#a city for the dead

[greysfic]

Restless Dreams 0

I am blind and numb and there is nothing, nothing. Only cold and hunger and nothing. There is a me and there was a then and if there is a now it is

nothing.

//////////////////////////

There are stark white walls and ceiling, and a light so bright some dull animal part of me wants to look away and adjust like waking with the sun in your face. There is no warmth, and no cold. Only vision, and my eyes move as if heavy, the only thing I can move. There are sounds and I recognize them as voices, words, only after some time. As if muffled by a thousand miles and a thousand years of distance, glimmering in my mind like eyes in the dark of the supply room.

"...ostly intact." "Lucky timing. Any later and the anchor process would-" "Don't. Not one more word." "Right. Right, well, positive results so far." There are other sounds, and objects; blocky with blinking lights. There are shapes, rounded and mobile. People. Murky and indistinct. "I think it's awake." "Oh for fuck's sake." A hand crosses my vision and there is nothing.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

A hand in mine. Small, soft. She smells of gunpowder and salt and sweat in the cosy dark of the supply room. The teachers cannot know.

////////////

"How are you feeling, comrade?" Bright light. Stark white. A face, unfamiliar, brow creased and eyes bright in a way that means nothing to me. "Can't speak?" the face looks away, somewhere past me. "Should it speak?" "There's synaptic and animic activity but they've been through an extremely traumatic experience and period of quiescence. Mechanically there's no obstacle but..." "Hm, too much to hope for yet, of course. Can we try a coalescence?" "I'm not comfortable risking that until they acclimate to these meridians." "We have time. Smoke break? Back under you go, comrade."

\\\\\\\\

The green hills roll down to the grey sea and the briny wind is cold, invigorating. I squint at a break in the overcast sky and giggle with wonder. safe in loving arms.

//////////////////////////////////////////

White. Bright. I feel heavy, clumsy. Like I've slept wrong and all my limbs are bloodless. I turn my head and hear something hum and click. Dark shapes on the other side of glass. An empty room. A thick metal door. A crackle of static.

"Good, comrade, very good! Can you take a step?" I do not want to take a step. I don't know what I want. I have nothing else to do. I look down at my feet. They are bone white. They are bone. They are bone and glints of metal and thicker than they should be. I raise my hands to my face and they are bare bone and fingerless and as I scream the shapes move and there is darkness again.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Bright eyes under dark helmets. The thundering drumroll of ranked rifles. Cries of victory. Exhausted I half-collapse and throw my arms around my comrade. His tears feel scalding on my cheek.

//////

"I am. Comrade Hawkar," I say. My mouth does not move. I do not have a mouth, only an assembly of wires and plastics behind a blank sheet of bone. "Welcome back, comrade," replies comrade-doctor Ivy, smiling, the silver skull badge of a Party official gleaming on the lapel of her labcoat. "It's been a difficult journey. You were... in a bad way." Her smile tightens, brittle. "We did our best."

Their best is raw film spotted with cigarette burns. A life no longer mine. Their best is two hundred kilograms of reinforced osseous shell, reanimated muscle, and bioplastic armatures. I am in here, somewhere. Some living meat pulses in the walking sepulchure I have come to inhabit. "Thank you," I say. Their best lent my voice no feeling, and it is better this way.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Screaming, bleeding. Blind with panic, deaf to the roar of artillery shattering the bruised sky. Hearts stop all around me. Warmth leaches from my limbs and pools around my hips.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I am a paragon of war. No weapon has pierced my chassis. No foe can slow my implacable advance and the enemy screamed with a terror I cannot comprehend as my footfalls sank into the maroon mud of the battlefield between me and their inevitable end.

A comrade of the logistics ministry hoses me down before we re-enter the base. I know blood sheathes my body only because diagnostic overlays tell me so. And yet is there not also a warmth? To be covered in the stuff of life.

The thought does not take root. The tender ministrations of comrade-doctor Ivy patch my shell and soothe my soul. I cannot feel her fingers as they delicately seal the scarring of my form. There was disquiet between the drone of war and the comfort of home. There is a creeping dispossession as I see my reflection in a surgical tray; the pallid deathmask with amethyst eyes, the numbers 621 engraved where my ear would once have been, but she dispels it. I will not understand for a long time.

"You are being reassigned, comrade Hawkar, to a specialist Osteidon unit. I trust my colleague comrade-necromancer Thurston to be your handler for this mission." Osteidons. Fragile souls in monstrous armour. Will I find kinship there, with the pilots and their chosen bodies? "For All Mankind, comrade-doctor." "For the Deathless Revolution, comrade Hawkar."

[dinkywinks]

there's lots of things to talk about in the huge dump of "CANCELLED PLANS FOR DISCO ELYSIUM 2: CUNO BOOGALOO" but i am fixated on this little diagram of a mechanic where the better the kids are getting along, the closer they will walk to each other, and at maximum, they start holding hands

the whole game was going to be based on this complicated relationship between two traumatized orphans. and then it was going to end with them fighting to the death

[rottingghosty]

The Hunt of Joker | DC X DP

ERRORS WILL BE MADE BECAUSE I’M AN OVERWORKED PERSON

“What?” The Ghost King of the Infinite Realms hissed out in rage.

Danny stared down at where his Spymaster, a liminal who willingly stood up to take on the title to keep an eye on the human realm for him— was kneeling still as they waited for Danny to process their report. The silent in the throne room was deafening and yet his Spymaster— Lucero Castillo continued on to stay defiantly at him to showcase the seriousness of the situation.

“He’s called the Joker, he’s killed and caused more harm than I’ve realized. The person tasked at keeping an eye on him had failed and the man got away from landing in the realms for his trial longer than I’d like to admit.” Lucero said with a bitter tone, their anger obvious in the moment. Danny could understand, seeing the countless ghosts who landed in the realms because of the Joker grew.

Knowing that the Joker managed to defy death and kept inflicting it? It made Danny’s blood boil as he remembered the death of one of Lady Gotham’s Knights, the boy was young— so young that Danny wept to himself in the shelter of his own keep because that was a young boy who despite everything still tried to save his own mother. Danny felt like he was looking to a mirror every time he saw the Robin, purely because they were both teenagers— kids who had died. It was a limited time that Danny spent with Robin- Jason but enough that Danny missed him when the boy disappeared.

“You’ve kept tabs?” Danny rumbled out, his words echoing with authority that caused the ghosts in the throne room to straighten and Lucero to give a grin, their fangs glinting in the light of the ghost flames that lit up the room.

“Once I realized, I made sure to keep tabs on the clown. I figured it’d be a good premise for a hunt.”

A hunt… Lucero wasn’t wrong. A hunt would be good, it’d allow those who had been harmed by him. The ghosts will enjoy the thrill of hunting down their own killer, he’s sure Gotham’s shades and lingering ghosts would enjoy it as well. Lucero would keep an eye on the hunt, put a stop to any ghosts who stepped out of line and protect any humans.

Danny’s fingers drummed against the arm rest of his throne, the crown above his head flickering wildly as he thought it over.

“I approve of this hunt, it’s been too long.” Danny said as he gave a crooked smile before gesturing to Pandora who immediately began to speak the hunt in existence with another ghost besides her writing it down so a missive would appear before every victim of Joker that had died and lives in the realms.

“Under the orders of High King, the Hunt of the human named Joker the Maddened False Clown, the man who has denied our Mother’s embrace and who has cruelly ended lives of others before their ended time. The Spymaster has been deemed the Watcher of this Hunt and those who had been harmed by him may indulge in the hunt. The hunt will begin in a week’s time.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason felt that something in Gotham was different, the air felt charged in a way he never felt even before his death. He was more in tune with Gotham than any other person, he knew Gotham at its core just as she knew him at his very being. It’s why he claimed Crime Alley as his when he had come back, why he dug his roots and kept digging them even if people tugged him and tried to make him change his tune about the Alley.

They didn’t understand.

Nobody understood the fact that Crime Alley is the very heart of Gotham, how she thrives on its very essence and how even at her weakest she relies on it to protect the rest of Gotham. The City Spirit loomed over him from the shadows, her hands placed on his shoulders to keep ahold of and giving a motherly croon whenever the Bats came into his haunt.

The leylines that Gotham lived on seemed to beat along as the excited trills and chirps of various ghosts were heard as he walked through the Alley, they sounded like a murder of crows in the death infested city. Shadows and blurs of greens and blues darted around, seeking. Hunting.

A soft croon from shade caught Jason’s attention, watching it peer shyly up at him with a wide childlike gaze. The shade was in an alleyway, one that Jason knew the kids around used to run after stealing some food that he knew Mrs. Jimenez purposely put on her windowsill for to take. He debated on ignoring it, wanting to head home because his skin felt too tonight, his pulse thundering in ways even adrenaline rush never could.

The shadows beckoned. Jason followed.

“Do you guys feel that?” Steph asked at family dinner of the month, her eyes darting around to catalogue the Bats reactions. Everyone looked on edgy, as if a single pin needle could drop and it’d shatter every peaceful pretense they had. Jason however looked at ease, as if he didn’t feel like he was a prey at the moment.

“Yeah, it’s made a lot of things brighter. I had to be careful during patrol because I’d start getting migraines from the lights.” Duke said as he poked his fork into his pasta, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that he wore to prevent his lingering headache from flaring into something worse.

“Oh it’s probably cause of the Hunt.”

A silence occurred before chaos erupted.

☁️☁️☁️☁️

NOTE: I am a firm believer that while Jason doesn’t remember anything from during his time dead, he knows ghost culture because its ingrained into his very being and has been aware of all the shades/ghosts of crime alley because its his haunt and he is protective of them as he is of humans. He’s basically Lady Gotham’s disgruntled feral cat and she’s basically throwing him at the shades as exposure therapy to the ✨other side ✨

also Jason casually dropping the fact of the Hunt is so funny cause he’s just reading a book while eating. Like hahaha yeah it’s cause of the Hunt :) we all had died or had brushed with death enough that we feel the excitement of the dead ! Jason is also very much unaware that the hunt is AIMED at Joker and pretty much. has a dead joker dropped at his feet by excited kiddo shades because !!! PRESENT FOR PAPA !!! before it gets yoinked into the infinite realms by Lucero.

morally grey danny because he is balance !! HE IS A KING !! he has the right to choose who dies !!! tbis was done at 2am again and scheduled to post at 7am

[zelkam]

— richard siken, war of the foxes

[anyataylorjoys]

CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD (1980) dir. Lucio Fulci

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[goldenispunk]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are back (from the grave)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[greysfic]

A City For The Dead 1

Tarsen had welcomed the research division with all proper respect and courtesy, and made every effort to accomodate their work. The researchers-a mixed bag of Necromancers, biologists, physicists, and ecologists-had eschewed the comfort of the compound to bivouac up the coast, within sight of the anomaly. Poring over official reports, transcripts, and recovered diaries, and reading between the lines to put a picture together, Iosefka felt this had been as much a source of trepidation to the garrison as it had been a relief.

On paper, Tarsen was and remains strategically important with a clear view of the demarcation zone and the seaward approach combined with enough arable land to be largely self-sustaining. It had fallen between jurisdictional cracks, neither the Ministry of Production nor Ministry of Defense inclined to afford it much attention or assert control as the war cooled. A place to retire officers whose committment exceeded their vitality. A dead-end posting for the politically inconvenient and the personally embarassing.

Unsurprising, then, that the Ministry of Knowledge should take an interest. Close to the anomaly and largely ignored, they could pursue any of their more clandestine goals and expect some leeway before other offices caught up. And they would catch up; Iosefka had found unredacted reports from somebody's spy that read like a blend of field observations and personal letters. There was a cipher, obviously, but she'd given up on cracking it. Had it been the Diplomatic corps, the Intelligence Bureau, or some indistinct and suspiciously provisioned subcomittee at odds with their colleagues sent to, ostensibly, take soil samples?

That was the thing about the fragile ceasefire with the leeches. It gave the bureacracy time to stagnate, to turn inward, for all the worst paranoic impulses of Party apparatchiks high on games of prestige and generals driven half-mad with trauma to coil like competing vines around the tree of state. The Commissariat could do only so much to hold the implosion at bay, and so here she was, wasting perfectly good leave on puzzling out a massacre from badly written love letters and self-aggrandizing progress reports.

It could not be a coincidence she'd been assigned to Tarsen and specifically a Quill field exercise. Prototype Osteidons, a new model Thanatomat, and the most recent appointee to the Secretariat, all at the site of a mystery so throughly buried even the ghosts were nowhere to be found only twenty years later.

And so she read.

[lurukifennecfox]

Gotham was welcoming of Amity Parkers.

not as loving as with her own but she was way more patient with the people of her friend that any other outsiders.

so the people of Amity those Liminal and aware of her tried to pay her kindness back, to a reasonable degree of course but they could help and she let them stay so they did.

Paulina took it upon herself to make a nice place in the fashion district, she sold some charms to help with the curses as much as she could.

Sam being Sam opened a surprisingly Ivy Approved community garden and was very hard to convince not to join the Eco-terrorist but they managed to, thankfully.

the Fentons designed filters to help the 'Parkers but it was good for the city too if too little to do much.

Val hadn't moved here (yet) but she visited often enough and each visit volunteered somewhere.

Gotham grown to adore them almost as their own, she even hid them from the bats for a while to let them settle (and maybe help her more before her Knight inevitably got paranoid)

Gotham laughed when her King stumbled into her Red Knight, you could hear it in subtle ways the sounds of the night flowed just a little too much like a giggle.

Hood did deserve more good things she's proud of herself!

[shibuya-111]

[peacefulandcozy]

ig credit: __suzannah

[cakypa120]

Captain Marvel's villains know the hero's true identity. It's a truth that the Marvel family knows, and Fawcett knew it, too, for that matter.

But when Marvel was grumbling at his villains, he accidentally blurted out:

"I'm pissed that my villains are using my civilian identity to send boxes of glitter to my house. Sivana sent a glitter bomb last time. My whole house was glitter! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get glitter off a carpet?!"

And that was the beginning of the end. The captain was immediately surrounded by heroes, demanding answers.

Batman: You mean your villains know your identity?

Marvel: Oh, yeah? They keep shouting it from the rooftops. Especially Black Adam.

The heroes don't know what to do with this news. First, they were offended that the villains knew the hero's identity, but they didn't. Second, they began to listen to the words of the villains when they fought Marvel again. And so they were able to hear a lot of interesting things. For example:

Sivana: So, Little Red Cheese, are you ready to lose?

Marvel: I'm not that much younger than Ms. Marvel.

Sivana: I think three minutes is enough to call you a baby. Especially since we know that all the intelligence has passed to her.

Marvel: Harsh, but fair.

Captain Nazi: skill issue!

Junior: And because of whom?! Suck my dick!

Marvel: Don't swear.

Junior: I'm older than you, don't whine.

Ms. Marvel: Prepare to be defeated, Black Adam!

Adam: A girl like you won't be able to defeat me!

Ms. Marvel: An old man like you won't last long! You're a wreck!

Adam: I wish I killed your parents. They were supposed to raise you to be a beautiful lady, not this.

Ms. Marvel: Well, they can't be brought back to life, but I can send you to them to say hi!

Thus, the life of Marvel and his family slowly unfolds before the League. Some facts about the Captain's life are frightening. The loss of parents, amnesia, a close brush with death, some wizard stealing children and many other things that make the League look at the cheerful Captain differently. But some of the conversation between Adam and Marvel makes them feel a little terrified.

Adam: Wearing your father's face. Aren't you disgusted by it?

Marvel: My father was a hero to me, to Ms. Marvel. He made me feel safe. I just want to do what he did. Do good and good will follow. I know you know those words Adam.

Adam: How noble. You're right, he was a hero. After all, he chose to save his wife and daughter first, but no one saved him. Tell me, child, who will save you?

Marvel: My family.

Adam: Family. I'll be there when you lose them. I'll watch your light fade under all the darkness of grief and despair.

Marvel: There are differences between us Adam. Unlike you, I know how to resist the darkness. I believe in the best for everyone.

Adam: I was like that too when I was your age. Remember, I'll be there when you fall.

After the fight, Diana hugs Marvel tightly and Superman joins in, followed by Barry, Hal, Oliver and Dinah. Batman stood aside and stared at the Captain. Billy, meanwhile, didn't understand why they were doing this. Everything went well. Yeah?

[pedrospascaled]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN TALKS ABOUT LUCILLE The Walking Dead: Dead City: Behind the Scenes Look at Season 2

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 3/?

_______________________________

Jazz was vaguely aware that Blaster was studying his reaction – or waiting to see if he would give into impulse. But Jazz's excitement had crashed to a puddle of nerves, a bunch of unidentifiable nerves, and he felt anchored to the spot. "Did you find out anything new about – him?" He asked, unsure of… far too much. "Like is there anything I should know?"

"The whole team still has a lot to discuss about," Blaster hesitated, his tone twisting into distaste just before the pause. Yet, relented to whatever it was that was bothering him and continued calmly, "about… him. There isn't anything I have to share, sorry."

He knew the apology was insincere, a show, just another part of the performance. They were friendly, but not friends.

Blaster had always been the one that told him more about what was going on around them than most ever had his whole life. He actively tries to get closer to him more than any past caretaker has and listens to Jazz. A flaw rather than a improvement for their first few years together as Jazz was prone to lying. Still was, but he do so less often and was more withholding the truth with Blaster. But Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to honestly trust him. He did, but not really. Because Blaster was still staff.

And the staff were currently hiding something, something they either didn't want Jazz to know or something they thought he wouldn't understand, so it was pointless. Jazz looked up at him with a – fake and flawless from practice – understanding smile, with the next line in the script. "It's okay."

Blaster smiled back, one that was genuine, than asked, "you calmed down enough for a check up? I got to keep an eye on your blood pressure."

Rather than answer with words, Jazz turned away from the gate and headed for the slope on the pier.

—

He spent the next two hours before dinner between quickly checking the clock and floating in front of the gate. The other orca hadn't even moved, and if not for the clear sound of steady breaths, Jazz would have probably started to freaking-out – okay, he was already freaking-out, but it was back on how he was going to talk with the wild mer. Or, heck, where to start on what to say.

The last thing Blaster said; before finally going home after a busy fourteen hour day, was that there was no need to worry if the wild mer slept until tomorrow. His wounds would recover faster if he didn't move, if anything it was a good thing. For now, went unsaid.

Thus, dinner came and went. Still asleep.

Day staff signed off and night staff came by to sneak a peek. He could pickup on them with his sonar coming by the bay window, but each time voiced disappointed that they couldn't see anything due to the hammock's position. Still asleep.

Dusk came and Jazz struggled to stay awake, exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Still asleep.

—

A wobbling keen caused Jazz to flinch and peek one eye open. It was probably the middle of the night with how dark it still was. As he blinked awake and stretched, his tired brain suddenly realized it understood that sound, that word – {where?}

Jazz quickly rolled over and looked towards the wounded mer. Not quite able to see, but was getting enough of an image of movement with his sonar. Combined with the sounds of shifting fabric and soft rattle of metal supports, Jazz could tell he was awake.

A weak questioning call followed along with a faint splash.

Ah, right, uh–! Jazz panicked for a moment, he didn't want him to become frightened and reopen his wounds, or think they were somewhere all alone. Diving down to an old memory and remembering the warmth, Jazz hoped he could convey his words with comfort, {it's okay… you're safe.}

He didn't get a vocal response, but they became still and within a few minutes, Jazz heard the soft steady breaths once more. He had fallen back to sleep and Jazz couldn't help but smile a little. It wasn't long before he also drifted back off as well.

—

Prowl groaned as he moved, he ached all over, but was given some pretty nasty tugs of sharp pain to remind him of just how bad it was. As he opened his eyes, though still groggy, he took a quick note of the situation as he looked about.

The space. Dim lighting, white walls, an air pocket room with a shallow pool, two doors; one in the water, one on an above-surface area – unusual. Sonar was giving almost unreadable imaging and with a limited range due to other sources of interference – there was a lot of noise to sort out. But he was getting what looked like corridors on one side, large open space on the other. Overall, a simple structure.

His position. A hammock – a bit too snug, unable to rollover, but acceptable comfort.

Injuries. Multiple points of laceration on his arms, flank and tail; claws from other merfolk. Deep punctures along his left side; teeth of a leviathan. Of both arms, the left has more damage and is pinned in a solid net-like cast; potential fracture. Cuts are held shut by a bright coloured, mesh-like covering that clings tightly to his skin by an adhesive, rough to the touch, but not uncomfortable or irritating – likely breathable to reduce infection during the healing process.

Additionally, he noticed in his inspection that his claws had been filed down to his fingers. Irritating, but not unexpected given the extreme caution most give to someone like himself. But in all, this was not first-aid, the treatment is professional.

Conclusion: local clinic.

Prowl gave a breath of relief and relaxed. Someone must have found him adrift after the skirmish and rushed him to a near by town or village. As everything was far to modest to be a big city hospital.

Suddenly, he sensed movement that went over him swiftly and looked up. But whatever it was was gone. Prowl was only picking up empty space above the light-blue ceiling. Then another zipped by. A bird?

Prowl felt everything slow to a stop as cold dread sunk into his bones. That wasn't a ceiling.

That was the morning sky.

_______________________________

I hope I have the right understanding of how advanced the merfolks civilization is... otherwise this is really awkward. >_>; I also wanted to give Jazz at least one human that is trying to make things better for him and be on his side (he's secretly providing inside information to mer activists and trustworthy researchers). Blaster worked hard to gain the position he has to be Jazz's lead caretaker, but fighting the system and working with in it (or risk being replaced by a yes-man) is a frustrating balancing game.

Sorry this one is so short. The next part is going to be really long as Prowl and Jazz get finally meet! I hope it is worth the wait. QuQ

Thank you for the hug, I return the hug!♡♡♡

-GLC

Oohoh my god oh my

The waitinggggggggggggg. Jazz is slowly going insane and so am I *dies*

Upd: I linked all the parts written by GLC together>:D

Link to the previous part

Next

Also the fact that Blaster is actually gives the information away to those activists??? MUAH. SO GREAT. This would also be a pretty solid reason for why Jazz and Prowl wouldn't get separated after the uh. Haha. The violent incident. Imagine if Blaster immediately got the security tapes and uploaded them somewhere? Kinda like it was with Black fish documentary uncovering the murders done by captive orcas?

Point is. People would see that "oh no those two poor mers defend each other so much they turn violent when separated" and pressure the Aquarium to keep them together. Maybe I sound stupid here but it does make sense in my head. It's really nice for Jazz to have someone on his side is what I'm saying. I love that:>

Separately. The tiny interaction they have is so soft and gentle I'm gonna melt. The little {you're safe}?? AUGH

I can't wait for them to interact IM DOING THE JAZZ ARC IN REAL TIME BASICALLY JUST FREAKING OUT OVER THE FUTURE COVERSATION AHAHDKMGMHMFNFMGMF

Also

Prowl: That's a weird looking underwater facility....

A bird: flies

Prowl: