#mu-tron

[fuzzkaizer]

Mu-Tron FX Board

Mu-Tron Bi-Phase Mu-Tron Flanger Mu-tron Octave Divider Mu-Tron III Mu-Tron C-100 Opti-Pot Control Pedal Nice Rack Canada

cred: reverb.com/RoseRoom Music

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Hehehe some fat fort max and his lil wifey who loves him so much! Reference under the cut!

[starscoffeecreamer]

Minimus finally reveals himself outside of the Magnus armor to Megatron and Megs gets the very pleasant surprise that his sweetspark is huge

He has way more energon rations than any minibot needs to keep up his appearance as Magnus, leading to him growing a nice round belly and thighs you could (and should) bury your face in

Mini/mus being so slow to reveal himself because he's worried that Mega/tron won't like how fat he is only for him to immediately beg to smush his face in his thighs and knead his belly

[soupy-sez]

Stevie Wonder in a 1974 music magazine advertisement for the Mu-Tron III envelope controlled filter used for synthesizer special effects [X]

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

:333 thank you Michael!!!!!💕

Chubformers drabble #89!

Characters: Fort Max (& Megatron)

Word count: 750

Eating was often a challenge for Fort Max when his processor could think of little else but haunting images and torturous thoughts. He was a big bot, and as such needed the fuel. According to Rung, and to Ratchet and that small medic First Aid, and to Overlord, a mech whose voice he hoped to never hear again, Fort Max needed the food.

He needed to eat. He needed the fuel.

Watery rations were hardly appetizing, and Fort Max often couldn’t stand to look at a plate of food for long without turning his helm away in disgust. Dozens of therapy sessions had ended in tears after Rung’s careful attempts at soothing his processor into allowing him to eat something ended in a mess, and not even the longest or harshest checkups with Ratchet were enough to convince his processor that there was nothing wrong with eating.

Fort Max was trying, really, he was. Still, he couldn’t just open his mouth and shovel fuel down his throat. It didn’t work, and it never would.

He was more than ready to give up on trying when one night, as he lie awake in his berth tossing and turning and waiting for sleep, he smelled something. His achy tanks churned at the thought of anything edible after the grueling day of trial and error, but Fort Max was curious.

This was the fourth or fifth day in a row of smelling and hearing someone working away in the ship’s kitchen, and he couldn’t help but wonder who would stay up so late for… for cooking.

The answer was a little startling, but once he’d crept out into the hall and snuck over towards the kitchen, he found he didn’t want to go back to lying awake in his berth for hours until the ship awoke. It was another bot suffering from insomnia, he supposed. Maybe he could sit and watch them cook for a while, just to put his mind at ease…

Fort Max was certain he’d been quiet, but Megatron had stopped working almost as soon as he poked his helm around the corner. Rather than turn around and huff at the intrusion like he was expecting, the old Con simply glanced over his shoulder with a smile and a beckoning servo.

“Took you long enough,” he’d said, his voice a deep rumble of kind amusement. “Why don’t you go have a seat? This’ll be done in a moment.”

That was a few weeks ago, and every night since Fort Max had crawled out of his room to join Megatron for a late night meal. About a week into the routine was when the ex-Con explained that the rich, comforting meals he made were of Kaonite origin, and Fort Max found himself warming up to the other mech all the faster because of it.

To think that this was the solution to his problems all along… it seemed unreal, like he was still missing something vital. But no, Fort Max reminded himself. Whatever worked.

It was a regular thing between them now, and he was quickly growing to look forward to their evenings spent together. The days still blurred in a mess of fear and frustration, but Fort Max always knew he could turn to Megatron’s gentle praise and delicious meals every night to wash away the hunger and pain.

Rung was surprised, as were the two medics, but for the moment, Fort Max decided to keep this a secret between him and Megatron. All that matters was that it was working, after all.

That night, same as every night before it, he snuck out into the hall and headed for the kitchen. The floors creaked and groaned beneath his pedes now, the strain of added weight hanging from a plump belly ruining the art of discretion, but Fort Max didn’t really care. Megatron always knew he was coming, anyways.

As expected, the kitchen was dimly lit as the ex-Con stood at the kitchen and cooked up their favorite dishes. Fort Max didn’t bother waiting for a greeting before heading straight for the table, knowing a plethora of praise would come while he ate to his spark’s content. Even so, the squeak of the chair against the floor alerted Megatron to his presence.

“There’s my favorite bot,” Megatron said, smiling warmly as he glanced back at Fort Max’s eager face. “Ready to eat?”

Fort Max beamed at the words, already rubbing a servo over his soft, grumbling belly.

“More than ready.”

[dawkacynizmu]

niedziela 28/07

☪︎ podsumowanie

zjedzone — 330 kcal

miałam wczoraj binge albo raczej dwa binge jak tak na to spojrzeć. jeden zaczął mi się z samego rana, wstałam, robiłam kawę, czułam się trochę głodna i nagle rzuciłam się na jedzenie jakbym nigdy więcej miała nie zjeść. zjadłam 1365 kalorii więcej niż jem w ciągu całego dnia xd ale uznałam że to nie koniec świata, nie robię fasta, po prostu zjem tego dnia więcej. pod sam koniec dnia miałam 1600 na liczniku, ogółem dzień kręcił się na innych czynnościach niż rozpamiętywanie napadu. ale pod koniec to stało się znowu, długo walczyłam sama ze sobą ale z każdą kolejną rzeczą po jaką sięgałam było coraz ciężej. byłam tak sobą rozczarowana i obrzydzona że nawet się nie umyłam bo nie chciałam na siebie patrzeć, siedzę do teraz w tych samych ubraniach XD (suma kalorii z wczoraj to 3200 kcal)

w trakcie wieczornego napadu idąc do łazienki odkryłam że okresu dostałam co albo jest jakimś dziwnym zbiegiem okoliczności albo rzeczywistoście stoi to za tym drugim z napadów, kiedy to czułam się głodna mimo zjedzenia całkiem objętościowej kolacji z białkiem itp

dzisiaj recoveruje po tym. połączenie obżarstwa i okresu to potworny ból brzucha, ciężkość, wzdęcia, zgaga. od 9-16 po prostu leżałam oglądając grę o tron (wciągnęłam się) jedząc warzywa i pijąc hektolitry herbaty, prócz tego w ciągu dnia zjadłam jeszcze dwie brzoskwinie i mus z tymbarka. jak o tej 16 wyszłam z domu na godzinny spacer to moja mama powiedziała że myślała że mnie w domu nie ma XD praktycznie się nie ruszam, za bardzo czuję ten brzuch, a planuję potem poćwiczyć. teraz sobie myślę że nie ma szans że zrobię coś takiego kurwa jeszcze raz to jak dobrowolne skazywanie samego siebie na chorobę, wyobraźcie sobie ze tak w ciągu roku wyglądały moje weekendy. sobota napad, branie przeczyszczaczy, niedziela walka o życie na kiblu i nie wychodzenie z łóżka, przekładało się to na poniedziałek kiedy to nie szlam do szkoły ponieważ w czasie tych dwóch dni nawet nie dotknęłam prac domowych ani nauki.

będę się starać mieć to okropne uczucie na uwadze przy kolejnej takiej chęci obżarcia się bo naprawdę nie warto. od jutra normalnie limit 1200 kalorii.

[amonrawya]

3rd of October: Durin's Day / An Treasamh Latha dhen Dàmhair: Là Dhurin

English Translation:

In the early years after the dragon came, the Dwarves of Erebor set their eyes on survival. Much was lost to them during this time, cultural and religious customs they failed to sustain in their wanderings.

As soon as they had homes once again, mines to work in and forges to fire, Thorin looked to these things for the final missing piece in their lives. His nephews, growing fast, had never experienced Durin's Day in any way other than that of the Blue Mountains.

He heard Erebor in their speech, saw it in the style of their clothes, and even in the weapons they favoured, but so much of his nephews' cultural references lay elsewhere. He wished for them to understand Durin's Day through the eyes of their own culture.

Thus, ten years since Erebor had seen its last Durin's Day, her people put on a feast in Thorin's Halls the like of which was rarely seen. They worked tirelessly to have everything right: musicians woke up old ballads, bakers brought back old delicacies, and the elders gathered to pass their folktales onto the new generations. The exiles.

Another wound was healed that night, another wrong put right. Thorin watched over the festivities as Fili and Kili learnt how to sing a traditional Erebor hymn and thought of his own childhood.

Finally, everyone came together on the stone slopes before the gates of their halls to watch the last vestiges of the sunset fade from the sky behind them and the autumn moon rise in the eastern horizon. For a precious few minutes, both lights lingered together, before the sun was overcome at last.

Thorin stood with his arm around Dis and the boys by their legs, wide-eyed with their first Durin's Day beads braided carefully in their hair. They were't likely to sleep tonight.

The towering stature of the Misty Mountains blocked it from view, but Thorin knew - could see - beyond their white peaks lay Erebor, bathed in the silver light of Durin's moon.

Maybe he started it, or perhaps they all did so at the same time, but slowly and quietly, their low Dwarven voices rose into the sky with a song of home-sickness on their lips. A mourning song.

Oh, far over the Misty Mountains cold...

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Anns na bliadhnaichean a chaidh seachad as dèidh don nathair-sgiathach tighinn, thoirt na Troichean Erebor an sùilean air mairsinneach. Chaill iad tòrr tron àm seo, nòsan cultarach is creideamh nach do chùm iad beò anns am fuadan aca.

Cho luath ‘s a bha dachaighean aca a-rithist, mèinnean a bhith ag obair anns agus ceàrdaichean a chuir teinne anns, chaidh Thòrin don rudan seo a’ sireach am pìos mu dheireadh air fhàgail bho am beathannan sa Bheinn Ònaranach. A’ fàs cho àrd a-nist, cha robh na mic a pheathar eòlach idir air an dòigh dhen Là Dhurin ach an dòigh na Beanntan Ghorm.

Chuala e Erebor san dòigh-bhruidhinn aca, san stoidhle aodach, eadhon san arm a bha an dithis measail air. Ach leis na rudan beaga, chunnaic e gun robh sin a’ tighinn bho àitichean eile. Bha e airson ‘s gum biodh iad a’ tuigsinn Là Dhurin tron shùilean an cultar aca fhèin.

Air an adhbhar sin, deich bliadhna seach gun do chunnaic Erebor an Là Dhurin mu dheireadh, chuir an t-sluaigh aice seòin air dòigh nach fhaca iad gu tric anns na Tallachan Thòrin. Dh’obraich iad gu cruaidh airson a h-uile rud a bhith ceart: dh’èirich ceòladairean seann balantan, rinn bèicearan seann biadh fìnealta, agus chruinneach na daoine aosmhor ri chèile airson am beul-aithris aca a thoirt don ghinealaichean ùra. Na fògraich.

Shlànaich gort eile an oidhche sin, rud eile a chuir ceart. Choimhead Thòrin air an subhachas mar a dh’ionnsaich Fìli is Kìli laoidh traidiseanta Erebor a sheinn agus smaointeach e air na làithean anns an robh e fhèin beag.

Mu dheireadh thall, thàinig a h-uile duine ri chèile a-mach air na slèibhtean mu bheul an geata nan tallachan. Choimhead iad air dol fodha na grèine san speur air an cùlaibh, an solas a’ dol às beag air bheag. Agus gealach an foghair a’ tighinn suas san fàire Ear. Airson beagan mionaidean prìseil, dh’fhuirich an dà sholas anns an speur ri chèile mus do dh’fhalbh a’ ghrian.

Sheas Thòrin le a gàirdean timcheall a phiuthar, Dìs, agus na bhalaich ri taobh nan casan. Bha na sùilean drileach aca a’ coimhead mòr, agus bha a’ chiad grìogagan Là Dhurin a bh’ aca air pleatach anns am falt. Cha bhiodh e comasach gun cadail iad a-nochd.

Cha b’ urrainn dha a’ faicinn tro na Beanntan Àird a’ Cheò, ach bha fios aige gun robh Erebor air a seasamh dìreach thar air na mullaichean gheala, lannrach anns an t-solas ghealach Dhurin.

Is docha gun do thoiseach esan e, no ‘s docha gun do rinn iad uile e aig an aon am, ach gu slaodach agus gu samhach, chaidh na guthan ìosal troiche dhan speur le òran chianalais air an bilean.

Ò thar na Beanntan Àird fhuar a’ Cheò...

[vizreef]

Jerry Garcia’s Mu-Tron Bi-Phase effects unit (US, 1974)

via

[siberat]

Food Makes things feel better

so, good news and bad news. This was originally for a Drabble request- however, jerk me totally missed the mark by my classic quickly reading the request, then spending days writing only to find out it’s not what was asked at all. So, my apologies to the anon requester- you will have to wait a bit longer. Also, I was gonna split this in 2, but I just wanna post it.

good news is here is a rodi/mus chub story. I am gonna do another one for the anon prompt. Cw: chub, weight gain, binge eating, emotional eating.

Life wasn’t fair, was it?

Yes, he knew things would not be handed to him on a silver platter, but he didn’t think the accomplishments he earned would be snatched away from him either. Or forced to share.

Sighing, Rod/imus plopped himself back in his captain’s chair—while he still had it, that is. Apparently, for reasons unknown, he had to share his status as captain with someone else—someone so unworthy of the position, none-the-less!

Mega/tron.

The “ex” leader of the Decep/ticons. All because stupid Opti/mus Pri/me said so.

This was his voyage! This was his mission! And things have been going just fine, so why try to fix something that isn’t broken?

Before he knew it, the urge to do something other than stew in anger arose. Rodi/mus could only take so much teeth-clenching before his helm hurt worse than it already did. He reached to the center of the table and pulled a large dish of mini cakes in front of him. Yes, this was to be for the guests at his meeting, but surely, they wouldn’t notice one missing—there was plenty after all.

Fingers daintily selected a light pink cake with blue frosting and brought it to his lips. The sweetness invaded his mouth much quicker than the actual treat! The first bite was everything he could imagine: moist, decadent, and rich flavor awoken his taste receptors from slumber.

Each bite led like another, and the first cake was gobbled up. And the sheer taste of the food made him feel better. While he was consuming it, all thoughts of his predicament vanished. Rodi/mus didn’t think of the stern looks received from Mega/tron when ideas were disapproved of. Seeing Ult/ra Magn/us discuss plans with the ‘other’ captain vanished from his processor. Feeling like scrap for being deprived of his hard-earned title lifted from his chassis.

At least until the last swallow of the cake, that is.

As the red and yellow mech stared at the plate full of little colorful cakes of various shapes, licking icing off his fingertips, he could feel the brain worms kicking back in.

Was he not good enough? Just what did he do so wrong? He was a fun mech and liked trying fun things! Did his crew mates simply not like him? Images replayed in his processor of ‘bots reactions to him, seeing if there were any tell-tale signs of dislike. Rodi/mus did not see any hints of hate- but perhaps they really did?

“Ehhhhhhhhh,” Rodi/mus grumbled and rolled his optics, truly hating feeling like this. He was a good mech! He deserved to lead this exhibition! Just why did it have to be stolen from him?

Yeah, it was time for another cake. There were still plenty of them left on the plate. The scrumptious little morsels make him feel better, even if just temporarily. When one was finished, and those tormenting thoughts returned, Rodi/mus helped himself to another.

Of course, the emptied plate was hidden before the conference began- his attendees wouldn’t miss what they didn’t know, right? Hopefully, the ‘co-captain’ could hide his noisy belly ache!

… … …

Any hope of his situation improving simply flew out the window. It turns out his crew was much more accepting of Mega/tron than he anticipated. Yes, tabs were kept on him, but as the days turned to weeks, high command appeared to grow more comfortable with his presence on board the Lo/st Li/ght.

And more willing to listen to his ideas and choose the ex-warlord's instructions over his!

Rodi/mus even tried harder to win back popularity votes by hosting parties at Swer/ves. He graced others' presence by making rounds and chatting it up amongst the partygoers. He even let them in on his future festivities, listening to their ideas, even if they were stupid.

Like perhaps an ice cream social would be nice.

Actually, Rodi/mus didn’t even ask for that—he still had some control over what took place on board his ship! The event was scheduled—and it was scheduled first—and now, he sat in an empty room. Well, it was not completely empty: there were tubs upon tubs of energon ice cream.

Yet only a handful of mechs showed up. And those fraggers didn’t even stay for long! Apparently, after his planned and announced event, Rew/ind and Chrome/dome continued their dumb movie marathon. Guess where every mech went?

So, the red and yellow mech sat alone, staring out the large window. Space was so vast and empty…just like his spark. Alright, that is a bit sappy. But it hurt to have no one really show up. It hurt to feel not important. It hurt to feel ignored.

But seeing all the ice cream and toppings sitting around unused was disheartening. And there was a lot! All the good flavors were obtained: chocolate, vanilla, mint chocolate chip, rocky road, peanut butter cup…. The list went on. And toppings? There was chocolate sauce, sprinkles, candies, brownie bits, whipped cream, and then some. With a spread like this, who wouldn’t want to show up?

Apparently, ninety-nine percent of the ship.

‘No point in letting this go to waste,’ Rodi/mus shrugged, dragging himself to his pedes and scooped himself a heaping bowl of several flavors of ice cream, topped with every topping imaginable. He sat back down with his feast and scoop after scoop fed himself the cold treat.

Oh, how he loved ice cream! The soft dessert's chill and the crunch of the toppings always hit the spot! A lot of foods hit the spot recently. Ever since Mega/tron joined this fleet, energon has provided him with so much comfort, as if it had always been there for him. Always calling his name out from the panty just begging to be devoured! And how could the speedster resist?

Eating cheered him up, relieving him from replaying the bad thoughts in his processor all the time. The pleasurable feeling of consuming something so tasty made his spark swirl with joy instead of rage. And this ice cream was no different—each bite, a new flavor, a new color twirled in his vision, and a smile appeared on his lips.

As soon as the dish was emptied, the co-captain immediately helped himself to seconds. He kept going even when his whole frame seemed cold from eating so much frozen dessert. Even when his tummy, which had grown more prominent over the past few weeks, became taunt and lay heavier on his lap, he kept going.

When his overflowing bowl was polished off this time, Rodi/mus simply snagged two cartons of ice cream. There was no point having to keep getting back up! However, upon shoveling the first spoonful in, he noticed he wasn’t alone and jumped.

“Pri/mus, Dri/ft!” Rodi/mus gasped.

“Don’t use His name in vain,” Dri/ft spoke calmly.

“My bad.” The red and yellow mech stuffed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, then motioned to the food table for the other to help himself.

“I’m not here for that,” Dri/ft answered.

“Ah, let me guess.” Rodi/mus spat. “Just stopping in before movie fest?”

 “I’m here to talk with you.” He walked to the table and sat next to the other. “So, how have you been?”

“Fine,” Rodi/mus shrugged, continuing to work on his tub of ice cream. “Shame mech’s don’t know what they are missin’.” His belly clenched, whining out a minor grumble.

“I somehow don’t think everything is fine, Rodimus.” The TIC gently placed a servo on the other’s shoulder. “You haven’t quite been yourself recently.”

“Nonsense,” Rodi/mus bulked, his mouth full. Who else would I be?” Slag, the last thing he wanted was some kind of spiritual talk from Dri/ft. And why the hell did he have to be so nosey? He needed to stay in his own lane.

“Rodi/mus…” His hand moved to the arm, guiding the other to stop eating. “You are not doing well, I can tell. I can help you.”

Rodi/mus sneered, pulling his arm free from the other. What was wrong with wanting to not let all this ice cream go to waste? He spent good credits on this- as well as having to make an unscheduled stop. Why didn’t anybody notice all the work he put into things?

“Just let me be.”

“Let me help you. We can talk- “

“Look, if you don’t want any ice cream, why don’t you shove off?”

“Rodi/mus…”

“Dri/ft…” The red and yellow mech threw an angered glare at the other but regretted it. “Look…. I just… I just want to be alone right now.”

Dri/ft sighed and solemnly nodded. “As you wish. I shall give you your privacy. But I must warn you.” His servo gestured to the now flabbier body. “Your change in habits can have some unhealthy results.”

“Just what the slag you talking about?”

“Your coping mechanism…” Dri/ft bit his lip. “It will catch up to you.”

“You have an issue with me now because I put on a few extra pounds?”

“It's far more than a few extra pounds- “

“What, are you taking measurements?”

“No- “

“Does me eating hurt your inner arura or whatever that scrap is?”

“No.” Dri/ft’s tone grew stern as his lips pressed together to form a line. “I have no qualms about your physical appearance, Rodi/mus. But I just fear the reasoning behind the sudden weight gain.”

“I checked out just fine at my last check-up with Rat/chet.”

“Perhaps you should speak with Ru/ng.”

“Ru/ng?” Rodi/mus snorted. “Look, I aint crazy.”

“No one ever said you were.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” Rod/imus slammed his fist on the table, and the TIC raised his servos in defeat.

“I just wish to say one thing before I leave you to yourself.” Dri/ft stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Drowning your problems with food is not the solution. Trust me, addiction is the easy way out. But if you keep this up, you’ll be weighed down by more than whatever bothers you. Also, I am here for you whenever you are ready to talk.”

“That was two things you said, not one,” Rodi/mus grumbled, serving himself another spoonful of ice cream. As if angered by the conversation, his belly grumbled loudly.

Dri/ft opened his mouth to retort, but just shook his helm instead. With saddened optics, he watched the other resume his binge eating for a moment before taking his leave.

Deep down, he knew Dri/ft was correct. But how could he stop when eating was the one thing that made him feel so good? Despite his belly churning and the tell-tale signs of a belly ache forming, Rodi/mus kept eating. Even when his belly grew so taunt and painful that even his servos couldn’t comfort the beast, spoonful after spoonful of rich, chocolate peanut butter ice cream was shoved into his maws.  Even when it became so hard to swallow, he continued- he would finish this tub of ice cream if it was the last thing he did!

… … …

When did this hallway become so long? Rodi/mus huffed as he waddled his way towards the bridge of the ship. Apparently, today’s meeting was of the utmost importance, so his presence was demanded instead of video chat. And not only did that mean getting himself out of the berth, but it also meant dragging himself halfway across the ship.

And this was simply too much work!

What exactly was the reason for this unscheduled meeting? Rodi/mus whined for hours with Ul/tra Mag/nus about what was so important, but he wouldn’t blab. What, now officers on board his ship could no longer speak to him? No longer tell him the truth?

It was bad enough having unannounced guests visit his captain's quarters over the past month. No one wanted to see him unless they wanted to voice their concern for his weight gain. He still ran this ship, didn’t he?

Well, half-run the ship would be more accurate.

Did he slack off on his duties? No. Did he miss any meetings? No—well, one was missed, but that was because of a too-small shower stall issue—but that didn’t count! His responsibilities of running this ship were still performed.

Yet, in the past several weeks, Ratc/het paid him a visit, bringing with him his medical supplies and grumpy attitude. Tests were run, and while levels came back elevated, they were considered normal range. Which normally was good, but the medic felt the need to drill onto him the warnings of increased weight gain and decreased activity.

Once Rat/chet was shoved off, another medic took his place a few days later. While more upbeat, Ai/d’s help was not desired or needed. Even Amb/ulon’s straightforward, no-nonsense approach was as annoying as slag. All three medics were sent on their way, chided for wasting their breath and his time.

They could have at least brought him a snack!

Not even halfway to his destination, Rodi/mus had to stop for a break. His chest heaved as he desperately sucked in cool air. His pedes hurt. His legs felt like jello. Prim/us, how long has it been since he walked this far?

There really should be some chairs in the hallway!

Instead, the blob of a mech rested against the wall, swiping his servo across his brow. He was sweating like a cyberpig. He'd be a sopping mess by the time he’d make it to the conference room!

This is just great!

He also noticed that his thighs burned as if scorched by a fire. Glancing down and pulling that pillow of a tummy out of the way, he saw the protomesh was pink and raw. Chub-rub. Perfect.

What a way to be seen outside his quarters!

‘Who would be the first to notice?’ Rodi/mus scowled, banging his fists against the hallway as he slowly began shuffling along his way. Would it be Rat/chet and his know-it-all attitude? Would Ai/d baby talk him and try to slather cream all over the massive thigh flab? Or would Dri/ft be all over this whole ‘talk about your feelings’ crap again?

Couldn’t mechs take a hint to leave someone alone for once?

Rounding the final turn, Rodi/mus rested upon the conference room door frame. His chest heaved as he panted to catch his breath. His frame pinged warnings of overheating. Sweat dripped down his face, down his body, and into his many flab rolls. Everything hurt!

He felt lightheaded, as if he was about to pass out. All the red and white mech wanted to do was sit down and relax! Walking this far was challenging; it took all his strength to remain upright and not collapse onto the floor.

 The air conditioning better be one during this meeting!

Once his breathing rate slowed, Rodi/mus palmed open the door.

And what did he see?

Gone was the long table lined with chairs. The room was redecorated into something a little cozier. There was an oversized couch in the center that just called out his name! As he waddled inside, he noted the room’s cooler temperature, which felt terrific against his hot frame!

But what he saw next stopped him dead in his tracks.

There were many mechs sitting around that couch. Rat/chet sat with his arms crossed over his chest, and Fir/st Aid perc/hed on the chair next to him. Ski/ds and Ult/ra Mag/nus were each seated with datapads in their servo’s as well.

“Rodi/mus!” Dri/ft greeted in a soft, kind tone. He walked towards the larger mech with arms open and hugged the other.

“What’s going on here?”

“Why don’t you have a seat, Rodi/mus.” Ru/ng smiled, gesturing to the sofa.

And Rodi/mus didn’t like the look of this. “Why… why are you all here sitting around like this?”

 “A lot of people care about you and have a few things they wish to read to you- “

“What the slag!” Rodi/mus shouted. He couldn’t believe it! Was this real or another bothersome nightmare? “Is this… for real…. Is this an intervention?”

“Rodi/mus, just have a seat,” Ru/ng coaxed, but the words fell upon deaf audials.

If Rodi/mus could spit fire, he would! Talk about being ambushed! “Who did it?” His optics scoured the room. “Whose idea was this?” His pudgy servos clenched to fists as his double chins bounced with each word he screamed. “I swear!”

“Rodi/mus…” Mega/tron’s voice boomed.

And Rodi/mus flinched. “It was you, wasn’t it? This was all YOUR idea?”

“This talk has been long overdue- “

I don’t fragging care! I am NEVER going to have a discussion with you!” Rodi/mus turned on his pedes. “I’m going back to my room!”

“Do you think you will make the trip?”

“Shut your slagging trap, Mega/tron!” Rodi/mus bellowed.

But the ex-con had a point.

Could he make the trip back to his quarters?

[wrazliwy-ktos]

"Kot Roman kosztował dwa złote, transakcja odbyła się gdzieś na chodniku na Pradze. Był bury, z rudym brzuchem, ale z przodu miał krawat. Ten krawat nadawał mu szlachetnego rysu.

Pierdolony arystokrata. Do tego uszy jak nietoperz i cholernie głupi wyraz pyska. Pamiętam, jak siadał w naszej umywalce z Ikei i wystawały mu tylko uszy.

Ten grymas został mu na stare lata. Uszy stały się mniej widoczne, bo w miarę upływu czasu zaokrąglił się na mordzie. Ale ciągle sterczały. Był szalony jak kapelusznik.

Uwielbiałem go.

Moja matka też.

A on uwielbiał świeżą pościel. Zawsze się w niej zagrzebywał. Często leżał mi na głowie. I mruczał. Kochał seriale. Najbardziej Grę o tron i Grey’s Anatomy. Nie wiem, na czym to polegało, ale nigdy nie opuszczał nawet odcinka.

Odchodził powoli.

Jak miałem dwadzieścia siedem lat, przyszedł do matki gość z psem. Kot się przestraszył. Pierwszy raz w życiu. On, który traktował dom jak swoje imperium. To miało być zapalenie pęcherza. Dostał antybiotyki, po których poczuł się jak młody bóg.

Na moment.

Jednak chodziło o nerki.

Matka miała nadzieję, że to się uda zwalczyć, że przecież jest jeszcze młody, że poczuje się lepiej. Przez całe życie był przecież zajebiście zdrowym kotem. U weterynarza wylądował tylko kilka razy, poza tym, co konieczne. Raz, kiedy go kastrowano. I raz, kiedy zeżarł trujący kwiat.

Trzymało go wtedy pięć osób. Syczał. Prychał. Gryzł. Walczył pazurami. Można było go dotknąć dopiero, kiedy zawinięto go w specjalną siatkę. Dostał opis: „Kot Roman. Uwagi: walczy jak lew”.

U weterynarza walczył jak lew jeszcze trzy dni przed śmiercią. Mimo że był przerażony. Mimo że był kocim seniorem. Ale i tak trzymały go trzy osoby. Nie mogłem na to patrzeć. Owszem, po powrocie od weta przespacerował się jeszcze po mieszkaniu. Później jednak leżał już tylko koło ciepłego kaloryfera na swojej ukochanej poduszce.

I gasł.

Z każdą chwilą.

Tego dnia, kiedy wziąłem go na ręce po raz ostatni, był już wiotki. Pogłaskałem go. Był smutny. Mocno jednak opierał się przed wejściem do transportera. Wpychałem go tam na siłę. Kiedyś by mi się nie udało zmusić go do tego. Ale teraz był tak potwornie słaby.

W poczekalni zasnął. Tak jak wtedy, kiedy był małym kotem. Przebudził się dopiero w gabinecie. Zwinięty jak krewetka. Kiedy już zapadła decyzja, na moment podniósł głowę. Tak jak dawniej. Otworzył oczy. Patrzył spojrzeniem swoich kocich oczu. Jestem przekonany, że rozumiał. Żegnał się po swojemu.

Ten kot był moim pierwszym doświadczeniem z miłością. I z jej utratą.

Piotr C., To o nas

[tmbgareok]

Hi Flans! I was wondering what pedal(s) you were using in the solo for Dirt Bike? It almost sounds like a wah pedal in combination with something else but I can't quite put my finger on it

JF: I would have guessed it was a Z-Vex Fuzz Factory into my Mu-Tron III envelope filter, specifically because it has the "out-of-gas"/dying battery fuzz sound that speaks so boldly in ZVex--but that pedal came out in 95 so no. Thinking about it more, I suspect it actually was one of the rare appearances of my original Maestro FuzzTone (the Satisfaction pedal) that I owned for a very brief period in the middle 90s. (It was amazing to look at, but really screwed up--cost too much as it was already a collectors item, but it didn't actually work at all consistently. It was probably one single component going bad, but back then repair people seemed to feel it was beneath them to service pedals--even legendary pedals--so pedals kind of worked until they didn't, and maybe you tossed it or put it in a drawer. In this case I think I sold it at a used shop and found the Fuzz Factory)

[fuzzkaizer]

MU-TRON - MICRO V

1976

cred: reverb.com/Oldie'Z Shop

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

These are recent and special (first image contains mega/tron in da belly)

[starscoffeecreamer]

This idea floating where Rodimus gains weight and thinks his partners won’t like him anymore and he’s right.

He’s so spark broken and upset with his new frame until lets say a mech like Minimus or Megatron come into the picture or both and show him just what a real mech can do.

Your thoughts?

Ooh, yes. I love hurt/comfort with Chubformers sm.

Mini/mus and Mega/tron help Rodi/mus through his sparkbreak, treat him right, and never make him feel bad for gaining. They love him all the same, cuddling him and interfacing with him whenever.

ough I love hurt/comfort

[danandphilchronology]

Phil the Viking + Tim’s Adventure +  Worst Day Ever. + The Rabit iz comin to get you

Video #1

Video #2

Video #3

Video #4

Hello besties! Another day of AmazingPhil circa 2008! We have quite a few I wanted to cover in a single sitting because I was inspired by their very in-depth and meticulous Met Gala review that you can see on Phil’s Instagram. Just looking at the titles, I can tell we are going to be in for an adventure!

Phil the Viking

I’m already nervous for what this could be. This past weekend I did a ton of independent research into Dip and Pip lore and I watched a video that was just Phil barking at the camera and let me tell y’all, that shit has scarred me. 

Wayback Machine (16 February 2008)

Muhammad Ali… Recipe for Life by loutyr

News In Color - College Edition by NewsInColor

Black History Month Presents- BLA… by agordon101

Ok, originally I was nervous because in these early youtube days, Phil doesn’t really have any rhyme or reason to his titling UNLESS he has made some kind of music lipsyncing video. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was a vlog! Phil and some of his friend stared ina move called Faintheart which billed itself as “the first user generated movie”. Over 1400 myspace users auditioned for the movie and 11 non-professional actors were selected including our own Phil Lester who played Tim. I will link the imdb page here if you are interested in the plot of the film, but just to be warned, it sounds like it was as… good… and you think it is. 

It was presented at a film festival, received mixed reviews, and actually was nominated for a couple of awards. It’s crazy to think that Phil could have continued a career in actor. What a life that would have been. 

Total Watch Time 15m 30s

Tim’s Adventure

Wayback Machine (11 June 2008)

David Byrne: Playing the Building (BBTV) by boingboingtv

THE COMPLIMENTS COLLAB by PickThisCar

TAG! INSTANT KARMA! PASS THIS VID 4 HUMANITY!!! By KingHuman

Ok yall, the last video spoiled me because Phil is back in business as the king (I assume) of the weird side of youtube. It is very interesting to think that this era of Phil is the one Dan was like, “Yeah, we need to be friends”. 

Tim is a little guy who lives in Faceland (Phil’s actual face). The story of Tim is sad and short. He wished to find live and had to fight many uphill battles to be with his beloved, just for them both to be consumed by a dragon. This is not animated. This is nearly a minute of drawings on Phil’s face that I assume took at least a couple hours. This was, honestly, peak creativity. Bonus points for Phil for washing his face, I guess. 

Total Watch Time 16m 27s

Worst Day Ever.

Wayback Machine (25 June 2008)

the Trons - self playing robot band by pieplateindustries

PiKAPiKA THE MOVIE ~ GO! GO! PiKAPiKA!!~ by pikata08

Sing A Long by checkyourself

This was a song for men about how to check yourself for testicular cancer. I did a bit of research on that one. (10/10 for prioritizing health)

We love a storytime youtuber! Apparently Phil has a fear of rollercoasters? Not really, but he dreamed that he had killed an entire cart of passengers on a rollecoaster because he forgot to engage the harnesses. He was actually killed in his dream by a group of theme park mascots. While wearing a full suit and tie, he just talks us through an awful day from beginning to end. The ending, however, is true 2008 Phil and I 100% recommend you watch it. 

Total Watch Time 19m 11s

The Rabit iz comin to get you

I promise that I did not decide to spell it like that. That title does not contain any mispellings by me, I promise. That is all our Philly’s doing. 

Wayback Machine (7 July 2008)

The Blood Arm featuring Anais “Do I Have Your Attention” by laundryLA

Dynamic Architecture by dynamicarchitecture

The Cheese Incident by hiddentracktv2

CHILDHOOD STORYTIME!! Yay! Did you know baby Phil wanted to be a vet because he liked animals and wanted to help them. I could cry. He has always just been a little bean. He also wrote a murder story though, so I guess the sweet and terrifying evens out. The title comes from a story her wrote with the same name. The rabbit killed everyone and he could only be defeated by an entire army. I feel like I understand Phil less than I did before actually? Like what is going on? Why didn’t he become a horror author or horror movie director? Why didn’t his parents put him in therapy? Maybe they did. Imagine being Phil’s primary teacher and you notice that he as a tendency to write stories about murder and death… I would have nightmares.

Total Watch Time 21m 41s

[jazumst]

Kobieta kobiecie kobietą

Żeby Was... Harpie walczą na śmierć i życie. Posłuchajcie:

Żadne tam paradokumenty czy inne Gry o Tron. Przyjdźcie do mnie do roboty i obserwujcie. Prywaciarz walnąłby streama na YT i zarobek z samego YT pozwoliłby mu żyć na poziomie Króla Malin.

One pojebane są jakieś. Ostatni wątek to pieniądze. Pomijam już epizod z wpisu który wyjebał. Widocznie odjebało się tak mocno, że serwer nie dał rady. - Jakiś czas temu KM spytała mnie o zarobki. Stwierdziła, że po nowym roku pewnie będę zarabiał 4K. Śmiałem z tego chyba z tydzień, a żart był tak przedni, że podzieliłem się z Kiero. Chyba opowiadałem Wam o tym. - Potem poszedłem na urlop. Dziś KM pyta się czy ja Kiero coś mówiłem ile ona zarabia, bo śmiały się z nią z Balbiną. Powiedziałem, że tak, bo te 4K to naprawdę dobry kawał był. Poza tym prawdą jest, że SWS mi kasy nie da, a jakbym miał dowód, że reszta ma tyle co ja to bym się wkurwił i musiałby mi więcej dać.

Dziś Kiero miała na 7mą. Przyszła i pyta o KM. Teraz jest druga draka, bo KM chyba miała pogadankę z SWS albo jego żoną. Rzuca tekstami typu "mój przyjacielu", "droga Kiero", "zrobić ci kawusi"... Kiero to ma raczej ryj jak armata, więc powiedziała KM, że jest fałszywa. KM ma o to wielkie pretensje i żale. - Prawda zawsze pozostanie prawdą. A mówi ona, że najfałszywsza jest Kiero, bo dla własnego dobra rodzinę sprzedała. Nie BY sprzedała, a sprzedała. Ja nie oceniam. - Nie minęło jednak pół zmiany i KM z Kiero milusio ładnie ogarniały zaplecze. Zgodne niczym lesbijki na haju.

Dobrze myślicie. Najbardziej poszkodowany w tym wszystkim jestem ja. Każda chce mi mieć jako koalicjanta. Mnie te gównoburze ni interesują, a i tak czuję jak mnie dupa piecze od obrabiania jej za moimi plecami. - Nie ukrywam, że najbliżej mi poglądami do Kiero, bo mamy takie samo podejście do pracy, ale wiem że nienawidzi mnie od samego początku i to nie minie.

Muszę kończyć, później może dokończę.