#and not just use wormholes
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Like Sharks
Scip was a brilliant engineer, a visionary, but even he struggled to comprehend the scale of the wreckage in front of him.
A single human ship. One. It had taken three of their eight super carriers and an amazing amount of luck to take it down.
Tip to tail, it was more than fifteen kilometers long. The crew space barely held five pilots.
The rest was just engine.
He’d been given as much background as the council itself had. He’d seen the battle footage. This abomination was bigger than their largest station, but it had still danced around the battlefield with all the grace of dust in the wind. If its weapon systems were fully operational, there would be no one left to speak of it. The fact that it had done all of this with nothing but short range PDC was terrifying. In ship on ship combat, it was like chasing down a sniper just to gut him with a knife.
Then repeating it, three times in a row.
Intellectually, he knew the ship was dead. People had already scoured the main cabin, pulled all of the frozen corpses out. He knew that. But deep down, he couldn’t truly believe it. There was a persistent hum that he could still hear emanating out from the craft, the muffled roar of the gravitational anomaly trapped in the engine. He’d been told that he’d be able to hear it the entire time he was within seven light seconds of the wreck, even in pure vacuum. It wasn’t air making the hum, it was space time itself, rippling as the caged beast pluck, pluck, plucked away from inside its gaol. He shuddered, imagining those ripples traveling out to pluck, pluck, pluck away at his ear.
“That’s how they’ve been doing it, you know.”
He turned around to look at the man who’d spoken. Elj? He was one of the few survivors of the battle. Everyone in the carriers was dead, and fewer than half of the people left stranded in their fighters made it long enough for the rescue craft to arrive.
Scip raised an eyebrow. Doing what?
“Getting around our lines. We’ve been blocking off all the hyperspace lanes between wormholes. Patrolling the infrastructure. We thought they were sneaking around us somehow.”
Elf nodded towards the wreck.
“No sneaking. Just… moving. They don’t rip their way through the void like we do. They swim in it.”
Scip shrugged mutely. He knew. That much had already been given to him. The knowledge was changing the upper brasses tactics, but not by much. It just wasn’t possible to guard choke points anymore. There weren’t any. The humans had designed their ships so that they could attack at any time, in any place, and leave without anyone knowing where they went. They’d built their ships like sharks, and even looking at it, even having it in front of him, he didn’t think he’d be able to figure out how to defend against them.
He spoke abruptly, clearing thick silence from the air.
"You know we're fucked, right?"
Elj laughed, and laughed, and laughed. When the mirth subsided, he put a warm hand on Scip's shoulder.
"Aye. But it's good to hear it from you too."
#hfy#humanity fuck yeah#humans are space orcs#humans are space oddities#scifi#humans are amazing#the prompt was "humans are the only species to develop true FTL#and not just use wormholes#science fiction#creative writing#reddit exodus#Babylon-HFY
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tw for eyes below cut
“wanna see what destruction looks like?” but 100x scarier
#something i sketched of a possessed guzma and then went haywire with the painting#dunno if i like it or not but hey it’s experimental#ultimate angst opportunities#scary scary#some things:#his sunglasses turn into markings/eyes on top of nihilego’s head#one looks sad (the one u see here) and the other is a circle#uses physical moves despite nihilego being a special attacker#but things that hurt guzma more like head smash#leading to him being even more bloodied and bruised#plus the poison damage once he does get free#just nihilego talking through him but it’s not guzma saying any of that#but feeding from his memories and anger#both from his past but also lusamine’s betrayal#my art#pokemon#guzma#pokemon usum#pokemon sun and moon#team skull boss guzma#pokemon guzma#nihilego#bonus of kukui running to get him when nihilego lets go#golisopod comes out despite being hurt from battling nihilego#a moment of respect between the two cause they both just want to help guz#kukui carrying him bridal style back through the wormhole while goli and incineroar protect them from other ultra beasts#(kukui let out incineroar not caring about his secret identity because it’s just that serious of a situation)
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youtube
neve's voice actor... goodbye you guys
#jessica clark#neve gallus#you can tell she's spent a lot of time in the US but i have the same thing with my accent. i feel solidarity haha#sorry ive just fallen into a wormhole of watching interviews of this woman rip#i didnt watch this whole thing lmao its too long. but i am LOOKING 👀 respectfully. i am LISTENING 👂#dav#Youtube
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I think that in season four when the wormhole opened spoke became sort of and an. Other entity, channeling a wormhole through himself caused parts of him to become strewn, thrown, and stretched across space and time. And I think physically it changed him, there’s parts of him lost to space and the vastness of the universe. In his work with the wormhole he became just a bit more odd looking. His body reflecting the instability.
#peaches posts#lifesteal smp#spokeishere#sorry I just REALLY love wormholes#and space#and physics#I just#ugh#wormholes are SO unstable#and he essentially was opening one using his body as a tether across dimensions and whatever worlds are#his very essence and body was the thread holding the wormhole open#a dangerous game of tug o war#and I think it fucked him up AFTER season four and the wormhole closed
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just saw interstellar in imax. love this movie so much. literally any critique of it that i see just shows that the person critiquing it didnt actually watch the fucking movie or havent seen it in ten years and think they remember it perfectly still
#‘why didnt they just not grow crop monocultures’#are you fucking stupid the whole first act of the movie is about how theres a disease that infects all living plant life#and year by year it completely eradicates crop by crop until corn is all that they CAN grow#and even THEN corn is still set to go extinct within a few years too#‘why do they have to leave the earth instead of saving it’ bc they HAVE NO FOOD#you can critique WHY the movie necessitates space travel over saving the earth. like why its written that way#but any critique of the setting that leads up to the space travel in te form of ‘why didnt they just do x’ is so stupid#especially when all those other options were already discussed in the film itself !!#anyway and dont even get me started on the 🤓 erm actually nerd physicsbros who hate this movie because#OHHH THE TIDAL FORCES ON MILLER’S PLANET WOULDNT BE THAT EXTREME#THIS RUINS THE WHOLE MOVIE FOR ME#FUCK OFF!!! have you even HEARD of artistic liberty BY GODDDDDDD#would the tidal forces be that strong? NO. DOES IT MATTER WHEN IT MAKES AN ICONIC CINEMATIC SCENE? NO !!!!I#its science FICTION. FICTION !!!#brot posts#or ‘the movie literally proves itself wrong because they fixed the earth in the end without needing a new planet’#ARE YOU STUPID. THEYRE LIVING ON A GIANT SPACE STATION#THEY STILL HAD TO LEAVE THE EARTH TO SURVIVE.#or the physicsbro who hate on the wormhole paper analogy scene because oh thats such a cliche analogy#i'll admit i always kind of agreed. i thought it was a necessary evil because these are high physics concepts for most audiences#but upon rewatching it now? i realize it was not an analogy to explain wormholes. they literally admit in the scene that its a cliche#bro literally uses it instead as an analogy for DIMENSIONS. he says the common wormhole analogy presents wormholes as 2d holes#but we live in 3d hence a 3d hole is not a circle but a sphere#he literally does not use it as a tired cliche analogy for wormholes he uses it as an analogy for dimensionality !!!!#all you bitches who throw these critiques around havent even watched the scene you're critiquing !!!
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Genuinely makes me so deeply sad to think of the degradation of fandoms. I remember being on tumblr back in 2013. I remember the culture from that year to 2015. I remember all the conventions that casts would appear at and talk at panels to casts, and I remember seeing gifsets of all of those. I remember softer language being used, with people more focused on having light hearted fun + being passionate about the content instead of constant raging morality debates. I remember there used to be SO MUCH interaction between fans and actors, and even before my time in spaces (thanks to youtube and old forums acting as an archive), fans would write in letters to the cast + showrunners, of whom would reply in videos for the fans. Do conventions even happen anymore?? Are there panels still? Are there fan interviewers that booked a timeslot asking the actors questions about their characters and the current season of the show? I feel like the 2000-10s were such a golden era for television, but moreso for fandom culture.
#context: im in a wormhole on youtube of all these old pixelated Lost interviews with Michael Emerson#and all the comments are 8-14 years old#people would speak so differently#it was so much kinder#people were less afraid to be cute i swear#and there was less divide#idk maybe im just not at the right places in the internet#but i KNOW for a fact that i used to see so many gifs of great fan interviews and conventions and panels#now i never see them#do they still exist???
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Every day god tests me showing me something cool as fuck from Doctor Who to see if I'll cave in and start watching it. I haven't failed that challenge. yet.
#I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT#i'm struggling enough with using star wars as escapism on time I don't have#i'm in the middle of reading books and I'm afraid I'll just leave it behind in favour of who#WHICH I WON'T#maybe when i get all caught up with the high republic (read phase 2 and start phase 3)#maybe#chanting to myself i can't get sucked into the wormhole i can't fall down the rabbit hole repeatedly#ugh#\
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rubbing my head. i dont know how to feel about these aether foundation people
[this post has been deleted.]
#op#rotomblr#pkmn irl#pokemon irl#what do you mean they need to build a new island for conservation reasons#girl you are fucking up the ocean doing that. theres going to be less pokemon to conserve because theyre getting fucked up by yall BUILDING#A FUCKING ISLAND#like arceus above are you people STUPID??? YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCIENTISTS ARE YOU STUPID??????#THINK ABOUT WHAT YOURE DOING. FOR ONE SECOND#i am so sick and tired of people showing up in alola and proceeding to FUCK US OVER YET AGAIN#% JUST A HEADS UP: DO NOT TELL HIM ABOUT ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN S/M/US/UM#% this is setup for the moon arc#% based on my initial thoughts abt the aether foundation btw#% but yeagh please no ‘yeah dont trust them theyre behind the ultra wormhole’ type stuff. legion still barely knows what an ultra beast is#the gang goes through the horrors
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love the potential explanations for why demons speak in "archaic" tongues:
time works differently for demons, they took a quick (centuries long) nap and suddenly humans have invented weird new lingo
it's just the natural consequence of being immortal and not terribly interested in the human world. they already took the time to learn to speak Human (random outdated language) when they got their demonic possession license in the 11th cent AD, they're not learning it again
Demonic education system uses old textbooks. Human Studies is a practically obsolete field anyway, there's no money in the budget for updated editions for another millennium at least
all the translation spells were invented by this one nerd who later fell into a wormhole, leaving behind illegible notes and no update procedure
it's a sociopolitical issue. the last push for reform led to a brief period wherein all interactions with human priests/summoners were conducted in 19th century Cockney Rhyming Slang. (the results were controversial)
the humans just seem to enjoy it
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Chilling UFO video shows pill-shaped ‘craft’ coming out of a ‘wormhole’ just as plane passes overhead | In Trend Today
Chilling UFO video shows pill-shaped ‘craft’ coming out of a ‘wormhole’ just as plane passes overhead Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS
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#Celebrities#Chilling UFO video shows pill-shaped ‘craft’ coming out of a ‘wormhole’ just as plane passes overhead#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#Trends#UK#US#World
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and then because they largely act autonomously. there's a "rogue" voice of life (a gallade) who has decided that humans remaining in the pokémon world will lead to doom and has gone out to try and kill them all
#which is maaaaaaybe going to tie into the original story pmd ocs i've been thinkign of making but i'm not sure#mostly i just use him as a plot hook to make all four teams meet and hang out and run for their lives. you know how it is.#fiftytenpost#pkmd#and ultra wormholes/a ton of dimensional rifts or something start showing up at the same time ?#which makes gallade confirmation bias its way into justifying its goal
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mortal fucking enemies with my city’s public transit system
#what’s the fucking point of even having a public transit system if the buses never fucking show!!!#i’d like to be on time without spending all my goddamn money on ubers!!!!#it used to be so good too always on time and reliable#now i’m lucky if the bus is 10 minutes late cause otherwise it just gets fucking swallowed by a wormhole i guess!!!#i hate this city so much#but i’m not the kind of person that can uproot my whole life and move without a solid support network in the next place
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someone should make a list of every witchcraft date in the history of the bachelor franchise because i want to watch them all
#mostly to judge them#this season there was a “traditional estonian witch” who used white sage and talked about chakras#they also had on one of the salem witches who has had a major feud going for the last 20 years or something#and who can forget the time they went to new orleans#i just really need to see what they did in the years before my friends pulled me down this wormhole
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Odds of Survival Part 4
Jazz thinks he’s starting to figure stuff out and finds entirely new ways to concern Prowl.
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The flashing visual feedback from the cracked visor felt like his brain was being used for target practice by a middle schooler with a BB gun and the school just canceled pizza day forever.
Jazz was feeling pretty grateful to Prowl right now. Between the glitching visual feed and the misshapen state of his feet, Jazz wasn’t totally confident he could get into the mecha cradle on his own.
At least not without stumbling around like he was completely plastered and trying to decipher a fancy ass hotels space age shower controls.
Seriously, seven different knobs and a touch screen.
Blurr. Dude. Why.
As Prowl walked him through the outpost, Jazz continually got snapshots of his surroundings. Doorway, hallway, door again, room. Another mecha was inside.
At a glance, they looked like the same class type as Prowl. Face, wing thingy’s, and wheels. All the same but with a slightly different color scheme of red and grey.
Jazz was slowly working out what class of mecha they were supposed to be. They couldn’t be Striker class. Not with attachments Prowl straight up specified were delicate.
What even were they? They weren’t thrusters. The wings took the place of where car doors were on a regular car. Which, holy shit, Prowls mecha can turn into a fucking car.
Prowl also flexed and twitched them around a bunch, kinda like how Jazz used his horns to emote. Not that Prowl needed wings to emote because holy FUCK that face. It had micro expressions!!
Okay. Prowl had three things that were cool as fuck going on. An expressive face, delicate wings and the ability to turn into a (fucking) car.
What does that mean? Why would someone build a mecha like that?
Ever since Jazz got spat out by the wormhole and woke up surrounded by aliens, he’s felt like his brain has been slowly circling the drain of a sink. There was some missing piece to all of this that he could feel himself just skirting by over and over again.
Oh fuck right. The other aliens. There was alien life other than tentacle monsters out there. They were dicks sure but at least you could share a train car without any murder attempts.
Ooooohhh. Jazz swayed backwards a little as the tilted his head back in realization. Prowl catching him.
Prowl’s mecha was built to work with other fighters in space. He clearly had a life support system to survive in a vacuum. He had a highly expressive face to help communicate with aliens. The wings must be satellites for communication. The car mode was for fast tracking across planet surfaces. Prowl was crazy smart, over and over again Jazz had watched him figure out exactly where they needed to go and how to get there. Of course there was a reason he was so easy to work with. It was his job.
Prowl wasn’t any kind of pre-existing class from Jazz’s mecha program. Prowl was every Strikers pipe dream that kept getting brought up and then thrown out for “not being cost effective”.
Prowl was a Support Class Mecha.
Live on the field, giving real time updates and backup.
Damn.
Whatever shadow government Prowl worked for must be insanely rich. Wonder if they’re taking applications.
Prowl unhooked Jazz’s remaining functional arm from over his shoulders. He maneuvered Jazz to sit on a bench height concrete extension from the floor.
The microphones in his horns were still working fine despite one of them sending many unhappy damage report messages.
“Sit here and don’t move.” From the glimpses Jazz could catch, Prowl looked concerned but focused. Jazz wanted to ask why they didn’t go to some kind of docking station but figured Prowl knew what was up and went along with it.
Jazz could hear the mystery mecha talking. A lot.
It was in that other language Prowl had initially tried talking to Jazz with, except speed up by a bajillion percent.
From the tone, the new mecha was asking Prowl a barrage of questions. Prowl, for his part, replied in short concise sentences or occasionally a silent glare. The other mecha didn’t seem put off by this and merrily continued talking as he lined up another shot through some kind of rail gun setup built into the slit window.
Eventually, the new mecha started directing his questions at him. Apparently stopping to breath wasn’t a thing with this guy.
Jazz did his best to shrug. “Sorry man. No idea what you’re saying.”
Prowl interceded in common, “Jazz, this is Bluestreak.” He waved in the direction of the sniper, who smiled and waved.
“Bluestreak, this is Jazz. He is only just learning Common.” Prowl turned to Bluestreak with a scolding look. “I need to focus on helping him while you focus on the remaining quintessons. Understood?”
“I got it! I got it. I can stop talking when I’m working you know.” Bluestreak nodded and turned back towards the view port, but not without calling over his shoulder, “So Jazz, my brothers face is emotion positive positive positive?”
Oh Jazz could hear the shit eating grin from the other side of the room.
“HAH!” Jazz accidentally knocked his head back against the wall and visor started glitching worse. “Eugh. Eh, worth it.”
“Both of you be quiet or I will separate you.” Prowl threatened.
Jazz, chuckled good naturally but otherwise quieted down. He watched the stop motion footage of Prowl opening some kind of crate and collecting what looked like a tube of glue, a pair of giant tweezers and some kind of mecha sized chrome-mesh duct tape.
His face was suddenly very close and Jazz did not startle. Nope. Who said that?
He felt the pressure of a hand settling on his good shoulder. Prowl was wearing that highly concentrated look again. And Jazz was so focused trying to work out what the internal mechanisms of his eyes were that he missed what Prowl was saying to him.
“Could you say that again? My…uh.”
M’kay, how to translate ‘I definitely have whiplash and maybe also sort of a Concussion’ into common. “Head function negative? Uh, too much motion. Broken but small negative?”
Yeaaaah Prowl did not seem reassured by Jazz’s attempt to downplay his condition. Which meant he nailed the translation! He was so getting at least a B+ in this language class.
Fuck his head hurt.
“I want to help you as much as I can. I am not a person-profession-help. Can I help you with what I have?” Prowl had a little furrow between his eyebrows.
“Sure, I won’t fight you.” Jazz stabilized himself best he could. The sentence must have translated weird, because Prowl looked kinda concerned before pulling out a strip of shiny duct tape.
The winged mecha paused, examining Jazz’s busted shoulder, and then doubled the length of tape.
When Prowl wrapped the mesh textured tape around and just above the breakage, something weird started happening to Jazz’s systems. The Severe Damage Warnings and big bright Error messages Jazz had been actively ignoring for the past half hour started to reduce in number. One by one they all quieted down. Checking his mechas systems, the arm was still marked as compromised, but the ai wasn’t actively screaming into his poor brain anymore.
The quiet was such an overwhelming balm Jazz audibly groaned in relief. “I owe you so, so, many drinks. What is that stuff?”
Prowl stilled, “It is-“ he paused, clearly trying to work out how to translate a complicated term into a common equivalent. “It is a kind of repair mesh. You…you don’t know what repair mesh is?”
Jazz got a snapshot of Prowl and even Bluestreak’s expressions. The sniper looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and mouth open in silent confusion. Prowl’s stare was boring into him, making Jazz squirm.
“Um. Yes? At least it’s not something I’ve ever seen before. I mean, I don’t actually need it if it’s too expensive.” Jazz turned owlishly between the two.
Jazz heard Bluestreak start to make a questioning noise before having his focus be pulled back to the winding down invasion outside. Prowl looked into the distance for a moment, then took up the tweezers. He schooled his expression like he was about to do brain surgery.
“I’m going to work on your helm and visor now. Please hold still.” Prowl placed his hand against the side of his head, stabilizing.
“M’kay. Go ahead.” And Jazz put his mecha into Maintenance Mode.
The lights inside the mecha dimmed down to a low glow. Like this, the engine dropped into an idle hum, and the mecha could only move very slowly. Jazz had to hold a position for a few seconds before anything would respond, giving plenty of time for engineers to move out of the way.
Jazz also shut off the incoming feed from the visor, since looking at a bright flashing screen was probably on the list of things you’re not supposed to do while concussed. As well as fall asleep. Or operate heavy machinery.
Two out of three ain’t bad. Call it another B+.
Jazz felt like he might be dropping a letter grade soon though. He usually associated Maintenance Mode with being bored out of his mind, but after the insane last few hour’s, the slow quiet was practically a spa session.
It didn’t hurt that Jazz could feel Prowls hand cradling the side of his head. Technically, the mechas could only sense pressure. No heat. No texture. Given a reference point though, the human brain was pretty fantastic at filling in the gaps.
It felt warm. And soft.
“Jazz?” Prowl stopped what he’d been doing.
Ah.
Jazz came back into full awareness from where he’d been drifting off. He was pressing into Prowls hand.
“Sorry, sorry.” He lethargically pulled away. How do you explain “Hey! Sorry about pushing against you like a stray cat! I’m just kinda super into piloting mecha and being held like that is kind of a novel experience.” in a completely foreign language you learned that morning?
Jazz dragged his ass back upright.
“I’m not, uh, familiar? With a hold like that. Touch-positive. Normally I only feel touch-fight or touch-medical.” Jazz meant to say touch-maintenance, but he was already rambling and for some reason the words were really similar in Common.
Prowl didn’t respond.
Jazz felt his chest tighten. “Prowl?”
“I’m here.” Prowl said quickly. There was an edge of static to his voice.
He didn’t remove his hand. “I’m still here.”
The rest of Jazz’s maintenance went by quietly. Prowl kept his hand where it was for the majority of it, only repositioning once to tilt his head back while working on the cracks of his visor.
Jazz wasn’t 100% sure why Prowl indulged him. Maybe got it? Or maybe he just thought Jazz was passing out and needed to be grounded. Okay yeah, that actually makes the most sense. Plus it was also what literally happened.
Eventually, the pilots heart finally slowed to a resting rate. Mostly. Jazz kept jerking awake.
If falling asleep with a concussion was bad, then falling asleep with a concussion while piloting a mecha would probably do very bad things to his lightly fried meatball of a brain.
He tried remembering what he could of his mandatory pilot safety course he took with Ratchet before the doctor left the program. He mostly remembered sneaking out.
It was fortunate then the pilot was just delirious enough that every time he almost conked out, the spiritual embodiment of Ratchet would scare the fuck out of him.
Thanks Ratchet.
See? I did learn something.
He heard a tarp rustling, and then his busted arm was being manipulated. Jazz brought his visor back online, pleased to see it wasn’t flashing anymore. His vision was a little distorted in the corner on the left side but he could deal with that.
When he looked around, Prowl was in the process of tying makeshift sling in place to keep his damaged bits from jostling around.
Jazz also got a good look at the emblem on his mecha’s chest. It kinda looked like an angular mecha face. Jazz didn’t recognize brand design though. Maybe he’d remember once he’d recovered from the bullshit of the day.
He was kinda too tired to think properly at the moment. That circling-the-sink-drain feeling hadn’t actually left, even with the Support Class revelation.
“That is the best I can do for now. Our ship should arrive in five breems.” Prowl hesitantly let go of Jazz.
“Thanks Prowler, you’re the best.” He wriggled now free horns at him. Incrementally, Jazz brought his systems back online, running through well practiced motions to ensure everything was working. Well, everything that was supposed to be working anyways.
He heard a raspberry being blown by Bluestreak, the mecha had his hands on his knees and he was looking from Jazz to Prowl.
“Prowler?”
Prowl frowned. “Yes?”
“Prow-ler.”
Prowl frowned harder, “I’m aware.”
Bluestreak straightened up, “Okay, you’ve delayed this long enough. I need to talk to this guy one on one. Go talk to the Big Boss and I’ll watch Jazz. Please mech. I gotta. I gotta talk to this guy or I’m going to explode. Like, where is he from? Why does he look like that? How’d he end up floating in space? What’s his native language? Does he know any other languages? Why has he never heard of Common before? Is he super young? How are the others gonna react? What are you going to say to Elita? Oh Elita says hi by the way. Or, not really, she said ‘contact me as soon as possible’ and then hung up on me. Which is fine. Oh but you should seriously respond to you-know-who first.”
Jazz was getting maybe every third word of that. Bluestreak was still going. Wow. Impressive breath control no lie.
Prowl visibly sighed, straightening his posture into something military grade. Immune to the conversation tornado.
“Jazz, I must speak with our factions leader. I will not mention you to him until you have a better understanding of our military structure and you are able to choose to engage.” Prowl kept his hands folded behind his back. The total shift in body language was jarring.
“Okay,” Jazz nodded slowly. “I’ll be here, thanks again.”
Prowl nodded curtly once before shooting a warning look at Bluestreak, and then left the room.
The loss was weird in a way Jazz couldn’t properly describe. Prowl was so easy to click with that once he was gone, Jazz remembered he was stranded in deep space surrounded by what were effectively perfect strangers.
He didn’t get to dwell on it long though, as Bluestreak sidled up to him, propping his chin on one hand.
“So! I’ll let you go first. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you all about it!”
Jazz had a lot of questions but figured he’d start with something basic to help along his language acquisition.
“What,” he poked Bluestreak in his purple badge, “Are your cuss words?”
———————————————————————
Prowl: What do you mean you are actually capable of experiencing pain?
Prowl: What do you mean you don’t know what local anesthetic is?
Prowl: What do you mean no one has ever touched you when it didn’t involve medical treatment??
Prowl: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE GONE THROUGH MEDICAL TREATMENT WITHOUT ANESTHETIC.
Man oh man, this is the end of this arc but there’s more I still want to write. Gonna start cataloguing and saving these as well.
-SSTP
OH MY GOD. OH NO. Oh my god
Yeah no that makes SO much sense khftugssujdsthdd. Without that one little important piece of information their understanding of each other. Oh man. It's not just bad. It's FANTASTICALLY wrong but somehow generally still in the vaguely right direction??
Like Jazz being regularly medically mistreated is kind of true BUT NOT IN THE WAY YOU THINK PROWL
And Prowl being that sweet sweet support class mecha?? FUKFDEY Y e ah.
Oh this is amazing. Oh thIS IS FUCKING GREAT SSTP I WILL DIE FOR YOU
#Blurr. Dude. Why#H E L P#IKFSIKNDDGNXDIKFDG#Yea Blurr would have a touch screen in his shower 100%#maccadam#mecha pilot jazz au#mecha writing#mecha jp writing#jazzprowl
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Alright, I think we're just about ready.
Mye, you'll still need a disguise, but once you pick one you can go with either team. Here's the plan-
Me and Oracle will locate and rescue TT, while Wilhelm and... Hench, right? Hench. Wilhelm and Hench will first rescue somebody named Alex, and then go with Alex to rescue Nester.
Everybody should have a wormhole transporter to get out quickly if things get intense- I included one with most of the disguises in the grocery bag over there, so if anybody is missing one, look there.
The first thing we'll need to do is figure out which floor and room to go to. We'll act as new employees, so that we have an excuse for any mistakes. Once we know where to go, it's as simple as not getting spotted doing anything odd.
We have two backpacks with decoys. Hench has the decoy for Nester, so I'll bring the decoy for my Bill. When we reach the right individual, it's as simple as switching them when there's no cameras watching and keeping the bags sealed until we're home. We'll use the wormhole transporters to make it home when there's no guards or cameras watching.
Additionally, we know there's many cameras and every patient has a guard keeping an eye on them personally. That may complicate things, but hopefully if we don't stand out they won't notice anything odd in time to sound any alarms.
Ah, and Nestlet will protect the house from gnomes while we're gone. He's very scary. We should all be proud.
I'll go ahead and open a wormhole in with the coordinates I've been given as soon as we're ready. Is everybody prepared to go in?
OOC:
@ivxliwh @henchmaniac-ford @the-muses-puppeteer @thesparkingeyeofdawn @thebookofanon
+ @alex-whitman-nurse-practitioner you'll likely be needed soon :)
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t-shirt | c. berzatto x reader
A grey shirt reveals your secret.
gif not mine navigation
It started with small clues that a keen eye should have seen and a sharp mind should have figured out. But then again…it’s not like you were making an effort in telling everyone in the kitchen that their boss and their boss’ business manager was in a relationship. You took over Sugar’s role when it came to accounts when she gave birth to her beautiful daughter. It made the most sense. Save for the fact that you had a degree in business management, you grew up with the Berzatto’s, you were the favourite daughter of Cicero’s friend (which made you his most trusted in that goddamn wormhole of a restaurant), and you were Carmy’s girlfriend.
Bottom line is, you were the most trusted and most capable and—-
“Babe,”
“Hm?” He shuffles from his side of the bed and hides his face deeper into the pillow.
”You told me to wake you up five minutes ago,” you whispered, chuckling when he threw the covers over his face.
”Five more minutes…”
”But Syd’s coming over here soon and she’ll see you,”
“Fuck Sydney,” he mumbles, remembering the plans that you and Sydney had today. She was taking you to the best breakfast spot in the city. Carmy pauses and wonders if it would be worth it to disrupt the peace that your relationship had by letting Sydney in on your shared secret.
You sighed, going under the covers with him. His eyes were still closed and his arms pulled you closer instinctively.
”Just…five more minutes,” you told him. He smiles sleepily and nods.
He leaves your apartment just less than ten minutes before Sydney knocks on your door. He had to pull your Disneyland beanie on his head to hide his distinctive golden hair and even covered his face with a surgical facemask that you had.
You greeted her with a smile and told her to go inside. Before you left though, she swore she saw one of Carmy’s coats on your kitchen counter.
-
Tina asked if you could pick her up on the way to The Bear. The produce that she was able to buy was not ideal for a public commute and you always told her that you’d be happy to accompany her anytime.
”Hey, T,” you smiled, opening the trunk of your car to help her load the produce. “How’s the market?”
”Not much produce,” she frowns. “But I did find these cabbages that we can probably grill over a really creamy sauce,”
”Will you let me taste it?” you asked, closing the trunk.
”Of course,” she replied. You both got in the car and she looked around as you drove out. ”You know, isn’t it the age where you’re supposed to date?”
You coughed, not expecting the question.
“Uh—I mean, I…I am dating,” you replied. “Just…I’m just not telling everyone,”
”You can tell me,”
”Oh, but the guy I’m seeing would like to keep things lowkey, you know? Like-like not really—“
”I know what lowkey means,” You chuckled at her tone. “But…he’s treating you good? Is he keeping it a secret because he’s ashamed? There’s no reason to, you know? I bet Richie and I will beat that son of a bitch—“
”He’s fine, T!” you laughed. “Thank you, though…for caring but he’s fine. He’s great. He treats me great and-and I’m happy,” you told her. “We just want to keep the relationship between us for a while,” Tina sees the small smile on your face and she’s convinced that you’re happy.
-
“So, we’ll need 27 more little spoons,” Carmy said, looking at the mathematical equation he just solved in front of his staff.
“58, ba—Bear,” you replied, cursing yourself for almost saying ‘babe.’ “You, uh, need 58,”
“Oh,” he nods, suppressing a smile from your slip-up. He looks at you from his peripheral vision. “Well, she says 58. Oh, uh Y/N? Can you come to the office for a bit?”
You looked at Sydney, as if asking her for help but she just shrugs.
“Sure, be right there,” You followed Carmy to the office while the rest of the staff looked at the prep for tomorrow. Carmy locks the door and envelops you immefiately.
“Tina’s been talking about a little boyfriend of yours,” he mutters, his head on your shoulder. “What do you have to say about that, hm?”
“He’s distracting me at work,” you chuckled, running your hands through his hair. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“You'll wait for me?”
“Of course,”
“Hm,” he hums before completely detaching himself from you. “Anyways, Y/N,” he clears his throat, switching his voice to a more serious one. “I need you to run some spreadsheets,”
“On what?” you asked, he didn’t miss your teasing face.
“On…logistics. Yeah,” he nods to himself. He mouths “Go” and you nodded, pecking his lips quickly before leaving.
“I’ll send the files to Sugar and CC you,” you told him before leaving, just loud enough to make everyone else hear.
Marcus was just about to go to his station when he saw Carmy come out of the office. The head chef was blushing and he was looking at you.
-
It was a busy day at the Bear. There were shipments being made on top of the prep work that they have to do for that night. You were at the dining area with your laptop, some receipts, sales invoice, and disbursement forms. The Excel sheet glared at you from the brightness of the laptop screen. Carmy had kept you up all night last night and the bags under your eyes were proof.
You were taking note of Computer’s recommendations and trying to work everything out when Richie came in.
“Hey, can you help me with picking out Eva’s gift—Motherfucker!” he suddenly shouted, causing you to look up in alarm.
“Richie?” you asked, clueless as to why he was having his third meltdown of the day.
“Motherfucker!” he repeated, pointing at you and you looked at him, even more puzzled. The staff came running to him, with Carmy rushing out to see what his cousin was screaming about. Carmy’s eyes widen as he sees the t-shirt that you were wearing.
“Yo, cousin—“
“Don’t cousin me!”
“Richie?” you asked. Sydney, Tina, and Marcus watched everything unfold from the side when it suddenly clicks. You were wearing Carmy’s shirt. It’s a pretty common shirt, a grey t-shirt with a logo on the sleeve that he’s worn multiple times before.
“Does your dad know you’re dating this jagoff?” Richie asked, making you sputter the coffee that you were sipping.
“What?”
“That’s his shirt!” Richie points at the grey shirt and you paled, looking at Carmy who was looking at everything but you.
“The guy that you were dating is Jeff?” Tina asked. “Oh…oh!” she gasps, realization dawning upon her. It now explains why you’d disappear with Carmy to the office randomly or going home together under the pretense that his apartment was on the way.
“I knew it! It was Carmy’s coat that I saw in your apartment two weeks ago!” Sydney exclaims. “Oh, you’re good,”
“Fine! Fine,” you gave up, playfully glaring at a bashful Carmy. “We’re dating, get back to work,”
“Since when?”
“How did that happen?”
“I’ll answer these questions and then no one’s going to talk about it anymore, alright?” you asked, pursing your lips. “We’ve been…we’ve been dating for two months after I started working here. My father doesn’t know yet nor does Cicero. He’s…he’s uh, been really nice to me since I started so we dated and uh…that’s all,”
-
When the restaurant closed, you waited for Carmy in the passenger seat of your car and you both drove home. When you were about to sleep, you turned to him.
“You have no help, you know that right?” you teased.
“Sorry…I-I didn’t know what to say,” he replies, the guilty feeling sinking in his stomach.
“I’m kidding, Carm,” you said. “I’m happy they know,”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. I can’t believe Richie was the one who figured it out, though,”
“Me too…but now I can kiss you more without hiding,” he says, pulling you closer.
“Yeah?”
“Mm,” he nods, inching his face closer to yours. He looks at you and smiles before kissing you. “Good night,”
“Good night.”
A/N: Hope you liked it!
#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fluff#fluff#secret relationship#secret relationship au#the bear#the bear fx#the bear x reader#the bear s3#fanfiction#fan fic#fanfic#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto
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