#dot hack the movie

[kudotsurugi]

One random day, on a bridge in Mac Anu, a popular meme was re-enacted.

For Those of you unaware, the original .hack//(pronounced "dot hack") games by CyberConnect2, starred the character Kite, a new player to the in-universe MMORPG "The World". There have been many iterations of The World in the .hack// franchise, and also as many character expies of Kite. So much so they made their own visual guide to tell you who's who.

So, I decided to take 5 'Kites' from the franchise and recreate the Spider-Man pointing meme.

From top left to bottom middle, we have:

Kite, protagonist of the original .hack// games(Infection, Mutation, Outbreak and Quarantine, "IMOQ" for short)

Shugo, the protagonist of the anime and manga .hack//Legend of the Twilight

Sakuya, the lead character in the anime OVA .hack//Quantum

Sora/Kite, aka Sora Yuuki, the protagonist of the Feature film .hack//The Movie: Beyond the World, and guest character in the PSP game .hack//Link.

"Tri-Edge"/Azure Kite, the initial antagonist of .hack//G.U.

[eightyuh]

i missed .hack day the past few years 💀 happy (belated) day to my favorite jrpg franchise! 🧡🩵

[hellyeahdothack]

Happy New Year, .hackers!

2024 is the year .hack//The Movie: Beyond the World takes place. Sora Yuuki, a 14 year old middle school student, reluctantly begins playing the wildly popular game The World FORCE:ERA. On her first day playing, she meets a mysterious woman dressed in white.

Strange things begin happening in The World. What part will Sora play?

[shesnake]

Rotten Tomatoes outlasted the dot-com bubble and was passed from one buyer to another, most recently in 2016. That year, Warner Bros. sold most of it to Fandango, which shares a parent company with Universal Pictures. If it sounds like a conflict of interest for a movie-review aggregator to be owned by two companies that make movies and another that sells tickets to them, it probably is.

[glittering-snowfall]

At the time even the film's creators seemed nervous about what they had created. Like, when Diablo Cody in defending the film's same-sex kiss talked about her intense female friendships, how she "wanted to sleep at my friend's house every night, I wanted to wear her clothes, we would talk on the phone until our ears ached." Yeah Diablo, I had that with some of my guy friends as a teenager too, it was called being gay. The article that quote is from still finds the time to chide Cody for not doing good feminist representation, though, and I guess that makes me somewhat sympathetic to Cody here. Did she know that culture was in fact going to be too dumb to get the way Jennifer is both a predator and victim, the way her love for Needy is at turns beautiful and toxic, the way expressions of queer desire get warped into complicated, problematic forms by a diseased culture?

The film is full of uncomfortable joke/horror ambiguities, which were at least grasped by some critics (the film did have a number of favorable reviews, though they couldn't compete with the horrible marketing). As far as I can tell, the developing blogosphere, on the other hand, understood none of this from the moment they got their grubby cheeto dust covered fingers on the script before the film's release. Diablo Cody had amassed a considerable loud hatedom at that point, of both the aforementioned cheeto boys and their female counterparts,  going apoplectic over the "fantasy" that "Diablo Cody is a magical snowflake who can spray her unique pixie dust on an otherwise conventional script and give it indie cred". Perhaps the film's obsession with female relationships characterized by violence, jealousy, and crab bucket behavior cut too close to home for such critics?

Or maybe they just genuinely hate Diablo Cody's "twee dialogue". You hear about this? Yeah, Diablo Cody writes twee dialogue. This mantra seems completely unassailable now, basically accepted by even her defenders. What's so god damn twee about it though? To be sure, I remember mentally grouping Juno in with Napoleon Dynamite and Little Miss Sunshine. Jennifer's Body reveals just how much "twee" is a function of the film in its totality, though. I mean, I feel like this should be obvious but the exaggerated quippy dialogue comes across a little differently in the context of a film featuring sexual assault, people being burned to death, ritual murder, demonic possession, and teenagers being sadistically eaten alive.

In that context her dialogue comes across more like a nightmare funhouse mirror version of Joss Whedon's now eye-rollingly ubiquitous quips. Whedon and his bazillion interchangeable hack studio vat clones never aspired for much actual wit beyond the "umm well THAT just happened". Cody's dialogue on the other hand is baroque, in love with weird wordplay and uncouth associations. Needy refers to Jennifer affectionately as "Vagisil". Jennifer, in a line that caught me totally off guard midway through taking a big sip of water, jeers that Needy needs to "Move-on dot org". Yeah, no man, you're right. This isn't how "real" teenagers talk. Also, Jennifer's not "really" possessed by a demon, it's a thing we call "Movie Magic".

Though, actually, it's not totally unreal. This baroque, warping dialogue feels now like how teens trash talk under ideal conditions: on the internet. This movie's dialogue is posting. Like Homestuck, the point is not to capture a literal representation but instead a vibe of the kind of unrestrained, often vulgar and offensive dialogue of teens shit talking each other over America Online Instant Messanger or replies to their friends' Xanga posts. It makes perfect sense that both Jennifer and the various Homestuck teens would call each other retards, for example. There's a real sense in the film of characters pushing boundaries, testing the limits of their ability to perform adulthood. It's not just an act in the sense that it's a movie you plodding dullards, but in the sense that these characters are performing their idea of maturity.

There's nothing of that performance when Jennifer, in the back of a van going who knows where, sobering up and getting a grip on her real situation, asks the members of the band Low Shoulder, "Are you guys rapists?"

The climactic flashback, late in the film, when we witness the band's brutal murder of Jennifer, still has plenty of quips, of course. It's just that now Jennifer's ability to perform any kind of mature confidence has been brutally ripped away by a bunch of third rate emo douchebags. All the quipping, over top of her desperate pleading for her life, issues from the douchebags, who treat the whole scene as a joke. The affect of this scene feels complex to me. It's still Diablo Cody's script so there's some pretty good one liners. Megan Fox, though, is playing the scene for pure horror, so the humor adds to the horror for me. For these guys, rape and murder is just, like, kind of a fun night out. They can sing pop songs while ramming a bowie knife ("Bowie! Nice!") into a teenage girl's body because their biggest concern is whether or not they can get their shit band on Letterman. 

I think it's notable that for a solid number of people--particularly though by no means exclusively women--this scene is not damaged in its horror by this dissonance. At least not now. And why should it be? Horror has never just been about what's "scary" or worse about startling people with jump scares. Horror has always partaken of a complex mix of affects: fear and visceral startlement, yes, but also grief, shock, disgust, rage, contempt... attraction... humor. The best horror might fuck with the viewer's head, prompting arousal or humor simultaneous with disgust or fear. Why play these things off each other? Maybe to destabilize us. If we feel a moment during Jennifer's brutal murder where we're just a little bit charmed by these self admittedly cute boys, maybe that prompts a question like: what other monsters might be hiding behind charming façades?

The post-9/11 years and incipient Obama cultural revolution were unfortunately for Jennifer's Body a time for dumb affects. We pretended Rudy Giuliani hadn't spent several years turning NYC into a characterless, facile police state before bungling the 9/11 disaster response. Clear Channel, now the insipidly named "iHeartRadio," banned numerous songs for fear of causing even a shred of offense. The FCC got more censorious, waving its own dick around to far more culturally degenerate effect than any superbowl nip slips. Even researching this period is tedious: the articles I access are full of euphemistic phrases ("Mr. Bush was caught on videotape last July using a common vulgarity that the commission finds objectionable") so tortured they could have been dreamed up by the Bush admin's army of Eichmanns. I did discover that the maximum penalty for saying "fuck" went under Bush from a draconian $32,500 to a wild-eyed spittle-mouthed $325,000. People who objected to the dogshit state of culture and politics were drummed out of society, as The Dixie Chicks were. Or, more commonly, folks sorta slipped out of the public eye after getting played off at awards ceremonies, quietly shelved.

The primary objection to all this unfortunately did not come from anything really resembling a left but libertarians, constitutional bill of rights fetishists, and South Park. Democrats, never willing to lose an opportunity to supplicate themselves in spineless nematoad subservience to reactionary forces, attacked the Bush FCC for not fining stations MORE for Janet Jackson's sexual harassment by Justin Timberlake. Cool!

I wanted to talk about how this extended into the Obama years but here's the weird and ominous thing: a lot of the statistics and research material on the FCC's censorship actions just sorta stop in 2006. A lot of the relevant links from the FCC's own website are dead now. I doubt that means things improved under Obama. I mean, why should the FCC have stopped fining people for saying "dickhole"? It's not like any of the natsec state's border wars ceased, or the detaining of people without trial in the torture pits of Guantanamo, or the deportation of migrants, or the wiretapping of civilians. The prosecution of whistleblowers actually increased drastically under Obama, as did the lobbing of drones at wedding parties.

We bore this because Obama offered an alternative to divisiveness and the stale politics of the Bush era. We didn't have to tear down and dismantle what the Neoconservatives and Bible-brandishing Evangelical cultists had built through rancor and strife, we simply had to present a different way. A way that would unite the country. A way of hope. THROUGH THE TREEEES I WILL FIIIIIND YOU I WILL HEEEEAL THE RUINS LEFT INSIIIIIDE YOU

Now Needy's increasingly frantic sense that something is very wrong and all the memorial rallies and posters in the world can't fix it resonate pretty strongly with me. And, of course, after watching Low Shoulder brutally murder a teenage girl the whole grief and recovery (with a hit song!) thing feels like a cathartic confirmation of what I felt a lot during this period: that all sorts of cynical fucks were exploiting tragedy to their own ends. It never seemed to be quite the right time to bring up how cloying and often disturbingly fascistic a lot of the Strong In The Face Of Tragedy pop culture was. It was either offensive to the victims of terrorism, or offensive to Our Troops, or, extremely conveniently, before the critique even had a chance to be levied it was suddenly old hat: the Village Voice sneeringly dismisses this film's "routine “risky” digs at 9/11 kitsch". It was hard to tell Republicans to go lick a d*ckh*le when President Obama was wearing flag lapels and having grotesquely performative "beer summits" to bring together a completely innocent black college professor with the racist pig that arrested him. You wanna talk kitsch? Obama was so fucking kitsch, homeskillet. Kitsch and twee to a degree no Diablo Cody dialogue could ever sink.

Here's something that's not kitsch or twee: Needy finding the sacrificial knife that stole her friend/love interest, and using it and inherited succubus powers to murder the shit out of every member of Low Shoulder. That's cathartic as hell. I said earlier that no one in this film really deserves what happens to them. Low Shoulder are the exception, and it's so satisfying to see that knife buried to the hilt in the lead singer's shitty torso.

from We Were Too Stupid for Jennifer's Body

[galactic-glamour-girl-posts]

Headcanons Time!

--Civilian toons (like Flaxseed, Pa Bear, Josh Polar, etc) are all rejected pitches.

--Pinky thinks Slappy is Skippy's mum.

--Speaking of Skippy, ever since Slappy retired he's moved back in with his parents, who finally returned after their "trip".

--Pinky and The Brain are 2-3 years old physically, but because of their spliced genes they age at a slower rate than other mice, meaning they'll both live for far longer than the average mouse.

--I know the Warners don't age, but if they did I imagine that, in terms of their careers, Yakko would stay an actor but would mainly appear in musical theatre productions rather than TV. He'd also be a stand up comedian on the side.

--Wakko would quit acting. He never hated it, he just found that he was more passionate for other things and wanted to spend his time doing something else. He becomes a food critic (because duh) and is also a mechanic (all that time making gizmos turned out to be pretty useful), which is now what he usually uses his gag bag and mallet for after quitting acting.

--Dot would stay an actress but she'd mostly star in movies rather than TV. She'd also become a model and social activist who fights for women's (and toons') rights.

--When toons are coloured in with digital ink and paint rather than traditional ink and paint, they become part computer program. Although digital ink and paint is more convenient for the human artists, it puts toons in danger of being hacked or even deleted.

[publiccollectors]

[Apologies to On Kawara] 

Sometime yesterday, March 17, 2024, someone hacked my Facebook account, connected it to their Instagram account, and was promptly caught by Mark Zuckerberg himself probably (such a hero) and my account was disabled. Thus far I have not been able to re-able my account and it is locked. There is nothing to see here (there). Facebook’s instructions don’t work and they haven’t invited me to rejoin the party. I’m trying not to feel hurt. 

So many thoughts have crossed my mind. I could create a new account but—and this is such a weird thing to think about—I would never be able to reconnect with my Facebook friends that are dead to see how their old posts are doing. 

About 14 years of posts are just gone, I guess? I could start a new account (maybe, if I’m allowed) and feel like Rock Hudson in the creepy movie Seconds, starting a whole new life (except with probably a lot of the same friends all over again and the same job and stuff, so maybe that's not a good comparison). 

I made entire publications of my Facebook posts, and the posts of others that I collaborated with. It could be a very productive space for me, and a lot of new friendships sprouted from being on that platform. A lot of old friendships became deeper too. I wrote and posted a lot. It was mostly a very positive place in my experience. Being on Facebook generated a lot of creative opportunities. It has also destroyed a lot of people and countries and attention spans. I'm sure I read fewer books because of it. It has come with a price.

When Facebook started and all of my friends were signing up and talking about it, I waited. I hesitated to join because I was afraid that I would like it too much, and I would lose a lot of time using it. I eventually joined and quickly found out that I was correct. There are many people on that platform that I have not met in person but interact with online all the time, and have only known through email and social media for multiple decades. In many cases I don’t know any other way to get ahold of them. If I choose not to start a new account or can’t get my old one back, I will miss my interactions with those friends. 

Multiple times over the years people have told me that they enjoyed my posts so much that I was the only reason they stayed on Facebook. That’s a lovely compliment (that I mostly don’t believe). Now that my account is gone, I assume they will all leave the platform en masse. 

In the meantime, I suspect that my productivity will soar, at a time when I have multiple creative projects that demand a lot of attention. So for now, I am here and I am still alive. Feel free to message me, or email me at: marc [at] publiccollectors [dot] org. I love you. It’s been facetastic. 

[elkian]

I've seen a few of my Murderbot posts reblogged with tags to the effect of "I don't go here but I know of it" and for people who are interested in the Murderbot series looking to break in:

Tor.com (now Reactor Mag) has the entire first chapter of the first book, All Systems Red, available free to read on their site.

Link to the article.

ASR is a novella, so this not only covers a lot of ground, but is a pretty good litmus test imo if this book is for you or not.

(I read ASR twice before getting Artificial Condition, and that was the book that got me totally hooked on the series, for what that's worth.)

I'm also just going to post the text under this readmore because free Murderbot.

---

---

I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.

I was also still doing my job, on a new contract, and hoping Dr. Volescu and Dr. Bharadwaj finished their survey soon so we could get back to the habitat and I could watch episode 397 of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

I admit I was distracted. It was a boring contract so far and I was thinking about backburnering the status alert channel and trying to access music on the entertainment feed without HubSystem logging the extra activity. It was trickier to do it in the field than it was in the habitat.

This assessment zone was a barren stretch of coastal island, with low, flat hills rising and falling and thick greenish-black grass up to my ankles, not much in the way of flora or fauna, except a bunch of different-sized birdlike things and some puffy floaty things that were harmless as far as we knew. The coast was dotted with big bare craters, one of which Bharadwaj and Volescu were taking samples in. The planet had a ring, which from our current position dominated the horizon when you looked out to sea. I was looking at the sky and mentally poking at the feed when the bottom of the crater exploded.

I didn’t bother to make a verbal emergency call. I sent the visual feed from my field camera to Dr. Mensah’s, and jumped down into the crater. As I scrambled down the sandy slope, I could already hear Mensah over the emergency comm channel, yelling at someone to get the hopper in the air now. They were about ten kilos away, working on another part of the island, so there was no way they were going to get here in time to help.

Conflicting commands filled my feed but I didn’t pay attention. Even if I hadn’t borked my own governor module, the emergency feed took priority, and it was chaotic, too, with the automated HubSystem wanting data and trying to send me data I didn’t need yet and Mensah sending me telemetry from the hopper. Which I also didn’t need, but it was easier to ignore than HubSystem simultaneously demanding answers and trying to supply them.

In the middle of all that, I hit the bottom of the crater. I have small energy weapons built into both arms, but the one I went for was the big projectile weapon clamped to my back. The hostile that had just exploded up out of the ground had a really big mouth, so I felt I needed a really big gun.

I dragged Bharadwaj out of its mouth and shoved myself in there instead, and discharged my weapon down its throat and then up toward where I hoped the brain would be. I’m not sure if that all happened in that order; I’d have to replay my own field camera feed. All I knew was that I had Bharadwaj, and it didn’t, and it had disappeared back down the tunnel.

She was unconscious and bleeding through her suit from massive wounds in her right leg and side. I clamped the weapon back into its harness so I could lift her with both arms. I had lost the armor on my left arm and a lot of the flesh underneath, but my non-organic parts were still working. Another burst of commands from the governor module came through and I backburnered it without bothering to decode them. Bharadwaj, not having non-organic parts and not as easily repaired as me, was definitely a priority here and I was mainly interested in what the MedSystem was trying to tell me on the emergency feed. But first I needed to get her out of the crater.

During all this, Volescu was huddled on the churned up rock, losing his shit, not that I was unsympathetic. I was far less vulnerable in this situation than he was and I wasn’t exactly having a great time either. I said, “Dr. Volescu, you need to come with me now.”

He didn’t respond. MedSystem was advising a tranq shot and blah blah blah, but I was clamping one arm on Dr. Bharadwaj’s suit to keep her from bleeding out and supporting her head with the other, and despite everything I only have two hands. I told my helmet to retract so he could see my human face. If the hostile came back and bit me again, this would be a bad mistake, because I did need the organic parts of my head. I made my voice firm and warm and gentle, and said, “Dr. Volescu, it’s gonna be fine, okay? But you need to get up and come help me get her out of here.”

That did it. He shoved to his feet and staggered over to me, still shaking. I turned my good side toward him and said, “Grab my arm, okay? Hold on.”

He managed to loop his arm around the crook of my elbow and I started up the crater towing him, holding Bharadwaj against my chest. Her breathing was rough and desperate and I couldn’t get any info from her suit. Mine was torn across my chest so I upped the warmth on my body, hoping it would help. The feed was quiet now, Mensah having managed to use her leadership priority to mute everything but MedSystem and the hopper, and all I could hear on the hopper feed was the others frantically shushing each other.

The footing on the side of the crater was lousy, soft sand and loose pebbles, but my legs weren’t damaged and I got up to the top with both humans still alive. Volescu tried to collapse and I coaxed him away from the edge a few meters, just in case whatever was down there had a longer reach than it looked.

I didn’t want to put Bharadwaj down because something in my abdomen was severely damaged and I wasn’t sure I could pick her up again. I ran my field camera back a little and saw I had gotten stabbed with a tooth, or maybe a cilia. Did I mean a cilia or was that something else? They don’t give murderbots decent education modules on anything except murdering, and even those are the cheap versions. I was looking it up in HubSystem’s language center when the little hopper landed nearby. I let my helmet seal and go opaque as it settled on the grass.

We had two standard hoppers: a big one for emergencies and this little one for getting to the assessment locations. It had three compartments: one big one in the middle for the human crew and two smaller ones to each side for cargo, supplies, and me. Mensah was at the controls. I started walking, slower than I normally would have because I didn’t want to lose Volescu. As the ramp started to drop, Pin-Lee and Arada jumped out and I switched to voice comm to say, “Dr. Mensah, I can’t let go of her suit.”

It took her a second to realize what I meant. She said hurriedly, “That’s all right, bring her up into the crew cabin.”

Murderbots aren’t allowed to ride with the humans and I had to have verbal permission to enter. With my cracked governor there was nothing to stop me, but not letting anybody, especially the people who held my contract, know that I was a free agent was kind of important. Like, not having my organic components destroyed and the rest of me cut up for parts important.

I carried Bharadwaj up the ramp into the cabin, where Overse and Ratthi were frantically unclipping seats to make room. They had their helmets off and their suit hoods pulled back, so I got to see their horrified expressions when they took in what was left of my upper body through my torn suit. I was glad I had sealed my helmet.

This is why I actually like riding with the cargo. Humans and augmented humans in close quarters with murderbots is too awkward. At least, it’s awkward for this murderbot. I sat down on the deck with Bharadwaj in my lap while Pin-Lee and Arada dragged Volescu inside.

We left two pacs of field equipment and a couple of instruments behind, still sitting on the grass where Bharadwaj and Volescu had been working before they went down to the crater for samples. Normally I’d help carry them, but MedSystem, which was monitoring Bharadwaj through what was left of her suit, was pretty clear that letting go of her would be a bad idea. But no one mentioned the equipment. Leaving easily replaceable items behind may seem obvious in an emergency, but I had been on contracts where the clients would have told me to put the bleeding human down to go get the stuff.

On this contract, Dr. Ratthi jumped up and said, “I’ll get the cases!”

I yelled, “No!” which I’m not supposed to do; I’m always supposed to speak respectfully to the clients, even when they’re about to accidentally commit suicide. HubSystem could log it and it could trigger punishment through the governor module. If it wasn’t hacked.

Fortunately, the rest of the humans yelled “No!” at the same time, and Pin-Lee added, “For fuck’s sake, Ratthi!”

Ratthi said, “Oh, no time, of course. I’m sorry!” and hit the quick-close sequence on the hatch.

So we didn’t lose our ramp when the hostile came up under it, big mouth full of teeth or cilia or whatever chewing right through the ground. There was a great view of it on the hopper’s cameras, which its system helpfully sent straight to everybody’s feed. The humans screamed.

Mensah pushed us up into the air so fast and hard I nearly leaned over and everybody who wasn’t on the floor ended up there.

In the quiet afterward, as they gasped with relief, Pin-Lee said, “Ratthi, if you get yourself killed—”

“You’ll be very cross with me, I know.” Ratthi slid down the wall a little more and waved weakly at her.

“That’s an order, Ratthi, don’t get yourself killed,” Mensah said from the pilot’s seat. She sounded calm, but I have security priority, and I could see her racing heartbeat through MedSystem.

Arada pulled out the emergency medical kit so they could stop the bleeding and try to stabilize Bharadwaj. I tried to be as much like an appliance as possible, clamping the wounds where they told me to, using my failing body temperature to try to keep her warm, and keeping my head down so I couldn’t see them staring at me.

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 60% AND DROPPING

Our habitat is a pretty standard model, seven interconnected domes set down on a relatively flat plain above a narrow river valley, with our power and recycling system connected on one side. We had an environmental system, but no air locks, as the planet’s atmosphere was breathable, just not particularly good for humans for the long term. I don’t know why, because it’s one of those things I’m not contractually obligated to care about.

We picked the location because it’s right in the middle of the assessment area, and while there are trees scattered through the plain, each one is fifteen or so meters tall, very skinny, with a single layer of spreading canopy, so it’s hard for anything approaching to use them as cover. Of course, that didn’t take into account anything approaching via tunnel.

We have security doors on the habitat for safety but HubSystem told me the main one was already open as the hopper landed. Dr. Gurathin had a lift gurney ready and guided it out to us. Overse and Arada had managed to get Bharadwaj stabilized, so I was able to put her down on it and follow the others into the habitat.

The humans headed for Medical and I stopped to send the little hopper commands to lock and seal itself, then I locked the outer doors. Through the security feed, I told the drones to widen our perimeter so I’d have more warning if something big came at us. I also set some monitors on the seismic sensors to alert me to anomalies just in case the hypothetical something big decided to tunnel in.

After I secured the habitat, I went back to what was called the security ready room, which was where weapons, ammo, perimeter alarms, drones, and all the other supplies pertaining to security were stored, including me. I shed what was left of the armor and on MedSystem’s advice sprayed wound sealant all over my bad side. I wasn’t dripping with blood, because my arteries and veins seal automatically, but it wasn’t nice to look at. And it hurt, though the wound seal did numb it a little. I had already set an eight-hour security interdiction through HubSystem, so nobody could go outside without me, and then set myself as off-duty. I checked the main feed but no one was filing any objections to that.

I was freezing because my temperature controls had given out at some point on the way here, and the protective skin that went under my armor was in pieces. I had a couple of spares but pulling one on right now would not be practical, or easy. The only other clothing I had was a uniform I hadn’t worn yet, and I didn’t think I could get it on, either. (I hadn’t needed the uniform because I hadn’t been patrolling inside the habitat. Nobody had asked for that, because with only eight of them and all friends, it would be a stupid waste of resources, namely me.) I dug around one handed in the storage case until I found the extra human-rated medical kit I’m allowed in case of emergencies, and opened it and got the survival blanket out. I wrapped up in it, then climbed into the plastic bed of my cubicle. I let the door seal as the white light flickered on.

It wasn’t much warmer in there, but at least it was cozy. I connected myself to the resupply and repair leads, leaned back against the wall and shivered. MedSystem helpfully informed me that my performance reliability was now at 58 percent and dropping, which was not a surprise. I could definitely repair in eight hours, and probably mostly regrow my damaged organic components, but at 58 percent, I doubted I could get any analysis done in the meantime. So I set all the security feeds to alert me if anything tried to eat the habitat and started to call up the supply of media I’d downloaded from the entertainment feed. I hurt too much to pay attention to anything with a story, but the friendly noise would keep me company.

Then someone knocked on the cubicle door.

I stared at it and lost track of all my neatly arrayed inputs. Like an idiot, I said, “Uh, yes?”

Dr. Mensah opened the door and peered in at me. I’m not good at guessing actual humans’ ages, even with all the visual entertainment I watch. People in the shows don’t usually look much like people in real life, at least not in the good shows. She had dark brown skin and lighter brown hair, cut very short, and I’m guessing she wasn’t young or she wouldn’t be in charge. She said, “Are you all right? I saw your status report.”

“Uh.” That was the point where I realized that I should have just not answered and pretended to be in stasis. I pulled the blanket around my chest, hoping she hadn’t seen any of the missing chunks. Without the armor holding me together, it was much worse. “Fine.”

So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous. Also, if I’m not in the armor then it’s because I’m wounded and one of my organic parts may fall off and plop on the floor at any moment and no one wants to see that.

“Fine?” She frowned. “The report said you lost 20 percent of your body mass.”

“It’ll grow back,” I said. I know to an actual human I probably looked like I was dying. My injuries were the equivalent of a human losing a limb or two plus most of their blood volume.

“I know, but still.” She eyed me for a long moment, so long I tapped the security feed for the mess, where the non-wounded members of the group were sitting around the table talking. They were discussing the possibility of more underground fauna and wishing they had intoxicants. That seemed pretty normal. She continued, “You were very good with Dr. Volescu. I don’t think the others realized . . . They were very impressed.”

“It’s part of the emergency med instructions, calming victims.” I tugged the blanket tighter so she didn’t see anything awful. I could feel something lower down leaking.

“Yes, but the MedSystem was prioritizing Bharadwaj and didn’t check Volescu’s vital signs. It didn’t take into account the shock of the event, and it expected him to be able to leave the scene on his own.”

On the feed it was clear that the others had reviewed Volescu’s field camera video. They were saying things like I didn’t even know it had a face. I’d been in armor since we arrived, and I hadn’t unsealed the helmet when I was around them. There was no specific reason. The only part of me they would have seen was my head, and it’s standard, generic human. But they didn’t want to talk to me and I definitely didn’t want to talk to them; on duty it would distract me and off duty . . . I didn’t want to talk to them. Mensah had seen me when she signed the rental contract. But she had barely looked at me and I had barely looked at her because again, murderbot + actual human = awkwardness. Keeping the armor on all the time cuts down on unnecessary interaction.

I said, “It’s part of my job, not to listen to the System feeds when they . . . make mistakes.” That’s why you need constructs, SecUnits with organic components. But she should know that. Before she accepted delivery of me, she had logged about ten protests, trying to get out of having to have me. I didn’t hold it against her. I wouldn’t have wanted me either.

Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t just say you’re welcome and please get out of my cubicle so I can sit here and leak in peace.

“All right,” she said, and looked at me for what objectively I knew was 2.4 seconds and subjectively about twenty excruciating minutes. “I’ll see you in eight hours. If you need anything before then, please send me an alert on the feed.” She stepped back and let the door slide closed.

It left me wondering what they were all marveling at so I called up the recording of the incident. Okay, wow. I had talked to Volescu all the way up the side of the crater. I had been mostly concerned with the hopper’s trajectory and Bharadwaj not bleeding out and what might come out of that crater for a second try; I hadn’t been listening to myself, basically. I had asked him if he had kids. It was boggling. Maybe I had been watching too much media. (He did have kids. He was in a four-way marriage and had seven, all back home with his partners.)

All my levels were too elevated now for a rest period, so I decided I might as well get some use out of it and look at the other recordings. Then I found something weird. There was an “abort” order in the HubSystem command feed, the one that controlled, or currently believed it controlled, my governor module. It had to be a glitch. It didn’t matter, because when MedSystem has priority—

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 39%, STASIS INITIATED FOR EMERGENCY REPAIR SEQUENCE.

[chipchopclipclop]

@the-gaping-wound-of-christ tagged me in this. thank you jubeth

last song i listened to - the yume menu track from the silver case (why is it so good?) but also if not a song not from a video game then probably deep sea girl lol (they put it in psekai recently... and its still good)

currently watching - (using my brain) started kaiju no.8, in the middle of bravern (with a group of friends) in the middle of like season 3 of breaking bad (with more friends) in the middle of dot hack sign (with the same friends) wanna watch the gegege movie when its finally digital... also kurayukaba and kuramerukagari... much to do...

sweet/savory/spicy - savoury 4ever... i like sweet stuff but if its too sweet i gag. same for spicy.

relationship status - holding my bachelor in being single

current obsession - ive been dragged back into the yakuza hole for the foreseeable future (in that im drawing fanart again after how many years). still in the death mark hole. have had a burgeoning kaito love resurgence bc of psekai for like a year now. i feel like ill become obsessed with silver case once i beat that but lets all hold our breath and not make any promises, but i do like suda's writing so lol. you guys read marriagetoxin lately theres a bisexual guy running around lately that im a little obsessed with rn too. also my own ocs as always (i need to write)

idk who to to tag, consider yourself tagged and follow your heart if you see this ig!

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

Idea idea idea

What if the Maltobots had been hidden from most Cybertronians for a lot longer than canon, enough that they grew up completely in hiding without contact with adult Cybertronians? Dot would be a former marine, not a GHOST operative, with Alex working remotely and being the primary breadwinner. Dot would end up retiring early due to lack of work after losing her leg, and would mostly be working the farm with adults Robby and Mo.

And, we have already seen that the Maltobots have powers, (Hashtag's hacking ability, Nightshade getting their alt mode from a STATUE and Twitch's OP blaster comes to mind) and the Malto kids are going to get super suits in canon.

So, what if, in an au where the already impressive abilities become full on outlier abilities, Optimus mistakes Nightshade for Onyx Prime and they just roll with it because they have only seen their own kind in movies and here's an opportunity to ask questions with THE LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS. Sure, they had to correct him with their name, but this was Optimus Prime!

Optimus is under the impression that they and their siblings are reincarnations of past primes, while they aren't aware that the war ended because of being isolated, they did grow up watching the propaganda TV shows and comics produced to drum up support for the Autobots.

Their view of the war is very much something that they aren't allowed to get involved in, and as they get older, Dot uses her own experience in the military and recovering from her amputation as reasons to stay away.

So, when Optimus offers to relocate who he thinks is one of his brothers to the main embassy/headquarters of the Autobots, he's surprised to learn that Nightshade wasn't alone.

They had six siblings, and a pair of loving parents.

Optimus insists on meeting them, and is surprised at the lukewarm reception he gets from Nightshade's human family. (Maybe most of the others are hiding or have left to run errands or are in the woods, so it's just Dot, Alex, the kids, and maybe Twitch or Hashtag)

Like, to Dot, Optimus is just another sketchy military recruiter that would try to use her sacrifices as ammunition to pressure her kids into the military.

Robby, who might be using his gauntlet or suit to do some heavy lifting, catches his attention, and he inquires on what relic he was using to work, and Robby lies on the spot.

Dot backs him up, and manages to kick Optimus out.

Optimus can't keep a good secret, and the more religious bots start sending gifts and offerings to the farm.

Lots of offerings.

Most of them booze, candy, and energon.

In no time, there's a shrine just outside of Witwicky, as a nervous conversation with Jawbreaker and some blurry footage of Twitch testing out some of Nightshade's inventions has added them to the list of "Primal reincarnates"

However, the plot truly starts as the Maltobots find the hidden shrine, and take some of the sealed offerings to use or store, leading to the Autobots, who are just a little bored after slaughtering the Decepticons and have a good, solid treaty with the UN and the US government, gearing up and becoming a full on cult worshipping these young adult terrans and their too - old - for - this - bs family.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Congratulations on the 5k!

May I request a “kisses for a cover” blurb with Bucky Barnes and Reader? Thank you 😊

God you hated running. This wasn't part of your job description. You were the guy in the chair. Running and shooting were for other people, but you didn't get nice things. They just had to have a closed network and you just had to hack into their serves in person. And of course the alarm was sounded just as you finished downloading the last of the information. Of course Sam had said it was best you split up pulling the goons chasing you in two different direction. Just your luck you'd find yourself alone with Bucky Barnes in the absolute worse case scenario. You were so scared for your life, you couldn't even take the opportunity to properly admire his ass as you ran a pace behind him.

"This way!" he ordered, reaching behind him to grab your hand and pull you down yet another alley way.

Your lungs were burning, but some how you managed to keep pace with the pull of your arm only mildly aching.

Bucky weaved you through the maze of endless houses and apartments until you came to an open market. To your relief he finally slowed his pace, forcing you both to flow with the crowd.

"Did we lose them?" you dared to ask.

Bucky kept his head movements to a minimum, but you got the impression his eyes were everywhere.

"I doubt it," he said. "We need a better vantage point."

Wordlessly, he moved the pair of you between a pair of stalls, allowing him a better view of the crowd without being obvious.

"Shit," he cursed.

"What?" On instinct your went to turn your head, only for Bucky's hand to catch your chin, pulling you back to him.

"Don't move," he whispered. And it was only then you realized just how close you were. Shit you must be distracted if standing chest to chest with Bucky hadn't even crossed your mind.

You kept your eyes on him, as his scanned and area just behind you. He then looked back down at you, his expression unreadable.

"Please don't slap me."

It was your only warning before his lips were pressed against yours.

Your hands moved to his shoulders with the instinct to push him away, put he only pulled your closer, one of his hands curling into your hair.

"Just go with it," he murmured, before he was kissing you once more.

You weren't sure if it was the fading adrenaline or just your hormones, either way resistance was futile. You kissed him back, letting your hands slide from his shoulders and around his neck. There was a solid chance you might die in the next few minutes. Might as well go out on a high note.

You honestly couldn't say how long you were standing there, but it was just enough to leave you dizzy as he finally pulled away.

"I think they're gone," he said, inspecting the area behind you before meeting your eyes. "You okay?"

It took a moment for the words to register and a moment longer for you to connect the dots on what had just happened. What resulted was a soft, but meaningful, "huh..."

His brows furrowed as his lips pressed into a confused line. "What?"

"Nothing I just..." You blinked, forcing yourself to recenter. "I always thought the whole kissing some one for cover was a cliche movies invented to up sexual tension."

"Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable," he said, as if that explained everything.

"I mean...sure, but was that the only thing you could think of?"

"It worked didn't it?"

You held your hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine. You're the expert."

He nodded in acknowledgement, leaving a long awkward pause in the air.

You bit your lip. "It was very nice by the way."

"Alright, you can drop it now."

He moved passed you, back towards the market, not even bothering to see if you would follow. You did, of course and just in time to see a slight blush on his cheeks and he marched forward.

Maybe you should get out in the field more.

(15/20)

[abyssal-ali]

you knew the hero died, so what's the movie for?

Pairing: Gen Ao3 Masterlist

Rating: E for Extra Bad Mental Health WC: 2.2k

Summary:

Babs finds some footage of Jason acting strangely and calls in the Bats to help her figure out what's up with Jason.

TW: Suicidal Ideation/Passive Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Depression, Major Character Death/Major Character Undeath

A/N: (Yes, I'm fine<3) Title from hoax by TS. I love the Immortal Jason Todd theories but I also think he'd have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about death and life after the first time. (Also don't worry, there is a happy ending.)

~

Barbara Gordon spun on her chair’s wheels to face the Bats. The whole clan, minus one, were admitted to her domain after her special request.

“Why could you not send us the footage?” asked Batman, his voice not so raspy with the modifier turned off.

“It’s safer here. This is extremely delicate information here, and I cannot have it fall into the wrong hands somehow.”

The Bats exchanged glances at Oracle saying she didn’t want to risk this being hacked. Her finger hovered over the play button on her large screen.

“I hacked Hood’s helmet just after he ducked out of patrol to tell him I’d received info I thought he might want to know for a case he’s on. He was speaking, but it didn’t seem like a call or voice-to-text, and the security cam from the alley he was in doesn’t show anyone or anything. The context is weird and the whole situation is…disturbing.”

Babs finally played the CCTV footage after her explanation, showing a typical Gotham alleyway, Red Hood’s large shape the only figure visible as he walked normally into it from around the corner. 

His steps stutter, then his whole being seems to lose tension as he walks further in, his shoulders curling inwards slightly. “Now?”

A pause, then, “What is it this time? I haven’t decided what I wanted to cross off my list this time.”

He leans against the wall, one foot propped on the rough brick casually as he tosses a knife through the air, always catching it by the handle. After a couple seconds of seeming silence, he turns abruptly, his posture tensing. “I just want quiet, is that too much to ask?!” 

He calms, then continues, “I don’t hate you, D. It’s your sister. She always interrupts and it’s gotten really old. You…can either stop flirting with me or do somethin’ ‘bout Elle. She keeps bringin’ me back down…”

He sheathes his knife and shifts into an offensive stance. “I was at peace, D! I’m just…so…tired…” His voice trails off, revealing the weakness his family has never picked up in him.

After a moment, he relaxes back into his slump against the wall. “We’re running outta options. Explosions, blunt force trauma, asphyxiation, suffocation, smoke inhalation, drowning, exsanguination, jugular sliced, cardiac arrest, hypothermia, electrocution…” He ticks off his fingers. “I’m immune to most poisons and toxins, so they’re out, medication burns through me too quickly…” Another pause.

“I can’t just run off with you, D. They’re detectives, and any explanation they’ll believe is falsified, and they’ll pointlessly search space and time. I’m not gonna spark PTSD and make them sad. Oh! We haven’t tried decapitation yet, we could recreate Dickens’ scene…or there’s my personal favourite, you kidnap me in my sleep. Sounds peaceful….NOT THAT I WOULD KNOW ABOUT PEACE!”

The watching Bats flinched at the sudden outburst from the dejected Hood they were wrapping their minds around. 

On the screen, he waves at air, then turns on his heel and stalks out of the alley, heading somewhere else. 

Babs’ trackers showed everyone in the Clocktower, and one red dot at a known safehouse of Jason’s a few blocks from the alley.

Babs turned to the Bats. 

“Hmm,” Batman mused.

“Ambiguous,” decided Nightwing. “You didn’t pick up any interference, magical or alien?”

“No. Everything is clear,” replied Babs, spinning back to her computer to run more scans on the footage. 

“I hate one-sided conversations,” said Spoiler, staring thoughtfully at the frozen image of Red Hood walking out of the alley.

“Who’s this ‘D’ he’s talking to?” demanded Red Robin. “He usually only calls Dick ‘D’, and even then it’s rare. And Dick doesn’t know about this.”

Batgirl got the others’ attention. “Jason is hurt. Always. Not from fighting.” She thought for a moment. “Heart-hurt. Always tired. This is…tired, but relieved.”

“Hmm,” said Batman again.

Two days later, Nightwing and Red Robin knocked on Jason’s door. He’d managed to instill the basic modicum of manners in them with careful traps, a fair amount of glitter, and occasionally a minor wound or two. When he didn’t answer after two tries, and Babs reassured them through their comm link that his tracker was still pinging from that location, they let themselves in.

The first thing they found was Jason, dead in his bed.

In shock, confusion, and grief, the Bats were notified, confirmed it was truly Jason and not some elaborate scheme to fake his death for some Jason-only-knew reason, and taken back to the Cave to prepare him for burial. Again.

To their great surprise, Talia al Ghul marched into the Cave and swept past all their baffled questionings to the table Jason lay on, more peaceful in death than they’d ever seen in life.

She carefully scrutinized him, then sighed and put her hand on his. 

“Don’t touch him,” Bruce snapped, looking worse than he had in years. 

Talia removed her hand after a slight hesitation, turning to face the grieving Bats. “Before you bury Jason, please wait one more day.”

“Why?”

“You do remember what happened last time you buried him,” she reminded them flatly.

With a grunt, Bruce agreed to wait 18 more hours, looking over at his son’s body every few moments from the tea Alfred was forcing him to drink.

The Bats were quietly mourning their brother, son, grandson, friend, tormentor, coworker, rival, saviour when a loud stream of swearing shocked them out of their grief. 

“NOT AGAIN?! WHY?! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!” Yelled one very alive Jason Todd, sitting straight up and looking as pale as a ghoul.

He slipped off the table, stumbling towards the group in zombie-like motions, collapsing into Talia’s waiting arms. “Tals? Why’re ya’here?”

“To stop your idiotic, grieving, well-meaning family from hastily burying you again.”

“Oh, thanks.”

The still-stunned bats slowly gathered around the hugging duo. Talia dragged Jason over to the cot in the medbay and forcing him onto his side. “Stay still until you’re better. You should know better, habibi.”

“But my mom was here, I had to hug her,” he grinned crookedly up at Talia, who was unimpressed.

Still, she smiled softly at him, running her fingers through his hair. “Just lie still. 15 minutes on every side.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Tals,” he grunted, but stay where she left him. 

Tim opened his mouth and Talia turned her fierce glare on him. With one motion, she directed them all away from Jason to the debriefing area, where he was still within sightline, but wouldn’t be disturbed by their sure-to-be-invasive questions.

“How did he die?” she asked them, looking sternly at Bruce.

“I don’t know.” He collapsed into a seat, staring at Jason blankly. “Oracle showed us a concerning video she found with Hood, we went to his safehouse…and found him…peaceful, in his bed. A little smile on his face,” he choked out.

Talia sighed, glancing back at Jason.

“Why are you here?”

“Mother’s intuition,” she shrugged. “Something was very wrong with him. I was worried, so I came.”

“T, I can deal with them,” called Jason. “I’m a big boy, I can handle their need for privacy invasion.”

Talia sighed but relaxed from her gatekeeping stance, letting the Bats crowd Jason’s bed again.

“How dare you alive again? You were definitely dead,” blurted Tim. 

“Life and I have a mutual hate for each other,” said Jason cryptically. “And Death and I are kinda close.”

“How did you die?” asked Dick, quietly horrified.

“Oh, D was really accommodating–I was asleep this ti-”

“‘D’ is Death?!”

“Yeah, I call Death ‘D’, so what? You all have nicknames. And like I said, this ain’t my first rodeo, We’re tight, she likes me.”

“Ethopia…” remembered the Bats awkwardly.

“Why are you lying down?” asked Steph as Jason shifted to his front, turning his head to watch his family.

“I can’t lie on my back for longer than a few second because of PTSD. And my heart hasn’t been pumping for…awhile, so blood flow ain’t the best right now. 

“First, there’s numbness, like when your leg’s fallen asleep, only full-body. 

“Then, prickles of pain as all your muscles and circulatory system start up. 

“Third, your brain’s fuzzy from lack of oxygen and bloodflow, so you spill your deepest darkest secrets to your needlessly nosy family because some twisted part of you feels guilty for putting them through your death again. That last part might just be me, though.

“Fourth, I’m tired and I want to sleep, so ask T or wait for me to wake up. Trust me, I will,” he grumbled. “Oh, you may wanna shock me a li’l bit to make sure my heart’s started properly again. Sometimes it needs a bit of a tune-up to make sure it’s good as new.”

“Why do you sound like this happens regularly?!” Dick demanded.

“It does.” Jason closed his eyes, turning his head to the other side.

Talia shooed the murmuring Bats back to let Jason rest in peace (consciously).

A couple hours later, Jason sat up again, with more colour to his skin and smoother movements. Talia carefully supported him, leading him to a chair and mug of steaming hot chocolate.

The disturbed bats gathered around him until he looked up with a grimace at them. “I’m fine, okay? Why are you even so worried?”

“No, you’re not fine! You were dead, again, and now you aren’t, and you’re acting like this happens every week!”

Jason shrugged. “Done it enough it feels like it. Don’t worry, I get better quicker the more often it happens; you’ve never noticed."

“You died the first time in Ethiopia?”

Jason nodded.

“And it took…six months for you to come back? This was…24 hours or less. So how often have you died, and what’s the exponential rate?” demanded Tim. 

Jason shrugged again. “Dunno. Based on past times…” he trailed off, looking to Talia.

“With this one, it should be about twenty hours until his resurrection the next time.”

“Why were you even looking for me?”

“I hacked your comms when you were, apparently, talking to Death, and I brought the CCTV footage from that alley to their attention,” reasoned Babs, pulling his free hand into hers and squeezing it gently. “Why would you not tell us about this? We were worried sick about you after we saw that! And then you disabled your tracker, and it took me ages to find your last ping and find your new safehouse!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his mug. 

“So you were actually talking to Death? Who is…apparently a person…being?” asked Steph.

“Yep, she’s cool. I’m her favourite repeat customer,” he joked. It fell flatter than one of Bruce’s pancakes.

“You sounded happy to see D,” said Cass, watching him closely.

“Yeah, she’s a lot nicer than her bitch of a sister, Life. She keeps bringing me back,” Jason bemoaned under his breath.

“You don’t want to come back?” Dick asked sadly, inching closer.

“Not really. It’s peaceful being dead. Being alive is so…tiring,” he sighed, leaning his head back and gently placing his mug down.

“Habibi,” Talia said thickly, running her fingers through his hair again.

“But…but you talked down that jumper last week!” pointed out Tim.

“So?”

Cass rewound the footage Babs had played them, playing a section back for the others on the Batcomputer. “I’m not gonna spark PTSD and make them sad.”

“‘Sad’ is…a wrecked car. Replaceable. ‘Grief’ is you dead. We cannot replace you. We are not sad for you. We grieve for you.”

At Cass’s revelation, the Bats’ heads swiveled between Jason and the screen. 

“Little Wing…do you think we would grieve you less than the first time?”

Jason didn’t answer, picking up his mug to see if there were any dregs left.

Talia laid her hand on his shoulder. “Why are you still the Red Hood, habibi? No one is forcing you to. You became the Red Hood to antagonize Batman*. You’ve done that, moved past it. Move on, don’t just give up.”

A strange look crossed Jason’s face at Talia’s face. His eyes darted to a harrowed-looking Bruce, then back to the depths of his mug. “Thanks, T.”

Red Hood retired, Jason choosing to hand the reins of his crime bossing business over to his trusted lieutenants as he moved to Europe, entering Oxford to pursue a secondary education. 

One or another of his family members were more often than not flying to and from his flat to remind him how much they loved and valued him. 

Talia visited him often, making sure that he knew just how much the other side of his chosen family also cared for him. She introduced him to a therapist that was accustomed to dealing with clients with more confidential matters than usual. 

Gradually, Jason healed and discovered his personality aside from ‘anti-hero crime-boss vigilante’. He pursued therapy as a career, becoming a therapist and mentor to the Justice League and its associates, specifically the sidekicks and teen heroes. 

The twenty-hour resurrection rule wasn’t needed for several more decades.

*****

A/N2:

*Yes, I'm aware he also wanted to change Gotham in a way that Batman couldn't/wouldn't etc, but I couldn't get into the nuances there.

Jason has canonically died several times, including the time Bruce stopped his heart (don't ask me for canon references, I don't touch those things with a 10-foot pole) but as I was editing this fic, I decided to go the good/semi-decent dad Bruce route instead; Jason's hurt enough, so you'll only find one small easter egg about that. I also left out the line about the slit throat from the Batarang Bruce threw in UtRH, which I am firmly convinced hurt Jason more than was shown in canon.

I got the inspiration for Jason dealing with post-mortem/post-resurrection stiffness etc from a fic but I can't remember which one. Possibly Who I Am. Who I'll Never Be by Zootopon?? If you find one, feel free to lmk.

Jason is depressed and isn't very objective about the Batfam, and even though they're on fairly good terms in this fic, they're still emotionally consitpated Bats and Jason's a good actor; they're not thinking to reassure him they love him and want him, and he's sure not gonna outright ask for reassurance. As someone with depression (not speaking for everyone, just drawing on my own experience), it really makes you feel like even those you love most and who love you most don't actually. It's hard to ask for confirmation of their love, and especially with dynamics like the Batfam/Jason have, that complicates matters further. If you're reading this and you don't somehow have Issues, learn from this and face your feelings.

[cloud-navi]

So I finally finished Transformers EarthSpark, lowkey love it. (Maltobots/Terrans)

⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️

Maltos (cont.) (Maltobots)

- Twitch Malto

I love how dedicated she is to her family and cares for them. Her strive to work hard to keep them safe like her determination to find a way out of the bunker when they get locked in for the first time is crazy. I think Hashtag getting taken into GHOST HQ really kickstarted her need to protect her siblings and family as she was so worried for Hashtags safety. Ngl the way she uses her wing blades (?) dual handed and her instincts in leading her family in the finale really reminds me Leo from TMNT, perhaps not all Leo’s but a few like 2012 and 2018-2020 (movie) Leo. I really think she took to Bee’s training a bit better then Thrash did and definitely used every little bit she did and inferred in that final battle. 

- Thrash Malto

I like Thrash, he’s a silly dude, I just find the whole episode with Swindles very difficult to understand. Okay so they played a mock battle (AvD) and that somehow lead to being insecure about how much Dot and Alex like you? My guy you just destroyed part of the house from game, its reasonable to not want giant robots inside the very much not robot-sized house. I don’t see the point in having that tent in the yard when theres a whole ass barn that the Malto’s decided to make more home-y and like an actual room for you. Its not a giant deal if you can’t go in Mo’s room but you can still talk to her from the window if she hasn’t come down yet.

I kinda think he might have some separation anxiety and that might be why he doesn’t like being separated from Mo that much but it was completely reasonable to not want them inside the house.

- HashTag Malto

Honestly watching her get easily distracted by the tablet while searching for an alt-mode really makes me think she could have ADHD (not just because of that but definitely feels like one indicator). I like the idea that she’s able to hack through the wifi which makes a lot of sense for bots to be able to do, like BV Soundwave on the satellite.

I love all the allegories in this show, really puts things into a perspective thats not technically real-life so its easier to see the problem, emotions and understanding of things when its not connected to you. When it’s connected to you then it feels more personal, thats why people don’t like to watch shows that could talk about topics that they deal with sometimes. I love the allegory they used the Transformers to show even some little ways that racism still exists even if its not the systemic side of the problem. The way the portray HashTag and the other bots when they find the ‘Transformers Go Home’ graffiti really shows how it doesn’t matter if you’re born there, if people view you as different they’re going to deem you not worthy of being there, as well as masking it like with things like ‘oh it’s directed towards Decepticons’ but everyone really knows that it isn’t and that’s blatantly a terrible thing to say regardless if it was “supposed” to directed towards one group of people (Decepticons) in a certain demographic (Cybertronians/Terrans).

I also love the allegory of found family the use in the same episode. Like how Robby stands up to Steven for making rude comments about the Terrans and how they aren’t “actually his family.” Robby stood up for the Terrans because they’re his siblings regardless of age or species, which ties back to the racial undertones of the episode as its so common for others to make comments about interracial families if its found family or just a mixed family that may or may not look more like one side then the other.

Making HashTag the one to get hacked by Mandriod makes a lot of sense as her need to protect her family (like Twitch) is strong and it shows that even in the pursuit of protecting the people you care about you can end up hurting them. Granted she was being hacked and controlled but it was her drive to protect that made her decide to get on the plat form and confront Mandriod. In the pursuit of protection, unexpected revelations and plan changes from outside factors can lead to hurting the people you love the most even if that wasn’t your intention or by your doing.

I love the understanding she has with Starscream, just in the few minutes if not hours of being controlled and forced to feel alone she was able to connect it to how the majority of victims feel while being abused, hurt and alone. She, unlike a good amount of bots throughout the franchise had high enough empathy levels to understand and connect to Star. I love that she listened to him and validated his feelings. Its one thing to hear someone tell you how they feel or what they’re thinking but its a completely different thing to listen, and Hashtag listened. (Literally almost cried at that scene Star deserves so much).

- JawBreaker Malto

He’s a real sweet heart and using him to make another allegory is perfect. The entire episode “Outtakes” is about him asking the other bots how they picked their alt-modes “because he wants it to pick the perfect one for him the first time.” While that sentence sounds just like he might be lazy and doesn’t wanna keep changing to find one that works best or is a perfectionist trying to get it just right, it actually is a better allegory for Gender Identity and finding what title you think fits you best. Through the episode he asks everyone how they ‘knew it was for them’ or how they picked it. The big thing Elita said was “listen to your spark, it will tell you when you find it.” Which is basically an elder gay telling a younger generation they’ll know in their heart when they find it.

All jokes aside, in the allegory the search for a “perfect alt-mode” is the same as the search for the perfect gender identity/pronouns and gender understanding in one’s self. JawBreakers search for an alt mode is like a queer persons search for a title or definition to understand who they are. Like a searching for sub-identities under main umbrellas. A Flier isn’t always a Seeker but a Seeker is always a Flier, its like trying to find which model plane you are compared to others, trying to find advice on how to pick which one best fits you.

I honestly didn’t think the dino-alt would stick with JawBreaker, it just didn’t seem like him to me but with little amount of episodes they could make I understand the need to give him one before the finale.

To me, giving JawaBreaker an alt-mode is kind of a double edged blade. The concept of using alt-modes as a form of gender identity is really interesting and using JawBreaker as a way to explore that 1) giving him an alt can represent the people that did end up finding an identity that fit them and how they feel but also 2) it takes away any possible rep for queer people that don’t have an ‘identity’ suitable to them. Let me explain: I use the term identity as a substitute for the whole explanation’al mess that is finding ‘gender terms’ that have a definition (transwoman, someone who identifies as a woman without necessarily being AFAB) that feels like them and similar to how they experience life in their vessel.

My “2)” point is that giving JawBreaker an Alt mode is giving rep to queer people that were able to find an ‘identity’ while also taking that away from queer people that struggle to find what fits them. Of course representation is still representation and its nice to see it even if it can’t exactly go both ways, which is fine.

⚠️ This is an allegorical theory, in no way shape or form does this apply to the entirety of the queer experience for everyone ⚠️

- NightShade Malto

Love them, very silly. They’re very smart and I love how they were a direct allegory for a different aspect of some queer experiences. While there’s people that know how they identify and what to call their feeling, and there are others that struggle with finding that, theres some that don’t think about it (like me) and some that don’t actively search for a term even if they want a title for it. NightShade didn’t know they’re identity fell under Nonbinary until they met Sam (love sam).

Not only that but how the creators continued the queer identity alt-mode theme with NightShade and how they picked theirs. At first NightShade felt already complete with how they were and didn’t feel like they needed an alt-mode (which is valid, and with the allegory its still valid because some people might not want/like ‘identity terms/labels’) but the creators also added the layer of self expression and how an ‘alt-mode’ can be another way to express yourself through their conversation with Truantulas.

I like NightShade’s pick I just don’t care for how they designed it. For any bird alt-mode honestly AirRazor’s feels like the best kinda bird design (not including the cassetticons).

⚠️ again this is not the queer experience for everyone, just an allegorical theory ⚠️

[draconic-ichor]

The Cat, The Sun, and The Moon

Fnaf fanfic

Sun/moon x female oc

Part 7

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, brief mentions of medication/sickness/mucus, hand kink, vaginal fingering, Masturbation, brief mention of bugs

Summary: As Tabitha heals from her chest infection there’s a shift in her relationship with her two animatronic roommates…

Feedback appreciated, 18+. We finally at the smut chapter!

With the antibiotics, Tabby improved drastically over the next week. The boys doted on her around the clock, keeping her on a strict schedule of food and sleep. She noticed that they had started being much more handsy, petting her or simply touching an arm or leg whenever they could.

Besides touches, the boys started displaying little acts of courtship as well; mostly bringing tiny gifts or doing acts of service. Sun ramped up the pampering while Moon searched around for hidden treasures, while they both made artwork for her.

Tabby woke from a late nap by Moon crawling onto the bed. She rubbed her eyes, yawning.

Moon eagerly held out his hand to her, smile spanning his faceplate.

She blinked, looking into his palm curiously. Her body tensed: there was a large dead bug in his hand.

“Jesus!” She cursed, waking up fully.

Moon cocked his head, offering out the little prize like a proud cat.

“T-Thank you…for killing it.” Tabby managed, backpedaling to mask her initial shock.

He made expectant movements, smile faltering a bit.

She wilted, steeling herself before carefully picking up the insect, depositing it on the nightstand for later disposal.

Moon beamed, coming closer to cuddle her. He made a contented purring rasp from his voicebox, faceplate nuzzling into her side.

Success!

Tabitha never connected the dots, the animatronics keeping up the shenanigans all the while.

She didn’t know they were constantly replaying her words through their minds like a mantra echoing through their whole being.

Even when I’m not sick…I’ll love you.

I’ll love you.

I’ll love you…

By day ten she was well enough to return to work, the only lingering symptom hacking up mucus. Sun made comments about being a good house husband for her, his smile widening at her blush the statement brought.

“What if I get takeout and we watch a movie tonight?” Tabby offered, trying to change the subject, “To celebrate, you know?”

“Tired of soup?” Sun asked, amused.

“Well…” she wilted, adding quickly, “It’s not that it’s bad!”

Sun tilted his head, smiling mischievously, “Don’t check your thermos I packed then.”

“Is…Is it soup?” She asked worriedly.

When he looked away, smile widening, she feigned distress.

“Sun! Sun, is it soup?”

He started to crack, turning away as giggling bubbled from his speaker.

“Oh God, Sun!” Tabby hammed up, leaning against the counter as if she was starting to faint, “Please, don’t…please have mercy! Not more soup!”

“It’s soup.” He managed, voice eeking out before bursting into laughter.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Tabby cried, putting a hand over her face making him lose himself even more.

~

Over the time she spent at home, Tabby also hooked the boys up with a direct messaging app, it being much easier to use than email. She unwittingly opened herself up to them sending memes and pictures all hours of the day though.

Sun loved animal memes, especially ones with crying cats, while Moon normally sent obscure images with one word text.

Tabby checked her phone on her lunch, finding such things.

She took a selfie of herself with the thermos, sending it to Sun with the text: Soup time.

He sent a picture of a fat kitten back saying: full of soup.

She giggled.

Tabby: What food would you like with the movie?

Sun: Up to you! You’ll be eating it after all

Tabby: I was going to share, it’s a celebration

Sun: PIZZA

Tabby: Remember last time you ate melted cheese???

Sun: *crying cat*

Moon: No cheese.

Tabby: XD

Sun: *even more crying cat pictures*

After work Tabby decided to stop for Chinese takeout, heeding Moon’s earlier warning. She ordered extra, just in case the animatronics wanted to try any. After a period of caution the boys were in full swing of filling lost time with trying foods.

Her mind wandered as she waited, the wanderings not stopping even after entering the apartment.

While Sun greeted her and she placed the multiple small boxes on the counter, her thoughts pooled:

One downside to having a seven foot animatronic, that is constantly aware and active, stalking about the apartment is that there is never really a safe time to take care of more…personal needs. Especially after Tabby realized Moon was a damn near constant observer to her at night. For lack of better terms, she was pent up.

All of their little touches as of late pushing her closer to the edge. It had been a long time since she looked at a person and desired them in such a way. Of course she watched porn or read dirty stories, but she’d become almost jaded to real touch after past traumas.

But these were animatronics!

Just as human as anyone else she’d ever met, and much kinder than most men she crossed paths with.

And their hands…

Her mind roamed.

“Starlight?”

Tabby jumped, realizing Sun had been talking to her.

“Oh sorry…” she blinked, cheeks rosy as she asked, “What was that?”

He tilted his head, single optic narrowing as he gave a calculating eye over her. She avoided his gaze…curious.

“I was just telling you: I got a job!” He announced again, brightening.

“Oh!” Tabby smiled, but asked quickly, “What do you mean, though?”

“Well,” Sun’s rays spun excitedly, “I was asked to be Dakota’s and Donn’s new babysitter! I’ll be able to see them four days a week and it’s all during the day when you will be at work.”

“Sun, that’s so good!” Tabby smiled, happy for him, “That will be so good for you.”

“Yea!” He agreed, “Different apartment for a change of scenery. And she’s even going to pay me! I've never been paid for anything before.”

“That’s really good, Sun.” She reiterated, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” Sun’s rays spun again.

~

They sat closely on the couch, mimicking the pose taken previously when she was repairing their hands. Sun watched the movie, begging for little bites here and there.

Tabby, eating right out of the box to save on dishes, would lift the box up above her for him to steal some. His rays would spin happily every time.

As the food was finished and leftovers put away she relaxed back into him. Sun held her, cuddling becoming a normality since her bout of sickness.

He didn’t breathe, no rise and fall to his chest, no heartbeat when she lay her head back against him. She instead listened to the mechanisms inside, still little sounds of life that echoed from within.

The warmth that radiated from him made all those thoughts worm back into her mind…

Tabby felt a familiar ache, squeezing her legs together in an effort to push down whatever was threatening to bubble up. She tried to focus on the movie, playing with her shirt sleeve a bit nervously.

“Star…” Sun’s voice was a full octave lower than normal, the gravely notes sounding more like a purr as he drew out his words, “Your heart rate is so high.”

Tabby swallowed, face flushing a bit as she took a quick glance over the top of her head.

There was a gleam of knowing in his milky gaze. Sun tilted his head as she quickly looked back at the movie. “You’ve been distracted…” he perceived.

“Just fully getting over being sick.” She lied, hoping he didn’t pick up on it.

Problem was, she was a shit liar.

“No….” He drew out, curling a bit forward to look at her, “This is different.”

“Let me take care of you.” He whispered, a plea to the words. He wanted nothing more than to please her and be everything she needed, in every aspect of her life.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat, almost trembling.

“You do take care of me.” She attempted to stall, stomach making flips.

Sun’s face split into a gentle smile, “In every way.” His voice was suggestive, hand moving to her inner thigh.

Tabby’s face flushed, watching as his hand spanned across her thigh.

Damn his hands were big.

She gulped.

He felt her pulse quicken, detecting her temperature rising as his fingers rubbed small circles into her skin.

“Sunny, you don’t even have the parts.” She pointed out.

“I’m nothing if not creative.” He gave a languid smile, eyes hooded.

All the feelings she’d been trying to ignore bubbled over like a forgotten pot. Her core ached, every nerve crying out for him to continue.

“Okay.” She nodded, swallowing thick spit.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, just to be completely clear.

She nodded more fervently, “Y-Yes.”

The movie was quickly forgotten as his large hand slid higher, fingers softly tracing over her sex through her night shorts. She cursed herself internally, for not wearing panties, feeling moisture already pooling where he explored. The fabric quickly stuck to her skin, allowing him to feel every fold. When his fingers brushed over her rapidly engorging clit she made a little mewl.

She quickly swallowed the sound but it was too late; Sun’s head clicked to the side, calculating her every small detail. He repeated the action with more precision, drawing out another little sound.

The wet fabric was rapidly becoming too much to her over sensitive sex, the roughness scratchy.

Tabby swallowed down a sound of discomfort, Sun’s exploring paused.

“You okay, Starlight?” He asked worriedly.

“Y-Yea.” She managed, sucking in a breath, “Just give me a second.”

He nodded, pulling his hands away.

She let the thumping blood in her clit calm for a moment before leaning more heavily back into Sun to lift her hips off the couch. Tabby shucked off her night shorts, dropping them to the floor before snapping her legs closed against the cool air. Her eyes closed tightly, hearing his rays spin.

He waited for her to relax into him again, letting go of the tension in her legs. When he finally resumed his fondling it was more blundering with his inexperience. All the videos in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing.

“Ummm.” Tabby bit her lip, taking his wrist to guide him to her clit and away from her urethra opening.

Sun leaned back more, taking her with him to allow better access. He pulled his hand away completely, enjoying her little whine.

“Show me.” His voice was gentle. Her blush deepened, realizing he wanted her to touch herself.

Her hand dipped down over her sex, nervous with an audience. Sun tilted his head, ever attentive, watching every little movement. Her middle and index finger began to make tight circles over her clit, a little moan leaving her lips.

Sun’s optics widened, hand placed over her thigh almost possessively. He urged her to open more, letting him see. She gulped, allowing him to spread her legs, a thrill of excitement going up her spine.

He made a sound akin to a purr, hand gliding to overshadow her own. His fingers mimicked the action, her hand falling to the wayside to allow him full access.

His free hand curled into the meat of her fat thigh, keeping her good and open as she tried to tighten a bit. Leaving her clit, to her dismay as her climax waned, he explored down.

“Not here?” He questioned, fingers rimming her cunt.

“I-“ she gulped, “I don’t usually put a-anything in there.” She admitted.

“Never?” He asked, curiosity peaked.

“Well not never.” She gave a nervous giggle, “I've fooled around before with an ex but…that,” she swallowed, “…wasn’t much and was a long time ago.”

“Ah.” He nodded, fingers still circling, “May I?”

His question took a moment to sink in, Tabby giving a little nod, face crimson.

“Let’s play a little game.” His voice was low and soothing, free hand on her other thigh, “If things are good you say ‘green light’ and I’ll keep going. If you need a moment but don’t necessarily want me to stop, you say ‘yellow light’, okay?”

Tabby nodded, feeling his thumb rub delicate circles into the meat of her thigh.

“And if you want me to stop, you say ‘red light’, and I stop. No questions asked.” He tilted his faceplate down to rest on her crown, “Understand the rules.”

She nodded, but when he didn’t react she realized he wanted verbal confirmation. She swallowed down thick spit, core aching, “I understand.”

“Good, good.” He purred, fingers resuming their soft explorations, dipping down.

He heard her breath hitch as he breached her opening, single fingertip. Her body was tight, the single intrusion causing little quivers to run down her thighs.

S: She’s so pretty…

M: Pretty little star.

“G-Green light.” She managed, hand coming up to hold onto his arm. The metal was warm to the touch.

Sun pressed in further, velvety walls of her pussy greeting him. She was so soft, every piece and part. He marveled at how a single finger could reduce her to such a mess already, simply dragging it back and forth causing her to hiccup and moan.

M: More.

S: Patience…we don’t want to scare her off.

Sun soothed his counterpart, hearing a growl for a response. Despite his calm demeanor on the surface he was truthfully using everything he had not to lose himself in his excitement. He needed to be careful, to be patient…

Tabby was rapidly coming to full understanding of just how large Sun’s hands were, the point punctuated with the tap of a second finger asking entrance.

“Green!” She mewled, hips lifting off the couch.

Sun gently slid in the next finger, pausing for her body to adjust.

It burned, walls fluttering around him. She made a little sound, core clenching.

“You’re doing so well.” Sun whispered.

When he started to move again, it was with purpose. He wanted her to fall apart, needed to see her wanton, all for him.

She obliged, the two fingers stretching her and sending waves of pleasure she wasn’t able to give herself.

He listened to every little sound, changing his methods to elicit the most powerful from her. Forever calculating and filing away what made her squirm.

Sun swept over a bundle of nerves deep inside her, making her cry out. Startled, Sun froze.

“Green!” Tabby sobbed, needy, “Green, green.”

He resumed with a vengeance, abusing that newly found place. Pleasure burned from her core, Tabby giving small thrusts up to meet his movements.

His palm brushed her clit and she was done for, thighs pressing together as she came.

Stars burst in her eyes, a sobbing cry leaving her lips. Sun worked her carefully through it, giving little whispers of praise.

Coming back, the movements suddenly became overwhelming. Tears pricked her eyes as she gulped in needed air, managing the word, “Red.”

Sun paused, carefully withdrawing his fingers from her heat. A string of moisture connected them, optics trained on it.

Tabby panted, little quakes of pleasure running down her legs with the aftershocks.

She lay back into him, boneless, as she tried to regain herself. Eyes closed and trembling. It had been a good long while since she had such an intense orgasm.

Sun watched her, feeling proud of himself. His attention shifted to his fingers, still drenched with her release. He brought them closer, separating the digits to marvel at the connecting threads. Ever the creature of curiosity, he very carefully took one finger, running it over his tongue.

“Gross.” Tabby commented from below.

Sun withdrew, caught red handed, rays clinking back and forth a bit.

“It was for science,” he informed.

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, cuddling into him more. Sun shifted so she could be more comfortable, overjoyed to hold her this closely.

Part of her knew they needed to talk about what just occurred, discuss the implications. But that part was far off, fogged in her pleasure-addled mind. Right now sleep tugged her deeper, the pleasant warmth of the animatronic soothing her.

Once she was asleep, Sun carefully reached up and behind himself, pulling the cord on the lamp.

The room was sent into darkness, the soft glow of the tv the only light. They shifted forms: Moon taking the stage.

He glanced down at the slumbering form before him, Tabby cuddled into his chest. Worry spiked through him, hands up as if his touch would provoke her.

S: Just rest….She won’t bite.

Moon slowly relaxed, hands tentatively coming to rest along her back and head. His faceplate tilted to the side as he gently caressed her cheek. Tabby murmured.

Moon gave out a little purr, heart melting. His music box clicked on, playing soft soothing notes.

“Ours.” He hummed, petting her lovingly.

S: Ours.

Sun agreed.

~

She woke in her bed, tucked in carefully and with a new pair of pajama pants. She felt more rested than she had in weeks, despite the young hour, core feeling both sore and tingly.

Everything from the night before came rushing back in, clenching her thigh together from the memory.

She swallowed…they needed to talk.

Tabby slid open the balcony door, breath coming out in puffs from the cold. She smiled, “You’re a real sunflower now.”

Without moving, Sun commented back, “You are up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep…” she murmured.

Sun’s faceplate tilted towards her now. He searched over her features, eyes calculating.

“Is it me?” He finally asked.

“Well,” she gave a nervous smile, “You are involved.”

He stood, gesturing for them to go back inside.

“Don’t you need to finish charging?” She asked.

“I can catch up later.” He shook his head, “This is more important.”

She followed him in, sitting on the couch as he closed the glass door. He sat beside her, looking worried. They awkwardly avoided eye contact for some moments, silent.

“I feel like we should talk about last night.” She finally blurted out.

Sun nodded, fingers beginning to twitch.

“I know we should, but I don’t know how to talk about shit like this.” She went on, “It’s weird and I don’t know what we are anymore or what’s normal or even ok.”

She started to ramble, stress levels rising.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sun frowned, taking her hands to calm her. Tabby focused on the contact, taking in a breath.

“First…do you regret it?” Sun asked gently, adding, “We won’t be mad at you.”

She shook her head, not lifting her gaze.

“Okay, that’s something. Did…did you enjoy it?”

“Y-Yes.” She managed.

He tilted his faceplate closer, “Do you care about me?”

She nodded, eyes closed.

“And I care about you.” He softly pressed his forehead to hers, “Can that be enough for now?”

“But-,” she started, voice lilting.

“We want you to be happy…we want to take care of you.” Sun squeezed her hands, voice soft, “Things don’t need names…not yet.”

She sucked in a breath, nodding, “Just give me some time, please?”

“Of course!” Sun agreed, “All the time you need, all the time you need.” He squeezed her hands again, “We’ll be right here.”

[raspberry-merbutlers]

My hot take:

The Emoji Movie didn't have to be bad

Hear me out

So like, first off, dot eyes instead of the uncanny valley ones

Now that that's out of the way,

The main emoji is a happy emoji that's trying to make life better for the boy who owns the phone

The boy is still shy and wants to let the girl he likes know he likes her, but can't. So the happy emoji sends a text for him, maybe some photos, trying to set them up together

While well intentioned, it makes the boy think his phone got hacked, and now he's afraid of being bullied at school for it

Boom! Conflict

Before the boy goes to get his phone reset, or discarded, all the emojis are in a panic bc what will happen to them? So they all make a journey to the City of the Clouds (aka the Cloud) so they're all "saved"

Maybe a villain made up of other emojis if need be, if not enough conflict, ie a cowboy emoji

🤠

💪👕🤳

👖

🥾🥾

🐎🐎

Maybe it ends up the girl actually likes the boy back but was too shy to say it first, or maybe it sparks a convo that makes them friends

But not before the happy emoji apologizes for meddling and it becomes a lesson of online privacy and whatnot

Anyway that's all I got, except maybe making the sidekick character an angry little guy

[tanglepelt]

Run Ghost Run 10

A03 prev next

What have Sam Tucker and Jazz been up to?

Sam was panicking. Danny had left for a council meeting this morning. It was now around 5 p.m. Those meetings never took this long in the human realm.  

The longest had been three hours. For them.

Danny says they feel super long back in the realm. With Clockwork as a long-standing member, it wouldn’t be hard to see him messing around. Then again nobody enjoyed these meetings.

Every member hated the meeting except the Observants. They always went the same way. Parties never changed minds most meetings solved nothing, and everyone left without a solution. Only to have to come back for the next meeting for the same thing to happen. Time is nothing for immortal beings, all would rather not sit around doing nothing. That was the observants job.

Once, Danny, has his coronation majority will fall on him. The council was only formed when Pariah was sealed away. A group of ghosts of different backgrounds to keep balance. Danny hadn’t told her the full details, honestly, he probably hardly listened. Danny tended to zone out on those things.

The whole king thing was odd.

Trial by combat isn’t a good way to choose a king.

Only the powerful would be able to lead. Those often only want to get stronger. Absolute power corrupts, a whole leadership based on the premise was doomed.  

It was 5:17 on the dot when she got a message.

The council wanted war; Danny said he tried to get them to listen. They didn’t. Danny thanks to clockwork convinced them to give a warning. To the GIW of all people.

The government was going to be the death of them all.

She’s been saying it for years.

At 5:45 p.m. they all glow green. Sam and Tucker had been alone in the theater room. A text to jazz and it happened to her as well. Thankfully she had been in the bathroom.

At 7:15 p.m. the ghost alarm goes off. Lockdowns now mandatory. The GIW and “mayor” masters had made sure they were enforced. Tucker and her at her house. Pretending to have a movie night.

Tucker gets grilled by her parents. They didn’t want him there in a lockdown. They can’t do much.

So, she waits.

An hour passes. No word

Tucker finally escapes the grilling of her parents they wait some more.

It was 9 p.m. no word from Danny. It’s now after curfew. Still stuck at her house. Still on lockdown.

No ghost had attacked. None of their equipment had been set off. So why was the alarm sounding? Why did the Fenton parents set it off?

Stuck sitting here going insane. No word nothing.

Maybe he just forgot.  A call and text go unanswered.

Jazz wasn’t even home for them to check with her. She had been away for the night a tutoring session gone long. The parents offered her to stay the night when the ghost alarm went off. She couldn’t get out of there. Curse the curfew and lockdowns.  Not expected back until around noon the next day. Longer than 24 hours after he disappeared.

Still, they texted her.

Jazz was going to hit home when she could. The parents of who she was tutoring were guarding the door. Just like how Gram was watching them.

The night passed too slowly.

Jazz texted them back at 6:05. 5 minimum after curfew.

He’s not here.

They had to find him.

**

Tucker knows he’s a good hacker, good reprogramming, and a good coder.

He knows he can hack the Fenton stuff well. He often overrides their security to make Danny’s life easy. Disengaging the security system, wiping Danny’s ecto-signature from their devices, and general device management.

All his safety protocols had been removed. Danny’s ecto signature was logged back into the system. The Fenton parents had to of seen them. Any trace of him was gone. All the hints, the bugs anything he ever touched. Software once up to date now older versions. This had to have been an old backup. He had been found out and a restore had been done.

Any trace of the Fenton’s experiments and lab work is long gone.  

The security footage in the lab was wiped. All of it is gone. Deleted digitally and the SD card they kept for each day is gone. No record of anything that had occurred in the last week. Not for the nearly 24 hours they hadn’t seen Danny.

The Fenton parents never got rid of anything. Not after the portal incident, the one-to-many close calls with Danny always showed that. Tucker had to constantly loop the footage and change the time stamps. It was never deleted never fully gone. Not even the incident when Mr. Fenton got pantsed by a ghost.

The two Drs. had to have done something.

It was at 10:10 when he had to inform the group, he had nothing.

All he could do was wipe the little information remaining, the ecto-signatures. The items that are meant to track and hunt down. Those remained.

**

Jazz left for the infinite realm at 10:11. They would know if he made it back. She searched the house even calling her parents. The GAV was gone, and Danny’s room didn’t look slept in.

Was she wrong about their parents?

Her fingerprint unlocked the portal. She left with the speedster. Sam and Tucker staying to look for clues. Looks for his signature to see if they could follow him.

Pandora and Frostbite were by the entrance. Guarding it from Danny’s rogues, a promise they meant to keep. Preventing them from leaving the realm.  The two were worried, Jazz promised updates. She left the realm more worried than before.

Pandora and Frostbite wouldn’t stand by idle if they had no word.

There was a war now looming.

Knowing it was only a matter of time. Knowing Danny, the would-be king was missing. Knowing they’ll look for him if he doesn’t show up. Knowing her baby brother was missing.

It was 11:00 am when they went to the go bag. Pulling it from its hiding spot. Jazz made sure the med kit was stocked. Full to the brim with supplies. She put a note on the bag as well. Sam added some cash.

She knew her baby brother.

He’d run if something happened to him. Thinking it would hide the situation from prying eyes. The GIW would chase him down, they had enough force to spare. Ever since those acts, they only got more and more members. It would only be a matter of time before they’d nab a ghost inditing war… If they hadn’t to Danny.  

Hopefully, her note would get through to him.

She knew it wouldn’t, but she had to try.

The three regrouped at the nasty burger. Text and calls still going unanswered. The GIW was their next step. It couldn’t just be rushed into, breaking into government labs isn’t always Childs play. Not with the GIW seeming to have better weapons each and every day.

They planned and plotted. Only leaving the nasty burger when it became more crowded. Their tiny corner booth is no longer prime real estate.

Her parent's answer about Danny was concerning.  I’m sure he’s fine jazzicans. Just leave it be.

They had done something.

The three went to Tucker's apartment this time. Away from Sam’s home and away from her parents. She wouldn’t leave it be. It was her brother, and she would do whatever she could for him.

Tucker wasn’t having luck getting into the GIW security system. All the spyware they had managed to get in was non-functional. Nothing was coming live.

8:00 was curfew. They’d keep trying until then. At curfew, she would confront her parents. Since 4 p.m. they’d been telling her to come back home. That it was important.

She wasn’t ready to confront them. Not until they knew how to find her brother.

At 7:54 when the communicator went off. It was Danny. He was alive.

The communicator sat left behind at the meeting point. He left them behind just three letters at the rendezvous point.

Each envelope was labeled Jazz, Tucker, and then Sam.

That wouldn’t stop them from finding him. Danny was self-destructive. It was Jazz’s job as an older sister to find him and scold him. Well after making sure he was okay.

He wasn’t.

She knew that.

Jazz could hope he was safe.

The three would get supplies from the lab and head out. Some pure ectoplasm and ecto-dejecto. The specialty meds and thread was made just for him. Nothing else would work. They just had to get past her parents. Sam and Jazz had been bonding science the “girls” night. It would be too hard to believe they got caught up before curfew and all just went to the closest house.

Everyone played the system this way. To “trick” the system.

The Three would find him despite what he wanted. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything. Letters are hidden away in pockets.

They could read them on the road.

Jazz knew something felt off as they got closed. The air was tense. Things were wrong. She ignored it. So did the other two.

They shouldn’t have.

Immediately upon entering the house, the alarm system spoke.

Lockdown protocols engaged.

Her parents rushed up from the lab. Looking frantic and worried. Anti-ecto weapons in hand. The two looked feral and crazed.

“Good, it’s the three of you.”

“There’s no easy way to break this to you guys.”

Jack hissed out “Phantom had been possessing our baby boy for who knows how long.”

With a disgusted tone, Maddie agreed with him “That thing has been disposed of...”

Time froze for Jazz.

Jazz wasn’t listening anymore. All she could do was think about Danny.

What did they do?

There was yelling between Sam, Tucker, and her parents. She only caught keywords.

disposed

possessed

thing

What did they do?

Rage filled her as she thought of the past. Learning his secret, the picnics as kids, fending off dinner together, and all the botched holidays.

She was barely aware of the shouting and the struggle. That Jack was now restricting Sam and Tucker in a “hug”. That Maddie was approaching her.

“WHAT did You” Jazz spit out at them “to my little brother” then lunged at Maddie.

Jazz would like to say she put up a fight. The most she accomplished was pulling the blue hood off Maddie’s face. Only to ultimately have her hands forced behind her back.

Sam and Tucker were oddly calm in Jack's grasp.

The prick in her neck made her realize why. Some type of relaxant.

Brought to the lab a blood test for all. Monitors on their wrists. In case of an escape.

To the shock of none of them, all three of them were contaminated. They’ve known this for ages. Anyone with enough exposure to a portal of the beings of the realms would be exposed. What they have is ingrained into them, something that would never go away.

The majority in the town had exposure. A kind that would dissipate after a day or two of being overshadowed only an hour or two after a major fight. No one else in town that they were aware of where like them.

Jack and Maddie kept talking. It was hard to stay focused on what was going on. She heard them talk about texting Sam and Tucker's parents. A lie about being with Danny. Talks of how to cleanse them all. Talks of how they only had just a tad bit more than them. Talks of if they should hand them over to the GIW.

There was a flash of green. A green rip opened wide through the lab. The room now illuminated in green. 

Guards who attacked at the town hall meeting came through a portal. Followed by they eyeballs, the observants. They looked even creepier then Danny had described. Not the one that had been made. The one on lockdown is out of reach to them. 

Frostbite and Pandora looking beyond furious. Staring daggers at Jack and Maddie. Eyes that looked ready to kill.

A minor reveal from an observant of all things. The beings Danny always complains about. The know-it-alls who watch everything. The ones who casually mentioned watching Danny but not acting hoping he’d see their way and cease his rebellious streak.

Whatever they had done to him caused this. She didn’t know what.

What did they do?

She heard them talk about a new hunt. An ecto-signature had suddenly been hidden after leaving Amity. The one for Danny, the talks of rounding up those in this realm before they began. She, Tucker, and Sam were the first to be retrieved.  More would follow. Talks all around them like nothing was wrong.

Nothing could happen until all entities were found. They would follow the agreement that had been made. The capture of Jack and Maddie would be handled now. It wouldn’t change the results, while they can’t destroy anything they could be kept.

Jack and Maddie use a portable ghost shield to get away. The ghost couldn’t touch them as they left up the stairs out of view.

They’d be kept in the realm in the keep until arrangements could be made. As she was being brought through the portal. Out of the side of her eyes, she saw a figure leaving behind a green glowing sticky note. Hidden right by an ecto-dejecto.