#they're just like front parts of different war machines in real life

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Jazzprowl mecha! >:D

Previous chapter

Under the cut⤵️

Jazz thinks Prowl is fucking weird.

With space around him and aliens and fucking teleportation and all that crazy shit...Prowl's weirdness isn't too obvious at first. But once Jazz stops marveling at the view outside the window, his attention shifts completely to his new companion.

And. Well.

"'Your plates are so squarish.'"

Prowl takes a break from reading something on his tablet and raises his eyebrows in surprise

"They are."

Jazz moves closer curiously

"No offense okay but isn't it... Hmm. Stupid?"

He raises one hand and lightly slaps the edge of his palm against the center of Prowl's chest.

"What's the point of making armor this shape? And with so many wide gaps? All the strikes will go straight through. It's kinda dangerous. "

Prowl purses his lips in confusion.

"Excuse me? As if your armor makes more sense."

"It does."

"You...wha...you know what. Humor me, explain what you mean."

Jazz shrugs.

"It's round. And the gaps are...uh. What's the right word. They're thin? It's very hard to grab with your teeth or get under with your tentacles. See? You are. Dude, no offense, but you're like, really grabbable."

Prowl just silently opens and closes his mouth for a couple seconds, trying to think of what to say in response. Finally he decides to focus, but not on the part Jazz might have been expecting

" You... were built to fight the Quintessons?"

Jazz nods

"Course I was. Why else?"

Prowl looks....Very worried and somehow sorry for Jazz.

That's weird.

Jazz lets this detail just linger in his mind. He's not sure what conclusion to draw from it yet. And it's very likely that his poor knowledge of the unfamiliar language is setting him up. He's not sure.

------

Prowl has wheels. Jazz gives himself a mental smack for not paying attention to them in the first three seconds, but it doesn't matter now.

Because Prowl has freaking wheels in his shoulders and Jazz has a bunch of questions in his head.

Why the fuck does he have wheels??? In a place like this??

Prowl looks up at him.

"Something wrong?"

Jazz reaches out his hand mesmerized and spins one of the wheels.

The wheel spins.

What an amazing world.

Prowl looks confused again

"Jazz?"

"What are they for?"

Prowl faintly twitches one of his weird little wings.

"To drive."

Jazz spins the wheel again

"But you can't drive them! I mean, they're...uh."

He tries to find the right words in his head to say "inside your shoulders" but. Shit. He doesn't know how to say it so he accepts his linguistic defeat and helplessly twitches his horns.

"...They're on top."

Prowl tilts his head, clearly missing the point, and turns one of his legs around

"I've got another ones here...?"

Jazz instantly squats down and. Yep. There are wheels in the legs too.

Prowl moves his foot away before Jazz can spin that wheel too.

"I can just show you if you want."

That's a great idea. A fantastic one. Jazz is hellbent on seeing how it would actually work, because all his brain offers him is "fall on your back and awkwardly drag yourself along the ground?"

Prowl doesn't fall anywhere.

Instead, he suddenly ALL starts moving and freaking folds into himself? Jazz isn't sure what exactly he was expecting to see, but watching another mech fall apart like lego sure as hell wasn't that????

Not falling apart, he realizes a moment later.

Is it reassembling? Into something else???

A second ago, Prowl was standing next to him, and now there is a

Is that a fucking car???

Jazz can't say anything more clever than a loud "HAH???"

It is indeed a car. The design is very odd and Jazz can't recognize the model, but it looks like something vaguely race-y?

He pats the roof of it.

"That's so cool!!!"

The car somehow manages to look awkward and moves away from him sideways like some weird metal crab.

What the- what the hell-

------————————-

Prowl's mech has an amazing face.

Not that Jazz is staring, but he can appreciate the amazing attention to details. The eyes, the nose, even the lips. Who and why would make a mech with such lifelike face? That ..would make sense if Prowl had to appear in front of a camera, wouldn't it? Maybe he's some kind of celebrity like Blurr?

Jazz doubts it. Prowl doesn't strike him as someone who's used to attention.

But it's a good face, yeah.

Prowl valiantly ignores his staring, but after ten minutes gives up

“What?”

Jazz shrugs. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"You have a really cool face."

Prowl chokes on air and looks confused again. If you look closer. What is this face even made of? It looks metallic but it bends??? Literally...how?? How does it work?

Jazz is taller than Prowl, so he has to bend down to get a closer look. He wants to ask if the mech's face was modeled after the pilot's, but. Shit. How do you put it into simple words ?

Man. Okay. Uh. Appearance. How do you say "real?" True-positive? Wait, no, true and false are from English, this new language must contain one state word for true and false at the same time.

Prowl watches Jazz's struggle with the patience of a true buddhist monk.

What word even summarizes the state of being true or false? Hot and cold is "temperature", heavy and light is "weight" and then..

Jazz fumbles his fingers helplessly.

"What's the word for. You know how."

He claps his hands hard, and then again, barely audible.

Loud and quiet.

"Sound-positive, sound-negative, right?"

Prowl nods.

"But if I speak. I-mouth-positive."

He claps once more, quietly, barely audible

"I-mouth-positive. Sound-positive. Word-question?

If I do “quiet” but say “loud”. If I do one thing and say another, that's called-?

Prowl twitches his little wings.

"Ah. That would be veracity-negative."

Jazz makes happy finger guns.

"Yes! This..."

He points to Prowl's face

"Appearance-veracity-positive?"

He could probably phrase it more...accurately. Jazz chews his lips in concentration and tries to elaborate

"Appearance-veracity-positive-you?"

Prowl tilts his head

" Uh. Yeah? That's what I look like. I didn't change anything. It's..."

He pauses uncertainly

"Why are you asking me that?"

Jazz gives a thumbs up

"How do you say 'impressive'? Something like "eyes-positive-emotions-positive." Or it would be "good." Good sounds kind of cheap.

Jazz decides to add a couple more positive modifiers on top just in case. He's always been generous with compliments.

Prowl's wings bounce up funny.

One of the passing lilac aliens whistles.

_______________________________

Prowl thinks Jazz is fragging weird.

Okay, to be fair. Prowl has never had to be anyone's guide to interplanetary interactions.

He'd heard that races making contact with the rest of the galaxy for the first time tended to be weird. It's alright. He can understand that. Which of course doesn't mean it's any easier for him to be at the center of it all...everything.

Jazz is clingy. Friendly. He's definitely never been off his planet before, so everything around him surprises him.

Prowl's obviously “surprising” too, but there's this weird familiarity in Jazz's attitude towards him.

Prowl thinks it's because they're both mechanical life forms. It's the only guess he has that makes sense. But Prowl realizes pretty quickly that Jazz only looks like a Cybertronian at first glance. It's the details. Small and disturbing details.

Jazz was built to fight the Quintessons. His entire body, his entire design was made for it.

Now that Prowl knows that, he's starting to see it. Now that he knows where to look, he can't stop noticing.

All the plates are either round or streamlined and sharp.

He has no face, but his head is shaped in such a way that it would be very hard to grab onto. Or to hit it.

Prowl's processor involuntarily tosses him numbers.

Every bend and edge. Every detail. The visor isn't just curved, it's arched at the most perfectly calculated angle to take hits. His chest plates have the perfect ratio of thickness and curvature so that any direct hit ricochets or slips without going through the plate directly.

And Prowl is scared to even begin to analyze the structure of those legs. He originally saw their design as something similar to Empurata's. But no. The Empurata had always made it their goal to humiliate and diminish their victims. The limbs that the Empurata created were simple and often horribly, impractically awkward.

Jazz's legs are an engineering marvel and Prowl honestly almost wants to take a closer look. They bend at...how many? Five? Six places?

He leans forward quietly, pretending to want to change his posture, trying to get a better angle. There's at least one more joint under the front plates. Seven then?

Huh.

Jazz snorts

"Like what you see?"

Prowl flinches and quickly looks away. Idiot. Just because Jazz’s head is pointed in the other direction doesn't necessarily mean that's where his gaze was pointed as well.

"I apologize."

Jazz chuckles

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're giving me a reason to show off~"

Prowl gives up. Okay. Maybe it's just that Jazz's weird openness is contagious.

"Your legs are pretty..."

"Cool," Jazz offers

Prowl nods diplomatically.

"Unusual. I think cool too."

Would it be too weird to ask exactly how many joints are in them? Perhaps yes, that's personal medical information after all.

Jazz takes a few joyful little leaps

"They let me walk on walls."

"I have to admit that's impressive."

______________

"Can I join you?"

The little furry alien folds their arms across their chest and says something that...sounds disgruntled. Jazz honestly can't understand a word of it. He just saw the aliens playing something remotely resembling cards and he got curious. He doesn't remember having a fight with any of them yet.

The alien stares at him expectantly for a couple seconds and then waves one of their limbs and switches to a language familiar to Jazz

"No. Go back where you came from."

Uhm. Rude.

One of the lilac creatures smiles guiltily

"We don't play with robots."

Jazz stiffens

"But I don't..."

His attempt to explain is interrupted by the furry alien

"I don't care what you say. Whatever's underneath the metal, whatever scientific nonsense you come up with. This..."

He gestures toward the entire Jazz’s mech.

"...it's a machine. We don't play with machines. It's an unspoken rule. So go back to your corner and stay out of our way."

The lilac alien folds his limbs in embarrassment

"Hey, there's no need to be so rude."

"I'm just stating facts!"

"You could have done it politely..."

Prowl raises his eyebrows and moves away, making more room for Jazz on the bench.

"Kicked you out?"

Jazz sits down next to him and confusedly begins to play with his own fingers

"They wouldn't even let me explain."

Prowl taps him on the shoulder.

"It's hard to explain anything to them. They think you're a soulless machine just because you look like one."

Jazz snorts

"Well, that's just stupid."

Prowl shrugs

"They think you don't have a soul, so you shouldn't participate in their social interactions."

Jazz twitches his horns angrily

"That's..fucking idiotic."

"Well yeah" Prowl picks up "how can they judge whether we're sapient or not?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Where's the evidence that they themselves have more 'soul' than mold?"

"Ye..Wait what?"

(..What the hell??)

Prowl frowns.

"I should probably be more...sorry. You're new to this topic and...I'll try to explain in an unbiased manner."

Jazz nods awkwardly

Prowl pinches the bridge of his nose

"In general. We don't really meet their standards of ''alive and sapient being'' and they don't meet ours. Because of that, we...don't get along."

Jazz senses that something doesn't add up. Something dramatically big and obvious. But Prowl already looks annoyed, and Jazz is uncomfortable stressing him out with another game of charades. Probably should hold off on discussing such complicated topics until he's talking better.

____________

Prowl finds himself mentally reevaluating Jazz.

He no longer thinks Jazz is just weird.

Jazz is terrifying.

When their transport is attacked by a bunch of Quintessons, Prowl's processor tells him they're totally screwed.

The monsters have the numerical advantage, the ship is full of tiny, fragile organics, and Prowl only has one random tourist on his side who's in space for the first time.

When Jazz excitedly jumps up and asks to be let "outside to have some fun" Prowl's processor says it's suicide. If you squint and tilt your head, the stats numbers add up into a neat little ship that goes down swiftly and surely.

Then he has no time for statistics. Because one of the organics opens the airlock for Jazz and before Prowl can say anything his space tourist is already out the window.

Frag.

Frag, frag frag frag frag frag frg

"Jazz wait!"

Prowl climbs out onto the roof of the transport just in time to see Jazz tear a limb off one of the Quintesson monsters.

The sight is...creepy.

Jazz obviously doesn't have enough strength to just yank it off, so he sort of grabs the tentacle with his hand and then very quickly rotates his forearm a bunch of times literally twisting it off. The monster screams and wriggles and tries to rip Jazz's arm off, but he just lets it clench its teeth on his plates.

Prowl is in pain from just looking at this.

The monster clenches its jaws.

Its teeth cut furrows in the armor.

Jazz doesn't even twitch.

Things only get more interesting from here on out.

Earlier, all Prowl had was Jazz's word. Jazz said his job was to fight the Quintessons. Prowl automatically assumed that to have a job like that, Jazz had to be at least somewhat good at it.

This? It's not "good". It's a killing machine.

And Prowl is, just a little bit, fascinated.

Jazz tears through monsters with more than skill. No.

Prowl's processor is speeding up, analyzing the data.

These moves aren't just devastatingly efficient. They're habitual.

Jazz rips off limbs and locks jaws. Jazz knows exactly where to strike and for how long that strike will knock the creature down.

At one point, he just takes a moment to jump on top of one of the monsters and Prowl can have the pleasure of watching the sheer panic and confusion on the face of the usually inexpressively furious creature.

Quintesson twists and twitches and struggles to throw Jazz off, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by the constantly moving and shifting surface. He's clinging on tight as a damn insecticon. In a way that Prowl himself, with his angular legs, probably never could.

He also doesn't seem to react to pain whatsoever.

Either so used to it or unable to feel it at all? Prowl's not sure.

Jazz takes dozens of hits. He's been dropped, scratched and bitten. His plates are full of fresh grooves intersecting older ones, but they go completely unrecognized.

It's creepy. It's unnatural.

Three monsters at once try to squeeze Jazz into a circle, and Prowl curses himself for not thinking to ask for Jazz's comm. There's no sound in space, making screaming impossible, so Prowl just pulls out his rifle and shoots one of the Quintessons.

The creature twitches in agony and loses all interest in the battle struggling to shake off the sudden source of pain.

Jazz smacks one of the remaining monsters in the face and quickly bounces back to a more comfortable distance from the huge teeth and looks toward Prowl. Spotting a rifle and happily making finger guns again.

Prowl looks at the fresh teeth marks on Jazz's hands and thinks...wow...that's some wild dangerous alien slag.

Then he looks at the angular visor and the little moving horns and bouncy movements and corrects himself. Not slag. And not that weird. Probably.

The weirdest thing he's seen was organic life and he highly doubts that anyone or anything can overtake it.

[thegeminisage]

iiiit's tng update time. last night we watched "a fistful of datas" and "the quality of life."

a fistful of datas:

i wanted to like this episode because it had data in the title but i Hate holodeck episodes. like clockwork, someone goes into the holodeck and it breaks. i understand they're doing this to give us "real" stakes but all it does is cement my belief that the holodeck is not only unethical but DANGEROUS.

however, i did love getting to see data's cat. and a reference to his poetry. actually i'm surprise riker recognized it since he fell ASLEEP during the reading >:(

deanna western outfit HOT. i didn't like the smoking part but every time she cocked a shotgun i had hearts in my eyes

deanna/worf rights??? tenderly bandaging his wound...rescuing his son with him...FLIRTING WITH HIM...we were missing riker but STILL deanna e worf e riker. it can happen. i can make it real with the power of my mind.

i don't remember what exactly the dialogue was but data's accent was VERY good. i understand there are difference between a southern and a western accent that may be too subtle to catch unless you've spent a long time listening to both, but they DO sound similar, and he remembered to drop the front of whatever word he said which came after the word "i." like bones in this side of paradise: "wanna see how fast i'an put you in the hospital?" most people faking a southern accent don't remember to do that (love and light to lucy gray). anyway, it might have been "i'm going to..." that sounds right. in a southern accent this becomes something that sounds like, "i'm on..." which is changing "going to" to "gon" and then dropping the first half of the word entirely when it comes after "i'm." elliot spencer also does this, which i appreciate.

anyway this is only the second time i've seen hints of worf not being the Worlds Best Dad (the first time was in that AWFUL lwaxana episode) but given that the holodeck went SO wrong can anyone really blame him for being reluctant to go...like yes he should have sucked it up and gone anyway or suggested an alternate activity instead of trying to wiggle out of it but i DO understand.

as a final note, the first scene with picard getting interrupted during his flute-playing (hi, flute!) like 1000 times is just yet more examples of no work-life boundary aboard this ship...you're always on call even during your personal time...no such thing as a do not disturb sign on the door...

quality of life:

this one was...okay?? like, none of the science experiments made ANY sense, it was bad science, but whatever, we got to watch data be data.

star of the show: the little guys, and their wiggles. like they're kinda cute.

this lady scientist looks SO familiar and i cannot figure out why. i don't recognize anything on her imdb page. i think i must be getting her mixed up with one of the ds9 ladies i've seen in gifs. we give star wars shit and justifiably so but they also have a lot of pale alien brunettes on that show. okay i just looked up jadzia i think i thot she was jadzia LMAO love 2 be faceblind

i didn't like everybody doubting data when he said those little guys WERE alive. but i did like him saying he had intuition with other machines the way he didn't with biological life forms. that's a neat piece of worldbuilding. also, i don't want him to be alone in the universe either :'(

i didn't like how one of them died in the end after all data did trying to save them!!! we should have had a little scene where it got fixed up!!!!!!!!

that said, what's proof of sentience like self-sacrifice for another...actually, no, that's bad science too. but they're good little life-saving guys!!! and they wiggle.

TONIGHT: chain of command, parts i & ii. these are the LAAAST tng eps we watch before starting ds9 (we are doing it in release order, so we will soon be watching two shows concurrently).

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

[the-firebird69]

Universal Crowds Disappear as Wait Times Plummet | Inside the Magic

We wait a little longer know we go in and take over the head also things to say yesterday and how other sales were slumped and nobody was going there and it looks like a nightmare and nobody is going to their facility it is empty and we're going to take over and fairly soon and we have all the men are to do it and when we would do is probably revamped the whole place and put the rides elsewhere because you're not ours and make it some sort of introduction facility 2 hours and others like a small life cycle of a small transformers ride and pray the same thing but you know real size elsewhere people have those ideas it's not a bad idea the transformer ride is pretty cool that we have to change it cuz it's not cool enough love people like the idea and he said you could get there several different ways a small Neptune visit should you go underwater or a small Star wars where you can take the shuttleel and really it would be flyimg into the shallow area of our Star wars and you could go from Homer's teeny little area this place is a small and to the large one where we have a whole like almost a small town and you would probably take a vehicle and we could make a pass in a road and for buses and also things that are miniature and I look like Homer cars and it's a great idea and it just adds icing on the cake it makes it possible same thing with that. It's a small tasting so you can go there like after work one day and check it out and plan it out for the family we could go there on a day on the weekend with the wife and see what everything is all about and then look like what you would like to go see more than ours because it's huge a lot of people have trouble deciding what to look at first pretty good idea and we need stem from Walt Disney Land in Epcot and universal and those places are what we came up with from well he did so you can kind of keep it intact and you can keep the way out somewhere way it is. And the owners are starting to think about it it's not such a bad idea other people just want to run it the way it is and try and attract sales babies doing nothing differently which won't work and it will shut down and it would be gone it would be someone's dream left in the dust just like so many others that lots of people do in the Dustin it's inappropriate and people like Dan and bjA they like to do that and you can see they're going after each other oh this stupid stills little teeny and for making fire bombs which would amount to a hill of beans would even start a fire in the woods big huge deal to shoot each other and killing each other in the head over the stupid crap that doesn't help them at all and The masks are saying it to what are you doing you're out there fighting over one still there's a bunch of freaking crabs you get out of our midst we can't stand you and we see what he say this is ridiculous sides are fighting over a toy just because it's a toy. Because of the middle tries to ship which sometimes we can do I should do that to James huh so James has had off and on and we took it out of town but you do as well as the big one that was under there sexy now you keep trying to find it find it a base under there now.

So far it seems positive with the owners of Disney and universal and Epcot in a little bit different each place and they're not too is McDonald's still giving you such a hard time we always want to buy the restaurant chain and if anyone has a franchise they want to sell of McDonald's very interested in purchasing it because we put a krusty Burger in or Kwik-E-Mart and we have a ton of crazy ones they are all over the world it's kind of a joke because if Indian people and if I made fun of Indian people because they are copied or duplicated or they were running this convenience stores that was very strange why are they Indian always Indian and they did hear this annoying and angry it's not a fact we're going to try and put a quickie Mart in here you probably think it's quickie milk or something like that cuz we can help him with that or you can change the sign real quick I could digital you keep fighting over it since yours is really the Gulf frenchy's would you change his phone. That's kind of where we started and we didn't assign anybody to it like he ordered ust to I will do that now. Sweet ask for volunteers who want to run it and be there and we put it into your first because they were harassing them the whole time and we have many Pakistan wants to get it all right but we think that might be across the street at the packy and they're correct and we would like to also have a part in it but we would like you to sit down with Bitol and Goddess Wife and discuss how to do it and what to put in there and how to preserve the building and so forth and where and we like to move all those outhouses there to that I was I staying in them storage shed in the tank clean the whole place up to the whole lot needs to be renovated to completely want it out of there.

Who begin the process now they're saying stuff to us I'm going to rip it out ASAP that's also the gist of it we want it done yesterday soon as humanly possible so I think it is you have the place it's going to go in there Kwik-E-Mart which one you want and the tanks and everything ready and the crew ready to rip it out and to fix everything Like to do it in one day.

I need to rip it out fast the whole thing has come out all at once in the tanks of the canopy that order and everything worked out all the dirt was pull it all out and put New dirt in. But you didn't stall sheet piling rather quickly and probably should just put it in your everything out put it back in and be done is sheet piling single day two but first. So two days.

They agreed to know they can do it and have time maybe times and faster they say but it's right there in front of everyone is bringing a few sheep power machines and put them all in there vibrate and she really real quick cuz it's just send and then picture of all out the easy part that the sand up and it's all and it's not that bad free quick clean fill we have a bunch.

We like to start on this tomorrow well today and let's get the permits going today and would like them out of there today just like these idiots need to leave today.

I'm assigning a special group volunteer group to go through them and get them out of there and I'm assigning groups to go to these idiots and get them out of here I'm tired of hearing we can't do this then this from people who know how to do it I want teams to come in and just pull them out this no more talking and you can't manipulated we just need to be physically removed over and over and just ignore all their politics here and she said it's a bunch of hoopla pulling them out one day and not even paying attention to the politics

Thor Freya

[thatwandercat]

#jazz#mecha pilot jazz au#jazzprowl#the moment you realize that Japanese classic mecha designs were designed like tanks#you can't unsee it#the whole thing about triangular or round chests#look at them#they're just like front parts of different war machines in real life#or armor☝#knights armor#they made to make the hits “slip”#while transformers are very square#like. sorry my guy but anything you're getting hit with? yeah it's going straight through

Chapter 3 of Jazzprowl mecha! >:D

Previous chapter

Under the cut⤵️

Jazz thinks Prowl is fucking weird.

With space around him and aliens and fucking teleportation and all that crazy shit...Prowl's weirdness isn't too obvious at first. But once Jazz stops marveling at the view outside the window, his attention shifts completely to his new companion.

And. Well.

"'Your plates are so squarish.'"

Prowl takes a break from reading something on his tablet and raises his eyebrows in surprise

"They are."

Jazz moves closer curiously

"No offense okay but isn't it... Hmm. Stupid?"

He raises one hand and lightly slaps the edge of his palm against the center of Prowl's chest.

"What's the point of making armor this shape? And with so many wide gaps? All the strikes will go straight through. It's kinda dangerous. "

Prowl purses his lips in confusion.

"Excuse me? As if your armor makes more sense."

"It does."

"You...wha...you know what. Humor me, explain what you mean."

Jazz shrugs.

"It's round. And the gaps are...uh. What's the right word. They're thin? It's very hard to grab with your teeth or get under with your tentacles. See? You are. Dude, no offense, but you're like, really grabbable."

Prowl just silently opens and closes his mouth for a couple seconds, trying to think of what to say in response. Finally he decides to focus, but not on the part Jazz might have been expecting

" You... were built to fight the Quintessons?"

Jazz nods

"Course I was. Why else?"

Prowl looks....Very worried and somehow sorry for Jazz.

That's weird.

Jazz lets this detail just linger in his mind. He's not sure what conclusion to draw from it yet. And it's very likely that his poor knowledge of the unfamiliar language is setting him up. He's not sure.

------

Prowl has wheels. Jazz gives himself a mental smack for not paying attention to them in the first three seconds, but it doesn't matter now.

Because Prowl has freaking wheels in his shoulders and Jazz has a bunch of questions in his head.

Why the fuck does he have wheels??? In a place like this??

Prowl looks up at him.

"Something wrong?"

Jazz reaches out his hand mesmerized and spins one of the wheels.

The wheel spins.

What an amazing world.

Prowl looks confused again

"Jazz?"

"What are they for?"

Prowl faintly twitches one of his weird little wings.

"To drive."

Jazz spins the wheel again

"But you can't drive them! I mean, they're...uh."

He tries to find the right words in his head to say "inside your shoulders" but. Shit. He doesn't know how to say it so he accepts his linguistic defeat and helplessly twitches his horns.

"...They're on top."

Prowl tilts his head, clearly missing the point, and turns one of his legs around

"I've got another ones here...?"

Jazz instantly squats down and. Yep. There are wheels in the legs too.

Prowl moves his foot away before Jazz can spin that wheel too.

"I can just show you if you want."

That's a great idea. A fantastic one. Jazz is hellbent on seeing how it would actually work, because all his brain offers him is "fall on your back and awkwardly drag yourself along the ground?"

Prowl doesn't fall anywhere.

Instead, he suddenly ALL starts moving and freaking folds into himself? Jazz isn't sure what exactly he was expecting to see, but watching another mech fall apart like lego sure as hell wasn't that????

Not falling apart, he realizes a moment later.

Is it reassembling? Into something else???

A second ago, Prowl was standing next to him, and now there is a

Is that a fucking car???

Jazz can't say anything more clever than a loud "HAH???"

It is indeed a car. The design is very odd and Jazz can't recognize the model, but it looks like something vaguely race-y?

He pats the roof of it.

"That's so cool!!!"

The car somehow manages to look awkward and moves away from him sideways like some weird metal crab.

What the- what the hell-

------————————-

Prowl's mech has an amazing face.

Not that Jazz is staring, but he can appreciate the amazing attention to details. The eyes, the nose, even the lips. Who and why would make a mech with such lifelike face? That ..would make sense if Prowl had to appear in front of a camera, wouldn't it? Maybe he's some kind of celebrity like Blurr?

Jazz doubts it. Prowl doesn't strike him as someone who's used to attention.

But it's a good face, yeah.

Prowl valiantly ignores his staring, but after ten minutes gives up

“What?”

Jazz shrugs. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"You have a really cool face."

Prowl chokes on air and looks confused again. If you look closer. What is this face even made of? It looks metallic but it bends??? Literally...how?? How does it work?

Jazz is taller than Prowl, so he has to bend down to get a closer look. He wants to ask if the mech's face was modeled after the pilot's, but. Shit. How do you put it into simple words ?

Man. Okay. Uh. Appearance. How do you say "real?" True-positive? Wait, no, true and false are from English, this new language must contain one state word for true and false at the same time.

Prowl watches Jazz's struggle with the patience of a true buddhist monk.

What word even summarizes the state of being true or false? Hot and cold is "temperature", heavy and light is "weight" and then..

Jazz fumbles his fingers helplessly.

"What's the word for. You know how."

He claps his hands hard, and then again, barely audible.

Loud and quiet.

"Sound-positive, sound-negative, right?"

Prowl nods.

"But if I speak. I-mouth-positive."

He claps once more, quietly, barely audible

"I-mouth-positive. Sound-positive. Word-question?

If I do “quiet” but say “loud”. If I do one thing and say another, that's called-?

Prowl twitches his little wings.

"Ah. That would be veracity-negative."

Jazz makes happy finger guns.

"Yes! This..."

He points to Prowl's face

"Appearance-veracity-positive?"

He could probably phrase it more...accurately. Jazz chews his lips in concentration and tries to elaborate

"Appearance-veracity-positive-you?"

Prowl tilts his head

" Uh. Yeah? That's what I look like. I didn't change anything. It's..."

He pauses uncertainly

"Why are you asking me that?"

Jazz gives a thumbs up

"How do you say 'impressive'? Something like "eyes-positive-emotions-positive." Or it would be "good." Good sounds kind of cheap.

Jazz decides to add a couple more positive modifiers on top just in case. He's always been generous with compliments.

Prowl's wings bounce up funny.

One of the passing lilac aliens whistles.

_______________________________

Prowl thinks Jazz is fragging weird.

Okay, to be fair. Prowl has never had to be anyone's guide to interplanetary interactions.

He'd heard that races making contact with the rest of the galaxy for the first time tended to be weird. It's alright. He can understand that. Which of course doesn't mean it's any easier for him to be at the center of it all...everything.

Jazz is clingy. Friendly. He's definitely never been off his planet before, so everything around him surprises him.

Prowl's obviously “surprising” too, but there's this weird familiarity in Jazz's attitude towards him.

Prowl thinks it's because they're both mechanical life forms. It's the only guess he has that makes sense. But Prowl realizes pretty quickly that Jazz only looks like a Cybertronian at first glance. It's the details. Small and disturbing details.

Jazz was built to fight the Quintessons. His entire body, his entire design was made for it.

Now that Prowl knows that, he's starting to see it. Now that he knows where to look, he can't stop noticing.

All the plates are either round or streamlined and sharp.

He has no face, but his head is shaped in such a way that it would be very hard to grab onto. Or to hit it.

Prowl's processor involuntarily tosses him numbers.

Every bend and edge. Every detail. The visor isn't just curved, it's arched at the most perfectly calculated angle to take hits. His chest plates have the perfect ratio of thickness and curvature so that any direct hit ricochets or slips without going through the plate directly.

And Prowl is scared to even begin to analyze the structure of those legs. He originally saw their design as something similar to Empurata's. But no. The Empurata had always made it their goal to humiliate and diminish their victims. The limbs that the Empurata created were simple and often horribly, impractically awkward.

Jazz's legs are an engineering marvel and Prowl honestly almost wants to take a closer look. They bend at...how many? Five? Six places?

He leans forward quietly, pretending to want to change his posture, trying to get a better angle. There's at least one more joint under the front plates. Seven then?

Huh.

Jazz snorts

"Like what you see?"

Prowl flinches and quickly looks away. Idiot. Just because Jazz’s head is pointed in the other direction doesn't necessarily mean that's where his gaze was pointed as well.

"I apologize."

Jazz chuckles

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're giving me a reason to show off~"

Prowl gives up. Okay. Maybe it's just that Jazz's weird openness is contagious.

"Your legs are pretty..."

"Cool," Jazz offers

Prowl nods diplomatically.

"Unusual. I think cool too."

Would it be too weird to ask exactly how many joints are in them? Perhaps yes, that's personal medical information after all.

Jazz takes a few joyful little leaps

"They let me walk on walls."

"I have to admit that's impressive."

______________

"Can I join you?"

The little furry alien folds their arms across their chest and says something that...sounds disgruntled. Jazz honestly can't understand a word of it. He just saw the aliens playing something remotely resembling cards and he got curious. He doesn't remember having a fight with any of them yet.

The alien stares at him expectantly for a couple seconds and then waves one of their limbs and switches to a language familiar to Jazz

"No. Go back where you came from."

Uhm. Rude.

One of the lilac creatures smiles guiltily

"We don't play with robots."

Jazz stiffens

"But I don't..."

His attempt to explain is interrupted by the furry alien

"I don't care what you say. Whatever's underneath the metal, whatever scientific nonsense you come up with. This..."

He gestures toward the entire Jazz’s mech.

"...it's a machine. We don't play with machines. It's an unspoken rule. So go back to your corner and stay out of our way."

The lilac alien folds his limbs in embarrassment

"Hey, there's no need to be so rude."

"I'm just stating facts!"

"You could have done it politely..."

Prowl raises his eyebrows and moves away, making more room for Jazz on the bench.

"Kicked you out?"

Jazz sits down next to him and confusedly begins to play with his own fingers

"They wouldn't even let me explain."

Prowl taps him on the shoulder.

"It's hard to explain anything to them. They think you're a soulless machine just because you look like one."

Jazz snorts

"Well, that's just stupid."

Prowl shrugs

"They think you don't have a soul, so you shouldn't participate in their social interactions."

Jazz twitches his horns angrily

"That's..fucking idiotic."

"Well yeah" Prowl picks up "how can they judge whether we're sapient or not?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Where's the evidence that they themselves have more 'soul' than mold?"

"Ye..Wait what?"

(..What the hell??)

Prowl frowns.

"I should probably be more...sorry. You're new to this topic and...I'll try to explain in an unbiased manner."

Jazz nods awkwardly

Prowl pinches the bridge of his nose

"In general. We don't really meet their standards of ''alive and sapient being'' and they don't meet ours. Because of that, we...don't get along."

Jazz senses that something doesn't add up. Something dramatically big and obvious. But Prowl already looks annoyed, and Jazz is uncomfortable stressing him out with another game of charades. Probably should hold off on discussing such complicated topics until he's talking better.

____________

Prowl finds himself mentally reevaluating Jazz.

He no longer thinks Jazz is just weird.

Jazz is terrifying.

When their transport is attacked by a bunch of Quintessons, Prowl's processor tells him they're totally screwed.

The monsters have the numerical advantage, the ship is full of tiny, fragile organics, and Prowl only has one random tourist on his side who's in space for the first time.

When Jazz excitedly jumps up and asks to be let "outside to have some fun" Prowl's processor says it's suicide. If you squint and tilt your head, the stats numbers add up into a neat little ship that goes down swiftly and surely.

Then he has no time for statistics. Because one of the organics opens the airlock for Jazz and before Prowl can say anything his space tourist is already out the window.

Frag.

Frag, frag frag frag frag frag frg

"Jazz wait!"

Prowl climbs out onto the roof of the transport just in time to see Jazz tear a limb off one of the Quintesson monsters.

The sight is...creepy.

Jazz obviously doesn't have enough strength to just yank it off, so he sort of grabs the tentacle with his hand and then very quickly rotates his forearm a bunch of times literally twisting it off. The monster screams and wriggles and tries to rip Jazz's arm off, but he just lets it clench its teeth on his plates.

Prowl is in pain from just looking at this.

The monster clenches its jaws.

Its teeth cut furrows in the armor.

Jazz doesn't even twitch.

Things only get more interesting from here on out.

Earlier, all Prowl had was Jazz's word. Jazz said his job was to fight the Quintessons. Prowl automatically assumed that to have a job like that, Jazz had to be at least somewhat good at it.

This? It's not "good". It's a killing machine.

And Prowl is, just a little bit, fascinated.

Jazz tears through monsters with more than skill. No.

Prowl's processor is speeding up, analyzing the data.

These moves aren't just devastatingly efficient. They're habitual.

Jazz rips off limbs and locks jaws. Jazz knows exactly where to strike and for how long that strike will knock the creature down.

At one point, he just takes a moment to jump on top of one of the monsters and Prowl can have the pleasure of watching the sheer panic and confusion on the face of the usually inexpressively furious creature.

Quintesson twists and twitches and struggles to throw Jazz off, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by the constantly moving and shifting surface. He's clinging on tight as a damn insecticon. In a way that Prowl himself, with his angular legs, probably never could.

He also doesn't seem to react to pain whatsoever.

Either so used to it or unable to feel it at all? Prowl's not sure.

Jazz takes dozens of hits. He's been dropped, scratched and bitten. His plates are full of fresh grooves intersecting older ones, but they go completely unrecognized.

It's creepy. It's unnatural.

Three monsters at once try to squeeze Jazz into a circle, and Prowl curses himself for not thinking to ask for Jazz's comm. There's no sound in space, making screaming impossible, so Prowl just pulls out his rifle and shoots one of the Quintessons.

The creature twitches in agony and loses all interest in the battle struggling to shake off the sudden source of pain.

Jazz smacks one of the remaining monsters in the face and quickly bounces back to a more comfortable distance from the huge teeth and looks toward Prowl. Spotting a rifle and happily making finger guns again.

Prowl looks at the fresh teeth marks on Jazz's hands and thinks...wow...that's some wild dangerous alien slag.

Then he looks at the angular visor and the little moving horns and bouncy movements and corrects himself. Not slag. And not that weird. Probably.

The weirdest thing he's seen was organic life and he highly doubts that anyone or anything can overtake it.