#LIKE ULTRA KILL FAST

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

Creators of Mullet Madjack really knocked it out of the park making her design!!!

Also the game is fantastic! Go wishlist it if you like FPS games!

[slicksquid]

we back

[damian-navarro-art]

BATGIRL & ROBIN

Finally guys after all the sneak peeks… my Cassandra Cain and Mia Mizoguchi Short Story! CASS AND MAPS!

I’ve been posting it on my instagram all this month and last week on my twitter but i had totally forgotten to post it in here, for 2 months there wasn’t a day i wasn’t thinking on them and i would have loved with all my heart to do something even longer but… building up a story, thinking over and over the layouts, drawing and coloring with this level of detail all on my own is really hard and i can’t but feel guilty of taking this long for just this 7 pages, but as little that is, with all my heart i just really hope you like them :’) , I tried to put many little easter eggs and references but i will mention some at the end to not spoil your reading.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Okay, so some of the esster eggs:

PAGE 1: that Adam West Batman & Robin climbing a building shot which actually came to me from Bruno Redondo’s cover of Nightwing actually , and the rest of the panels hugely inspired by Batman The Animated Series!

PAGE 2: a portrait of Niccolai Tapes( The Mas Monk) on his early years and at his side Matt Wagner himself! , then a newspaper with a Batman based on his first appearances and a reference to the events from Batman vs the Mad Monk by Matt Wagner, and then ofc all the room filled with a bunch of objects taken exactly from the same pages of Matt when he draw The Monk’s Castle on the same book. and finally the book of Dracula for the same reason ;) , all this layout was inspired by one of the most iconic pages from Pax Americana by Frank Quitely

PAGE 3: all the vampires were based physically on Voldermort’s Death Eaters! but also the girl in black is Dala! Mad Monk’s more loyal acolyte which in the book she always desired to become a vampire but never could! , but from left to right, Barty Crocuh Jr. , Dala as Bellatrix, Peter Pettigrew, The Monk was “Voldemort” , then Snape, Lucius, Narcissa and Fenrir Greyback, and that last panel was a BLADE reference 🙂‍↕️🙌

PAGE 4: this whole Cass yellow panels with speedlines were supposed to represent the same kind of panels that Damion Scott drew when Cass was moving really fast in her Batgirl run, the whole layout was based on a page of Jamal Campbell from his Green Arrow run

PAGE 5: shot referencing the killing joke joker and batgirl cover, you can see a “Red sun” mode on the bat-flashlight apart from the Ultra Violet setting, them. Maps bites the Monk as she used to do a couple times in Gotham Academy, and Cass final attack is a reference to one of the moves she does in her 2000s run to stop the heart beats of a thug , and those circles were inspired by David Aja’s work on his Iron Fist and run!

PAGE 6: the building on the background purposely resembles the Bat ears, the GCPD have the uniforms from BTAS and you can see also Detective Montoya and Jack Ryder interviewing her :), Maps little hearts are taken from Karl Kerschl who used to do them on Gotham Academy a couple times, and finally the Grapple Gun reference from all the time Maps mentioned it on Gotham Academy 🙂‍↕️,ohh and the box of the gift was also the same feom Shadow of the Batgirl when Barbara gives her suit to Cass!

PAGE 7: Frank Miller’s Batman and Carrie Kelly cover 🙂‍↕️🫶

THANK U GUYS 🫶

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Getting Thrashed

Female Alpha Yandere x Male Omega Reader (CW: Noncon/dubcon, heat cycles, scent kink, pheromones, non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, NO mpreg, enslaved reader, conquered society, general yandere behavior, teasing, biting, claiming, space pirates) Word Count: 3.4k (WOW, sorry that took so long. I started off writing fast because I loved the idea then lost motivation halfway through. Hope you guys enjoy the second female yandere fic I have written and the first one I have written with smut. Also first fic I have written where the reader penetrates the yandere.)

Your day on the space colony of Nithyal started out like any other. You diligently did your assigned work of farming a wide array of essential foods for the colony.

It was pretty vigorous manual labor, but you didn't mind. You rather enjoyed the scent of fresh soil and ripe fruits.

And you were fairly compensated. Everyone was in Nithyal. After all, the colony was on the planet Solstan. And it wasn't called a paradise world for nothing. The weather was agreeable, there were few dangerous animals, and everyone lived harmoniously. No homelessness, no corruption, no hunger, no violence. You were very grateful to live in such a place.

Especially since you were an omega.

Many generations ago, human fertility was greatly diminishing. In a bid to save the species, there were numerous fertility experiments.

One of the most extreme experiments that altered human DNA and psychology the most resulted in two new variants of humans: Alphas and Omegas.

They were both given extreme fertility, but what good is being fertile if you just end up with a barren partner?

So they were both given heightened olfactory senses, with omegas being given genes to produce pheromones that alphas were attracted to and vice versa.

They were also capable of quickly forming intense bonds with their romantic/sexual interests.

But the biggest difference from unaltered humans was that alphas entered ruts and omegas had heats. These periods of ultra high libido were to make sure they were compelled to procreate.

The gene editing was not without unintended consequences.

Alphas tended to be larger, stronger, and more aggressive than normal people, and omegas had a tendency to be smaller and a bit more submissive.

Alphas also tended to be possessive and jealous, even going so far as almost always needing to mark their mate with a permanent bite.

These behavioral concerns lead to the discontinuation of the program. Specifically, concerns about omegas maintaining their agency when faced with such forceful alphas that could easily sniff them out.

Human fertility was restored through more refined gene editing later, with suppressants being developed for the humans already altered and their descendants so they could mask themselves.

Heats and ruts were only partly suppressed, though and it wasn't too hard for someone to discover who was an omega when their life was put on hold in a predictable pattern once every few months.

It wasn't ideal, since most people hated such altered humans.

But Nithyal was different. Everyone just cared about each other and didn't bother with any judgement.

There was no better place in the galaxy.

That was... until the dark day that a pirate fleet came from the deepest reaches of known space to upend everything.

They were called The Eternal Eclipse. And they certainly eclipsed any joy you found in Nithyal.

Your people tried to mount a defense, fighting bravely with the few ships and ground to air weapons that were available, but given their numbers there was no chance of victory.

Your colony was pretty isolated from the rest of civilization so once conquered there was little chance of liberation.

They quickly killed or at least maimed anyone who tried to fight back or organize a rebellion.

The colonists had become little more than slaves.

Many continued the hard labors they had before, with more demand to support the new ruling population, others were forced into personal servitude for the higher up pirates, and a decent chunk of the population became personal fuck toys.

At first, when the pirates had gathered up all of the colonists to assign them their fates, you were mercifully going to continue the work that you had already been doing.

But unfortunately you somehow caught the eye of Thrash and for some reason she had taken a liking to you. So instead of cultivating plants, you were forced to be by her side all day as a simple servant. This probably wouldn’t have been too bad if the violent leader didn’t happen to be, against all odds, an alpha.

You had never met one before but you could tell right away. Her scent, her attitude, the fact that she was larger and stronger than most adult men. She had hair like fire and an energy and attitude to match.

At first you were worried that she had pegged you for an omega, but she gave no indication that she knew. You were in constant fear that your omega nature would be discovered. It wasn't unheard of for omegas to be brutally raped, sold to far off black markets, or even just outright killed. Surely if she had known you wouldn’t just be a personal slave.

It seemed that your suppressants were enough to completely hide yourself from her, and you had a huge supply of them. Though you knew for a fact that once your heat started, your pheromones would poke through. And you’d also be rather horny. Maybe you could feign illness and cover yourself in perfume?

That was probably your best bet. Though you hoped no one would notice that you got ill like clockwork. Luckily you still had plenty of time until your next heat.

Working for Thrash wasn’t too physically demanding, you just had to clean up after her, prepare meals, and do little odd tasks like deliver a note or something to one of her subordinates. You actually got a lot of down time between tasks… though you always had to stay nearby in case Thrash needed something.

The overworked farmers would have surely enjoyed such a relatively cushy work detail, but it was absolute hell for you. It was like walking on eggshells, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thrash hadn’t treated you poorly, never hit you. But you had no idea how an omega would be treated.

It was especially scary when she decided to tease you, just because she enjoyed watching you squirm.

When she licked your neck in the cafeteria in front of all her dining pirate crew she cackled at how your face turned red and you got as still as a statue as your brain shut down. You were terrified that she could smell or even taste the omega on your skin.

Thrash didn’t really know why but something in her made her love flustering you. She just couldn’t help it. She had always enjoyed making men uncomfortable or putting them in their place, but you were a bit different. It wasn’t like it was with her male pirate colleagues, where she strove to be the best and made them obey her. No, this was different, seeing your face turn red made her hungry for more.

One night she dismissed you with a smack on the ass and let you go to bed while she stayed up drinking with her best buddies. You felt humiliated and rushed off to your room, which was one that was in the house she had claimed for herself in case she needed you for something she wanted you close by. You were really like a live-in maid.

You tidied up a few things before washing up and going to bed, still embarrassed about having your butt touched in public. Despite that you managed to go to sleep pretty quickly.

Though a few hours later a very drunk Thrash comes stumbling in drunk. You wake up with a jolt and nearly jump out of your bed as a strong arm wraps around your waste and firmly pulls you close.

“Mmm where ya goin cutie? Ya need to stay close to yer alpha!”

She lightly grinded into you for a moment, her crotch against your ass before stopping and nuzzling into your neck.

“Thr-Thrash… uh… I think you accident-”

She shushed you by licking your neck and nibbling a bit. You went still as stone. If she broke the skin the special enzymes in her alpha saliva would cause you to have a permanent mark. Fortunately that didn’t happen, instead remaining content with sloppy kisses, sucking, and gentle nibbling.

You couldn’t help but let out a series of little whimpering moans at the sensation. You also became aware of just how nice she smelled. So dominant. Kinda… safe…

She chuckled at your noises.

“Haha, you’re practically a tiny defenseless omega!”

That made you shake the thoughts and distractions from your mind. This woman was not safe. She stole your home and turned you into a glorified slave. If she knew what you were she’d sell you to the highest bidder!

Luckily after that comment she had passed out in a drunken stupor.

You managed to extricate yourself from her grasp before scrambling to get to the restroom. You had to double check to make sure that the bites that Thrash had so kindly applied to your neck had not broken the skin, luckily they hadn’t.

But you still looked absolutely horrible. Your neck was covered in little hickeys, your hair was a mess, and you were so shaky from the rude awakening that you could barely stand.

Something about looking so debauched made your cock hard. Maybe it was because you had her alpha stink all over you or maybe it was something to do with the bites all over your neck. Maybe it was just because you weren’t used to the attention.

It didn’t matter why the result was the same, you had to do something about this almost painful arousal. And the scent that clung to you.

As you got in the shower you gave your cock the attention it was demanding, thinking filthy and shameful thoughts about Thrash. You tried to pleasure yourself to other thoughts but your mind kept drifting back to the oppressor of your people and the way she smelled as she bit and drooled all over your neck.

You couldn’t spill until you imagined her leaving a permanent claiming bite on your neck.

After your shower you felt dirtier than you had before you got in. You reminded yourself that you hated Thrash and that she and her crew had done to upend the lives of you and your people. It wasn’t your fault she made you aroused. What omega wouldn’t have been after that?

After you got dressed and left the bathroom you wrapped your spare blanket around you and slept in the chair in the corner of the room, you would have rather not been in the same room as the drunk alpha, but you had nowhere else you could go.

When Thrash woke up she found you sleeping soundly in the room and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her room. She must have kicked you out of your bed. She did feel kinda bad about it, but she figured you would live. She was the one with the massive headache.

She went back to her quarters, leaving you to sleep a bit longer.

When you woke up you found her, thankfully gone, you wrapped a scarf around yourself to hide your neck, the weather was cool lately so no one should give a second thought to you wearing one. Then you left to start your day of servitude as you did everyday.

Unfortunately for you, you had to accompany her as she went on one of the landed ships to see what the problem was with it since she had originally been a mechanic and engineer. It was very hot in the engine room.

“How are you wearing that scarf? It’s so hot in here.” The heat wasn’t the only problem you were dealing with, she was sweating and only wearing a tank top, allowing her musk to practically smother you.

It didn’t really take all that long for you to get more than a bit dizzy and flustered. And once you were, it took even less time for Thrash to notice, she often kept an overprotective eye on you, though you had rarely noticed.

She came stomping over and looked down at you.

“I told you it was too hot for that! You’re gonna get sick dumbass! Take it off and let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You fidgeted under her gaze and mumbled that you were okay.

When you didn’t take it off immediately she growled, jerked you over to her, and yanked it off of you.

She stared wide-eyed at your neck, not remembering having put the marks there herself the night before. And she was fucking livid.

“When the fuck did you hook up with someone, you fucking slut!? You belong to ME and I didn’t give you any permission for that shit!”

The enraged alpha slapped you hard across the cheek, making you yelp and stumble to the ground. You were sobbing and could scarcely manage to croak any words out.

“I-i d-d-didn’t l-let anyone d-do-”

Had one of her men defiled you against your will? Defiled HER slave?

“Tell me who did it!! I’ll cut their dick off and shove it up their own ass!”

Her eyes were like a cats, narrow slits. Your naturally submissive instincts told you to put your head down and obey anything the near feral alpha might demand of you.

“Y-you were dr-dr-drunk and b-bit me last night…”

Tears were leaking down your face. If you had not been on suppressants your scent would surely be one of fear mixed with pheromones to calm down this beast.

That’s right, she had woken up with a bad hangover in your room...

Thrash stared at you, at this tiny crying man in front of her, crying and terrified. She felt awful, and she didn’t often feel bad about her actions. She was a pirate, but for some reason she just didn’t like seeing you suffer at all. Certainly not because of her.

“Fuck… I’m… sorry…” She managed to say as she knelt down and rubbed your back.

“I really have no memory of last night...”

The large powerful woman picked you up easily, with your head nuzzled into her neck, crying into her.

“C’mon crybaby, let’s get you cooled off, I’ll deal with this engine later~”

She carried you carefully back to your room in the housing building, collecting odd looks as she did, which she quickly got rid of with a glare each time.

Thrash placed you into your bed and felt your head with the back of her hand. Despite not having the scarf, having been exposed to the cool outside air on the way over here, and now being in an air conditioned room you were hotter than ever.

Your mind was getting foggier and when she left to go get a cool rag and some medicine from the bathroom you finally realized why you were so hot. You were entering heat. The neck stimulation and all of Thrash’s dominant behavior over you must have somehow triggered an early one.

You had to leave before she came back and smelled it. It would only be a matter of moments before the smell broke through your suppressants.

Something in your brain was telling you to just stay there and let your alpha come back and take care of you, but the other much more grounded in reality part of your brain was telling you you had to hide in a utility closet somewhere and deal with the consequences of your absenteeism later. Better than being sold off or raped by every pirate who wants to try out an omega.

Right then you really wished suppressants just completely eliminated heats completely instead of just diluting them a bit.

Right after you had that thought Thrash entered the room and saw you standing by the door, you saw her hand had a bottle of pills. Though her search in your medicine cabinet yielded no fever reducers she found something else hidden away under your sink. Your suppressants.

And then your scent hit her. It was dulled by your medication, but she was an alpha unused to omega pheromones in any capacity.

She growled low and her pupils were like slits as her stare bored into you angrily.

“You’re MY property! And you’re keeping secrets from ME!?”

Before you could stumble out the door she charged at you, picked you up and slammed you down on the bed a bit harder than she had intended. You looked away, unable to meet her domineering and angry gaze. Your only response was to instinctively whimper in submission to placate her rage.

Thrash sniffed you, inhaling your scent from your underarm to your neck. You leaned your head over to give her easier access and show that you submitted to her will. You were terrified and she could certainly smell it.

Some of her drool dripped onto your neck as she hovered above it, licking you tentatively to calm you down. She was going to bite you and make you into her personal fuck toy and mate, she was mad that you had hidden your nature from her, but she would never hurt you.

Thrash sucked and nibbled at the gland in your neck, with you gracing her ears with a new whimpering gasp or moan each time she touched the sensitive spot.

Your terror evaporated quickly, replaced by heat fueled desire. And if you were honest with yourself maybe not all of the yearning was born from your heat.

The lust filled alpha couldn’t help but inhale your scent over and over, it was literally a drug for her. She had already wanted to fuck you into oblivion even before she got a whiff of you in heat, but now there was no stopping herself. Already she couldn’t wait to drink in your smell during your next heat when your suppressants were out of your system.

She made a mental note to flush them after this.

The pirate rubbed your crotch, palming at your erection, getting you even more aroused before she bit your neck. Hard. Her fangs pumping into you something that would make you smell claimed to any other alphas and leaving a large permanent hickey on that portion of your neck.

You moaned out loud in painful pleasure, arching your back and thrusting your clothed arousal into her hand.

Thrash licked your bleeding wound and then turned her attention to your cock and her own pleasure.

You could only stare and writhe in need as she pulled away from you and took off her clothes.

“Gimme a second, I just need to get our clothes off!”

It was the first time you had seen her breasts. You were in awe of this figure above you. So strong and assertive. So beautiful. A perfect partner.

To her you were the beautiful one. So sweet and pretty and perfect put in your place below her.

She practically ripped your clothing off and buried herself back in your neck as she brought herself down on you, enveloping your entire length in the warmth of her cunt. Her hands pushed down your shoulders as she rode you.

Your pleasured moans mixed with her grunts and growls as she fucked you until you saw stars. Your first orgasm was really quick, and was not nearly enough for either of you. Another perk of heats, insatiable libido.

With each of her downward movements you thrust upwards, desperate to get as deep as possible, the scent of her aroused pheromones combined with your heat making you absolutely unable to care about anything else.

You didn’t care that she had conquered your people or that she controlled them. In this state it only made her stronger in your eyes. A more suitable mate. You wanted to fill her up with so many babies.

The sex lasted hours, until the both of you were too sore to keep moving. It finally ended with you clinging to her and using her tits as a pillow with her arm wrapped around your protectively.

When the fog of pheromones and heat left your brain you were horrified by what had happened. But if you weren’t owned by her before, the new mark on your neck meant you certainly were now, and she would never let you go.

[gremlingottoosilly]

How do you think Konig would cope with his darling being the one who showed intrest in him first? Like maybe he killed a terrorist in front of her and to thank him,the next day she brings him a hearty meal that makes him feel full,warm,and loved. And occasionally she will tend to his wounds. And he meets her family and they are just as open and kind and they just want their daughter happy so as long as he is kind and gentle with her they are happy to give him their blessing

Oh. Konig wasn't aware women could just...approach him first. It's embarrassing for a person of his rank and age, but he felt quite intimidated by your straightforwardness at first. He isn't the one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, especially when the horse in question is ultra cute, but he has this very outdated view of courting and mingling and approaching the lady first. And he would have approached you first, he'd just need to know about your existence beforehand and stop looking at you like a stalker!!! You're just too fast!! He would be even more deranged if he knew that his darling was into him. If he is the first to get feelings for you, they still linger a bit with fear and anxiety - you can find him annoying, weird, scary, and he doesn't want that! But if you liked him first, approach him, thank for the help and ask him to visit your parents together...get ready to be proposed to with a ring from a grenade because he just can't waste his time! He isn't against your family unless they are against him - he'd have nice enough relationships as long as they don't try to pry into your relationships. He seriously can't believe that such kind people exist and, honestly, it makes him rethink his childhood and book a few more sessions per month with his therapist.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Not only fauna screwing with them but being screwed over by it.. Moose for example. KnockOut (ratchet maybe his team too) probably had vehicons to patch up that ran into mooses and it's not like theyre gonna admit they almost died because of earth mammal

All the Cybertronians on Earth have problems with the fauna. Ratchet has a personal vendetta against deer since he runs into them frequently enough to despise the stupid things. He has run over one and he complained about it for a month afterwards when he couldn't get part of the gore out of his wheels. Optimus has a vicious and very much unspoken hatred of squirrels. He will tolerate them, but after they got into his passenger seat one time while he was recharging in alt-mode... he now detests them and lives with the haunting sound of his passenger seat being torn up.

Bumblebee has regular problems with the dogs in Jasper. There is no solid reason for it, but perhaps they sense what he is. Whatever the case, they can and will chase him all over the face of creation whenever he drive through and it has led to an overall avoidance of all dogs ever. Arcee has personal beef with the loyal crows since they have learned to pick her out and know that Jack tends to have food. Jack always feeds them while leaning against Arcee, and this in turn means that when the crows see her, they assume its feeding time. She hates it.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack have never run into anything too bad (surprisingly). However there was a singular time when they met a bear on the road and that moment scarred them forever mentally. The bear knew no fear, and not wanting to kill it, Bulkhead and Wheeljack attempted to drive off. But of course the bear sprinted, and neither were aware creatures that big can go so fragging FAST. It haunts them sometimes. Smokescreen has a problem with fish. Why? He fell in a lake and one ended up trapped in his plating for a day. He hated feeling the slimy thing so close to him and has since avoided lakes like the plague. Ultra Magnus, for all his issues, has thus far had no issues with animals.

Knockout ran into a moose with Breakdown once. The monster rammed right into Breakdown and knocked him around. The fact that the moose managed it at all has since left the duo with the firm belief that it is not worth the effort to drive in moose territory. Starscream will forever have problems with birds, but gulls in particular. He hates them with a seething passion and they seem to share the sentiment. Megatron hates organic life, period. But one creature in particular happens to be magpies. He went to the wrong place at the wrong time and got swooped and he has never forgotten it. Soundwave actually likes the wildlife a great deal, but he has had problems with on particular tiger that decided Soundwave was a kill on sight target whenever he turned up.

[urbancripple]

To able‐bodied people, wheelchair users have a certain mystique. They’re constantly asking us about how our bodies do or don’t work, whether we can have sex, why we haven't just killed ourselves yet. But despite their intrusive questioning, there is one area that ableds seem to be absolutely certain about: the existence of ultra‐convenient readily‐available accessibility modifications and mobility aids.

As wheelchair users, how many times have we been told to “put some chains on that thing!” As we struggle through the snow? How often is it suggested that we get a hand‐bike so that we can cycle to work like our coworkers? If I had a nickel for every time someone suggested I attach some tried‐and‐true motor to my chair, I’d have enough money to pay someone to invent it.

People are constantly sending me links to articles and videos to supposed life‐changing mobility aids that can climb stairs or move over rough terrain. They tell me that things can’t be that difficult with a constant stream of new, convenient doo‐dads being put out in the world. Hell, when discussing how difficult it is to find a single‐story home in Seattle (existing or custom), the suggestion was made that I simply build a multi‐story home but also put an elevator in.

Here’s the thing though: has anyone, wheelchair‐user or otherwise, actually seen any of these so‐called solutions in person? The stair‐climbing wheelchair? The magical snow tires? The super fast motor? I haven’t. As for the elevators and hand bikes, I can count the number I’ve seen on one hand and I’d need way more fingers and toes to show you the price tag.

Despite their near non‐existence or insurmountable financial cost, people keep telling me I just need to “get me one of those…” and continue to cast my existence and the problems that come with it in a mythical light.

An elevator for your house starts at around six‐thousand dollars. If you want one that doesn’t look like the rickety stair‐lift at your local Eagle’s Club, it’ll cost you upwards of sixty‐thousand.

The price of an average, entry‐level bike is four‐hundred bucks. If you want an accessible hand bike, you’re going to start around a grand.

Custom wheelchair tires can vary anywhere from two to five thousand, often times costing more than the chair they’re attached to.

That stair climbing chair? Eleven grand. Want something that’s a little more “every day”? That’ll cost you seventeen grand. Just need a motor for your day chair? Six grand and it weighs fifteen pounds.

Now, some folks might be thinking “sure, it’s expensive now, but the price will come down as technology improves and more people buy these devices”. But with an employment rate of roughly 7 percent (before COVID) and rules governing the amount of money disabled people on SSI can have in the bank (no more than two-thousand dollars), most wheelchair users can’t even save up to buy one of these devices. And no, insurance won’t cover any it.

A lack of accessibility is not something we can just “tech” our way out of and disabled people should not expected to purchase access to a world that everyone else gets for free. Talking about mobility aids you’ve never used or seen when someone is trying to explain to you the barriers they face in their day to day life due to a lack of accessibility isn’t helpful, it’s dismissive. Quit doing it.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 2

WC: 757 CW: Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Doubt, Jack and Maddie Fenton's A+ Parenting Masterpost

Worse than— no, not worse than. Nothing was worse than being constantly forgotten by everyone he cared about. Nothing was worse than knowing he was only worth knowing when he’d died. An issue was that Danny still had the same need to protect people even without the ghosts attacks. Day in and day out Danny felt an aching hurt in his chest at not doing anything to help. Working as a receptionist at a slightly rundown construction firm wasn’t the worst job, but it felt like it was slowly killing him. It felt like his core was shriveling up.

Danny knew he needed to make a change. At a loss of what to do and short on options, Danny had enrolled in the paramedic course at the local community college. He excelled at it.

It turned out all those years of patching up his own wounds gave him a pretty good head start on his classmate. So good, in fact, that his instructor recommended him for a job in Central City when he graduated with honors. It was bittersweet to know that when he wasn’t constantly harnessed by ghosts, he could actually do really well at school.

His parents missed his graduation.

His move to the city was done alone (his rented u-haul filled with what he could cram into it) and with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It felt like a second death leaving the only home he had ever known behind.

It felt like relief.

(He didn’t know which was worse.)

Central City was better and worse than he expected. The constant noise rattled him until he got used to ways to combat it: earphones, white noise machines, a cheesy little indoor fountain. The anonymity soothed him— no one paid attention to him in the city. Slowly he carved out his place.

He was part of the city’s emergency response team. Their primary job was working to secure the city and her people during villain attacks. Secondary to that they did follow up with victims, held community events to spread awareness about everything from emergency prep to smoke detectors, and helped with rebuilding efforts.

It was rewarding work and Danny’s core sang for it.

It was a little exhausting to have to run right into a villain attack on his day off though. Good thing he always kept a mini kit in his bag. What sort of emergency response team member would he be if he didn’t listen to their own advice? It was a really nice little kit too— ultra compact but it contained gloves, pipettes of water, disinfectant, a range bandages, a suture kit, a snap light, and even a shock blanket. Danny added a few extra gloves to it too.

As he ran towards the sounds of disaster, Danny felt a brisk wind breeze past him— and then blow back again— as the Flash (one of them, Danny hadn’t been around long enough to tell them apart) backtracked.

“Kid—” Oh, it was the older one then. “—you should be heading the other way. Lummox is up ahead—”

“I know,” Danny snapped, not stopping moving. “I’m a field medic. I’m on my way to help, and you’re not going to stop me.”

The Flash seemed at a loss for what to say for half a beat. “Okay. Sure. Want a lift?”

“What?”

“I can get you in a second— literally— but I’m leaving you on the edge of it all.”

It would be convenient. And it’s not like he couldn’t trust Flash. Danny slowed to a stop and shrugged. “Sure, onward, Seabiscuit.”

“Who?”

“Famous race horse? Cause you’re going to carry me? Never mind. Just pick me up, dude.”

Danny ignored the look he got from the Flash and clung on for dear half-life. Fuck the Speed Force felt weird. He was pretty sure it was less than a second to get there, and Danny didn’t quite stick the landing, but he got his feet under him fast enough to rush in to help.

Eventually Danny required an extra vest from the team that came in and just blended into the background of other medics. It wasn’t a bad day— no lives lost and all the injuries were relatively minor. (He even got some overtime payment, which he wasn’t going to sneeze at). Danny figured it was just part of being in the city, occasionally running into villains and heroes even off the clock.

He didn’t expect it to really happen again.

(He should have known to never have expectations.)

-----

AN: Still moving along with this odd little thing! It's been fun to write a Danny in a very different place than my other fics- mentally and physically! Just to be clear btw- Danny is in a bad place at the start of this fic which is putting a negative light on how he's seeing things. Sam and Tucker just... moved on with their lives. Those sort of high school friends you liked a lot but drift away from. Without the history of ghost stuff to bind them, it was just part of life to them. Danny just has a different memory history so it hits harder for him/feels harsher.

Stay delightful, darlings!

Due to the new post editor and shadow banning, I'm no longer tagging people! To be notified, subscribe to this post:

[frozenjokes]

long list of mcyt ships and my dumbass opinions this post was getting too long and I have so much more to say

skizzpulse: needed to write about this because I don’t ship them at all but something is deeply weird about them in a way that is neither platonic or romantic. They have transcended human definitions of Relationship to me. No they’re not a QPR either. They’re weirder. Whatever you’re thinking they’re weirder. Do not separate. Attached at the hip.

etho: etho is in a realm of his own where I simply can not ship him. he’s not doing the romance. he’s not doing the qpr. he’s not doing shit. And it’s not because he can’t pull bitches; he is swagless and a loser in a way that brings ALL the boys to the yard (as opposed to Grian who is similar except he can’t pull anyone), he’s simply getting weird with it. He walks right past any sort of relationship into something deeper; resident sopping wet animal. aro/ace also but this isn’t nearly as relevant as the autism

cubscar/convex: favorite hermitcraft ship and it is not even close. It is NOT EVEN CLOSE. in the way scarian are both covered in lighter fluid and holding matches, convex are also doing that except it’s become a game of who can set the other on fire without being lit up themselves, and they’re both having the times of their lives (ends with both of them on fire every time without fail and it’s usually scar’s fault). they’re insane about it. the vex shit???? insane. their minds are beautiful and deeply wrong. I think they should kill each other.

solidaritimes: I will never forgive Scott smajor for separating scar and Jimmy in secret life he has no idea what he took from me. In a world where Jimmy is often the butt of the joke (by his own volition, I understand) the sheriff deputy thing was fucking beautiful. Sunshine and rainbows, love and support and adoration and everything good and healthy. A massive breath of fresh air and easily my favorite part of the hermitpires crossover. They mean everything to me. I’ve never seen such losers be so in love. Failgirl power.

redscape: another banger. These guys are GOOFY and I think Scar hits a magical combination of being Completely Exasperating vs Setting Off Mumbo’s Bullshit Radar which makes them bounce off each other in a lot of fun ways. They are versatile as a couple between banter and shenanigans and dedication, it’s a pairing I generally think of as very healthy and fun and if you also like all of these things don’t read my Boatem Ghosts AU because I make redscape awful and Mumbo pays the full price! Whoops! I love to think about them falling fast if I am writing them as romantically/sexually inclined characters, where Scar is frustrating but at the same time charming and silly in a way that draws Mumbo in. Mumbo on the other hand challenges Scar and chips away at his facade in ways he finds exciting. I like a Scar that wants to prove himself to Mumbo, win him over, where Mumbo is just lightly exasperated about the whole thing.

cleo/cub: probably the only pair on this list that I think are friends normal style. I just really adore normal style friends cleo and cub feuding about their museums so I had to tell you. I need to write them as friends more often. I love thinking about cub helping cleo fix up her stitches as well as other maintenance on their body. guys who nudity doesn’t matter to they’re both just chilling with their shirts off. special platonic dynamic to me.

ranchers: I don’t care about ranchers

moonrot: I don’t normally ship cleo and pearl in most of the smps or whatever. However. The specific dynamic they have in my boatem ghosts au makes me a little insane I really like them together. Pearl is a little bit deranged in her Wanting Revenge On Scar but ougghg that pirate scar’s hanging out with… she’s so cool… and then Cleo brings them to the ghost island and Pearl thinks she’s even cooler cleo is So Awesome ougghggh and then she gets worried because Scar is a Ultra Murderer TM so she’s quite protective over Cleo and doesn’t like Scar being around them AT ALL but her ass is dead so she’s not doing shit about it. The pining once Scar is out of the picture is Out Of Control. I should write a one shot about this.

ethubs: I think this is the only ship I can honestly say has ever been too weird for me. I think they’re deranged in a way that makes my skin crawl. I am deeply afraid of them. They’ve never kicked it normal style in their lives. I look at them and I don’t know what I’m seeing. It scares me. I respect this ship deeply and leave freshly slaughtered sacrifices at an altar once a week in a hope that will be enough for ethubs to leave me alone.

[copperpipes]

Ultraman spec bio part 4 (first part/previous part)

spacium energy:

I have been treating spacium energy like a substance despite it not really being one, so I want to pack some headcanons about how exactly it would act and classfie.

Spacium energy is visible by the human naked eye, can solidify into different shapes but stays flexible until released, it emits photons, a particle that's very light and very fast, and it is blue.

The blue color is usually an indicator of temperature, it is a relatively light blue color so this puts it at about 10,000+ kelvin (9726.85°C or 17540.33°F), so pretty hot. As we figured out, spacium is a very good isolator, whether its a metal or not is still a question i don't want to deal with (it is of a metallic color, reflective, but not necessarily a metal and still alien in origin) what we know is that outside energies wouldn’t be able to harm an Ultra, and the Ultra’s inside energy is also protected from inside and out. through their skin is where Ultras get their energy from, it comes from the sun in either solar rays or heat or whatever is available (electric energy, radiation, all kinds of deadly lasers yum) which is why an explosion wouldn’t kill an ultra, the only thing that would be a threat to them is the explosion’s kinetic energy. 

spacium energy is seen on the visible spectrum, but other than that what else can be told about this energy?

what’s it doing in there:

probably bounces off the walls, literally. 

Energy moves in waves, and when it's produced by the membrane of the ultra it is ejected off the walls inside, and it cannot escape (cannot come out!! MAMA!!), so it bounces off the walls. When the energy is directed out, it gains speed thanks to the narrow space in the ultra’s arms and when it comes out as a beam it is subsequently much more concentrated, with very destructive wavelengths similar to gamma rays in intensity, and very hot. 

changing sizes:

I am not talking about mass here and where it goes, I'm talking about what causes Ultraman’s energy levels to drop or shoot up for one reason or another, not about outcome but about cause.

by Ultraman: rising (which is what i'm doing this whole thing for) how much an ultra can last is dependent on their mental state rather than thinning energy reserves like in what i got from other ultra sources.

I wanted to try and combine the two. I want Ultraman’s energy to be an issue, one that doesn't allow to transform at any comfortable moment, that demands the Ultra to know their state and capabilities to ensure no sudden shrinkage.

releasing energy once in a while should also be important, otherwise if an ultra is too full of energy their movements may become stiff and uncomfortable until some energy is released.

why would an ultra involuntarily shrink/why would a color timer be triggered:

-a failsafe mechanism. an ultra in distress/ a scared or stressed ultra, like all living creatures is a dangerous one. removing the ultra to where they can’t harm their environment would ensure its wholeness and the ultra’s sanity. This point acknowledges the power that all ultras naturally possess and that can bring a lot of damage if not controlled.

-low energy reserves.

Actually, what does a color timer even do other than be an indicator?

In canon it's all that is, an indicator, but what if it was what allowed ultras to shapeshift and change sizes in the first place? knowing what they have done, they're probably technologically advanced enough for that to be plausible. when your race is suddenly turned into giants, everything they built probably stayed small, made to fit their size before they grew. 

Returning the ultras to their original size would be easier than rebuilding society, not to mention resources. so maybe they made a device that allowed them to switch between their old, smaller form, and their new natural giant one.

The catch is that they can't stay in their small form forever, because even small, their bodies naturally produce spacium energy, and from time to time it has to be released or else they could literally explode from the pressure. 

maybe some ultras even prefer their bigger size despite the inconveniences. After all, such a drastic change could eliminate or generate so many problems!

For example space travel and travel in general would become a lot less complicated and exisible, for as long as there’s energy hunger wouldn't be a problem anymore, and so much more!

Of course, it's not without cons as well, like population density and resource demand to name a couple, but I guess the population could just spread over a larger territory to solve those problems. we shouldn't forget the Ultra’s destructive potential as well :>

Next, part 5

[mister-leonn]

Coming right up with some new thoughts

I finally finished the Acolyte (took my time ik) and honestly, it's banger! Everything is on point, the story actually feels like it's Star Wars: we have jedis, siths, mysteries, turns of events, known characters, legends lore, ancient stuff never brought up before. The fights are so on point it's crazy.

But I gotta say this, and I know, a lot of people are saying it too, but I really gotta spit it out. Don't listen to the people saying it's bad. All I see all the time is stuff like, why did the lightsaber turns red?! Making Anakin less special, why couldn't Palpatine make force sensitive clones but some witches can? And on and on and on and on.... and you know what people, anyone, and I say ANY-ONE, who says that kind of stuff, hasn't watched the show at all, every one of these stupid comments find an explanation in the show. But let me tell the truth about all that, the loudest part of the Star Wars fans are Marvel men, they want Tony Stark, they wanted a twisted white guy who kills people for fun, they think they are some sort of Anakin wanna-be who have trouble with their anger cause of women and lies, when actually they are just sexist little shits who immediately hated on Ahsoka in 2008 and it shows. They hate less the concept of Palpatine surviving somehow than witches who create life BECAUSE of a vergence planet making they them ultra powerful, just because they are a lesbians, men free, coven of witches and that's what bothers them so much. If Osha and Mae had been white guys with anger issues they would claim it's the best show in the book.

But what I'm saying actually stands for any kind of Star Wars or Marvel content. Sure, Rey didn't get a good writing and was the main character of a trilogy purely made for the money without a single care for the fans, but they don't hate her for the writing, they hate her because she's strong, because she can do stuff on her own as she always did since 4 yo. They didn't say anything when 10yo Anakin blew up a battle station or won a podrace said to be impossible for humans. But on the moment a woman who is clearly stated to be all powerful because of a dyad gets skills a bit too fast that's it, throw the whole thing by the window they made Disney woke.

So all of you who loved the show and are just quiet about it, don't worry, everyone loved it, all the bad things you hear comes from like 100 stupid waste of men who only get heard because of an algorithm. Kinda sounds like politics, or religion, doesn't it?

[zahri-melitor]

So I read Batman 147 (on the basis that with how fast the conversation is moving right now I don't want to wait on DCUI Ultra delay), and I am having even more thoughts about how it as an issue positions the difference between Damian-as-Robin and Tim-as-Robin as characters adjunct to Bruce, and also in terms of both characters' long term storylines.

Because Damian as a character has always fought for attention and focus to be on him, and used various methods to gain that attention. He acts up as the youngest and reiterates his blood connection to Bruce and puts emphasis on being the Son Of The Bat because he wants acknowledgement, he wants to be special, he doesn't like that he arrived in Gotham and in Bruce's life and found that he wasn't the centre of Bruce's focus.

As a character Damian's most often written as part of an oppositional pair: his main titles have always been Batman & Robin and Super Sons, not Robin. He bounces off another character more than acts as a member of a team, whether that's working as Batman and Robin with Bruce or with Dick, or in stories where he's more in a bickering besties relationship with Colin Wilkes or with Maya Ducard or with Jon Kent. His team appearances frequently fall apart, because he starts trying to order people around.

So Damian says about his time with Dick as Batman and Robin "we were the best" and he says about himself and Bruce “Batman and Robin. Father and son. We don't need anyone else." It's about Damian's feelings of possession and entitlement and jealous ownership over the position as Robin. It's about how he has to regularly assert that his time with Dick as Batman and him as Robin, above and beyond anything else, was the best that Batman & Robin have ever been. It's his past need to prove himself and show himself as better than any previous Robin, about fighting them all, particularly Tim, to prove himself as the Worthy Best Robin.

And in 147 that's the Damian we get, one who has returned home to his father and is working on bonding with him again, and so he sees people doubting Batman and his back goes back up and returns to that Us Against The World mindset. Damian is following ZEA Batman’s orders because they make sense to him (yes they’re more violent but defending the Manor and Cave against Waller? There’s nothing in that which should raise alarm bells).

And Damian DOES clue in immediately on something more serious crossing his radar to what’s wrong with ‘Bruce’. As soon as ZEA trips up seriously, Damian notices it. This is actually a really good fallible Damian and he’s not actually being shown as holding the idiot ball here – he’s following on from the extended trust he was showing in Gotham War. ZEA Batman is in his blindspot over being the more violent Robin who does tend to want more physical solutions to how to fight crime. Also Damian’s immediate response being “I’ll kill you!” is so incredibly Damian. Still heightened violence.

And all of this level of possession, of 'all that is needed is Batman & Robin' nobody else, no other connections, is being contrasted by Zdarsky with the shape of Bruce and Tim's relationship as Batman & Robin.

Because Bruce and Tim, by contrast, view their partnership together through the frame that Tim is there to hold back the darkness and save Bruce from himself (a more classic depiction of Robin's role). Bruce is thinking about where to hide that ZEA Batman would not consider, and he thinks about his connections - he goes to Happy Harbour, and then he goes to a cabin that is about civilian family, and he thinks about Tim and about hard work because Tim IS the other character with a strong connection to Happy Harbour. And Tim comes to find where Bruce is hiding and feeds him and does the dishes (the caretaking! The reflections on how Bruce couldn't look after himself while Alfred was gone post Knightfall! Tim making Bruce dinner for Father's Day in Beechen's run!) and the first thing Tim says is “sounds like you need a partner”.

The focus and the conversation revolves around why Tim became Robin in the first place and saving Bruce from the dark via having connections. About having a reason to get up in the morning and for why Batman exists and why he has a partner and a family. It's answering "why is Tim Robin" with "Batman needs someone to haul him back when he overreaches".

It's the contrast between Damian, with his ‘natural, born and raised to be Robin’ conviction of his right to his position, compared to Tim, who “REALLY had to work at it”, and Bruce choosing that he needed to take inspiration from the goal make yourself great purely through your own hard work.

And it's meaty! juicy! these are their very different world views (where Damian has always fought for attention and focus from Batman to be on him, while Tim has pulled Bruce from being obsessed with himself/his grief).

I just want to roll around in it all.

[whatbigotspost]

I’m gonna make this its own post bs it’s not nice to keep rambling a tangent on someone else’s post but like. It’s just fully blowing my mind that my shitty $480/month apt in Indianapolis in 2006 is going for like $1500 now.

I always trot that very low rent figure out as a “back in my day” anecdote (where I live now in Austin) bc a similar place would probably go for $2000 here in 2024. And it’s so cuckoo today to hear someone say “my half of the rent in my first apartment was $240.” Like is she 60? Nope she’s not even 40 yet! It’s gotten that bad that fast!!! Haha!

But I didn’t even know the half of it. I’d never done the work to know 1) what those very shitty apts rent for now (and they still exist?!) and 2) what the rent would have been in 2024 if it just kept pace with NORMAL INFLATION ($734) which is already bad in its self.

I mean come on! $1500 is what we’ve got vs $734 which is what one would expect if you could control for the ever escalating greed or corporate profits and the ultra wealthy making a literal killing off of the basic human right of shelter.

To say it’s enraging to think about is my understatement of the week.

[thetransintransformers]

Tryst (18+)

Cycmags Softcore basically

Stuck in the brig.

Servos chained above his head.

Listening to the sounds of Galvatron ranting and raving about his eventual demise.

No, not quite the situation Ultra Magnus wanted to find himself in.

How he allowed himself to be caught like this was still a mystery. The schematics he ran on how he would be getting in and out of the Decepticon base, the time he spent knowing exactly how every process within his mission was going to take, and hell, it’s not like he was dealing with much competition. 

As powerful as Galvatron was, he was a lunatic now, more obsessed with beating down his subordinates than actually getting anything for his cause done. Much like the real Megatron but, the distinction was still there. Then there were the sweeps: intimidating enough to look at but ultimately, so . . .  well Ultra Magnus hesitated on the word, how callous it sounded, but they were so DUMB. One vain, one a coward, one simply playing leader while having no clue of how to truly manage their cohorts. 

Yet, were they really so incompetent if they captured him? Or was Ultra Magnus just worse off than he realized? No, that wasn’t it, neither side. Because it was not the sweeps that caught him.

It was Cyclonus.

Cyclonus, he truly, was an odd one out amongst these new Decepticons. 

He remembered their time well as Quintesson killing jar combatants. Cyclonus was stoic, cold, calculated, a brave and noble warrior. The two seemed to find equal ground on opposite sides, a fierce loyalty to their sides. Where they differed was Ultra Magnus’ sense of justice, and Cyclonus’ need to prove worth. Yet somehow, those values still aligned all too well for them. The wonders Cyclonus could do if he was an autobot, but alas. Cyclonus was made in the image of evil, he would follow Galvatron to the ends of the galaxy. That was something Ultra Magnus would have to spend the next 5 cycles researching on. If he was given five cycles now that he awaited a swift death. Perhaps it would be Cyclonus himself to carry out the hit. At least then, Ultra Magnus’ pride wouldn’t be so wounded.

The door of his prison zoomed up, and in stepped a familiar purple-clad figure. Speak of the devil, it was his ghost again.

Cyclonus stared down at Ultra Magnus, gazes meeting one another in an intense glare. Ultra Magnus could barely make out the sound of Cyclonus humming, as he drew forth a gun. 

Game over, it seemed.

Ultra Magnus would not hang his helm though as he spoke. “Come to finish me off? Do it then. If you were hoping for information I would never–” BANG.

Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics behind his visor, gritting his teeth as the shot rang out. He held his arms down infront of him for some type of protection.

Wait.

His arms? He could move them? Ultra Magnus’ optics widened as he looked down to his now free servos. The mech craned his neck up to see where his arms were previously held hostage. A smoking black shot against the wall and broken chains were above his head. “Up. Now.” Cyclonus commanded, throwing the gun to the side. Despite his order, Ultra Magnus still did not move fast enough for his liking, so he took one of the other’s arms in his grip and pulled. Ultra Magnus stumbled to his pedes, looking at the Decepticon SIC in utter confusion. “You had the perfect chance to kill me and you–” Before he could finish the sentiment, Cyclonus was pulling the Autobot by the collar, and pressing their lips tightly together. Once again, Magnus’ optics went wide, stuttering even to comprehend what had just happened. Cyclonus even now seemed so . . . focused. Slotting their lips together as if they’d always fit so perfectly. Magnus nearly let his optics close, let himself sink into the moment before Cyclonus was pulling away, leaving the Autobot breathless. It took a moment to gather his thoughts before Ultra Magnus was stuttering. Gods, he was stuttering? What had the warship done to him? “I . . . you . . . why did you–” “Consider that your 5-click head start.” The warship interrupted, already pushing Ultra Magnus to leave the cell. “The others will be distracted only for so long.” “Wait, wait!” Ultra Magnus pushed back, turning to him. “Why are you helping me? Wouldn’t it mean the world to your leader if I was dead?” “Yes. It would.” Cyclonus answered back, without the slightest hint of hesitation. Well, good to see his priorities were still straight. “But,” Cyclonus began again. “It is . . . not honorable. You are meant to die on the battlefield, us, in glorious combat. Not to rot in a cell.” Cyclonus informed, rather poetic for the time. Ultra Magnus raised an optic ridge. “So this isn’t over.” Cyclonus nodded. “Not nearly. Now go!”

---- When they met again, the roles could not have been more reversed. Cyclonus hanged off the side of an autobot cargo ship, claws digging deep into the metal, threatening to loosen. One wing hung damaged and smoking. Even if it wasn’t painful to transform, there was no way he could manage himself in the air long enough to not crash. This was, pitifully so, the end for the Decepticon SIC.

Cyclonus mustered what breath he could still, and slowly let his servos unpierce the metal of the autobot ship. He closed his optics, waiting for the fall to brush past him and into oblivion. As his servo fell away from the ship, a hand from within grabbed his wrist roughly, stopping his fall before it even began. Cyclonus’ optics opened and he looked up to see a familiar autobot. “Magnus!” He called out before he was pulled up into the ship. Nothing else was exchanged between the two, as soon as Cyclonus was pulled aboard, Ultra Magnus had dipped him, slotting their lips into a kiss, not unlike when Magnus was kept in prison. It was Cyclonus’ turn for his optics to widen, dumbfounded as Ultra Magnus pulled away from the kiss. “What happened to dying on the battlefield, huh?” the autobot spoke, a smile twitching up on his features. How. How idiotic. How foolish. How casual. How–oh gods above, how charming. 

Cyclonus lunged, arms wrapped tight around Ultra Magnus’ helm, causing the Autobot to stumble back against his own control panel. The kisses started again, heavier, hotter, than before. Forget the fact that mashed-around servos were changing their flight patterns. Cyclonus pressed close, as did Ultra Magnus, taking the slightest gulps of air when the warship allowed him to.

Cyclonus pulled back, taking in a deep breath, eyes half-lidded. Still, he panted as he crooned, “Why must we always seek the unattainable?” “Shut up.” Ultra Magnus rather ineloquently interrupted, going for another kiss. “Just shut up.”

They went on like that for far longer than what was necessary. Not that any of this interaction was necessary. Not that their interaction in the Decepticon cell was necessary.

And yet. It became necessary for them. 

The paint transfers were a tad of a challenge, but nothing a well-crafted explanation couldn’t sweep away. ----

Their third tryst together was far less easy to explain.

Ultra Magnus sat at the edge of a berth, lavender scratches of paint covering his frame. The only sound that filled the room was a few deep breaths in the dark. By his side, a servo wrapped against one shoulder, while the other moved his helm to look his paramour in the optics. Cyclonus, with a satisfied smirk, pressed a kiss against Ultra Magnus’ cheek. “My breath must mingle with yours, lest it feel wrong.” he breathed out. Ultra Magnus hummed. “You just come up with that? It’s beautiful.” He had to admit, raising a hand to cup Cyclonus’ helm in his own, and giving him a more forward peck. “Cyclonus,” he began, letting the warship nuzzle into his servo. “We could be more than this.” Cyclonus answered, “Whatever do you mean?”

Ultra Magnus let a softer smile cross his features. “You could, well, you could join me. You’d be a fine autobot–” Ultra Magnus barely got another word in before the hand that just caressed his shoulder was at his throat, pushing him back on the berth. Cyclonus narrowed ruby optics, a sneer coming to his features. “Choose your words wisely, Ultra Magnus.” He spoke, getting close to the other’s face. “Do not ever ask me to betray my lord.” Ultra Magnus choked for a moment before he nodded as best he could. “Noted.”

Cyclonus loosened his grip, but he did not move from his position. Instead, his sneer turned to a smirk. “Shall we continue?” The warship soon was throwing his leg over the side of Ultra Magnus’ frame, straddling the Autobot's waist as he leaned down. Ultra Magnus chuckled, still collecting the breath that was knocked out of him. “Well, when you move like that.” He hummed. Soon, the Autobot’s face fell into bliss, brought into a few more kisses, that traveled down his neck cables. “Magnus,” Cyclonus whispered, “Your talents are wasted under a faulty prime like Rodimus.” He began. Odd dirty talk to have, but Ultra Magnus couldn’t help himself. This sort of talk was wrong to indulge in, but he pushed. “Go on.” Cyclonus traveled lower on his neck. “Your skills.” A kiss. “Your tactical mastery.” Another kiss. “Mmm,” Ultra Magnus let out, so perfectly in the palm of Cyclonus’ servos. “Surely you have wondered, how much farther your efforts would be appreciated under Decepticon colors.” There it was. Ultra Magnus used an arm to push Cyclonus up from his neck, breaking their contact. Magnus spoke, firm as ever. “Cyclonus. I don’t ask you to betray your lord. You don’t ask me to betray my cause. Got it?” For a moment, the room went cold. Cyclonus’ heated gaze turned. “Noted.” He echoed from before. “Will this be our last rendezvous then?” Ultra Magnus let an optic ridge go up and teased. “Hey now, I didn’t say that.” a chuckle followed, and the mood had been restored. Cyclonus hummed and leaned down for another kiss. “So then. Where were we?”

[astercontrol]

So, in a chat about that last post regarding Dillinger taking the credit for Flynn's game development, I found myself saying: "He's got what it takes to write the 'doing our business is what computers are for!' kind of software. It's just hard to imagine him writing the fun kind."

...Which got me thinking about, more generally, the programs in Tron 1982, and how "fun" I'd say each one is.

in order of appearance:

---

SARK

User: Ed Dillinger, the guy who somehow convinced people he wrote some fun games.

Function: "command program"-- presumably some sysadmin software that's on shaky ground at the moment, largely being replaced by the MCP. Not a fun role.

Personality: Generally serious and angry-- but more capable of enjoying himself than you might think. Looks very grim during his introductory Lightcycle match, but afterwards genuinely excited about the potential challenge of future matches. Seems to be feeling pleasure and satisfaction of a sort, whenever he's at the podium with Master Control-- until, of course, MCP decided to "slow down his power cycles" as torture.

Fun: 4/10. Better than expected.

-----

CROM

User: Mr. Henderson (a full branch manager!) We don't know anything about him, except that his program thinks this software theft is gonna make him "very angry."

Function: Compound Interest Program. Works at a Savings and Loan. Practically the definition of a stuffy, un-fun job.

Personality: Alternates between nervous and blustering in introductory scene; definitely not having fun there, although there's a bit of lightness in the way he protests at first. By the time he faces Flynn in combat, he's clearly gotten some sort of confidence boost. He's genuinely smiling and laughing in that fight, up until it kills him.

Fun: 6/10. Also managed to surprise me there.

----

RAM

User: Popcorn Coworker (named Roy Kleinberg in later canon). Seems like a fun enough guy in later years, in the Next Day short, although also kinda scared at that moment. As of 1982, the only thing we knew about him was he asked Alan for some popcorn. I guess popcorn is pretty fun.

Function: Actuarial program at a big insurance company. Another stuffy math-nerd job-- although he describes it with an optimistic helping-people spin.

Personality: The most adorably friendly and personable program in there. So many smiles and laughs. Uses his death-weapon/personality backup as a drinking cup, and shares it with Flynn. Having fun even the one time we see him kill someone ("so long, sucker!") Smiling even when he's dying.

Fun: 9/10. Just the best little guy.

---

CLU

User: Kevin Flynn. We all know him. Fun to a fault.

Function: I guess spyware, injected into Encom system to find a file. Could be a fun job-- looking for stuff, exploring.

Personality: For the on-Grid avatar of the indisputably most "fun" human in this movie, this guy is serious as HECK. Monotone, ultra-formal "yes sir" responses to everything Flynn says. Notably the only program shown to shed actual tears, which is achieved through extreme torture. Closest he comes to smiling is in the very last moment when it is 100% clear he is doomed.

Fun: 1/10 WTF.

TRON

User: Alan Bradley, serious programmer. So serious about work that he "doesn't even balance his checkbook on downtime." Does a fair amount of smiling and making jokes when off the clock, although the jokes tend towards the cynical ("more bugs than a bait store"; "can it send me to Hawaii?")

Function: Security program to monitor connections between systems. Troublingly close to cop. Anyone with that job who didn't take it seriously and tried to have fun with it would become a downright menace, really fast. Tron, however, takes it super seriously.

Personality: Serious as death when at work or trying to get back to work. Love and friendship can bring out a softer side, though. Capable of fun but has to be REALLY talked into it. (Yori only manages to seduce him into a circuit-touching session by making it into roleplay about his job.)

Fun: 5/10 but he's got the potential to be so much more

YORI

User: Lora Baines, laser scientist. Dedicated, smart, intense, gets things done. Brains of the whole break-in operation. Definitely has a wild fun side. Parked her van without paying because she wanted to use her coins for arcade games.

Function: Driver for the laser scanning hardware. Could be fun. Probably the first program who got to see an orange. I bet she tried to taste it.

Personality: As good at planning and getting things done as her creator. Definitely the brains of Tron's mission, the one he goes to for help operating all the machinery and navigating all the systems involved in reaching his goal. But ALSO super fun at the same time! Treats the slope down to the I/O dais like an amusement park slide, and jokes that she wants to go again. They made their plans in her quarters, which she illegally decorated in wild rainbow colors just for the fun of it, and then she dressed up in a sexy sparkle cape to convince Tron that circuit makeouts can be part of the planning.

Fun: 10/10 the FUNNEST. I wanna be best friends with her.

[bellysoupset]

"I can't," Lucas groaned, resting his forehead to the table and wrapping his arms around his stomach, "I'm done."

"No, you're not," Vince pushed the fries his way, looking stuffed himself, but still dutifully munching on his fifth burger, "c'mon, Luke, you know how it is."

He did know how it was. At the current weight category he was sitting at - and Vince too - by the time the next season started, they'd be flung around like ragdolls. They didn't stand a chance.

Lucas nodded, grabbing a handful of fries and bringing it to his mouth, not even bothering to muffle the burp that snuck out as he stuffed his face.

They were sitting at Alfredo's Stopover, a greasy diner with super cheap meals and free refills for their drinks, that was a common stop for the football team and known as simply "Fredo's". Their town wasn't that big to begin with, so they actually got a discount there, Alfredo himself being in his late 60's and whose three sons had been a part of the football team when they were in college.

Pleasantries and manners were wasted in Fredo's.

Vince groaned, patting his stomach and rubbing on the side, working up a large burp. Large enough it startled Lucas, causing him to jump and hiccup.

"Don't do that, you're gonna making me hurl," he groaned, kicking his friend under the table and then wincing when the movement only caused his stomach to churn harder. He was stuffed. Between the two of them they had cleaned up more than twelve full burgers - real stuff, not those tiny things McDonalds' served - five extra large coke cups and three large fries portions.

It was their first cheat day in the new bulking season and at first Lucas had been excited about having greasy fast food instead of ultra healthy protein shakes. It was no longer the case, though.

Vince groaned again, shifting on his seat and then massaging his left side. He had removed the stitches a while ago, but clearly it was still sore when his stomach was stretched like that, "I'm so fucking full..."

"You're bigger than me," Lucas mumbled, eyeing the remaining fries with disgust, "so you can imagine how I feel."

"Uhm," Vin answered, struggling to take a deep breath, "can my stomach burst? Feels like it's going to burst."

Lucas chuckled at the imagery, only for his stomach to jump to his throat. He pressed his fist to his mouth, breathing through the hot nausea pooling on top of his belly and swallowing the fries that tried to come up back down.

"Luke?"

"I'm actually done," he decided, giving up on the last handful of fries, "if I eat another bite I'm gonna barf."

"Pussy," Vince scoffed, reaching over and grabbing the last fries, eating it all in one bite. He thumped his chest, bringing up another burp and then stretched on the booth, spreading his legs apart, "okay, I need a minute for this to settle."

Lucas didn't bother answering, he was feeling too sick to even try and make conversation. The fact that he'd have to eat again in three hours was enough to make his stomach hurt.

Across from him, Vince was pressing on his stuffed stomach, working up a string of unashamed burps and Luke grimaced. He was packed so full, if he burped he was going to hurl.

He leaned back too and tugged at the elastic of his pants, rolling it down and causing Vin to snort in an amused way, "you look pregnant, Luke."

Lucas opened a pained smile, planting a hand on the curve of his belly and holding it, as if he could relieve some of it's weight with his hands alone. Vince belched again, undoing the cords of his own sweatpants and loosening the whole thing up, before tying the silliest bow over his bloated stomach.

They stayed quiet for the longest time, Vince burping up a ton, while Lucas swallowed his food back down, here and there letting out the tiniest of burps, getting no relief from it.

"time for dessert, boys?" Alfredo, the sixties aged owner, stepped to their table, looking terribly entertained, "banana splitz for you both?"

"Jeez, Fredo, you're trying to kill me?" Lucas groaned, elbows planted on the table and staring at his lap, "I really can't eat another bite, I'm sorry."

"Nonsense," Alfredo scoffed, thumping his back in a friendly manner and dislodging a burp, that had Lucas whimpering and swallowing the overly sweet spit that flooded his mouth. He was a short man, with a large gut and curly white hair, "what about you, Vincenzo?"

"Not banana splitz," Vince groaned, muffling a burp on his hand and mumbling, "excuse me... I have that milk bullshit, remember?"

"Oh yes, yes," Alfredo frowned, while Lucas let out a nauseous groan and let out a small, wet belch, "pie then?"

"Uhm..." Vince grimaced, fingers digging on his stomach, "to go? Do you have pumpkin?"

"Alright, to go and pumpkin..." The old man turned to look at Lucas, "you're a little green, son..."

"Yeah, I overdid it," Lucas sighed, resting his forehead to the table, "sorry, Fredo, but no dessert for me."

"It's okay, son, another night," he said cheerfully, messing Lucas' hair and then turned around, "should I call you two a cab?"

"No, I drove us here..." Lucas groaned, although there was no way he was driving out of there, "Vin?"

"I got him, Fredo, don't worry," Vince said, his voice a little strained as he massaged his chest, since a burp had gotten stuck.

Lucas looked up, swallowing the salty spit and making a face, "can't believe you can fit a pie, Vin."

"Not now, it's for later tonight," Vince sighed, then took in a deep breath, working up a satisfying burp. Lucas gagged as he smelt the burgers all over again and ducked his head, swallowing convulsively.

"Luke?" Vince called over his head, "man, don't barf, otherwise you'll just have to make up for it tomorrow..."

"I know," Luke's voice was thick with sickness, "not gonna barf..." he wasn't so sure of it, but he was not going to be sick in Fredo's nice little dinner and cause a mess for other's to clean.

"Okay," Vince said, unsure, "let me know when you're ready to get in the car."

It took him a handful of minutes, time enough for Alfredo to return with Vince's to-go box and to pay for their meal. Finally, finally, as Vince was mindlessly nibbling away at his pumpkin pie, not feeling well enough to eat it or bad enough to put it away, Luke straightened up and cupped his mouth, letting out a deep, long belch.

"Uhm," he groaned, swallowing the sick taste back down, "okay, we can go."

Vince squinted at him, then gestured for the waiter, "Liz, can you get me a bag, please?"

Lucas couldn't even be offended, he wasn't feeling well at all. He waited until Liz came back with an empty bag and Vince took it, along with his pie, getting up with a grunt and staggering as his gravity center shifted.

"C'mere, let me help you up," Vin sighed, offering a hand to Lucas and pulling him to his feet, "try not to toss your cookies, please."

"Doing my best," Luke mumbled, getting up and basically collapsing against Vince. He muffled a burp against his best friend's shoulder and shuddered, a shiver running down his spine, "let's go."

Once they arrived to the car, Vince got in the driver's seat and threw him the bag, "keep it close, just in case."

Luke nodded, lowering his window and breathing in deeply. His stomach was churning something awful, feeling hot and bubbly. Every time he moved, he could feel his meal at the base of his throat. His pants were squeezing him, despite the fact he had pushed them down already.

Vince wasn't even attempting to talk, he was rubbing his own stomach with the hand not on the steering wheel and burping quietly, occasionally glancing his friend's way.

Lucas leaned back, closing his eyes as he felt his stomach churn again. His belly let out a sad, loud whine and Vince whistled, "that sounded nasty."

"It's so fucking upset," Luke nodded, rubbing his belly in circles. It was taut and warm to the touch. The smallest amount of pressure caused a gurgle to sneak up and he rushed to cup his mouth, thinking he was going to be sick, but it was just a wet belch.

"Lucas, use the bag," Vin poked his thigh, "c'mon, man-"

"Not gonna hurl," he mumbled, but opened the bag and hovered over it, spitting the nasty salty saliva, "not gonna lie..." he burped again, "kinda happy this is the last football season."

Vince let out a hum, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "I guess..." he didn't sound sad or happy, just pensive about it, "we don't have to stop playing together, right?"

"Of course not," Lucas said, then spat again, letting out a moan, "Vin, I feel disgusting."

"Do you need me to pull over?"

"I don't wanna be sick," Luke shook his head, swallowing in a bunch of times, "I can't waste the calories."

"Okay, try leaning back," Vince said, then shifted on the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel with his left hand instead of the right one. Then with his free hand he pushed Luke's shirt up and planted the large palm of his hand over the bloated belly, "try burping."

"Are you rubbing my gut?" Luke frowned, thumping on his chest to get an airy burp out. Vince shrugged, wincing when that caused his own stomach to complain.

"Wendy does that for me and it helps a lot."

"No, I know it helps." Lucas said, belching again and leaning his head closer to the window, so the wind could dissipate the horrible smell of his dinner, "it's just you doing it, that's all."

Vince paused the rubbing, raising his eyebrows, "I can stop?"

"No," Lucas groaned, pressing his hand back down, "no, it's fine. It's helping a little."

And it was helping. At least the burps were coming up a little easier, although the smell and the act of burping was making him feel clammy and nauseous. He groaned as Vince hit a pothole on the road and caused his dinner to jump to his mouth. Lucas belched, wetly, and leaned over the bag, being attacked by a gagging fit.

Faintly he heard Vince apologizing and removing his hand, so he could rub his back instead and Luke moaned, spitting again, but not puking, "...fuck me," he whined, "that felt nasty."

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna watch the road," Vin sounded like he had accidentally dropped his favorite sandwich. The mental image caused Lucas to groan and burp again, spitting another mouthful of thick saliva that he knew if he swallowed back down was going to be a huge mistake.

Finally he saw Vince turn the corner of his street, passing by the decoration store they used as landmark. He was so close, he could cry.

Bell's car was parked on the front and the living room lights were on, bleeding out of the closed curtains. Lucas groaned as he realized he'd have to get up, "ugh, thanks for the ride, Vin... Keep the car, I can stop by your work tomorrow to pick it up."

"You sure?" Vince frowned, "I can get an uber home, it's okay. The dorms aren't far-"

"Nah, it's fine," Lucas sighed, rubbing his face and tugging his pants back up, "see you tomorrow for lunch...?" he belched sickly at the idea and Vince opened an amused smile.

"Don't forget to set up the alarm for your 3 AM shake."

Lucas gagged at the thought, "kill me."