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bluegarners · 3 years

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“Damian takes a pic with a mall santa, chaos ensues”~ anon

For 12 Days of Batfam prompts

“I do not see why traveling here was necessary.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dami! We’re going gift shopping!”

“Clearly. However, actually going to this cesspool of idiots is ridiculous. The internet exists for a reason, Richard. It is about time you learned how to use it.”

“That takes all the fun out of it though,” Dick pouts, landing a hand in Damian’s perfectly combed hair. “It’s practically like a tradition at this point. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to actually look at what you’re buying and not just try and guess what it’s like through a screen. What if it wasn’t like you wanted? What then?”

“Returns exist as well,” Damian grumbles, swatting at the hand still latched firmly to his scalp. “If the purchase is void, then a simple return is all that is necessary to begin again.”

“For once,” Tim sighs, cringing a bit at the obnoxious mall-music and over enthusiastic sales people trying to approach him, “I agree with the brat. This is uncomfortable and just… over the top. I know what I’m looking for, and reviews on products help determine if the thing is actually good. There isn’t any reason to be here, Dick.”

“On the contrary, my beloved brothers,” Dick grins, mouth stretching impossibly wide as his eyes land on something in the distance, “There is actually a fantastic reason for us to be here.”

As if deciding on something, Dick nods to himself before quickly turning around and clapping his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re already here and it would be a waste to drive back after it took us an hour to get here, so we are staying.”

Cue the simultaneous groans.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dick reprimands. “Let me finish. You guys can do anything you want. It’s the freakin mall, so it’s got other stuff than just stores. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s legal. You could even just hang out in the food court, as long as you’re doing something. I need to do a couple things, but I will call you when I’m done and we’ll rendezvous somewhere.”

“You are leaving me here?” Damian asks, surprised. “With Drake of all people?”

Dick leans down to ruffle his hair again, but Damian moves away, a dark scowl edging its way onto his brow. “No, I refuse to be left alone with this imbecile.”

“As if I’d want to babysit you in the first place,” Tim mutters, glaring at the youngest.

Dick smiles pleasantly, a contrast to the way he squeezes both of their shoulders tightly, pulling them closer to him.

“We’re not going to have any problems, right boys?” he asks sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Because it would be a shame if I had to make use of that lovely return policy on all the gifts I had planned this year.”

“Do you take me for a child-”

“Seeing as this is the last week I have left in Gotham, it would be quite the disappointment if I didn’t get to train surf with either of you before I leave again too.”

Damian shuts his mouth quickly, the idea of banning dual patrol before the eldest’s departure more threatening than lost gifts.

“I don’t like train surfing,” Tim says smugly, crossing his arms in victory, “and I don’t like playing babysitter.”

Dick slowly tilts his head towards him, and the strain in his smile is enough to make Tim wither a bit.

“All I’m asking for is maybe an hour of alone time while I get some stuff done. You don’t have to do anything together, you don’t have to go shopping if you’re so adamant on doing it online, and you don’t have to eat. Just please stick together. That’s all. Please, Tim.”

His resolve lasts all of four seconds before it crumples, and Tim looks to the side as he groans out a forlorn, “Fine.”

“Great!” Dick exclaims, an easy smile blooming back onto his face. “I’ll see you guys in an hour.”

And just like that, Dick disappears into the crowd, leaving behind two very disgruntled boys in his steed.

They stand there, refusing to acknowledge one another’s presence, before Tim sighs again and thinks, Well, might as well be a big brother. Holiday spirit and all that jazz.

“Okay,” he starts, half-way turning to face the youngest again, “Is there anything you want to do?”

Damian doesn’t say a word.

“Any stores?”

Silence.

“They, uh, have a movie theater in here. Any movies?”

Damian still refuses to open his mouth.

Well, fuck me, I guess, Tim bemoans, having the inability to think of anything worse to do than spend his Saturday afternoon looking after the gremlin in his charge.

Suddenly, Damian turns on his heel and begins walking away. Tim frowns, chancing a quick glance behind him to see if Dick was secretly watching them and if he could make a break for it, but decides against it at the last second. A happy Dick Grayson was infinitely easier to deal with rather than a disappointed one.

Everyone knew disappointment was worse than anger.

He follows Damian quietly, keeping his distance and sidestepping the insane amount of people and sellers, all looking to get something. Tim doesn’t hate people, per-say. He finds them fascinating at times, but when he’s not looking to be fascinated, he just finds them uncomfortable to be around. Noisy, touchy, and all around obnoxious. There were precious few people Tim could say he liked to be around, and these strangers in the enormous mall were not them.

Damian walked with purpose, easily evading others and taking turns as if he knew where he was going. Perhaps he did, but Tim can’t recall a time where any of them actually frequented the mall often enough to know where things were. At least without looking at a map or asking an employee.

A minute later and Damian vanishes from sight. In a blink, he’s gone from the endless swirl of people and Tim panics slightly. How does someone lose a child so quickly? How is that possible? He was literally right in front of him, Tim had his gaze locked on the green hoodie, but it’s as if the brat was made of air. Poof, gone.

He pauses, turning this way and that in search of the elusive Wayne. It was unfortunate that the brat was shorter than the average 13 year old, if only by half an inch, but now was not the time to goad over heights. Tim is tempted to just text Dick and say he lost Damian, but hearing that in his head, after literally five minutes of being alone, does not sound like a fantastic idea. He can practically predict the lecture that would follow, words of, “Come on, I know you guys don’t get along super well, but he’s your brother,” and “I was gone for all of two seconds- how did he escape so easily?”

Tim groans, a common thing he’s been doing ever since they stepped into the epitome of capitalism, and resigns himself to continuing the search. Oh, he was so going to beat the brat during their next spar. This entire thing was not worth the discounts.

Damian smirks as he watches Drake fiddle around like a fool, searching blindly for him. If Drake had actually been paying attention, he would have seen Damian step into the small candle store to the right, hiding behind an outrageous depiction of Saint Nick practically shoving some holiday scent down his throat.

As it were, though, Drake was a twit with half the brains of a goldfish, and Damian feels a sense of satisfaction wash over him as the older teen walks away in the opposite direction.

He was free and alone. Perfect.

Well, not really.

Damian had agreed to go to the mall in the first place on the condition that it would just be he and Richard. It had sounded somewhat enjoyable, Richard hinting at some sort of surprise, but he was greatly displeased at the sight of another figure waiting for them in the car. Of all the people in the world to choose from. Of all the available and useless ignoramuses out there, Richard just had to ask Drake to come along.

Of course, he immediately protested because he had been promised that it would just be the two of them, but Richard insisted and used that horribly childish face with wide eyes and saddened sulk and giving in, at that point, was the only wise decision Damian could make from then on. In no way did he plan on spending this hour with Drake, awkwardly attempting conversation and suggestions that sounded boring enough to sleep to.

So, his plan of action was simple and executed flawlessly. All he had to do for the next 50 minutes was stay out of sight of both Drake and Richard, and the rest of that time was his to do with as he pleased.

He had already chosen gifts to present later on in the week, there was no need to do extra shopping, so all there really was to do was explore.

Which is exactly what he did for the next forty minutes before he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out, squinting at the caller ID of Grayson.

He lets it ring for a few seconds, some part of him thinking the wait as some sort of pay-back for betraying his promise, and answers on the last ring.

“Damian?” Richard says, urgency coloring his voice.

Instantly, Damian is paying more attention. “Yes? What is it?”

“I need you to meet me at the center, it’s important.”

“The center?” Damian mutters, scanning the crowded walkways for a map. “Why? What is happening?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here, okay? Just get here as fast as possible.”

“Affirmative.”

Richard hangs up first and Damian begins searching for the nearest wall-map. He finds one and tsks when he sees he’s in the far west region of the mall, the center, if he walked like a normal person, taking upwards of about five minutes to reach.

He’d been given no details, nothing except the urgent lilt in Richard’s voice, a dead give away to how nervous he was. Nervous about what though? What could possibly make Nightwing frantic in an area like this? It must be something mildly bad, or at least dangerous for civilians, for Richard to call him. Crowd control possibly.

He hadn’t heard anything other than the usual noise of the populace, so Damian rules out a fire or some maniac shooting. There doesn’t seem to be an urgency in the way the crowd shifts, no clear tell for panic.

His phone vibrates again and Damian immediately answers.

“Where are you?” Richard asks, that same nervousness pitching his voice.

“I am near a clothing store: Urban Outfitters,” he responds, picking up his pace slightly.

“Hurry,” Richard pleads. “You need to be here in two minutes or less or else I might- just hurry, please. When you reach the center, there will be a large Christmas tree off to the right. I’m over there. Find me when you get here.”

“Wait, Richard-” but Damian can’t get anything else in before the older man hangs up again.

The vagueness of the situation begins to worry Damian as well, doing as asked and trying his best to weave in between people and their annoying need to create a stiff, horizontal line wherever they walked. He curses when a little girl holding an absurdly shaped stuffed animal darts out in front of him, oblivious to the obstruction she’s caused.

She trips and falls, slapping into the smooth tile. Damian is tempted to walk around her, unmoved by her pitiable cries for her clumsiness, but when he glances back and sees no one else, no parent or sibling or literally any other bystander willing to help her, he rolls his eyes and turns back around. He holds out a hand and pulls the little girl to her feet, her tears silenced by the strange act of kindness.

“Where are your parents?” he asks gruffly, anxious as the precious seconds tick by.

“Uhhhh….I don’t know.”

I should’ve kept walking, Damian thinks to himself.

Tim is practically giddy with excitement. Dick stands behind him, arms crossed and peering over the heads of countless other parents and children, in search of Damian.

After having wandered around in a vain search for the brat, Tim had finally given in and texted Dick, apology in tow, when Dick had told him to meet him in the center of the mall. There, Tim had spotted the eldest standing in a long line filled with kids no older than eight and tired parents, disheveled and attempting to keep their children’s hair neat.

As soon as he’d tapped on his shoulder, Dick had reared around, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he said, “It’s tradition to get a picture with Santa.”

Tim less than fondly recalls his own picture with the infamous mall Santa, the old man smelling of cigarettes and too spicy cologne to mask it. All the bat-kids had taken a photo with the cheap Santa at some point or the other, Tim having been the oldest to do so at fifteen. Dick had taken his when he was ten, and Jason at eleven.

However, once he registers the actual words that had come out of Dick’s mouth, Tim feels something close to euphoria rise in his chest as he now understands it was the brat’s turn to sit on off-brand Santa’s lap and have his picture taken. Oh, would that be a sight to behold. Chaos to be sure. Most likely some screaming as well. A lot of protest and cursing. Maybe even some tears.

A sight to behold.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t stick together,” Dick explains, “So I figured I’d call you over here earlier. Then, I’ll call Damian once we’re close to the front and act like it’s an emergency so he’ll have no choice but to come quickly.”

Tim was impressed. “You know,” he says, eyeing Dick, “You’re a lot more evil than everyone thinks.”

“The term you’re looking for is evil mastermind, Timmy.”

“Uh huh,” Tim jokes, excitement building in his bones as he notices they’re only two spots away from what is destined to be the greatest moment of his life.

“Look! I see him!” Dick exclaims, pointing in the far distance.

Indeed, there was Damian in his green hoodie, half-jogging, half-walking as he headed towards the Christmas tree Dick had directed him to.

“We’re next,” Tim says anxiously, glancing at the teenager dressed as an elf, who was probably wondering why the two of them were standing in a line meant for children.

“It’s fine,” Dick reassures, his own thrill building. “He’ll be here.”

And, as if one cue, because malls are where miracles happen, Damian calls out, “Richard!”

Dick waves him over, compulsion in every movement of his arm. “Hurry, Dami!”

The teenager elf is now guiding them into the “Miracle Circle” and Dick yanks at the sleeve of Damian’s hoodie before he can even register what’s happening. Tim has to keep a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from snickering at the bewildered look on the youngest’s face, eyes blown wide as he takes in the bright lights and tinsel.

“Richard,” he growl-whispers, “What is this?”

“Tradition,” Dick answers, tugging him closer to the overweight man sitting on the massive throne. “And it’s time you partake in it. I let you get away from it last year because I lost track of time, but not this year. This year, Dami, is where you finally experience,” he leans in closer, nearly whispering, “the joys of a mall Santa.”

“No,” Damian says, aghast as Dick pulls him closer and closer to the center. “No, I refuse. Unhand me this instant.”

He is powerless though against Dick’s firm grasp and excellent navigation skills. Everyone is watching. Everyone is staring.

“Hello there, little one,” mall Santa booms, arms out stretching as he reaches for Damian. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“Richard,” Damian pleads, struggling as he eyes the suspicious fake beard, “If you do this, I will never forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, Dami,” Dick amends solemnly, a lie written all over his face. “I have to. It’s tradition.”

Faster than even Damian can react, Dick is sweeping him off his feet and plopping him onto the lap of a complete stranger.

“What’s your name?” mall Santa asks, Damian recoiling at the rank breath.

“Let me go,” he demands.

“Oh ho ho,” mall Santa chuckles, stomach jostling like a gross bowl of jelly. “We haven’t taken our picture yet!”

Mall Santa points a little off to the right, and it is with horror does Damian spot not only Richard, but Drake, Father, and Pennyworth aiming cameras at him.

Drake waves at him, shit-eating grin plastered shamelessly on his face. Richard is cooing through his phone, oo-ing and awe-ing at the scene. Father looks at least a little bit sympathetic, pity spelled out over his face as he watches his youngest son try to free himself from the mall Santa’s surprisingly strong grip. Pennyworth takes one picture, quickly putting away his phone.

Damian is sure that the one picture is enough to spell doom for the rest of his life.

“You know,” mall Santa whispers, nearly suffocating Damian in the vice-like hug he’s trapped in, “Most kids smile when they take pictures with Santa.”

“I am not inclined to smile for a pedophile,” Damian snarls back.

“Well,” mall Santa sighs, voice suddenly less cheery, “I guess that means you’re on the naughty list then, you little shit.”

Damian stills in his struggle, eyes widening as he turns to meet the green eyes of the man who holds him.

“Todd?” he hisses, humiliation rising as the man just chuckles, winking.

“Happy holidays, little boy,” Jason cheers, playing up the act. “If you’re good, Santa might-”

The next morning, the top headline from the Gotham Gazette reads,

Christmas Chaos: Youngest Wayne Punches Santa!

The article gets framed above the tree in their living room, and Damian waits for the day to exact his revenge. Soon. Soon.

#dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson & damian wayne #dick grayson & tim drake #chaos #fluff #santa #fanfiction #prompt #writing #anon #12 Batfam prompts #batfam #my fic

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butterflyinthewell · 7 years

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Do you think that Lightverse Prowl would like Daredevil? (The Netflix show, I mean.) It seems right up his alley.

Actually, Daredevil might annoy Prowl because the way Matt ‘sees a world on fire’ feels like a cheat.

I’ll explain why. Buckle in, it’s infodumpin’ time!

* * * (Note: Everything beyond this point is headcanon!) * * *

[Prowl oh-so-gracefully dodges an explosion.]

I try to make things written from Prowl’s perspective as authentic as I can, and I did that by reading some books by blind authors, reading Livejournal blogs by blind bloggers, watching blind Youtubers and talking to a blind person IRL. I’ve had people ask me if I’m blind IRL because of how I write Prowl, and they were surprised when I said no.

Lightverse Prowl is not some super remarkable superhero, he’s just an average bot with ninja skills. He has ‘average’ senses for a bot that might seem heightened compared to a human, but compared to other Cybertronians they’re nothing special. All he’s done is hone them like a finely tuned instrument.

His story arc (which still isn’t finished) is not about overcoming his disability, it’s about him overcoming the notion that he is broken, useless and less deserving of life than able-bodied bots. It’s about overcoming the shame society instilled in him. It’s about him learning to say “I am worth something and I deserve to be loved.”

Here’s why Daredevil would bother Prowl:

I’m aware that most blind people have some light perception. Prowl doesn’t because of why he’s blind, so he “sees” literally nothing. It’s not black, it’s not any color, it’s just nothing. Try looking at the wall behind you through the back of your head. You can’t because you don’t have eyes there. That’s how the blind-from-birth lady who was in my church choir explained it to me. She had prosthetic eyes and was totally blind all her life. Her description made so much sense to me. (She was also really cool and said no questions were off limits to her, so I asked a lot and learned a lot until her family moved away.)

Prowl doesn’t have optics or a visual processor. Being a robot means his CPU (brain) is arranged a little differently and functions differently than a human, but for all intents and purposes he has zero way to experience vision, retain visual information or even understand it. Imagine a human born without eyes, optic nerves, a lateral geniculate nucleus or an occipital lobe. (Not sure if a human could survive with a brain like that…a lot of that stuff also relays sensory information across various parts of the brain.)

With that in mind, you can’t just slap optics and visual processors into Prowl’s head and call him fixed. His CPU “filled in” the empty space. Cybertronians have “neurons” that grow like steel wool fibers inside their skull casing as they age and experience life, and removing that to install visual processors would be like chopping off your parietal lobe or cerebellum to put in the occipital lobe, optic nerves, LGN and eyeballs.

Prowl being a fictional robot gave me a huge playground to play with how he hides his blindness in a way that can fool people into thinking he can see, and here’s what happened:

The oscillator technology Prowl uses is somewhat inspired by pinart boxes. They’re those things where you stick something into one side and an impression of it appears on the other side.

[Pictures of pinart boxes with hands and parts of a person’s face imprinted in the pins.]

The main difference is the “pins” are much smaller (think of the tiny screws in watches or glasses) and self-contained in a frame kinda like spark plugs in a car engine. Getting this tech installed inside the top of his skull casing was pretty much major surgery done in a back alley, and Prowl lost chunks of his “childhood” memories because the installation caused some damage even though the medic* who did it was very careful. So he can remember being protoformed, but everything else is spotty for awhile until he reached the Cybertronian equivalent to young adulthood.

*He was a former Decepticon gone neutral…and NO it was’t Lockdown.

The visor is what collects the light. It’s got a bunch of tiny sensors and each one corresponds to a pin. Those sensors detect light waves and translates them into vibrations in the pins, which Prowl feels in his face plates because the setup is connected to the tactile receptors for his face. The vibrations are tiny, and he had to learn how to understand them before the technology became useful to him. Now it’s second nature, he thinks about it as much as you think about breathing.

A strong vibration means bright light and a weak one means it’s dim, and none means it’s dark.

[A graphic showing the different light wavelengths that shows how small the visible light spectrum is. From slowest to fastest it goes: Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Above violet it goes to ultraviolet radiation, X-rays, Gamma rays. Below red it goes to infrared radiation, microwaves, radio waves.]

Color is just light vibrating at different wavelengths, so the oscillators vibrate at the speeds corresponding with a color’s wavelength. Colors moving towards red feel slower than colors moving towards violet.

Prowl can’t tell you something is burgundy or lime green or stuff like that. Color is hard for him to understand and the names of colors are just necessary vocabulary words he sometimes uses.

He doesn’t quite remember which color combinations you mix to get a new color. The only one he has memorized is red and blue make purple.

If you asked him to match up an outfit it might be a disaster; he had to learn what colors “go” together by rote and that’s not information he can always recall quickly. Clashing colors are fascinating to feel, but visually awful.

Distinguishing shades is hard unless one is very light and the other is very dark– like azure vs midnight blue. One would have a strong vibration (bright) and the other a weaker one (dark), he would say “it’s blue” to both. Two shades that are very close together are indistinguishable to him.

His favorite deflection for people who ask him to pick out colors is a deadpan statement: “The darker one, but I’m not your decorator. Go ask Jazz if you want that. He’s better at style than I am.” XD

He’d say Earth tones are his favorite colors to deflect the “what’s your favorite color?” question– because Earth tones tend to “go” together.

[Prowl prepares to leap into the unknown.]

The oscillators have some major weaknesses, too.

Prowl needs light to use them. Anything dimmer than a full moon is too dark.

They’re the most accurate at close range. He would be able to pick up your facial details if he’s nose to nose with you.

From across a room (about ten feet away) he just senses that a person is there, he’ll get their body shape, some info about their coloring, where light and shadow are falling on them and the movement of their gestures.

If you’re a hundred yards away– you at one goalpost at an American football field and Prowl at the other– you’re just an artifact moving against the background. He’ll sense your general shape and coloring. You won’t register much on his oscillators at all if your clothes and skin manage to blend with the environment (ie a kid dressed as a scarecrow sitting on a hay pile), if the environment behind you is moving (ie sparkly water or something flapping in the wind) or if the light level is low (ie at dusk or dawn or nighttime with poor lighting).

Prowl can read the text off large billboards from about ten feet away if the colors contrast enough and he can read a newspaper headline if he gets close to it in bright light. For reading, he prefers Braille. Discovering that on Earth is, in his mind, one of the greatest things ever because he loves to read.

Depth perception is a difficult concept for Prowl. He can’t tell if something is just small or a big thing that’s far away unless its signal “grows” when he approaches it. His audios are better at judging distance; he can tell you almost exactly how far away a sound is.

Prowl had a mystical experience that let him see temporarily, and he didn’t realize that he was experiencing sight. He found it terrifying and confusing until the “guide” inside the experience pointed out that “yes, you are seeing” and helped him understand what was happening. Weirdly, he still had access to his oscillators, so he was using them in conjunction with his temporary sight to sort of make sense of things.

He didn’t gain a full understanding of sight before the experience ended and he wasn’t able to retain any memory of anything he saw when he woke up because he doesn’t have the “parts” that store the information. The most he can do is say “Well, I saw the stars in the sky and a wall” but he couldn’t tell you what the patterns in the wood grain looked like or that he watched stars twinkle.

I know the oscillators don’t seem like they make sense, but Prowl isn’t human. Also, the data doesn’t represent visually. It’s not like Daredevil or Geordie LaForge. It’s purely tactile, so there is no way to visually represent it in any way that will make sense. The only way to interpret Prowl’s lack of visual perception ‘visually’ is remove the TV screen completely.

And that’s the whole point. I refuse to “cheat” when I write Prowl’s blindness.

By the way, his visor looks a little like sunglasses. He doesn’t have to fake looking people in the eyes, but he’ll turn towards people or appear to look down at something he’s doing with his hands. He’ll get closer to things like he’s looking at them, and even Jazz sometimes forgets that he is not actually seeing. He’s feeling through his visor.

The visor doesn’t replacing using his hands, though, and sometimes he’ll use his hands to confirm what he thinks his visor is telling him if something is close and / or safe enough to touch.

[Prowl rests his hand flat on the wall in front of him.]

The weaknesses in the oscillator tech is why Prowl learned to use his other senses instead of depending purely on his visor. Like Yoketron said: “It is the Cyberninja, not the weapon, that is important.” Sometimes tech breaks and light isn’t always going to be present.

Prowl turns his oscillators off when he’s alone. His proximity sensors do a fairly good job of keeping him from crashing into things in familiar surroundings. He can hear how big a room is, and 99% of the time he can feel it if a person is sneaking up on him because they disturb the airflow. They might get a bit closer to Prowl than they would a sighted mech, but they’ll still get noticed and clobbered.

Have you ever felt a weird “gap” in your perception in a really quiet room and turned to see somebody standing right behind you? Bam, there you go. You’re perceiving a change in the air flow and reacting by turning to look for why.

Most people don’t pay too much attention to this, but I tend to because my silly autistic brain doesn’t filter sensory perception very well and I can’t avoid noticing it. Sometimes I can sense people walking up the driveway outside my house because my room is right by the front door. That really freaks me out. O_o;;

The only reason Prowl has the oscillators at all is because he has to pass as non-disabled. Autobot society is kind of shitty to flawed mechs (their vernacular for disabled mechs, basically). Most disabled mechs are missing components necessary for life and would never become conscious or function, but some rare ones do. Society doesn’t make any distinction, though, and doesn’t test a disabled bot to see if they’re conscious before they scrap them.

Disabled mechs are broken down for parts and can even get hunted down for “wasting” resources by being alive!!! The anti-flaw thing is the massive skeleton in the Autobots’ closet and that rhetoric is all over their society.

Passing as able-bodied is a matter of life and death. Somebody has to be very, very careful to reveal a disability to someone else. People considered to be flaw-sympathizers can get in trouble for hiding a disabled mech. Yoketron risked his life and career on more than one occasion for a disabled mech, and he’s also kind of the reason Prowl and Jazz ended up meeting later on down the line.

Yoketron is also the reason Prowl got back in touch with navigating the world as a blind mech by making him wear the blindfold. (I screeched at my TV when I saw him wearing that thing, omg…) The oscillators are a tool like a talking watch, white cane / dog guide, screen readers and Braille are tools, but Prowl was using them like optics and putting himself more at risk of being caught. Yoketron used the blindfold as a compromise (so visitors to the dojo wouldn’t realize Prowl was actually blind and to keep Prowl from “cheating”) to make him utilize all of his senses and be aware of what is going on around him. The blindfold didn’t come off again until Prowl mastered his blind skills.

Prowl didn’t master that until just before Yoketron sent him out to find himself. From then on, he learned to use all of his senses while fighting or doing “ninja” stuff.

[Prowl wearing the blindfold while mid-flip.]

[Yoketron looks proudly at Prowl after removing the blindfold.]

Just for fun, here’s some photoshop of what you see if Prowl takes his visor off. Excuse my terrible photoshop skills. The pictures I used were low quality when I screencapped them to do this. There’s one from before and after he got the armor mods.

[Two images of Prowl. One without samurai-like armor and one with it. Sans visor, the top half of his face is smooth because he doesn’t have optics. There is a small circuit board with pins on the bridge of his nose for his visor to hook into.]

Wow, this post got really rambly! XD Sorry! If anyone is still here at this point, here’s Lightverse:

http://archiveofourown.org/series/283542 * * * (Note: Contains NSFW content!) * * *

#Lightverse #Prowl #TFA #TFA Prowl #Lightverse Prowl #ableism #tw murder #long post #infodump #daredevil anon #daredevil #swearing

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