#circuit fic

[astercontrol]

a poem for tron by flynn

circuits are red violet and blue listen it didn't mean anything perfectly ordinary part of the color shift nothing to do with how i was being touched and looked at by you

[eggcats]

the quickest way to disable the voxtech drone cameras isn't to actually do anything to them, its for alastor to look directly into them and (make his distortion not too bad) and then wink and blow a kiss at it

vox overloads himself and knocks out all the cameras he's currently connected to every time

[levi-venn]

Mirror Squad

An HC I need to get out of my head so I can move on with my life (Hah, jokes on you, Levi, Bad Batch is your life).

So...Hemlock created a mirror image of the Bad Batch called the Mirror Squad, but it's not what you think. Turns out these clones were the ORIGINAL Bad Batch.

Their names: Crunch (Wrecker), Striker (Hunter), Circuit (Tech), Void (Echo/Memento - See Notes), and CX-2 aka Headshot (Crosshair).

Striker and Hunter

Circuit and Tech

Void and Echo

Crunch and Wrecker

Headshot and Crosshair

The Mirror Squad - Origin Story Concept

The Mirror Squad were the first batch of Experimental Unit Clone Commandos created on Kamino: Striker, Crunch, Circuit, Void, and Headshot. They were decommissioned due to their rebellious and unpredictable nature which made them a liability rather than an asset to the future Clone Army.

Because the Experimental Clone Program was an expensive endeavor, the Kaminoans did not decommission these clones, but rather put them in stasis for later research. They tried again another batch of experimental clones and this time only four clones survived: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Memento (see note) and Crosshair.

Note: Memento did not survive past his cadet years. Void and Echo's parallel are a coincidence.

When Kamino was evacuated, Hemlock scooped up the original Bad Batch squad, still in stasis within their pods. These clones were the first to be brainwashed and reprogrammed by Hemlock. Although their memories were wiped, their instincts to work as a cohesive unit remained.

Technically, the Bad Batch is a mirror image of what the original Clone Force 99 almost was, but this squad's official name is Mirror Squad.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..

and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..

i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?

"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.

"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?

"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.

its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..

not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.

[tartagliatum]

something so special about the pet name big guy. like yeah,, big boy with an even bigger appetite. the trashcan of his friends, the bottomless pit who seems to be able to eat for a family of five and then ask what's for dessert - but even he sometimes manages to overeat and needs a belly rub. probably a little embarrassed about it bc he's been warned this will happen with the large amounts he regularly eats. hell yeah i love me a big guy <333

[sage-nebula]

It happened, as things so often did, like a bolt from the blue on one of Pacifica's rare days off from work at the diner.

It was the height of summer and so hellaciously hot, even for—no, especially for Oregon. Having lost access to the private pools and yachts after her father's investments into Cipher capital during Weirdmageddon four years prior, Pacifica found herself at the Gravity Falls community pool, lounging on a pool chair after layering SPF 50 on her skin, and silently telling herself over and over that it was always morally correct to block her parents' numbers on her days off, and that her father probably hadn't yet found where Pacifica's pet rescue opposum, Susanna, had hidden the bell yet, so there was no need to worry.

(Pacifica had rescued Susanna from the diner kitchen two summers ago, when she was fourteen. Susanna was technically a male oppossum, but something about him reminded Pacifica of Lazy Susan, so Susanna he was.)

But it was at that moment that deep laughter followed by a higher pitched "shut up!" and even more laughter from both voices broke through Pacifica's inner mantras. She opened her eyes to see that both of the Pines twins, having once again made their yearly visit to Gravity Falls, had also chosen to visit the pool that day.

Pacifica swallowed hard.

For all that she had tried to deny it even to herself in her tween and early teen years, by now Pacifica had long since accepted that she found Dipper Pines attractive. It was impossible not to, with the way he came back taller each summer, his shoulders increasingly more broad as he grew into the physique promised by his great uncles (or his Great Uncle Ford, anyway), a little stubble that he "forgot" to shave always left around his chin, and his sideburns. Oh, his sideburns. Pacifica hated how much she loved Dipper's sideburns. It was beyond cringe, and the only other living soul who would ever know about her crush was Susanna, but Pacifica Northwest did indeed have a crush on Dipper Pines. She knew, and accepted, this about herself.

But then, on that hellaciously hot summer day at the community pool, Mabel Pines took her sweater off right in front of Pacifica's eyes.

Mabel pulled her sweater up over her head, and it was as if time slowed down. Mabel's arms were just as toned and strong (if not maybe a little more toned, the way the sunlight hit her muscles) than Dipper's. She had been wearing a bikini under her sweater—a pink one decorated with stars that fit her perfectly—and her thousand watt smile revealed she'd finally gotten her braces off to reveal a set of dazzling teeth. And when she tugged her hair free from her ponytail, it swished around her in a cascade of long, brown waves.

Dipper had thrown his tanktop onto a pool chair, and Mabel followed suit, throwing her sweater and hair tie on top of Dipper's shirt. But as Dipper was in the middle of saying something (they were too far for Pacifica to hear clearly), Mabel whipped back around with devilish speed and shoved him straight in the pool.

Mabel laughed uproariously as Dipper came back up for air, sputtering water and shaking his sopping bangs from his eyes. But he was only off guard for a second, and Mabel's mirth kept her off hers for longer. Dipper grinned wickedly and snapped his fingers around Mabel's wrist, yanking her in headfirst after him. Just as Dipper had before her, Mabel resurfaced immediately, though she had to use both hands to shove her curtains of damp hair out of her face. But her smile was just as impish as Dipper's own, and within seconds they were splashing each other, shrieking and laughing as they caused the biggest ruckus the pool had seen all day.

And as she watched them play, the water making their skin glisten and their smiles making their eyes sparkle, Pacifica felt a swarm of butterflies in her gut and a flash of heat in her face that had nothing at all to do with the summer sun above. She curled in on herself in her pool chair, and tugged her sun hat down over her face.

"Oh no."

[adhd-coyote]

Shiver was terrified.

There was a sleeping tubie in his arms, a too-small cadet clinging to his pants, and a pair of teenagers wracked with growing pains scurrying behind him. He was praying to the little gods his ori’vode had told him about that the tubie would stay asleep, because if any of them made too much noise, it was going to be over. Shiver could not let that happen.

He’d memorized schedules, camera positions, and multiple routes to their destination, and stuffed bags full of supplies in preparation. Honestly, for how hurried this plan had been, it was a good one, or at least he hoped it was. It had to be.

Step one: Pack everything he could carry into a bag stolen from one of the trainers.

Step two: Figure out and memorize a route, make sure to have back ups.

Step three: Go oldest to youngest- grab Cabu and Mirda, then Circuit, then CT-7814.

Step four: Get the hell off of Kamino.

And somehow do all of that without getting caught.

He’d managed the first three steps. Step four would likely be the most difficult. Shiver wasn’t even going to think about what they were gonna do once they were actually off planet. Right now, his only goal was to get them to the hangar, grab a ship, and leave. He could worry about after that later.

He’d already picked out a ship and slipped a carefully-measured sedative to its owner. Combined with Trainer Stilgor’s drinking habits, they’d have at least six hours before he woke up, and even longer before he realized his ship was gone. Plenty of time for Shiver and his hangers-on to steal it and be well on their way, so long as they reached the hangar without issue. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but Shiver wasn’t optimistic enough to think things would keep going that way.

He hated that halfway there, he was proven right.

Labored breathing drew his attention to Circuit, whose steps were getting more unsteady as he struggled to keep up. Circuit had always been weaker than the others - the result of some sort of genetic defect - and that day’s training had been hard on him. Shiver wished he could have given Circuit more time to rest, but they needed to leave as soon as possible.

Without speaking a word, Shiver handed the tubie over to Cabu, made sure the cadet was holding him right, and then pulled Circuit up into his arms. Circuit wrapped around him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck, and held tight. They kept going.

Miraculously, there weren’t any more issues. They made it to the hangar, which was blessedly empty, and Shiver used the stolen remote to unlock the ship and lower the ramp so they could hurry onboard. Shiver set Circuit down in one of the back seats of the cockpit, while Cabu handed the tubie off to Mirda and took the copilot’s seat to help prep for takeoff.

Shiver let instinct take over, grateful that medics received flight training and that their chosen ship was one he could fly. They were ready in no time, and after making sure all of the cadets were buckled and Mirda was holding 14 tight, Shiver grabbed hold of the yoke, took a deep breath, and took off.

[norrizzandpia]

Guys.

[solargeist]

The Watchers in my AU are meant to be complicated and confusing. It’s part of why Grian stays for so long, why he’s so conflicted and why it bothers him to the point of venting to Mumbo.

They can be very kind, they do love him, they compliment him on everything. He gets gifts and everything given to him.

But on the other hand, bc they love him, they can be critical, telling him why that and why this, not that not this, they have pretty high standards for Beings that have seen everything already, not easy to genuinely impress.

They give him food, as parental figures should, anything he asks, but that’s sorta the problem, he always has to ask, there’s no way around this, no independence. He can ask for ingredients to cook by himself, but they’ll watch him.

He’s given clothes to wear, always within Watcher standard, dark and loose garments, open for his wings. He’d honestly prefer brighter colours, but that’s not rly a choice.

They tell him he’s special, he was chosen, better than the rest, a champion, a hero, and while it pets his ego, he feels pressure, they went out on a limp for him and he still can’t do enough. There is so much guilt.

Being here in the end messes with his psyche a bit, he’s much shorter than everyone, he has to rely on everyone, they all treat him like a kid, petting his hair or moving him via his shoulders instead of asking. He accidentally leans into this sometimes as a subconscious coping mechanism, he cries easier than he thinks he should. Tantrums where he has to press his face into his hands, or grumble and stomp off. He always has to apologize.

Despite being treated like a child, he is a Watcher child, so he studies a lot, he trains a lot. If he throws up from training, that’s no excuse (well by Flora’s standards)

He does feel a sort of comfort or safety around Aether, She’s lenient with him, but they’re definitely still not equals. She still hides things from him She thinks is too serious, She’s still overtly positive. He thinks abt Her sometimes, in hindsight he knows it was a family dynamic, and he feels guilt abt this too.

The Watchers love him, but they are ultimately overbearing, overwhelming, and frankly quite scary if you don’t play by their rules. Grian has reason to be cautious, the silent threats that hang over his head, never directly said to him, but traitors are cast out, if you’re not worthy you don’t deserve these gifts of wings or eyes. I think he’s convinced if they ever find him they’ll rip his eyes out with talons.

He won’t admit that he likes the attention sometimes, when his efforts are acknowledged and/or praised, when his hair is brushed. He wants their approval.

However, this is the only ‘human’ contact he gets. He doesn’t have anyone else, so it’s taken with a grain of salt how genuine his feelings are abt the attention.

[skyward-floored]

Impa breathes out slowly, shifting into a ready position as she faces down her opponent.

Volga stares back at her, firelight shining off of his spear as he also stands ready, and they move at the same time, Volga lunging forward as Impa raises her naginata to block him.

She succeeds, but doesn’t have enough time to even think of attacking back before he’s swinging at her again, spear jabbing quickly at her defenses. It’s all Impa can do for several moments to just avoid being struck, Volga’s speed greater than one would expect.

Sweat beads on Impa’s brow as Volga batters at her, her heart pounding as she narrowly avoids a swing of his spear. If he manages to land a solid hit, it’ll all be over.

Impa grits her teeth and finally manages to fight back, breaking out of the pattern she’d found herself in and thrusting her weapon at Volga.

Their weapons lock, the two straining against each other. Impa's arms shake as she strains against him, Volga’s strength impressive and much greater than her own. So Impa pushes for only for a moment longer before sliding nimbly out of the way, ducking down and swiping at him. Volga moves at the last second, smoke puffing from his nose, and the two whirl around each other in a dance of weapons, Impa trying to dart in and land a hit, Volga methodically blocking her attacks.

Sweat is pouring down her brow now, but Volga doesn’t look like he’s having an easy time of it either, panting as they both dodge and attack with equal frequency.

They're almost completely evenly matched.

Volga twirls his spear in a series of short jabs, and Impa lunges out of the way just barely too slow, the blunt end smacking her. An ache shoots up her side, but she isn’t badly hurt, and she notes the brief opening Volga leaves as he tries to get her while she’s reeling.

Impa avoids another thrust, and prepares herself for the next attack. She purposely leaves an opening this time, just large enough to be noticeable, and Volga takes it, lunging towards her with his eyes gleaming.

But instead of hitting her, Impa uses his momentum against him, twisting around at the last second and hooking her foot around his leg.

Volga stumbles, his eyes wide with surprise, and Impa whips around and knocks him flat on the ground with her naginata, whirling it around and pointing the tip at his neck.

He looks up at her and she looks down at him, both of them breathing hard, the smell of sweat and smoke in the air.

Impa smiles.

“I win.”

Volga snorts, resting his head back on the ground as he lightly pants. “Seems you still have some tricks I haven’t figured out.”

“Well I can’t reveal all of the Sheikah’s secrets,” Impa smirks, and Volga rolls his eyes.

Impa pulls her naginata away from his neck, and reaches down, offering him a hand up. Volga takes it, unlike the last time they sparred, and doesn’t immediately let go once he’s upright.

“Impressive,” Volga says, mouth twitching up into a smile. “Not many can momentarily best a dragon. Someday you might even properly beat me.”

“...Excuse me? Which one of us was flat on his back a moment ago?” Impa replies with a brow raised, and Volga tosses his head.

“I gave you a handicap. I used no fire, and never transformed.”

“We both agreed to not use any magic or anything of the sort before we started, we both had a handicap,” Impa says pointedly, and fights the smile that tries to form at the face Volga makes.

“...MaybeI let you win,” he huffs, and Impa can’t help her laugh.

“You're too honorable not to give it your all, Sir Dragon. Admit it Volga, my skill in weaponry bests your own,” she says teasingly, and though Volga looks away, it isn’t fast enough for Impa to miss the fact that there’s still a smile twitching on his lips.

“...Perhaps. Pity there were no witnesses to your supposed victory.”

Impa opens her mouth to argue, but closes it as she realizes Volga’s right. There’s nobody in the cave the Gorons have designated as a sparring area, probably because it’s rather late at night. They had no audience for their spar except for the small lizards that sometimes hide under the rocks.

Which unfortunately means Volga is correct.

Volga laughs at her expression, and Impa swats him on the arm, unable to stop her own smile.

“Well the next time I beat you, I’ll do it in front of an audience so that no one can deny my victory,” she says firmly, walking to the wall and placing her weapon against it. Volga does the same, and they lean against the rocks, both still catching their breath from their fight.

“I don’t plan on losing,” Volga says, looking over at her with a gleam in his eyes. “I won’t hold back.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Impa replies. “The only way to improve oneself is to train against a real challenge, and your style is quite unique. Before coming here, I knew very little about fighting techniques aside from my tribe’s, and that of the Hylians.”

“You’ve improved since then,” Volga says, watching a lizard skitter under a rock. “I can tell a marked difference between when we first fought and our spar tonight. You’re truly growing in your skill.”

He smiles again, and they look at each other, an odd sensation sweeping through Impa’s chest. It’s similar to the excitement she’d felt when she managed to knock Volga down, but not... exactly.

It’s certainly different from the annoyance and near hatred that she used to feel whenever she’d see one of Volga’s smirks, and she knows he feels the same, his grins less smug, his pride eased more to simply confidence when they’re together. Somehow they’ve become friends despite their less-then-friendly interactions at first, and Impa enjoys having another warrior around to talk to.

Especially because of the other feelings she sometimes gets when she looks at him now.

...Not ones I should be dwelling on, she thinks hastily.

“It’s rather late,” she notes with a clearing of her throat, and Volga nods. “And I unfortunately have a meeting in the morning.”

“My condolences,” Volga chuckles, and Impa smirks.

“Don’t be too happy. You’re supposed to be there as well.”

Volga grimaces, and Impa smiles, groaning a bit as she stretches. She’s going to be sore tomorrow, but the spar was more than worth it. Impa stops leaning against the wall then, retrieving her naginata in order to place it back in her room, and turns back to Volga to bid him goodnight.

And startles when he suddenly leans close to her, his blue eyes trailing along her face.

Impa blinks at his closeness, the heat that had just begun to leave her face returning full-force. She meets his gaze, and he looks back, a faint smell of fire and smoke coming off him.

Then Volga softly nuzzles his face against hers.

“Goodnight Impa,” he says in a surprisingly quiet voice, his breath against her skin making the hair on her neck stand up.

Then he pulls back, and leaves.

Impa watches him go with a shockingly warm feeling sweeping through her middle, and she raises a hand to the cheek he’d nuzzled against, her heart doing an awful lot of leaping around.

It must be a dragon thing, she thinks almost dizzily, her fingers cool against her hot face. Platonic, surely.

...Surely?

Impa stands by herself in silence for another few moments, trying to get her wits about her, and blows out a slow breath as a smile slips onto her face without her permission.

Then she leaves as well, glad now that nobody is around to see the color of her face.

...

The memory fades, and Impa looks down at the scale she’d been rubbing between her fingers, orangish-red and shimmering in the lantern light.

She holds it up and studies the small details she knows so well, the way the color changes when she tilts it, the faint warmth it gives off. She’s not sure why she still has it after so many years.

It’s not like it makes the memories hurt any less.

Voices drift past the half-open flap of her tent, and Impa’s ear twitches at the soft sound of Link’s voice, Proxi chiming in answer. Her son's quiet laugh reaches her, and the sound equally warms her heart and tears at the ragged edges of it.

Impa sighs as Link's footsteps recede, his voice fading away, and she looks at the maps she's supposed to be using to plan out a route.

She breathes out, running her thumb along the scale one more time, then returns it to the small pouch at her hip, closing it tight, and putting her thoughts from Volga.

It's harder then it should be.

[vickyagain]

happy one month until @jessepinwheel's Race Condition starts dropping! yippee! - here's obi-wan getting his hair pinned up by dex in Ch. 2 of Asynchronous Circuit.

[astercontrol]

how to communicate with autistic counterpart

"we can talk here!"

"you sure we'll be safe?"

"For a while. Here, I'll slip into something more comfortable and sparkly and sexy CMON LOOK AT ME i could not possibly be more obvious about this"

"..?..."

"listen. i know you, you adorable hyperfocused nerd.

I know you wouldn't have come here just for this.

I know if you COULD'VE done your mission alone, you would have, to keep me out of the danger.

I KNOW you came to me just because you need my 1337 hax0r skillz to get where you're going.

but... I also know we both have NEEDS

and we both have not satisfied them in 200-ish microcycles

(whatever prison hookups you got did not count)

(because I know they didn't scratch the itch enough for you)

i know you, program

you will do your mission BETTER if you get my specific brand of stress relief beforehand

and YOU KNOW you need it"

"...but ...how are we going to get to the I/O tower..."

"...fine.

engage protocol: Yori_dom-subroutines/turn-our-interface-into-ROLEPLAY-about-[insert-tron-ja-307020-current-special-interest]

...okay. imagine THIS is the domain..."

(omg i think I am actually both of these viewpoints as I watch this)

[iremiari]

Daydreams || A Dead Boy Detectives Ficlet

A journalist interviews Charles and Edwin, asking how they would feel if Season 2 got cancelled. aka: the time i got too carried away making incorrect quotes (hence this fic being mostly dialogue), so have this really short ficlet of them!! Also yes, they technically broke the 4th wall during this entire thing.

Edwin and Charles are sitting on chairs, sitting in front of a white backdrop - much like those you see in interviews. Because they were in an interview, and by the looks of it, it was almost about to end.

One of the news reporters have given Charles and Edwin a question: How would they feel if they didn't get renewed for Season 2?

"Nonsense." Edwin reacts almost immediately. "It is imperative that we get renewed for Season 2. I must," he composes himself, "I must hear Charles tell me he loves me."

Charles, next to him, raises an eyebrow, and looks at Edwin with a smile, "Oh, and you're certain about that, yeah?"

"Well, no. But one could infer that-"

A little peck had landed on Edwin's lips.

Charles has just kissed Edwin, and the two boys look at each other. Charles is the first to speak.

"'Cause you're right. I do. I am in love with you."

Edwin just looks at him, stunned. Charles, charming as he is, gives him a topic to go off of.

"But keep going. I love hearing you talk about whatever's on your mind."

Edwin tries to speak, but he cannot seem to focus with what just happened and how casual Charles is treating this situation. All that comes out of his mouth is a series of mumbles and stutters, "I- there is-- I am… speechless."

"Aw," Charles smiles, "luckily, that isn't a problem."

He kisses him again, way more intense than the small peck he gave him earlier. They wrap their hands around each other's head, and continue. For Charles, it felt like a dream come true. He had been waiting to say that for a long time and--

"Right, Charles?" a voice says, interrupting whatever Charles was imagining.

"Huh, yeah, what?"

Turned out it was a dream. A daydream, anyway.

"Clearly, you got distracted again." Edwin gave a sigh - not one of disappointment, though. Maybe Charles was just imagining it, but it sounded like... a sigh of adoration.

"Anyway, I was telling these journalists just now that if our show does not get renewed for another season, then it would be highly devastating - for both us, the agency and the viewers at home."

"Oh," Charles collects himself, "Oh yeah, now you got me. I totally agree."

He looks at the camera. "I think a lot of people are... excited to see where our story leads, especially like- especially considering all the different narratives in store for us."

He ends with a chuckle, and turns to Edwin, smiling. "Also, sorry for zoning out there, mate. Won't happen again. Promise."

"We shall see about that." Edwin said to him with a coy smile, hiding his delight, before turning his attention to the journalists in front of them.

"Would that be all for you lovely people today? Charles and I do still have a lot of work to get done."

"Certainly, Mr. Payne and Mr. Rowland. Thank you for your time."

The news reporter looks through their notes as Charles and Edwin walk out of the set, looking very satisfied with the outcome of the interview.

[puzzlebean]

Puzzle's Circuit: a writing/motorsports server

Puzzle's Circuit is a space where two of my loves come together: writing and motorsports. There are channels for my writing specifically where I brainstorm, think of ideas, try things out and share snippets and finished fics but also channels for other writers to do the same. This server is also the only place to gain access to my hidden fics.

Non-writers are also very welcome! We have general channels, motorsports channels and are also always looking for people who like brainstorming or wanna share prompts!

And while the server is mainly aimed at motorsports, other writing is also more than welcome!

Feel free to join and/or spread the word! Here's the invite link:

[umseb]

bmw sauber reserve driver sebastian vettel during pre-season testing at circuit ricardo tormo near valencia, spain - january 30, 2007 📷 andreas beil / apimages.com

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

y’know what. i feel like sharing so have a snippet from a big wip i’m working on currently. this one’s tilted static sroadtrip and i had an idea of the wyatt masons, quitter, and megan getting tossed out of the static into minneapolis and embarking on a roadtrip to seattle:

About 41 minutes out of Minneapolis, Megan turns into Monticello, trying to remember how to get to the Perkins restaurant. Everything’s eerily silent and empty, save for the radio playing Park It and the discussion about lamprey eels between Lev and Trip. Nines promptly searches for images of lamprey eels (fae got some service 20 minutes ago, so even with Minnesota appearing entirely deserted, someone must be around to be maintaining the cell towers) and Midnight shrieks.

“WHAT IS THAT?!” Di twists in her seat, eager to see what Midnight just screamed at. Jasmine flinches, startled awake from her nap.

“EWW!” Di yelps, swatting her arm and missing Nines’ phone. “Their mouths look so weird!”

“What?” Jasmine whispers, craning her head upwards. “What’s going on?”

“Be nice to them!” Trip defensively snaps. WY-8’s antennae flicks up and down, intrigued. “Their mouths are adapted to better help them latch onto their prey! Hey, quit giggling! I said stop!” Trip swipes lightly at Lev, who’s failing to suppress their laughter.