meta’s rollback of its fact-checking program in January 2025). They time sabotages around changes or turmoil in moderation policy, knowing that internal confusion gives extra room to slip content through.
Playbook discipline. Red teams test variations: which phrases gets flagged, and which don’t. They pull what fails. They scale what survives. This iterative mapping of moderation capacity is more resource-intensive than most left-leaning groups are structured to run.
[...]
The Counterpunch: Building Resilience
This isn’t hopeless. But resisting Moderation Sabotage requires strategy.
Platforms must invest in redundant capacity, especially during high-risk windows.
Transparency is vital — publishing queue latencies, backlogs, and banned content trends would shine light on sabotage as it happens.
External auditing teams and “firebreak” protocols can hold dubious content off the critical path while moderation catches up.
Regulators should require legibility in moderation workflows, not just takedown counts.
And finally, civil society must expose sabotage events as occurrences — not accidents.
Because once you see moderation delays not as errors but weaponized pauses, the smallest glitches become signals of a much deeper war.
The disturbing trend of weakened content moderation is how lies (often of a far-right nature) get spread before the truth has a chance to get out of bed.
Cybertronian emotions and crying: a breakdown
*Disclaimer: I failed my computer systems class so please take all technical terms (like RAM and ROM) with a grain of salt. Also I guess cybertronians don’t run on human computer systems so I guess you could also chalk any inconsistencies up to alien tech. This whole rant is very tech-y as a whole. Lol.
—
In lieu of tears, which are very human things to do, Cybertronians “cry” through their EM fields.
Emotions are stored within the processor in special a emotional storage/CPU. When a bot encounters certain stimuli, it may process the stimuli with a variety of emotions, which weight their actions, and the resulting emotional response is sent to storage to be processed (usually through emission through the EM field, but the specifics are a story for another day.)
New emotions are sent to the RAM (Random Access Memory)- a volatile form of temporary memory that includes mild feelings like annoyance, mild elation, disappointment. These emotions are kept in a storage queue and slowly processed by the rest of the CPU or overwritten. The RAM is also completely wiped when a bot reboots themself during recharge, as power is cut to the system.
Different emotions are weighted differently. Positive emotions like happiness generally have the smallest storage size, and much more of it can be stored in RAM/ROM before overflowing. The processor prefers to store and process this, but it’s also easier to overwrite. Sadness and terror are bigger to store (generally due to the complexity of stressors) and harder to process, and they are most likely to be processed into ROM first due to size.
If the RAM runs out of storage when processing emotions, it can do one of two things- overwrite pre-existing memory, or process memories into ROM (Read Only Memory).
If the RAM is almost predominantly one category of emotion (say, negative emotions), it will process everything in the RAM into the ROM. ROM is a non-volatile, more permanent form of memory within the emotional processor- it does not get wiped from the processor when the bot reboots during recharge, and can store much more emotion. It’s kind of like a warehouse you put your backlog of shopping orders into for delivery later, while RAM is the delivery truck processing the orders. ROM consists of the more persistent feelings, like stress from a bad situation, sadness from a loss of loved one, anticipation for something exciting in the future.
If RAM is filled with a relatively even mix of positive and negative emotion, it will overwrite the oldest memories with the newest emotion to keep itself from having to write to the ROM.
If there is no positive or negative stimuli entering the emotional center and RAM is empty, it may draw from the ROM to process the backlog of stored emotions.
However, negative emotions like sorrow and terror are a pretty heavy mental load to store and can take up a lot of storage space. If the ROM is filled to capacity, the storage may overflow and the processor will be forced to unload everything in it.
When this happens, the method of unloading is very different from natural processing and overwriting- a surge of energy will force all switches in the emotional processor back to empty/neutral, which generates a negative charge. This negative charge flows through the frame’s circuitry and returns to the spark, where it is blasted out through the EM field to be offloaded in massive waves of emotion. This negative charge can be pretty taxing on the system and cause strong frame responses like overheating/loss of vent control, or optical filament flareups. Therefore, this strong physical/EM response is very prominent and creates the cybertronian equivalent of crying.
Crying doesn’t have to be negative- if there is enough positive/happy emotion stored in ROM, the processor can also unload that into “happy crying”.
Development Update - May 2023
Hello hello folks, Miyazaki here! We've got a big update for this month--we've rolled out Mythaura's battle demo and are so excited for you to give it a try!
Topics covered include:
Battle Demo & Guide
Quarter 4 (2023) Rewards Reveal
Beast Creator Contest
New Homepage Splash Screen
More info available under the cut!
Stare at me
Summary: You frequent a coffee shop only to be met with his dark eyes every time.
Pairing: Jungkook x reader
Genre/tags: Smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, if you squint daddy!Jungkook, shy!reader, dirty talk,
a/n: hello! This is my first time writing a fanfic so please be kind! This kind of just fell out of me and developed into something I couldn't control, so.. enjoy! :)
You leaned back with a sigh and threw your notebook on the coffee table. Knowing you needed a well deserved break from studying you decide to head down to the local coffee shop for a caffeine boost.
You emit a big loud yawn and walk to your room down the hall. You decide to exchange your sweatpants with some jeans and put on a bra for the first time that weekend. You give a small huff in the mirror noticing you still look a bit ragged, but who cares? Your not trying to impress anyone and your definitely not trying to turn any heads.
After breaking up with your long term, long distance boyfriend you felt like your life was on hold. You thought you were going to marry this man, have his children in fact. But the sad truth was he had cheated on you and you couldnt let that stand, so you left. Feeling emotionally bruised and sore you had holed up in your on-campus apartment and tried to forget by studying and binging on chinese food for the last few weeks.
The only thing that brought you any joy nowadays was getting some coffee a few blocks down from where you lived. It may have seemed like a small excursion but it got you out of the house and let you take in a fresh breath of air, somehow restoring your will to stand on this planet.
But you would be lying if that was the only reason you visited that coffee shop. Every so often a black haired man at a small table next to the window would be working on his laptop, to say he was handsome was an understatement.
He was jarringly handsome and if you were lucky you would catch eyes with him, only to be completely embarrassed when he caught you staring. But that didnt stop you from looking for him every time you went to the shop only to be met with those dark doe eyes.