#Critical Mission Computing

[nasa]

LaRue Burbank, mathematician and computer, is just one of the many women who were instrumental to NASA missions.

4 Little Known Women Who Made Huge Contributions to NASA

Women have always played a significant role at NASA and its predecessor NACA, although for much of the agency’s history, they received neither the praise nor recognition that their contributions deserved. To celebrate Women’s History Month – and properly highlight some of the little-known women-led accomplishments of NASA’s early history – our archivists gathered the stories of four women whose work was critical to NASA’s success and paved the way for future generations.

LaRue Burbank: One of the Women Who Helped Land a Man on the Moon

LaRue Burbank was a trailblazing mathematician at NASA. Hired in 1954 at Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory (now NASA’s Langley Research Center), she, like many other young women at NACA, the predecessor to NASA, had a bachelor's degree in mathematics. But unlike most, she also had a physics degree. For the next four years, she worked as a "human computer," conducting complex data analyses for engineers using calculators, slide rules, and other instruments. After NASA's founding, she continued this vital work for Project Mercury.

In 1962, she transferred to the newly established Manned Spacecraft Center (now NASA’s Johnson Space Center) in Houston, becoming one of the few female professionals and managers there.  Her expertise in electronics engineering led her to develop critical display systems used by flight controllers in Mission Control to monitor spacecraft during missions. Her work on the Apollo missions was vital to achieving President Kennedy's goal of landing a man on the Moon.

Eilene Galloway: How NASA became… NASA

Eilene Galloway wasn't a NASA employee, but she played a huge role in its very creation. In 1957, after the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, Senator Richard Russell Jr. called on Galloway, an expert on the Atomic Energy Act, to write a report on the U.S. response to the space race. Initially, legislators aimed to essentially re-write the Atomic Energy Act to handle the U.S. space goals. However, Galloway argued that the existing military framework wouldn't suffice – a new agency was needed to oversee both military and civilian aspects of space exploration. This included not just defense, but also meteorology, communications, and international cooperation.

Her work on the National Aeronautics and Space Act ensured NASA had the power to accomplish all these goals, without limitations from the Department of Defense or restrictions on international agreements. Galloway is even to thank for the name "National Aeronautics and Space Administration", as initially NASA was to be called “National Aeronautics and Space Agency” which was deemed to not carry enough weight and status for the wide-ranging role that NASA was to fill.

Barbara Scott: The “Star Trek Nerd” Who Led Our Understanding of the Stars

A self-described "Star Trek nerd," Barbara Scott's passion for space wasn't steered toward engineering by her guidance counselor. But that didn't stop her!  Fueled by her love of math and computer science, she landed at Goddard Spaceflight Center in 1977.  One of the first women working on flight software, Barbara's coding skills became instrumental on missions like the International Ultraviolet Explorer (IUE) and the Thermal Canister Experiment on the Space Shuttle's STS-3.  For the final decade of her impressive career, Scott managed the flight software for the iconic Hubble Space Telescope, a testament to her dedication to space exploration.

Dr. Claire Parkinson: An Early Pioneer in Climate Science Whose Work is Still Saving Lives

Dr. Claire Parkinson's love of math blossomed into a passion for climate science. Inspired by the Moon landing, and the fight for civil rights, she pursued a graduate degree in climatology.  In 1978, her talents landed her at Goddard, where she continued her research on sea ice modeling. But Parkinson's impact goes beyond theory.  She began analyzing satellite data, leading to a groundbreaking discovery: a decline in Arctic sea ice coverage between 1973 and 1987. This critical finding caught the attention of Senator Al Gore, highlighting the urgency of climate change.

Parkinson's leadership extended beyond research.  As Project Scientist for the Aqua satellite, she championed making its data freely available. This real-time information has benefitted countless projects, from wildfire management to weather forecasting, even aiding in monitoring the COVID-19 pandemic. Parkinson's dedication to understanding sea ice patterns and the impact of climate change continues to be a valuable resource for our planet.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space! 

[invincibledc]

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS, BOY

. ݁ ˖꩜ KOLE ANDERS (OC) X BATSIB!READER

ᯓ★SYNOPSIS: yknow how Starfire was back in teen titans 2003 when Kitty asked robin for a date to her prom and she got jealous badly? Well, you have to go on a date with a son of a drug lord to find out what his father does only for Kole to not hold his jealousy in well.

ᯓ★GENRE: fluff + silly

ᯓ★INFO: takes place in the dcamu universe. this OC is an OC I’ve written for my own amusement. He’s the adoptive son of Kori/Starfire. Full HUMAN name, Kole Anders. His Tamaranean name is Koldond'r. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically, plus freakishly tall like a Tamaranean should be.

ᯓ★WC: 1,131

“You are what?!” Kole exclaims incredulously as you receive your assignment to go undercover and meet the son of a drug lord.

“I’m going undercover to go on a date with a—” you begin, but Kole interrupts you, his surprise palpable.

“That’s absurd! My mother cannot seriously think this is a good idea! Why not send your twin brother, Damian?” He rushes over, gripping your shoulders, his expression a mix of disbelief and concern.

“Because Damian has made it clear he refuses to take on this mission, and frankly, he’d probably mess it up anyway with his liking for Raven,” you reply calmly. Kole's glowing green eyes narrow, and with a flash, he takes off, carrying you with him.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the team and Kory, who is already aware of the chaos unfolding. Kole releases you, striding over to his adoptive mother, sharing her fiery curly mane of red hair.

“Mother, you must find a better candidate for this mission!” he implores, his voice filled with urgency. Kory anticipated his reaction but understands how critical your involvement is for gathering information about the upcoming ambush.

“I’m sorry, my little Bumgorf, but you know Y/N is the only one capable of handling this successfully,” Kory asserts, crossing her arms.

“He’s a manipulative gremplork, unworthy of Y/N's time!” Kole retorts, pacing furiously behind you. “Language,” Kory interjects, her tone firm as she frowns at him. Kole's frustration intensifies as the realization sinks in that the person he deeply admires is going on a ‘date’ with someone he views as a threat.

“I need to know more about this person,” he demands, his voice steady. Everyone around him—Raven, Garfield, and Jaime—watches in stunned silence as Kole, typically the soft-spoken one, displays an intensity fueled by concern.

“His name is Seth. He’s connected to Miguel, possibly his son. Y/N must approach this mission alone,” Kory explains, presenting the details to Kole.

“Hmph!” he huffs in frustration, floating beside you, his gaze burning a hole through you as he processes everything.

☆

You sit across from a guy attempting to project a tough image; a skull tattoo sprawls across his left hand, dominating its appearance. His table manners reek of disrespect, and his posture screams laziness. Honestly, you find yourself scolding him in your mind, channeling the voice of Damian as he would at the dinner table back home.

“So, what do you do, sweet thang?” he drawls, putting on a fake accent that’s painful to hear. You mentally cringe but choose to don your father’s persona— a player.

“Oh! I love computer science and mostly enjoy creating designs,” you reply, infusing your voice with cheerful enthusiasm. You use hand gestures to emphasize your points, feigning deep consideration over trivial topics.

The conversation rolls on smoothly until he starts to invade your personal space, attempting to touch your hand. Yikes. You pull back and feign fixing your hair, humming to distract him. The server has just delivered your drinks, so you pivot the discussion to his profession. He hesitates at first, but he eventually can’t resist showing off how "cool" he is. You suppress a smirk, realizing you’ve finally got him to divulge details about his father’s shady dealings.

Men are often easier than you expect; they wear their ignorance like a badge. Just as he dives into tales of his father's crimes, your attention shifts as you catch a glimpse of fiery red hair approaching.

No. Way.

You can't believe it when you see the tall, handsome boy with shimmering golden skin walking toward you. His wild curls are styled in a low ponytail, he’s rocking a green jersey with a purple top, ripped jeans, and Jordans. For someone still figuring out Earth culture, he’s mastered streetwear effortlessly.

“Excuse me! I need to use the restroom!” you state, making a beeline for the tall teen who seems to be scanning the area for you. Spotting you, he raises an eyebrow.

“Kole?!” you exclaim, quickly moving him away from the table you just vacated. “What are you doing here?!”

“My mother’s orders to investigate this boy. I intend to conduct a thorough investigation. Plus, I believe you might need saving. This Seth appears to be a monster in disguise,” he says, glaring at the guy who’s currently picking at his teeth.

“Kole, PLEASE don’t do this,” you implore, fully aware that you can't calm this towering alien.

“I am doing this,” he insists, his soft voice hardening.

“No, you’re not.” You gently cup his face, knowing he melts at your touch. “I absolutely am,” he retorts, grabbing your hands away from his face.

This is a disaster. You understand Kole's jealousy issue, and his stalker-like behavior is far from ideal. He starts walking towards Seth, but you tug at his hair, successfully arresting his attention.

“Kole. Listen, I’ll finish this up quickly, and we can watch those cartoons you love. Okay?” you negotiate, hoping to pacify him. When he turns to fully face you, you release his hair.

“Fine. But if he dares to touch you, I will step in,” he declares, settling back down with his arms crossed. You nod quickly and return to your booth. Kole doesn’t take a seat until a waiter guides him to a table. However, his gaze remains fixed on you as you feign naivety to play the part. This infuriates him, but what ignites his anger is when Seth dramatically wipes something from your lips.

“Here you go, sir—” the waiter starts, but the glass in his hand shatters under the sheer force of Kole’s grip.

The waiter scampers off, clearly spooked by the display of strength. Kole seethes, his glare locked on Seth. Each moment in the booth is torture for him. But as Seth leans in for what he intends to be a kiss, Kole is suddenly up, his hands radiating a green glow, ready to unleash a starbolt, when he finds himself encased in a swirling black ball of magic with purple lines, whisked away to where the team is gathered.

They’ve been keeping watch over you, especially since Damian, the overprotective brother he is, won’t let anyone take their eyes off you.

“Kole, calm down,” Raven advises, releasing him from her hold. He scoffs in disbelief. “How can I calm down when Y/N is being all overrun by some Zarbnof?” Jaime quickly covers his mouth, but that only makes things worse, as Kole thrashes against him, desperate to act.

“Seriously, never let us assign Y/N to these kinds of missions,” Jaime quips, and the others nod in agreement.

After the mission, you find yourself confined to Kole’s room in the Titans' tower, wrapped in his strong arms as he plants soft kisses all over you.

Never again it seems.

Kole Anders tag: @no-bishes @darkfaethedestroyer @dead-ry-walking @chalkadow @eclecticeaglebluebird @mistake34 @dandelion-delusion

[truuskn]

the transformers us, #9

jazz is so in love with earth music that he sincerely believes interrupting a song is a rude gesture on his part... guys, he's so cute, i can't, i love him so much... prowl doesn't fully understand it, but you can tell from his gentle expression that he welcomes his friend's passion, even if such behaviour seems a bit odd to him. the main thing is that it makes jazz happy <3

it seems a little strange at first, the way jazz reacts to human's fear towards cybertronians. not really... understanding, yk? it's a surprise to see him like this, he's kind of a person who should realise why things happen the way they do right now. he doesn't show his displeasure in front of the earthlings, of course not, he keeps trying to make contact with them, kindly and openly, but at the same time he's being quite harshly in their favour? reacting pretty roughly sometimes? there's never anything truly negative about it tho. he doesn't act out of anger, but out of frustration, determination and hope - he wants to get rid of misunderstanding, to explain himself, to open people's eyes to the truth, to clean autobots' name. he's pretty enthusiastic about it. maybe even a little too much, because, well, in his attempts to fight injustice and make things better he kidnaps a person... oops. although it works after all! my guy is just SO charming. plus at least he's not as critical and irrevocable as the rest of his comrades and doesn't curse the whole planet for the mistake of one "undesirable" person (the autobots sometimes are the ultimate drama queens, lmao)

btw, prowl, on the contrary, understands perfectly why people are so wary of all giant scary robots. he behaves in this situation with restraint and tact. yep, here's the upside to sticking to logic rather than emotions! he doesn't rush to judge and berate the humans, he looks at the situation more deeply than the others, he's one of the few who is sensible about their state of affairs and relationship with humanity. he even defends the honour of the earthlings to the rest of the autobots, and more than once, not letting some individuals go too far in expressing their displeasure :D and he's trying to explain his point of view to others, trying to help them to understand what is really going on, help them to look at the situation from a different angle

jazz: *uses human slang*

prowl: ...wha?...

i can imagine how funny their conversations might look sometimes!! jazz is throwing earthy expressions left and right while prowl is sweating his ass off trying to figure out what the hell his friend even means. the powerful tactical computer in his head isn't helping

prowl: jazz, my friend, i trust you completely, with my whole spark, you will definitely do well in this mission! good luck! 🫶

prowl: wheeljack... please, just. don't fuck up.

[inkformyblood]

punctual delays (MoShang, SVSSS)

If Shang Qinghua would rewrite the world again, he wouldn’t bother including An Ding Peak. It felt necessary the first time around, an easy way to silence the literary course critic on his shoulder who squeaked through the early chapter doubts about the logistics of things, where did the peaks get their food, general safeguarding practices around flying swords, a generic catch-all for all the mundane day-to-day workings, an overworked and underappreciated department. Jokes on him.

“—and that’s not even factoring in the claim made by Qiang Xia  about the state of her stock. If she decides to stop trading with us and renegotiate then we can expect an increase of forty percent.” Zhì Huì makes another lap of Shang Qinghua’s office, steps over the same pile of reports that she had originally walked around, and returns to her haunt at his other shoulder. “What do you think?”

Shang Qinghua is on his third day of a headache, his fourth day of sleeping at his desk, and his second favourite threat to his past self for spending hours slouched over a keyboard. He doesn’t answer her immediately, pressing his hands behind his hips and leaning back until something catches and releases, a set of guttural cracks echoing from his spine. Zhì Huì flinches, scowling as she adjusts her grip on the report to better use it as a potential weapon. Clearly been spending too much time around Shen Qingqiu.

“If Qiang Xia wants to fuck around, then she can find out.” Shang Qinghua straightens, turning to meet Zhì Huì’s gaze. She’s one of his better disciples, exactingly blunt with a press of her thumb on the scales and one of the few he can spare to chase Bai Zhan disciples around the peak to try and get them to explain what ‘mission-critical requests’ meant to them and why three packs of fresh rose petals wasn’t it. His curses get a blink and another tally added onto a chart in the disciple quarters, their own personal version of a doomsday clock. Shang Qinghua stands, a wash of static skittering down his leg and he braces one hand on his desk as he turns toward the window. It’s shuttered, a thin band of light slowly creeping across the ceiling towards a dark mark etched into the wood.

Fuck.

Shit.

Okay, it’s fine.

…Fuck.

Shang Qinghua claps his hands together, ignoring the debris tipping off the side of his desk, the uneasy swirl just behind his eyes. He’s spent longer than this crouched in front of his computer screen, bleeding out onto a blank word document for the sake of scraps thrown his way, worse somehow than hopping into a bin to search for his next meal because he is witnessed because of it. 

He has so much to do. Dying hadn’t alleviated the weight of his to-do, only altered it slightly. 

Another glance at his ceiling, sunlight wavering closer to the mark. 

“We have some contracts with the Huang family. It’s not quite the same prospects as Xia, but if we also reach out to Pan’s trading post out on the outskirts—” He wrote this shit, it isn’t insider trading if he created the marketplace in the first place “—as they’ve been wanting to get a foothold.” 

Zhì Huì’s stylus scrawled across the wax tablet at her waist, her tongue clamped between her teeth. She’s barely breathing in case it disturbs the ideas condensing in the air like a storm cloud, a few strands of hair coming loose from the tie at the nape of her neck and sticking to her cheek. 

Another glance at the ceiling. Shang Qinghua is running out of time. He’s worked himself to the bone, balancing the reports cascading over his desk from An Ding peak and every petty power struggle that the merchants want to engage in with the tower of assassination plots and other general dick-measuring that the demons want to try with their king’s, with Shang Qinghua’s king’s, human spy. He’s sick, he’s done. He wants air conditioning and enough caffeine to nuke his stomach and make him regret the life choices he hasn’t even made yet. “Okay. I’m done for the next few hours.” 

Zhì Huì nods once, her gaze flickering between Shang Qinghua and her tablet. He can’t even guess at what she sees as she looks at him; an imposter wearing a stolen shape of his own fucking creation, like seriously, Shang Qinghua, of all his characters, fucking why? 

“Get some sleep, Shizun.” She bows once and leaves the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. 

Shang Qinghua abandons his desk, his one constant in this shitstorm, and staggers the few steps to his bed, kicking a loose pile of papers out of his way. His king should be arriving soon, his arrival marked on the ceiling after one too many close calls with other disciples or Peak Lords now that he has forced his way through the ranks. It is a sequence they plot their lives around, a singular constant like the moon hanging heavy in the sky, a more constant companion for Shang Qinghua than the sun these days. He’ll sit and wait for his king. Close his eyes for a few minutes.

Just a few. 

There’s a hand in his hair, carefully skirting around the shell of his ear as the person, the man, thigh solid beneath his cheek, woodsmoke clinging to his clothes, carefully works through the tangles he finds. Shang Qinghua shifts, grumbling some nondescript complaint at the slight sting in his scalp, and the man stops. 

Wait.

What?

“My king!” Shang Qinghua yelps, throwing himself upright. It’s a scramble, limbs deadened by his impromptu nap, the desire to just stay where he is like he’s napping beneath blankets with the air conditioning going just because he fucking could, but he’ll never recover from it if he does.

Mobei-Jun watches him carefully. “This king was delayed,” he says, his voice tight. “He apologises for making Qinghua wait.”

The sun slants across the ceiling, several feet from the dark mark. Shang Qinghua doesn’t know how long he’s slept for, he can’t remember the last time he slept that well. “My king, this servant begs your forgiveness for missing the start of our meeting! He never intended to make you wait—“ Shang Qinghua apologises on reflex, his mouth moving and words spilling forth as he studies his king beneath lowered lashes.

There’s a faint flush on Mobei-Jun’s face, anger beneath the surface or the warmth of the Peak, if he had to guess. Shang Qinghua lowers his face to the bedsheets. He’s going to have to change them if he ever wants to sleep again, dammit. 

Still, it was the best sleep he’s had since he woke up in this world, and it’s all because of his king. 

[dostoyevsky-official]

Elon Musk Wants to Get Operational Control of the Treasury’s Payment System. This Could Not Possibly Be More Dangerous

I understated the extremity and danger of the situation we’re in even as a Judge on Friday issued a more comprehensive injunction against the executive orders which were designed to impound funds, OMB guidance or not, across the federal government. I also understated all the things ordinary Americans are in “danger” of learning about. It's now not just the “legal plumbing,” it's the payments plumbing too. This is now also the closest thing we’ve ever had to a payment system constitutional crisis.

So what happened? According to reporting on Friday — first at the Washington Post and then in more detail from CNN as well as the New York Times — the Fiscal Assistant Secretary of the United States Treasury David Lebryk has been put on paid administrative leave and plans to resign after refusing to give Elon Musk’s “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE) access to the operational details of the Treasury’s payment system and the data it processes. In particular, Musk’s DOGE team has been asking for what the New York Times reporting refers to as “source code information” since December and has been rebuffed. The CNN reporting specifically states that they were inquiring about the technical ability to stop payments.

Lebryk's understanding of the operational systems that undergird the functioning of the United States Treasury is far and away unparalleled. In particular, he is widely credited with being the person who is overwhelmingly responsible for the undisrupted continuity of cash inflows and outflows at the Treasury during the recurrent debt ceiling crises of the past 15 years while concurrently ensuring the debt ceiling limit was not breached.

[...] The danger is also not in the near future, it is here. Follow up reporting from the New York Times Saturday evening in an article straightforwardly informed readers in its headline that “Elon Musk’s Team Now Has Full Access to Treasury’s Payments System.”

[...] The internal treasury payments systems must function correctly; it just also matters what purposes it is being designed for. 

Musk and his cronies are clearly aiming to redesign the payments system to serve their agenda. This is not the attitude of people who are trying to simply technocratically make the payment system more “efficient.” They have a very clear and specific agenda, which involves unilaterally cutting spending, particularly spending they perceive to be going to their ideological foes. Is “Wokeness,” the “Green New Deal,” “Marxism,” and “Gender Ideology” going to be the new definition of an “improper payment"?

[...] Without political control of the payment's heart, the Trump administration and Elon Musk must chase down every agency and bend it to their will. They are in the process of doing that, but bureaucrats can notionally continue to respect the law and resist their efforts. They are helped in this effort by court injunctions they can point to. This is bureaucratic trench warfare. But if Musk and Trump can reach into the choke point, the Bureau of the Fiscal Service, they could possibly not need agency cooperation. They can just impound agency payments themselves. They could also possibly stop paying federal employees they have forced on paid administrative leave, coercing them to resign.

[...] For the past 36 hours (writing these words at Midnight on Saturday) my mind has returned over and over to the idea that they have been asking for “source code information” to the Treasury’s internal payments system.

[...] Anyone who knows or has known computer programmers of mission critical legacy IT systems can tell you about the stories of rafts of consultants who have come and gone attempting to understand how the system works so they can “modernize” it on the cheap. The vast majority of the time these consultants are either not able to do what they promise or are honest about the cost of updating the system without a mission critical system “going down,” leading management to balk.

[...] Does Elon Musk understand any of this? Does he have any grasp of the scale and complexity he is trying to reach into and exercise “influence”? Currently the most urgent and profound danger is not what he intends to make this sprawling apparatus do. The most immediate danger is what might break in the process of trying to get this apparatus to do what he wants.

[...] Elon Musk, however, has never shown respect or understanding of the concept of a mission critical IT system. All he sees is “inefficiency” because he doesn’t understand that there are some things in this world that need to function no matter what and you spend the additional money to make sure it runs, including when it's being updated.

This is ultimately not that big a deal when it comes to Twitter — Twitter can go down for a few hours, even a few days. [...] To put that another way, the same cannot be said about the system that makes sure the federal government is able to make payments reliably and on time. [...] It's also important to state that the number of people who comprehensively understand these legacy IT systems can likely be counted on two hands — and that may be optimistic.

[...] There is nothing more important on the entire planet than getting Elon Musk and DOGE out of the Bureau of the Fiscal Service and allowing career civil service employees to run the Treasury’s internal payments system without capricious and self-serving interference from billionaires and their allies. This effort must fail if we are to safeguard any semblance of due process and lawfulness in the executive branch. A vague anonymous promise that DOGE only has “read only” access is not enough. They need to be rooted out so that we can return to the slower moving, less dangerous, “five alarm fire” constitutional crisis we were having as of Friday morning.

[usnatarchives]

Katherine Johnson: The Mathematician Who Launched Astronauts into Space and Women into STEM 🚀👩‍🚀

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, where men first dreamed of reaching the stars, Katherine Johnson calculated the path that would get them there. This story isn't just about trajectories and orbits; it's about a woman whose brilliance in mathematics helped break the barriers of space and gender.

Johnson's journey began in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, where her curiosity and intelligence shone from an early age. Despite encountering segregation and sexism, she charted a course that would lead her to NASA, where her skills became indispensable to the success of the U.S. space program. Her calculations were critical to the success of the Mercury missions, including John Glenn's pioneering orbital flight, for which he specifically requested Johnson verify the computer's numbers. "If she says they're good," Glenn said, "then I'm ready to go."

But Johnson's contributions went beyond Mercury. She also played a role in the Apollo missions, including the first lunar landing, and her work on orbital mechanics laid the groundwork for the Space Shuttle program and plans for a Mars mission.

Her legacy is a beacon for women and people of color in STEM, symbolizing the power of intelligence and perseverance to overcome societal constraints. Johnson's story teaches us that the path to the stars is paved with determination, hard work, and an unwavering belief in one's own abilities.

Katherine Johnson's calculations helped lead humanity to the moon, but her impact extends far beyond the numbers. She charted a course for future generations of women in STEM, proving that the sky is not the limit—it's just the beginning. As we look up at the stars, we remember her legacy, not just as a mathematician, but as a trailblazer who launched us into a new era of exploration and equality.

[sunrisecaminus]

I have been reading your stuff for a while now and really would love some fluff and smut of either or both Ultra Magnus and Soundwave. Ultra Magnus has an adorable lisp that I just can't get over, it makes his character whole and charming. Soundwave is such a good bean, I really love how he protects his cassettes like they are his children.

Message - I did Soundwave only. Ultra Magnus is my baby boy, so don't worry. I will be making my own fanfics once in a while. I will most likely do an Ultra Magnus fanfic soon.

Soundwave x Human Reader NSFW

Summary - Soundwave treats his human after leaving to complete a mission for too long!

Warning - NSFW

Soundwave has been getting more work than normal. This man has been getting physical missions more often as well, which is usually not a good thing. He usually stays inside the ship and types on his computer, but everyday you try to look for him and he isn't there. When he is gone, you had nothing to do. Usually Laserbeak would play with you, or you could play puzzles with Soundwave…but alas, they are not here for you to hang out with. You were so tired of this, that honestly you want to go up to Megatron right now and tell him yourself why he should stop Soundwave from going on these missions! He is right at his throne right now! You stomp over to his pedes and-

…

So you are now in Soundwave's room, hiding from the scary Warlord. You locked yourself inside so Megatron couldn't get to you and climb up on his birth. You forgot that Megatron didn't like you and also didn't like it when people criticize his orders, so for now you are stuck in the 2nd in command's quarters. It has been a few hours since you knew Soundwave left, so you were ready to scold him when he got back. For now, you are jumping on his birth and lay on the sheets. You see a few things in his birthroom that usually people would look pass like it was nothing. It seemed very minimalist with only a bland desk and chair. It had some data pads with some decorative jars on the back corner. He has shown you what the jars had in them and honestly it has to be the cutest thing ever. There was a bunch of trinkets that Laserbeak would collect on her journeys that she would like to have. Every jar had hundreds of them, protected by the thick sealing. On the walls, there was frames of red and black paintings that kind of look like the human version of modern art, but it was actually Laserbeak's paintings she tried to make. You never knew why people were so afraid of the second in command…but you were about to find out today.

You hear the door unlocking and opening. Laserbeak comes into view with Soundwave, flying over and landing right next to you. "Hi sweetie!" You hug her with open arms and start to pet her head. You were so happy to see her finally, thankfully she was not injured today so it seemed to have been successful. Soundwave doesn't say anything like usual, but he is feeling something different today. He almost lost Laserbeak in the fight he just had, and is very overprotective right now. He watches you and Laserbeak playing with each other and it was making him feel things he shouldn't for someone like you. He needed to calm down, or everything would get messy. Soundwave was feeling, hungry. You look over to see him staring and huff. "Y'know I tried to talk to Megatron earlier! You keep leaving me alone with nothing to do!" You fold your arms in a joking fashion and look a little angry. Soundwave just doesn't move and keeps thinking, Primus you were so cute. He couldn't believe the bravery you had to even say anything to Megatron with how much of a dumpster fire he is. You kept ranting to him on how you felt lonely and honestly, all he could think about is your face. Laserbeak was playfully supporting you, being behind your body and nodding in agreement. Oh, you don't want him to leave? He will get as close to you as he could to help you forgive him.

…

Laserbeak left to go back to scouting, you and Soundwave ate your respective meals as you read some of the data bases that Soundwave was given. You could read it a little, the cybertronian language was a bit hard to understand. You could tell that it was letters to him sent by Megatron, Knockout, and some soldiers. Soundwave was on his birth, watching you in the corner of his eye as he shifts through his drawer to get some buffing done. You just looked so pretty in his eyes, he never knew humans would be so pretty when they don't even do anything to be that way. If you put on make-up he thinks the creativity makes you even more pretty. Nothing you do can make you ugly in his eyes…nothing. All he wanted to do was make you see what he sees. He wanted you to relax and let him make you appreciated, he wanted you to feel loved. As he is having a love spell casted on him, you were just chillin. Grabbing a pencil, you start to draw on the data pad to make cute pictures beside the data pads. Honestly, you were so bored without anything to do on this ship. Soundwave bought you a bunch of stuff, but it wouldn't get here until next month. Drawing and having fun with soundwave was almost everyday, but right now, you wanted to do something different. You feel something wrap around your wrist and see it was a wire connected to Soundwave's tendrils. "Oh? What's up!" You look over to see Soundwave staring at you like he was before, giving you nothing on his screen to communicate what he wants. "Uh-Hey big man what's going on?" Again, he doesn't say anything while another tendril circles you, wrapping around your hips.

You feel yourself being picked up, as the tendrils support your body with a nice and comfortable embrace. Feeling his touch, you were curious on what he wanted from you. He brings you closure to his frame and looks at your vulnerable state…yeah, he couldn't control himself anymore. His tendril holding your wrist lets go and starts to rub against your legs, going from the outside to the inner thigh, massaging you so your body could relax. His touch was nice, though you never knew he would be so touchy. The feeling of the wires touching around your sensitive areas made you a bit dazed, watching them slide in between your legs as they tug on your pants. "Mmm…Soundwave, you ok?" The moment you asked his head perked up a bit. Not his little human try to care about him when he is suppose to be treating you. His body gets a bit hot from the love he is feeling right now and takes your pants off slowly. Before you could say anything else, you feel a tendril tying itself around your head, forcing your mouth closed by covering your lips. You feel your folds being played with by the wires as they enter inside your walls. Hearing your moans being muffled by his tendrils made Soundwave want to continue, grabbing at your thighs and hips. He realized there wasn't a way for him to show you how beautiful you were…he had to think of something before you could cum. Thinking about it, he gets an idea and hovers you close to his face mask. At first you were embarrassed on how close you got…but it got worse when Soundwave's face turned into a mirror like screen. You can see yourself on his face naked and bounded by his strength. Watching with your owns eyes the tendrils going in and out of your vagina was so flattering. He watches as your face gets bright pink and struggle against his grip…Soundwave enjoyed your little playful reaction.

It continued…for hours. He would massage your body to give you a break, but than go back into the action. He calculates that you have released about four times now, knowing you won't be able to keep this going any longer. You weren't moaning anymore, you were just making sweet uneducated noises at him. Your brain was clouded, your legs were weak, and your crotch has never felt hotter before…cumming for the fifth time today. Soundwave retracted his tendrils away from you to look at his masterpiece. Your human body shakes a little from the events that just happened, feeling you would pass out if he tried to do it again. You hear a small click sound and see that he just took a picture of your body, saving it in his processor. "Soundwave! N-no!" All you could hear from him is a small evil chuckle. Yeah, Soundwave will never delete that picture if his life depends on it.

[thewretched1999]

── .✦ have my heart.

cw: established relationship, angst, brief mentions of violence/blood/gore, implied past sui ideation. a/n: first somewhat long fic of mine!!! ive had it sitting there and was trying to finish it all morning so happy i did! ty in advance for reading :3 wc: 3k

Time has a way of passing by quietly, leaving only small hints that it’s slipping through your fingers, going unnoticed until suddenly what was once clean and shining is now caked with dust and riddled with cobwebs.

Yet Leon’s items remain spotless as ever.

It’s become routine by now, even if the rest of the house is in disarray, his office is spotless. As much as it pains you to step foot inside and wipe his desk down at least once a week, it’s the only thing you can bring yourself to actually clean. If only to be surrounded by memories.

Photos, trinkets and files adorn the room, the bottle of whiskey you gifted him for his birthday sits near his computer, the glass shot waiting patiently like you for him to return. The landline on his desk beeps red with voicemails from friends, you checked the first few a couple months ago. Even they don’t know what’s going on.

You knew that if something ever happened to him, and god you prayed everyday that it never would, that you would be left in the dark until they found something to bring home. 

But what do you do with radio silence? How do you deal with the grief of having nothing to mourn over? 

It’s been months. A couple more and it’ll be a year. 

Still no body.

The house is deathly still, frozen in time. Sometimes the couch becomes your bed when you can’t bring yourself to spend another night in the empty bedroom, the decorative throw pillow and blanket from last fall always laid out. It’s the only thing that smells like him, reminds you of the times when you’d be curled up against his side watching some action movie, listening to him criticize it or make some dry comment, because who knows better than him of course.

His scent isn’t as strong as it used to be, fades away day after day, but it feels like he’s still there, you hold onto that tiny sliver of him while wallowing in regret about having done the laundry the day he left on that damn mission, it devastates you when you bring a shirt of his up to your nose and find only the scent of fresh linen.

You hold onto hope, as fine as grains of sand, that he’ll come home safe and sound. That you’ll wake and find him sliding into bed as quietly as possible, always mindful to not wake you. With his strong arms wrapped around your waist as he murmurs an apology and presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek.

But it never comes, and lately, neither does sleep. 

Leon haunts your every waking moment, how could he not? It’s unhealthy to spend every moment in grief, but the love you have for him threatens to consume you whole when you finally decide to lay in bed.

The photograph on your nightstand mocks you night after night. A rare smile on his face, his cheek squished against yours, arms wrapped gently around you while you threaten to strangle the life out of him with yours.

The voicemails he’s left you in the past play on loop. Sometimes when you’re cooking, hearing him talk about his day on his break makes your existence feel a little less lonely. His things stay just as he left them, and sometimes you let yourself think that maybe.

 Just maybe. 

 He’ll walk through that door, and you’ll come alive again.

Little by little you were finally starting to take control of your life. 

Although it was as hard as a thousand count puzzle, missing a few jigsaw pieces and all, it was certainly better than it was in the beginning. It’s been a year and some months already, a heartfelt intervention knocked some sense into you. Friends you hadn’t seen, ambushing you with their love and worry, forcing you to remember you weren’t completely alone.

Gently letting you know that even though your heart will always belong to Leon, no amount of wallowing in your misery and self destruction will bring him back. That it’s just how things are. The shitty cards you were dealt with.

Your home and heart will always have traces of him, you won’t move on but you won’t let yourself fall behind either, you learn things could be easier if you would just give it a chance. The door to his office is closed now, weekly visits turned into monthly ones. Instead of listening to his voice when you cook, it’s the sound of your friends talking your ear off now.

The couch still has that same throw blanket and pillow waiting for you, his scent long gone, replaced by crisp rain and eucalyptus instead, at least that’s what fabric softener says. On some days, it gets to you all over again, claws its way up your throat and comes out in the form of endless tears and wails that could put a banshee to shame.

But today was a good day. You’d done some housework, got takeout and had a nice night in to finally finish a series you’d started with Leon, he would’ve hated the ending, you’re sure of it.

It’s only in the middle of the night when you’re finally dozing off, the sleeping pills prescribed to you leaving you drowsy enough to almost—almost—not hear the sound of someone knocking on the front door. It’s quiet as a mouse yet still alarming, tears away what little sleep you had finally managed to nearly slip into, reluctantly you rush out of bed to go check the peephole. 

If it was an intruder you’re sure they wouldn’t knock first.

You pad down the hallway, remembering Leon’s words, that if anyone ever did break in, the hall was a good choke point, all you had to do was run back down to the bedroom and grab the gun. 

The knocking grows in its volume with each step you take, until it stops as suddenly as it began, you hold your breath, before you watch the doorknob twist slowly, it doesn’t open yet. The top lock still set in place. 

Whoever is on the other side gives it a couple of tries before they too seem to realize—there’s another lock.

That one jiggles shortly after and unlocks with a loud thunk, never in your life did you think your flight or fight reaction would be to freeze until now, Leon would be barreling to get you to safety, scooping you up or shoving you behind him by now, but he’s not here to save you.

The door opens slowly and steadily, a figure in the doorway is illuminated by the porch light outside, bright enough to let you see who it is, the sight only makes your heart stop.

“Oh my god—“ You whisper in disbelief, taking a step back you almost stumble but the end table catches you. A framed photograph takes the fall instead, the glass shattering into thousands of little pieces just like all the progress you’ve made.

Blonde strands, once soft and neat now disheveled and caked with blood and gore, his face is the same, nearly identical to the Leon you lost—if you could ignore the inhuman black veins that have taken root underneath his sickly pale skin. 

God, it seems, has listened to your pleas and taken pity on you, but you didn’t know he could be cruel, didn’t know prayers could be misheard. You wanted Leon back safe and sound, but not like this.

If you look closely there’s some crimson streaks by his mouth, haphazardly wiped away, but the evidence stains his arms and neck. Smeared there in a way that leads to one conclusion, you’re sure if he bares his teeth at you, your theory would be confirmed.

The key in his hand clatters to the floor, snapping you out of your petrified state. You don’t know whether to run to him or to run away. Your body does though, forcing you to take another step back, legs shaking like a leaf and hand coming up to press against your mouth, muffling the sounds of fear threatening to escape your lips.

He steps inside, shuts the door like he’s coming home after just another long day, and the smell hits you hard, iron and death clinging to him like a cloak, suffocating the clean scent of the wall plug in nearby.

“What happened…?” You finally sob, trying to keep the tears at a minimum but it’s nearly impossible with the way you’re hiccuping and gasping for air, fighting the urge to wretch both from the disgusting smell and overwhelming emotions.

He doesn’t respond with words, just grunts. It’s low and strained and not at all what you wanted to hear. 

His arms reach for you, threatening to pull you into a hug and you move further away, backing up down the hall, in confusion, he follows.

“No…! Leon, please, please—” You’re begging through broken sobs, voice getting louder and more desperate. It’s only then that he stops, with a pained expression on his face that makes you feel like shit for reacting this way. 

This is hard for him too, no doubt it’s worse than what you’re feeling, you don’t know what he had to do to come back home to you but you know that whatever it was, he needs you more than you need him right now. Despite yourself, you decide to compromise.

“Let’s…let’s wash you first.” You manage to say, he looks down at himself almost like he forgot he was covered in blood before nodding, following you loyally down the hall, and into the bathroom.

You don’t want to touch him, but you know you have to, the love you had for him still shines through in the way you carefully help him remove his clothes, tattered and torn in some parts, throwing them off to the side, forcing yourself to not grimace or stare at the sight of his body, pale flesh riddled with new fresh scars and black streaks.

Leon can’t stand the look in your eyes, he’s not stupid, it's pity and overwhelming fear he sees. He knows this isn’t what you expected, but he can’t do anything about it now. He wants to soothe your fears, offer words of reassurance but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out except a low grumble that has your eyes snapping up to meet his. 

He hates it, a twisted part of him, the one compromised by the virus, enjoys the fear he sees, but Leon breaks contact before he does anything stupid, steps into the tub and sits down, he remembers this routine vividly, the one you saved for nights he needed your love and care more than anything in the world, tilts his head back and looks up at you expectantly. 

Pleased when he sees you leaning over to turn the water on, checking it and making sure it’s perfect for him, even if you’re terrified. He’s never come home looking like this, always made sure to come home clean, but that wasn’t an option tonight and unfortunately it’s your job to do this for him.

Gentle hands comb through his matted hair, lathering up the shampoo and washing the blood and grime away. If you closed your eyes you could almost pretend this was normal, but it feels like you’re showering a bad dog who mauled a rabbit instead of your boyfriend.

The water shifts to a different color, going from clear to a soft pink thanks to the blood, your stomach churns at the sight before you reach down into the water and pull the plug out, letting the tub drain before turning the shower head on to rinse him off while you scrub him down.

Leon lets out a small hum of contentment, eyes fluttering shut as he bows his head, the hot water and steam feel like bliss to him, it makes it even better you’re caring for him like you had in the past, he’s missed this more than anything, prefers it far more to what he’s been going through these past months. 

You almost miss it, but when you go back to run the washcloth across his chest again, you feel it before you hear. The little vibrations rumbling underneath the surface, he’s purring. 

It’s almost cute. Albeit inhuman.

“What happened…?” You finally manage to ask the question that’s been eating at you since you saw him again. Leon tenses, looks away from you and you take the chance to really look at him again. His muscles are a little more defined than you last remember, his body is virtually the same no signs of malnurishment anywhere so where was he? 

“Can…can you talk?” You ask again quietly, He looks at you for a moment, before shaking his head no. You press your lips tightly together before nodding and letting the silence settle over again.

It doesn’t take long until you can deem him spotless, helping him up and out, towel wrapped around his waist and your hand tentatively pressed against his back, guiding him towards the bedroom.

Once he’s changed and ready for bed, only then does Leon try to initiate anything. This time it’s a kiss, but you turn away quickly before his lips could meet yours.

“I—I can’t,” You mumble,” Not…not right now.” heart aching because god you want to, dreamt of this for months, but everything is too fresh, too raw.

The rejection stings more than he thought it would, his shoulders tense before they slump as he stares down at you, he wants to make you look at him, to give him the affection he’s been starved of, but he doesn’t. He can’t afford to do anything that’ll make you pull away from him even more than you already have. So he just grunts and nods again, settles for a hug instead, he deserves it after all. 

He’s still gentle. Mindful of his new-found strength, once your arms wrap around him he buries his face into your hair and breathes you in, he’s still just as addicted to your presence as he was before. He can ignore your hesitation so long as you love him. Or pretend to.

It’s not long after, that you help him settle into bed, pull the covers up and over his body, ignoring the way your fingers accidentally brush against his deathly cold skin. Even after a hot shower it seems nothing could bring that warmth back. 

And even though you’re still terrified, you lean down and press a kiss to his temple.

His eyes stay focused on your form as you pull away, watching each step you take, tense and on edge, worried you’d leave him when he needs you most, he only relaxes once you settle on the bed beside him. 

Did it hurt? You wonder, heart aching at the thought, you don’t want to know the answer. 

In his line of work you could only imagine what it would’ve been like, but the thought still lingers, you force yourself to focus on the task at hand and think about anything else other than the fact he was alone when he…died? Changed? You don’t know. But he’s back.

The mattress dips down slightly as you shift, unable to take your eyes off him, staring at him like you’ve done so many times in the past. He looks so…peaceful, just like the last time you’d seen him, yet so, so different, you can’t look past the black inky veins that litter his body, starts on his neck where his pulse is and goes up his face and down his body, dancing and taunting you, almost saying no, he’s not the same, but he could be.

The scent of decay is long down the drain, replaced by fresh pine and lavender, but still ingrained into your mind as you lay on your side facing him. You know the blood was human blood. Leon’s hand comes up shaky and uncertain as it cups your cheek, it makes you flinch, just as he expected.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, voice breaking, it’s all you can offer him, an apology and a little bit of your warmth as you place your shaking hand atop his.

His eyes, now a cloudy blue, stare back into yours, nothing more could be said. The silence that settles over you both is a mockery of the comfort you had once found in each other in the past, it’s as heavy as lead, but for tonight you pretend. A part of you wonders if his head is as vacant as his eyes are.

You hope it isn't, you hope that maybe the man you love (loved?) with all your heart is still there, with his furrowed brow and quick tongue.

You were torn, trying to convince yourself that maybe this was your Leon, but the fear remained. If it wasn’t, if there was a chance he was too far gone, could go haywire any moment and hurt you, would it be the right thing to do to grant him the mercy of a painless death? To let his body finally rest and free him from this existence?

Would he forgive you if you did?

You’re sure you remember how to use the gun he gifted you, kept it tucked underneath your pillow incase, with one round loaded that used to be meant for you if the grief became too much to bear. All you had to do was take the safety off and wait for him to go to sleep.

It’s only until you feel his thumb brushing against your cheek that you focus on him again.

His lips are moving, slowly but surely, even if nothing comes out. You barely realize he’s mouthing something to you, does it over and over again until he sees the realization in your eyes.

‘I love you.’ He mouths.

Your nostrils flare, and you swallow thickly, tears quickly welling up in your eyes again. 

All Leon knows is that he’s home, he’s here with you again, and that should be enough.

[gwydionmisha]

Air traffic controller’s union says staffing levels are critically low

Remember how Reagan fired the experienced air traffic controllers and hired inexperienced scabs to take over and the rate of plane crashes went up? Yeah.

[jojissalsa]

Perfect body, Pretty face

Warnings: dom!Leon x fem/sub!reader, power dynamics (boss/assistant), daddy kink, mentions of nudes/sex work, taking pictures during sex, facial, condescension, slight praise, mentions of age gap (reader is in mid 20s), clothes ripping (tights), reader is bratty at some point.

hello again :3 i wanna post what i can while i have the time, so i can kinda build this page up. hope u guys enjoy this one even if i feel like i made a few mistakes and lmk where i can improve! constructive criticism, reposts and requests are always welcome :D (minors don’t interact, touch grass.)

WC: 3.3k (proofread)

When Leon first came to the D.S.O, he expected bigger missions and harder work. Not boring ass reports and paperwork. The missions were definitely longer, which meant piles atop piles of paperwork that would take longer than it should. When the D.S.O realized Leon needed more time on his reports compared to the rookies or standard agents, they gave him a hand. You, his new assistant. And god, were you helpful. You were more than a sight for sore eyes, you were distracting at first, but even more so as he got to know you. You even remembered his favorite coffee order, and what he liked most for lunch. To him, you were just doing a good job. But in reality, you just wanted to get in his pants more than anything.

Your last boss was such a douchebag, the typical mansplaining and ungratefulness. But Leon? He was such a sweetheart, and so understanding. He didn’t get annoyed when you made a tiny mistake, a couple minutes late or working slower at the end of your shift. You knew damn well your attraction to him was bad for you and this job, but Eve still ate that apple didn’t she? You were the same, always attracted to forbidden fruit. But when it was Leon, who cares about forbidden? It just adds to the flavor. Obviously being an assistant didn’t make the most money, but at least you got a pretty face to work with. And there’s no shame in a side hustle, right? That’s what you thought when you made a Twitter account when you first became an assistant, well, intern at first. The job was so damn stressful and your shitty boss didn’t help. It was harmless fun at first, posting a few lewd pictures of your cleavage or in cute two-piece bathing suits you got. And then it got even lewder, posting pictures of your bare tits, dim lighting from your computer, things like that until you said fuck it and showed all the goods. Complaining about your shitty boss became part of your brand, as well as the faceless part of your nudes. You never showed your face, only your hair if it was a full body picture, not because you were ashamed of what you were doing. Not in the slightest, actually. You were just worried about word spreading around the office, especially since you were getting fairly popular. No face, no case, right? Plus, it’s not like anyone had x-ray vision to see if you had the same tits. It’s not like it hurt business either, you had a perfect body. You weren’t the skinniest person in the world, average like most people’s bodies. But to you, it was perfect. It suited you and flaunting it made you happy.

Your brand definitely shifted when you changed bosses, less complaining about how much your job sucked to more complaining about how badly you needed your boss to look at you differently. Pictures of you up-skirt under your desk whenever he wasn't looking or left to grab you both coffee or lunch, captions that always mentioned him.

"is it bad that my boss gets me this wet?"

"wish my boss would crawl under my desk and take care of this ;p"

And they would only get more and more risky. Posts of your increasingly skimpy outfits and a courtesy picture of you out of them captioned "you guys think my boss will like? lol". A video of you cumming in the bathroom at work, another where you cheekily slipped your fingers in your cunt, rubbing your slick over your clit before giggling as you turn the recording off.

Leon really didn’t mean to find something of yours this personal, he was just a guy looking for porn where he knew he could find it. He may be old but the man still needs to get off. And he was a man of taste, he liked the amateur stuff, and he knew Twitter had it. When he stumbled across your account, he thought it was perfect. At first he didn't know it was you, but by your most recent posts, it was obvious. You never name dropped him, or even said what he looked like, only saying he was fine and looked like a dilf, which was definitely an ego boost when he figured out it was you. It was easy, really. He was bored at night, couldn’t sleep like usual, and hoped that jacking off would clear his head a bit. It didn’t clear his head in the slightest when he saw your most recent video. It was of you working overtime, fingering yourself on his desk. Biting your lip to stay quiet but failing miserably as your fingers keep rubbing against that spongy spot in your walls, palm slapping against your clit. The best part? You said his name while you came. Maybe not his full name, but the way you let it out subconsciously, saying "Mr. Kennedy" in the most pornographic way possible, realizing you did and then giggling when you felt no remorse. Only an "oh shit" and a cutesy laugh as you abruptly ended the video. He was gonna say something tomorrow. He had to.

The second you walk in the door with that polite smile you always have, cute pink blouse and short pencil skirt, he waves you over to his desk. "Y/n, come here for a sec." His stern tone makes you blush and immediately walk over after setting down your bag. "Yes, sir? Is there something you need from me?" You expect him to say he needs a file or some kind of paper, but he shocks you when he turns his monitor around to show your twitter page. "You know anything about this?" You don't show it on your face, but the way you clench your jaw makes it obvious. You've got a good poker face, he'll give you that. "No sir, am I supposed to?" You get a bit of an attitude, mainly because he just totally called you out. "I don't know, you tell me." He scrolled very little down to your last post, the video. You gulp, knowing damn well you said his name. "Is that you saying my name?" His tone is still stern, but it feels more teasing now, considering his cocky smirk. He has you in a corner. "Don't you think it's a little sleazy to be prying into my personal hobbies?" Your attitude gets more prominent, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp glare. You were more prideful than anything, his smugness starting to piss you off because of how turned on you were getting. "Don't you think it's a bit slutty to finger fuck yourself on my desk?" When he shot back at you with that you froze, face going completely red. Not only was he right, you had no room to talk about his habits, but the way he said it was so fucking hot it lit a fire in you, shockwaves shooting straight to your clit.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, your lips parted as you felt your pulse throbbing between your thighs, knowing your panties were soaked. "You gonna say something or just come over here already? Stop wasting my time, I have work to do." It was instant when he said that, hips swaying as you walked to him, holding your hands in front of you as you looked down at the ground. "What's got you all shy? You certainly weren't shy last night." His teasing was really getting to you, making your lips squeeze as you shift your thighs again, your chest feeling so heavy with every breath you took. "Didn't I tell you not to waste my time? Sit on my desk and spread your legs." Your breath hitches at his demanding words, hopping up on his desk and spreading your legs. You thank god that it was a little chilly today, making you wear sheer black tights. Not that you'd be wearing them long, you just hope the wet spot on your panties wasn’t noticeable. "Jesus, soaked through your fucking tights? You're that excited?" His teasing made you go wide eyed, whimpering at his smug gaze piercing through you. "Yes sir.." You finally manage to speak, even if it sounds breathless and needy. Your eyes stay steady on him, taking in every feature you can. You lick your lips from the sight of his hard cock pressed against his tight slacks, not daring to close your legs in the slightest even if you were desperate for friction. "See something you like?" You watch him palm over his hard on, just watching something that sinful makes you moan softly. "I thought you said not to waste your time? What are you waiting for?" You throw any bit of shyness out the window, brattiness taking its place instead. After all, he meddled into something private, why make it easy for him? That’s no fun~

His brows furrowed as he gives you an annoyed look, groaning in frustration as he shoots up from his office chair and grabs your waist, pulling you from his desk and flipping you to bend over. He certainly doesn't waste any time now, pulling your skirt up and ripping a massive hole in your tights, making you gasp and squirm, turning your head to try and see the damage. "Don't complain, no point in denying you like it. Why else are your panties fucking drenched?" You throw him a frustrated glare before grumbling something about those being expensive under your breath. "Sorry, what was that?" You gasp as his hand slams down harshly on your ass cheek, whining at his gentle kneading on the now stinging red spot. "You're trying so hard to be bratty, when you're usually such a sweet girl. Always coming here early, bringing me coffee, remembering my favorite lunch. You don't do that because you like this job, hell, a slut like you doesn’t care about working hard. You do it because you want my attention." His hand keeps kneading the fat of your ass, making you back up into his palm for more. That doesn't stop your attitude though. "Oh boo hoo, as if you didn't love every second of it. How'd you even find my page? The nursing home gives you internet after 10?" Your bitchy tone doesn't go unnoticed by him, and neither does your smug smirk that is clearly challenging him, if anything it lights the same fire inside him, dick twitching under his slacks. He shoots you a glare that says "you really wanna do this?", as if you care about that silly warning. What's the worst he could do? "Y'know they shouldn't give a pervy old man like you access to stuff like that, it rots your brain~" You get cut off by another slap on your ass, harder than the last one, he doesn't even bother to soothe the sting with his hand. "Pervy old man? Then what are you? Some slut thinking of her boss's cock all day. How high and mighty." Another slap, and you're already unraveling by the second, the tingling sensation from his spanks sending shock after shock to your clit.

"You go on and on about me on that damn site for thousands to see, so why not take what you want? You're getting nowhere by being an ungrateful brat." He's really starting to make sense with how desperate you are to be touched, for that release you so desperately need. And with how hard his spanking is getting, it's making your head dizzy. He presses his hard-on against your ass, making you whine and grind against him. That's not enough for him though, he needs you to say it, the same way you said his name last night. "C'mon pretty girl, get what you want and ask for it, I know you can." He grinds against your ass, finally snapping through the sane part of your brain. "Fuck! Fine, please, please give it to me, I can't wait anymore, please Mr. Kennedy.." You beg in a gravelly voice, nails digging into his desk as the neediness in you builds. "Need what? You can say it." He slaps your ass again, a little gentler now that you're finally getting there, sliding his hand down to press his thumb on the gusset on your panties, hissing at how wet it felt. "Your cock, Leon, please, I need your cock so bad.." You whimper in broken fragments from your voice breaking, sighing in relief as he finally pulls down your panties, feeling your slick connect to them in strings and the cool air contrasting how hot you feel. As you heard the sound of metal clinking and a zipper pulled down you wished he flipped you over, because you really wanted to see his cock, turning your head in a desperate attempt to steal a quick glance. "Don't worry baby, you'll get a good look later." You don't care enough to question him, you care more about his tip pressed against your folds, threatening to stretch you open.

The coil of anticipation that's released when he finally slides inside you is the most euphoric feeling, growling as he fills you completely, balls nestled right against your clit. "Fuck, barely had to do anything and it slipped in so easy. Like you were made to take this cock, huh, sweetheart?" He goes slow at first, letting you adjust to his thick size, agonizing in how slow he drags his cock along your walls. All you can mutter is 'yes' like a mantra to keep you in reality, but every stroke is sending you further into that cloudy part of your brain where all you can think about is how you can feel everything. His hands on your hips to keep you in place, the way his cock kisses right against your cervix then pulls all the way out just to make you drunk off the feeling, his low and heavy grunts dangerously close to your ear, and it's all getting you even more impatient and needy. "Leon, please, go faster, need it faster." You speak through broken sobs and high pitched whines, looking back at him with a pleading pout. You can't say no to this cute face, can you? His nails dig into your hips, finally fucking you faster, and so much harder, you can feel the air in your lungs get choked out with every harsh thrust. "Just can't help yourself, can you? So fucking impatient." He can hear you getting louder, and between you and the sound of skin slapping against wet skin, he can at least silence one. "So loud, the whole fucking office can probably hear you." He puts his hand over your mouth and pulls your head up, body arching backwards as your head meets his shoulder. You can barely make out his smug grin as he looks down at you, glossy eyes with blown out pupils, your cheeks flushed a deep red.

"You look so pretty like this, looking up at me without a thought in that pretty little head. Just needed Daddy to fuck you stupid, huh?" He gets a wicked chuckle at your wide eyes, the way you clench tighter and move your hips to meet his rhythm. You curse yourself mentally for tweeting about that godforsaken daddy kink you have, or any of your kinks because now he knows every little thing that makes you tick. How frustrating. "Ohhh, didn't think I would look that far? You have no idea, spent hours looking at your stuff, even during missions I couldn't help but think about this sweet pussy wrapped around my cock." Your expression goes blank at his words, completely cockdrunk. You know you shouldn't do any of this, you can only imagine how much trouble you’d be in if someone walked in right now. But who could blame you? You couldn't name a single person who would throw away an opportunity like this. Who needs responsibility when you could have the simple yet intense pleasure that Leon Kennedy brings?

"Almost went crazy when I heard my name in that dirty fucking mouth, never been that hard in my life. Gonna make sure that mouth is full of my name every chance I get." You scream and whimper, the sound rumbling against his hand as you get closer and closer, toes curling into your heels. The sight is so damn beautiful to him, and he just has to see what you look like when you cum in person. When you cum on his cock, not some silly toy that could never satisfy you the way he can. His free hand takes its time sliding up your blouse to palm your tits over your bra, his fingers raking over the soft skin of your stomach before stilling at your bunched up skirt around your waist, right above your clit. "You wanna cum, don't you, baby? You're gonna be good and ask nicely, yeah? Go ahead, tell Daddy you wanna cum." He moves his hand away from your mouth but keeps your head up, gripping your face instead, watching as you greedily suck in air between mindless moans. "Please Daddy, please, please, please let me cum, need to cum so fucking bad-" Your pathetic babbling cuts off when his fingers put pressure on your clit, rubbing fast circles that make your brows frown as your walls clench, the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone. "There you go, such a good girl, asking me so nicely. Cum for me, sweet girl, cum on my cock for me." And you do, harder than you have in a while, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see white spots, those sweet, broken sobs leaving your lips involuntarily, moaning his name as he slows down.

Before you know it, you're on your knees in front of him, finally getting a full, up close and personal view of his fat cock. He's thick, pre-cum pearling at his tip as he uses your slick to finish himself off, fisting his cock feverishly. "Told you you'd get a better look, now open up sweetheart. Gonna cover that pretty face in my cum, maybe even take a picture for those depraved little boys that get off on you." He’s one to talk.. His grunts and soft whimpers between his words make you bite back an eager grin, lolling your tongue out and getting blessed with the salty taste on his tip. You keep your lips pursed on his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes that make his cock kick in his hand, your own hands resting on his thighs. He pulls some hair away from your face with his free hand and keeps it there as he finally coats your cheeks and tongue with pools of cum, chuckling through breathless moans as he slaps his cock on your tongue. He grabs his phone as his free hand leaves your hair to press his thumb on your tongue, keeping your mouth open. He groans with a smug smirk as you look up into the camera, a clear, empty head as drool dribbles down your chin and onto his fingers holding your chin. "You'll get this picture tonight when I drive you home, 'kay?" He helps you back to your feet, cleaning off your face with his handkerchief and pulling your skirt down, fixing your wrinkled blouse. “Now go finish those reports for me, try not to work too slow, don’t wanna work overtime, do you?” He softly strokes your back, coaxing you closer to your desk. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy.." You breathe out, still wobbly on your feet as you walk to your desk, feeling the sting on your ass as you sit down, shivering at the tingle. Worth it.

[rebeliz7]

We have to stop meeting like this

Natasha Romanoff x Doctor Reader 

Request: Can you do Natasha x non avenger/reader where reader is very possessive and protective over her wife “Listen pal. There are two things I need from you. Number 1 is get away from my wife and number 2 is stay the hell away from my wife.” Natasha finds her wife’s treats very amusing, considering she’s the black widow and can more than well take care of herself.

Word Count: 2255

…

You’re about to leave the hospital, your shift having just ended, when your phone rings. 

You see Steve’s name on the screen, and your heart stops for a second before you slide a trembling finger across the screen to answer. 

“You need to come in.” He says after murmuring a soft greeting, and you immediately become terrified. 

“Steve, is she - ”

“She’s okay.” He hurries to explain, probably realizing his mistake. “She’s fine, she’s a little beaten up, but she’s fine.”

“She’s alive.” You assure yourself, before taking a deep breath, and gathering your things. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

…

The moment you get to the Compound you know that Steve was more than vague in his explanation, because you walk into the most chaotic state you’ve ever seen the Avengers in. 

Thor is speaking loudly, his voice booming and making the windows shake lightly while Tony rubs his temples, trying to soothe a certain headache. Sam is nursing a bleeding arm on the couch, and he looks pissed as he raises his voice at Tony too. 

Steve, on the other hand, seems to be trying to keep everyone in check while Wanda and Carol sit on the nearest couch looking exhausted. No one notices you at first.

“Good evening, Doctor.” Scratch that, Friday notices you, and suddenly everyone else does too. They all fall silent the moment they see you, and when no one opens their mouth you rush down the hallway to the med-bay, terrified all over again. 

“Wait up.” Someone calls behind you.

“What the hell happened out there?” You ask over your shoulder, and you realize that everyone is coming with you. 

“You know we can’t tell you what happened.” Steve says calmly, and you turn around abruptly causing him to  stumble trying to catch himself before running into you.

You notice that his brow is bleeding from a small cut, and his suit has a tear on its chest, and he looks exhausted. 

“I don’t want the details of the mission, Steve. I meant what happened to my wife.” You clarify, and he looks to his left as he swallows, and then nods. 

“Bullet wound.” He says, and you close your eyes as you take a deep breath. Then you turn around, and resume walking.

You know how secretive Natasha’s work is, and you understand the risks. She’s an Avenger, and protecting the world is her job. Injuries are, at this point, just a professional hazard for her. 

Still, she’s your wife, and over the years you’ve only become more protective of her instead of more accustomed to the inevitability of these kinds of calls. 

“She should have waited.” You hear Tony say, as you round a corner. 

“Yeah, and you were a load of help.” Sam says sarcastically, and you begin to pay closer attention to their conversation. 

“More help than you, that’s for sure. Getting yourself shot the second you showed up.” Tony snarks back, getting angrier by the second.

“You put us all in danger by going for that computer, Stark.” Thor says, and the steel in his voice is terrifying to hear. “You are not a team player.”

“Newsflash, beach boy.” Tony starts, just as you reach the med-bay. “We need that computer if we want to put an end to this nightmare.”

“That’s enough.” Carol says, and even you straighten up at hearing her command. “Not now.”

The second you spot your wife you rush to her side, while simultaneously assessing the situation with a critical eye. Her waist is patched up, and you breathe a little easier when you realize that the bullet must have not hit anything vital. She’s being hydrated intravenously, and they’ve administered an antibiotic. Other than that, she just seems to be sleeping. 

You know she heals faster than a regular person, but you can’t help but feel as scared as you do every time that she comes home with a bruise, let alone a bullet wound. She’s not invincible, despite the world’s beliefs. 

You take a moment to look at her before you press your lips softly to her temple, and pull up the sheets to cover up to her chin. You pick up her chart next. 

The bullet went through and through just like you thought. They just had to patch her up, the wound was already healing when they brought her in. 

“She should have waited.” Tony says again, and you pick up on the fear lacing his tone. Natasha and Tony go way back, you know he’s her oldest friend among the Avengers, and he wouldn’t put her in danger deliberately.

So whatever’s happened, you rest easy at knowing that he had her back. He always does.  

“That’s enough, Stark.” Carol speaks again, her voice is steel  now, and it scares you slightly. “You can try to justify what happened out there all you want, but we all know the truth. We all heard what you said. We all know that it was you who gave Natasha the go-ahead. So stop. Nat is on this bed because of you. Own it.”

The silence that falls upon the room is deafening, and your confusion only increases the moment Natasha opens her eyes. 

“Jesus, Danvers! You’re being way too harsh.” Your wife rasps with humor in her tone. You know she’s okay, but that still doesn’t stop you from leaning down to kiss her lips the moment she’s done speaking. “Who called my wife?” She asks, her hand cupping your face as you comb her hair back with your fingers before kissing her again. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this.” You joke, and she scrunches up her nose. 

“You think you’re funny.” She says, her thumb caressing your cheek.

“Yeah, well. You married me.” You shrug, and she smiles up at you. 

However, your joy at having your wife in one piece is quickly snatched away when you can feel the rising tension among her team again. 

“We can talk about this later.” Steve says, as you sit down on the edge of the mattress, your wife’s hand in yours as you both turn your attention to her friends. 

“Of course.” Tony says, but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice, and so can everyone else. 

“Tony, come on. We’ll talk about it later.” Wanda insists, her hand on his forearm, but he’s quick to shake her hand off, and step closer to the bed, his eyes firmly locked on your wife. 

“You were an idiot!” He points a finger at Nat, and it’s your turn to frown. 

“Tony.” Sam, and Carol try to stop him but he continues to advance on your wife anyway. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You wife asks as you slowly stand up. 

“That’s enough, Tony. Come on, man.” Steve intervenes, but Tony ignores him, his eyes still trained on your wife.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the master spy? The brains of this bunch, besides me?” He shouts, his anger sparking your own, and you find yourself pushing him back before he can take another step closer to Natasha. 

“Listen  here, pal.” You growl, as he stumbles back a couple of steps. “There are two things I need from you right now. One: Stop yelling at my wife, and Two: Stay the hell away from her. Got it?”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you step closer, daring him to try you. He may be Iron Man, and a dear friend, but you’re Natasha’s wife, and he’ll have to respect that. 

You glare until he takes a step back in response, still frowning. He looks at Nat over your shoulder, and you hear her snicker. 

“I’d listen to her, Tony.” She tells him, and you can hear the amusement in her voice. She’s not angry, or hurt, despite Tony’s frustrations. 

“Is anyone seeing this?” He asks, his index finger pointing at your chest, as he looks at everyone else in this room. 

“Come on, man.” Steve sighs again, and you catch Carol smirking, as Wanda rounds the bed to get closer to Natasha. 

When Tony looks at you again you can see the regret in his eyes as clear as day. You don’t know what happened out there, but you don’t blame him for your wife being on this bed. Natasha doesn’t take uncalculated risks, at least not since you two got married. Whatever decision she made during their mission was her own, you’re certain of that. 

“How about a shower, and a nap?” You tell him, your hand on his arm now, and he lets out a deep breath. He looks exhausted, and he’s a dear friend of yours too. You need him rested, and taken care of before he attempts to speak to Natasha again. “Come back later, we’ll be here all night.”

“Yeah.” He nods, and he leaves quickly, leaving you surrounded by equally exhausted superheros. 

“How do you do that?” Sam asks you, as Carol and Steve walk closer to the bed too. 

“Do what?” You ask him, feigning ignorance.

“You know what.” He says, and Carol is laughing when you turn around. 

“What’s so funny?” You wife asks her as you sit on the mattress, and begin running your fingers through her hair again. You smile to yourself as the Avengers gather around your wife’s bed. 

“Nothing, really.” Carol shakes her head, and your wife frowns, fixes Carol with a glare that only makes the Captain laugh harder as she turns around, and makes for the door. 

“Don’t say it.” Sam shakes his head, also amused and you’re tempted to laugh at the look on their faces but you limit yourself to watching the interaction. 

“What?!” Your wife insists. 

“Well, your wife is a lot scarier than you these days.” Carol shrugs, one foot in the hallway already, and Sam hides his laughter behind a very fake coughing fit. 

“And that’s funny why?” Your wife asks, and Steve shakes his head, finally smiling. 

“You’re the Black Widow.” Carol deadpans, and your wife glares harder. 

“It is kinda true.” Wanda says, nodding her head, and your wife huffs in disbelief this time. 

“Children, the bunch of you.” You call them, as you stand up again to put an end to their teasing. Natasha really does need to rest, as do all of them. “Go, take showers please. And eat something.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve says with humor in his voice, and you roll your eyes as you practically push him out of the room.

When they’re gone, you close the door before taking off your jacket, and heels.

“What are you doing?” Your wife asks with a smile, even while she scoots over on the mattress, already making room for you. 

You get in bed with her, your arms wrapping around her middle as she presses her lips to your temple, and hugs you tight. 

“You need a shower too.” You tell her after a little while, and she pinches your arm as she laughs.

“Rude.” She says, but you’re quick to kiss her lips. 

“Babe, I love you. But you’re all sweaty and gross right now.” 

“I was shot!” She reminds you, and you hum in response. 

“No need to remind me.” 

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes. “I got distracted for just one second.”

“What happened?” You ask her.

“There was this really cute tabby-cat, and he was right in the middle of - ”

“Hold on.” You interrupt her, your hand in the air. “Please tell me that you didn’t get shot because of a cat, Natasha.”

The silence that you’re met with is answer enough, but she looks absolutely adorable as she grimaces, and pulls back a few inches from you. But that’s exactly who she is, isn’t it? She’s the kind of person that would get shot because she was trying to protect someone… or in this case a cat. 

“You really are scary.” She tells you, and you roll your eyes again. You know she likes cats but this is just ridiculous. 

“I swear!” You huff, and she hugs you closer, her lips pressing sweet kisses on your shoulder again. “Do they know why you got shot?”

“Wanda does.” She says with a smile. 

“That girl is always helping you when you’re reckless.”

“That’s why I love her.” Natasha smiles wider this time, and her wandering lips continue to press kisses along your neck, your jaw. 

“If you think you’re getting lucky while you’re lying on a bed after getting shot because you saved a cat, think again.” You tell her with a pointed look and she lets out a disappointed breath, a smile on her face as she presses one last kiss on the corner of your lips.

“You need to tell Tony that. He thinks you got shot because of him.” You tell her quietly.

“I know.” She sighs, and you can see how tired she feels. 

“Thanks for defending me.” She says after a few minutes of lying in silence. 

“Anytime.” You grin cheekily at her, and she presses one last kiss on your cheek before getting more comfortable. 

You both know that she doesn’t need you standing up for her. She could have handled Tony on her own, and she can take her teammates teasing. They all know how far to push after all. She is the Black Widow. 

But ‘Black Widow’, ‘ex-assassin’, ‘deadliest woman alive’ or not she’s still your wife, and the love of your life and you will always, always stand up for her. 

… 

[paingoes]

Destroyer Masterpost

Destroyer is a sci-fi story about a telekinetic living weapon called Δ-107, or Delta for short, who is controlled by an evil space empire. The story takes place immediately following the death of the old Emperor and explores the ensuing succession crisis. Delta is inherited by the Emperor’s only son, the crown prince Paris of Thales, and lives aboard his battleship.

===============================

Character Overview:

Delta (Δ-107) - living weapon with strong and destructive telekinesis

Paris - crown prince of Empire and Delta's current owner

Simon - a theoretical physicist and glad scientist, one of Delta's handlers (not pictured)

Dr.Martino - a doctor who specializes in psychic abilities, Delta's other handler (not pictured)

==============================

You can also read this story on AO3 !

==============================

Story:

Prologue - Intro to Delta's powers, the moment he was acquired by Empire

Even More Prologue, Somehow - Death of the emperor, succession

Trigger Discipline - first meeting

Blood Ties - Paris tries to break Delta in

Thorns - Daily routine

Lightshow - First brief mission

Night at the Ball - what it says

Behave - Obedience training or maybe just fucking around we're not sure

Moonshine - Delta steals a laptop. Paris gets too drunk.

Dune - not the one you're thinking of

Penance - Delta’s on probation. kinda harsh!

Memory - Some info about Delta's childhood

LEECH - Simon goes too far

Castle Damon - Delta’s not the only psychic in the world

Web - Delta plays on the computer for a few hours

Bottle Episode - Everyone’s mad?

Mercy - Drastic measures are considered in light of rebellion

Sea Changes

Marks - Slap on the wrist

Bingo - This meeting could have been an email

In Shadows - Internal analysis

MK - Drug trials

Golem - Delta cinches a critical victory. Paris gets mad.

Graduation - fuck yes lorelai is in this one

Medical Conference - delta gets shown off and also drugged

Lemuria - There's a massacre at Lemuria

Discourse - The internet has opinions

Asking - Delta asks for something. He doesn't get it.

Like An Arrow - Time flies

Rupture - Some information gets declassified

Time Flies - Like an arrow

Come Back - Delta blows up the parliament building

A Sentence of Sorts - More things get declassified. Paris is troubled, more than usual.

Help - Delta offers to help Paris

Masquerade - A bad party and a mild identity crisis

:3

Tundra I - Spiritually this is the Christmas episode because there's snow and they fight

Tundra II - Post-fight hangover

afk

Check-Up

Battleship

Birthday I

Birthday II

Bridge

The End

===============================

aaaaand that's the end! ....or is it?

Delta's story continues in the sequel series Rubies <3

Paris has a series too I guess.

Thanks so much for reading :D !

[mlqueen89]

Glossary of Terms linked to (i love you) it's ruining my life - jake "hangman" seresin x f!oc

Ace (Flying Ace or Fighter Ace) = Military aviator credited with shooting down five or more enemy aircraft during aerial combat.

Avionics = Advanced processors and networking systems to fiber optics and conformal wideband antennas, etc.

Bandit = an aircraft identified and verified as enemy.

Bogey = radar or visual contact whose identity is unknown and not yet verified as an enemy. Bogey can also be a friendly once identified.

Break (right/left) = when an aircraft is instructed to sharply turn left/right, essentially "breaking" away from its current flight path to the left/right side

HUD = "Head-Up Display," for fighter pilots is a transparent screen in the cockpit that projects critical flight information directly into the pilot's line of sight, allowing them to view essential data like airspeed, altitude, heading, and weapon targeting details without needing to look away from the outside environment, maintaining situational awareness during flight operations. 

Lt. = Lieutenant (rank)

Lt. Cmdr = Lieutenant Commander (rank)

LTJG = Lieutenant Junior Grade (rank)

Preflight checks = a thorough inspection that pilots perform on an aircraft before each flight, meticulously examining its exterior, systems, controls, and documentation to ensure it is in a safe condition to fly, identifying any potential issues that could compromise flight safety by checking for damage, fluid levels, proper functionality of components, and reviewing necessary paperwork.

Qual(ification) hop = refers to a flight performed by a pilot to demonstrate proficiency in a specific skill or maneuver required for certification or qualification. In the military aviation world, pilots must complete these hops to be officially qualified to perform certain missions, fly specific aircraft, or execute advanced tactics.

RADM = Rear Admiral (rank)

RIO = Radar Intercept Officer (now known as WSO)

SAM(s) = Surface to Air Missile(s)

Splash = typically refers to the moment of impact when a bomb or missile hits its target, essentially signifying the detonation or "splash" of the explosive upon contact.

Tally = communication used to tell a controller they are about to engage enemy aircraft. Also used to announce to the squadron leader (or other person of command in the flight) the spotting of an enemy aircraft.

Telemetry = the collection of data from a remote and usually fast-moving device for measurement purposes. It is used in aircraft/missile testing to track moving objects in action or collect data provided by instruments and sensors on the test object.

Tone = fighter pilot speak for a missile or weapons lock. When a pilot is tracking a target the computer will beeping as it acquires a lock-on, which changes to a continuous tone when lock is established.

VFA = Strike Fighter Squadron

Weapons envelope = the area around the bandit where your missiles or gun can be effective.

WSO = Weapons System Operator (formerly known as RIO)

NATOPS F-18 Manual

Am I missing any? Send me an ask!

[nerd-artist]

Horizon Rock Bands AU: Rock Breakers

The second (and maybe last?) band of the AU that’s been leaving no place for any other thoughts in my mind. Jem and the Holograms inspired. Ereloy implied 🧡✨

The band

The original leader of the group was Ersa, who started forming Rock Breakers with her brother Erend. However, after a tragedy left her unable to continue being part of the band, the Vanguard siblings decided that Erend should carry on with the group's formation. After what had happened, their mission was more critical than ever: to bring down Nemesis, its members, and their unfair musical dominance.

Avad, a wealthy representative with whom Ersa had a very close relationship, helped Erend in the search for other members who shared their common goal. That's how Varl, Kotallo, Drakka, and Nil joined the band, shaping the unique and diverse style that Rock Breakers is known for. Their blend of romantic and heavy sound has earned them a loyal fanbase, though, thanks to Nemesis' schemes, they've never managed to win The Proving. During the competition, they met Alpha Prime and came to the conclusion that both bands needed to support each other to defeat the evil group. Ersa became Alpha Prime's manager, ensuring that no one—not even they—would get in her little brother's way.

With Avad as their manager, Rock Breakers dominates their tour, which also serves as training for the competition. They don't have the help of any magical computers to make their shows unforgettable, but they pull it off with their creative use of fire and fireworks.

Character bios under the cut

Erend

A deep voice and deep feelings—no wonder Erend is the lead singer and main songwriter of Rock Breakers. He always performs accompanied by his guitar ‘Hammer’, though it’s rarely the same one at each show, as he gets so excited in playing ‘Weird Space Ball’ that he ends up smashing it against the stage. He started competing in music contests for the love of music, but a tragedy changed his purpose: his sister Ersa, with whom he was originally going to form the band, went deaf because of their former boss, Dervahl, who is now a member of the antagonist band Nemesis. Since then, he has devoted himself entirely to destroying that band, just as he smashes his guitars.

With this common goal, it’s no surprise that he’s gotten along well with Alpha Prime since meeting them, though that encounter didn’t just gain him allies—it also changed his heart forever, as he fell head over heels for Aloy the moment he saw her. Since then, nearly all his lyrics have been about her, though Aloy seems to be the only one who hasn’t noticed. He doesn’t hold out much hope that someone as capable and beautiful as her would be interested in him, even though the two minutes she promised him keep becoming longer and longer.

Varl

Varl met Erend at a comic con, and they instantly became friends. Coming from a strict upbringing where music had no place, he learned to play his bass, ‘Seeker,‘ in just a week, solely to join the band and experience the freedom of performing on stage. He’s always ready to carry out any plan that helps defeat Nemesis, even those that require sacrificing his own interests and beliefs. He fell for Zo, a member of Alpha Prime, the moment he met her, and unlike his friend, he did something about it—they´ve been together since, and they´re not subtle about it.

Kotallo

The unstoppable rhythm of his drum set, ‘Bulwark,‘ is unmistakable. Kotallo has been playing it his entire life, and not even the sudden loss of an arm has slowed him down—he continues to captivate the crowd with every beat. He was once a member of the band "The Ten," where he played alongside Regalla, until she defected to join Nemesis after getting Kotallo involved in a street fight that ultimately cost him his arm. Kotallo joined Rock Breakers to get a shot at revenge against his former bandmate and to prove that no matter how she tries to weaken him, he’ll always be a better musician and more honorable than her.

Drakka

He comes from barren lands, though that doesn’t reflect his character at all. Playful and cheeky, his personality shines through in his backing vocals and in the way he plays his ‘Yarra.‘ Every key he presses makes the crowd roar louder, and it ensures he’s never alone after a concert. But his purpose is more serious than it seems: to destroy the reputation of the companies owned by Nemesis members so they stop diverting water from his town for their own gain. Who says you can’t have fun while pursuing the greater good?

Nil

Little is known about his past, but it’s rumored that Nil is searching for redemption. His background is so enigmatic that even the other band members don’t quite remember how or when he became part of the group. Always mysterious, he used to cover his face during performances until he revealed it at the last concert, flashing that intense, mischievous gaze that drove the crowd wild. He found the perfect "Partner" in his guitar, which makes him stand out on stage with its unmistakable sound and with which he always puts on a good show.

Thank you for reading!!

If you want to know more about Alpha Prime, check this post.

Should I make one of these for Nemesis?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Hello health emergencies. It will be our job to make sure everyone connects the dire consequences with the cause: this administration. Which is cutting everything and everyone off from everything else, consistent with their ideology and consistent with causing epic chaos, suffering, and death.

NYT: Without treatment, virus levels in people with H.I.V. will quickly spike, hobbling the immune systems of the infected people and increasing the odds that they will spread the virus to others.

About one in three untreated pregnant women may pass the virus on to their babies.

Interrupted treatment may also lead to the emergence of resistant strains that can spread across the world.

One study estimated that if PEPFAR were to end, as many as 600,000 lives would be lost over the next decade in South Africa alone. And that nation relies on PEPFAR for only 20 percent of its H.I.V. budget. Some poorer countries are almost entirely dependent on the program.

“This is another domino in the devastating impact of the harmful freeze to programs, leaving lives hanging in the balance,” said Jirair Ratevosian, who served as chief of staff for PEPFAR during the Biden administration.

More from that report:

The Trump administration has instructed organizations in other countries to stop disbursing H.I.V. medications purchased with U.S. aid, even if the drugs have already been obtained and are sitting in local clinics.

The directive is part of a broader freeze on foreign aid initiated last week. It includes the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, the global health program started by George W. Bush that is credited with saving more than 25 million lives worldwide.

The administration had already moved to stop PEPFAR funding from moving to clinics, hospitals and other organizations in low-income countries.

Appointments are being canceled, and patients are being turned away from clinics, according to people with knowledge of the situation who feared retribution if they spoke publicly. Many people with H.I.V. are facing abrupt interruptions to their treatment.

ut most federal officials are also under strict orders not to communicate with external partners, leading to confusion and anxiety, according to several people with knowledge of the situation.

U.S. officials have also been told to stop providing technical assistance to national ministries of health.

“The partners we collaborate with are in shock, and they do not know what to do because their lifesaving mission and commitment has been breached,” said Asia Russell, executive director of the advocacy group Health Gap.

Late on Sunday night, according to an email viewed by The New York Times, employees of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention were instructed, effective immediately, to stop communicating with personnel at the World Health Organization.

They were later directed not even to be in the same meeting room — real or virtual — as W.H.O. employees or to participate in email conversations in which W.H.O. staff members are also engaged. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/27/health/pepfar-trump-freeze.html

[mariacallous]

Next year will be Big Tech’s finale. Critique of Big Tech is now common sense, voiced by a motley spectrum that unites opposing political parties, mainstream pundits, and even tech titans such as the VC powerhouse Y Combinator, which is singing in harmony with giants like a16z in proclaiming fealty to “little tech” against the centralized power of incumbents.

Why the fall from grace? One reason is that the collateral consequences of the current Big Tech business model are too obvious to ignore. The list is old hat by now: centralization, surveillance, information control. It goes on, and it’s not hypothetical. Concentrating such vast power in a few hands does not lead to good things. No, it leads to things like the CrowdStrike outage of mid-2024, when corner-cutting by Microsoft led to critical infrastructure—from hospitals to banks to traffic systems—failing globally for an extended period.

Another reason Big Tech is set to falter in 2025 is that the frothy AI market, on which Big Tech bet big, is beginning to lose its fizz. Major money, like Goldman Sachs and Sequoia Capital, is worried. They went public recently with their concerns about the disconnect between the billions required to create and use large-scale AI, and the weak market fit and tepid returns where the rubber meets the AI business-model road.

It doesn’t help that the public and regulators are waking up to AI’s reliance on, and generation of, sensitive data at a time when the appetite for privacy has never been higher—as evidenced, for one, by Signal’s persistent user growth. AI, on the other hand, generally erodes privacy. We saw this in June when Microsoft announced Recall, a product that would, I kid you not, screenshot everything you do on your device so an AI system could give you “perfect memory” of what you were doing on your computer (Doomscrolling? Porn-watching?). The system required the capture of those sensitive images—which would not exist otherwise—in order to work.

Happily, these factors aren’t just liquefying the ground below Big Tech’s dominance. They’re also powering bold visions for alternatives that stop tinkering at the edges of the monopoly tech paradigm, and work to design and build actually democratic, independent, open, and transparent tech. Imagine!

For example, initiatives in Europe are exploring independent core tech infrastructure, with convenings of open source developers, scholars of governance, and experts on the political economy of the tech industry.

And just as the money people are joining in critique, they’re also exploring investments in new paradigms. A crop of tech investors are developing models of funding for mission alignment, focusing on tech that rejects surveillance, social control, and all the bullshit. One exciting model I’ve been discussing with some of these investors would combine traditional VC incentives (fund that one unicorn > scale > acquisition > get rich) with a commitment to resource tech’s open, nonprofit critical infrastructure with a percent of their fund. Not as investment, but as a contribution to maintaining the bedrock on which a healthy tech ecosystem can exist (and maybe get them and their limited partners a tax break).

Such support could—and I believe should—be supplemented by state capital. The amount of money needed is simply too vast if we’re going to do this properly. To give an example closer to home, developing and maintaining Signal costs around $50 million a year, which is very lean for tech. Projects such as the Sovereign Tech Fund in Germany point a path forward—they are a vehicle to distribute state funds to core open source infrastructures, but they are governed wholly independently, and create a buffer between the efforts they fund and the state.

Just as composting makes nutrients from necrosis, in 2025, Big Tech’s end will be the beginning of a new and vibrant ecosystem. The smart, actually cool, genuinely interested people will once again have their moment, getting the resources and clearance to design and (re)build a tech ecosystem that is actually innovative and built for benefit, not just profit and control. MAY IT BE EVER THUS!