#@pilot-boi

[novankenn]

( Inspired by THIS post by @pilot-boi )

"a Mafia AU"

Pyrrha Nikos was absolutely stunned how things had turned out, and none of it made a fucking lick of sense. First there was the hit. Who the hell puts a hit on the Arcs? Seriously the large unassuming family, and she meant that in the literal sense owned a vineyard! They made wine! Mind you really good wine. But still! It made no sense.

Then there was the target. Jaune Arc. If he and his family were faunus, Pyrrha would bet without hesitation they would all be "Golden Retriever" faunus. The kid, even though he was the same age as Pyrrha, was dense, oblivious, cute, air headed. WAIT! Did she just call her intended target, CUTE?

Shaking her head, she tried to get the thought out of her head, only for traitorous mind to replace "cute" with "loveable". Pyrrha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"How did this simple job get so, complicated?" she complained to herself, even though she was currently calling in a cleaning crew do deal with the current mess she was standing in the middle of. They had been a small crew of three mid-tiers. Good enough to take out an obvious idiot of a target, but not even in the ball-park of Pyrrha.

This was getting out of hand. These gals were like the fifth attempt that Pyrrha had to step in and quash. She wanted to say she was just protecting her VERY impressive payday, but she also couldn't suppress the slight hint of anger with herself for being unable to finish the contract, but instead had become the adorable moron's.

"Argh!" she growled in frustration. She had done it again! Applying "lovey-dovey" terms to a target! Her target!

"Ms Nikos." came the monotone, but respective tone of Cardin, leader of team CRDL. Pyrrha didn't like their attitude, she in fact despised Cardin for his reported... proclivities with faunus. But the fact remained they were the best of any cleaning crew.

"Here." Pyrrha handed over a set of golden tokens. It was an unusual system. Each token was valued at a set amount, and were used at a "distributor" to receive the actual lien payment for services rendered. "Trust the normal rate applied for a multi."

"It does." Cardin replied, as he put the tokens into his pocket. "We'll take it from here."

Nodding Pyrrha, moved off, power walking out to the crowded streets of Vale, intent on finding her quarry and ending this job. She had delayed long enough, it was time to...

"I'm never going to be able to pull the trigger." she lamented to herself. "How many times has it been? Every fucking time, I hesitate and just let him walk away!"

Pulling out her scroll, she activated the trace app. She had been able to tag his scroll, which he NEVER turned off, and could find him where ever he was. Wait this was saying he was right BEHIND HER! Pyrrha whipped around, and sure enough Jaune was standing behind her, a loveable dopey smile on his face.

"Here." he continued to smile as he handed her an ice cream cone. A literal ice cream cone! "Seen you around a lot, and you always seem stressed, so I figure this might take your mind off whatever is bother you."

"Seen me around?" Pyrrha's mind was a whirl with questions. How did this idiotic adorable moron, notice her around!

"Yep. You know if you're going to be my new bodyguard, you might as well just walk around with me, instead of hiding. I mean I get it, but it feel funny."

Pyrrha was dumb founded. The Dense, oblivious cutie thought she was hired to protect him, and not off him! With her mind in shock she reached out and accepted the ice.

"I hope vanilla is okay?" Jaune commented, as Pyrrha gave her cone a lick. "If not I can go get another flavor."

"Vanilla is fine." Pyrrha replied

[novankenn]

Me and My BIG MOUTH!!!

(A snippet from A Mafia AU)

(A/N - More AWESOME art by @pilot-boi!!! If she keeps doing this I'll have to make a separate blog just for this AU!!!)

Pyrrha was a nervous wreck. She was once again out with Jaune, when some LOW-LIFE tried to harm her loveable dork! No her... target. Yeah that's what Jaune is... her target... not her dork, or adorable. Stupid heart!

Anyway, they were walking down main street when Pyrrha has noticed a red dot reflected off a store window. She didn't need to be a brain surgeon to know what that meant. So she reacted, in her best interests... not to save Jaune and keep her cuddly-bunny from getting hurt. Of course not that!

Grabbing Jaune by the wrist she spun him away from the window, pressed her forearm to his chest and physically power walked him into a trash filled alley. Jaune let out a grunt when his back hit a wall. Her forearm traveled up his rather taunt chest, and pressed against the base of his throat pinning him to the wall. One look at his surprised and fearful eyes and Pyrrha felt like she had just kicked a puppy.

"P... Pyr?" Jaune stammered out, in utter shock.

"Quiet, and stay here." Pyrrha instructed her tone leaving no room for argument. "Someone's after you, now let me do my bodyguard duties, and chase them off."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now stay here out of sight. Go it?" Jaune nodded in response.

Pyrrha was on the move a fraction of a second later. She knew that the shooter was smart enough not to take a wild shot, hence the store front window being still in one piece, and seeing as there were no shouts of panic, she knew they weren't street level. Scanning the street and roof tops from her hidden corner, she caught movement.

"He's mine." Pyrrha growled, before bolting across the street. She had to move, and move fast. If this shooter was worth their salt they would be right now repositioning for a clean line of sight.

Finding a rust fire-escape, Pyrrha jumped caught the bottom rung and using pure upper body strength crawled up it until her feet touched the rungs. Once she could get her legs involved her ascent to the roof was extremely rapid. Once she was at the rooftops, she took a quick look and saw her quarry.

She didn't recognize the guy. Figures some nobody would make a move on her man! Growling she charged across the gravel coated roof. The crunch of her feet alerted the would-be-shooter, but Pyrrha was a champion, a prodigy, and in denial of her true feelings. So the poor shmuck was no challenge.

"You dare take a shot at my BABY DADDY!" Pyrrha screamed without registering what she was saying as she grappled, twisted, yank, and then snapped various bones, on multiple limbs. Rendering the man unable to do anything but sit in a wheelchair for the foreseeable future, her mind caught up to what she had just yelled.

"You didn't hear that!" she snarled making the unnamed man whimper and whine in absolute terror.

The sound of clapping startled Pyrrha making her whip about to come face to Terra Cotta-Arc wearing a shit eating grin. Pyrrha's eyes went wide, and her face flushed cherry red.

"Don't worry," Terra smirked as she walked over to the down would-be-shooter. Pyrrha watched her draw a strange looking pistol from under her coat. "No one will say a thing."

Pyrrha tensed for the weapon's report, but there was none. One second the would-be-hitter was whimpering in agony and the next his brains were decorating the roof. Terra continued to smile her shit-eating grin as reloaded the single shot weapon.

"So," Terra spoke as she holstered her strange weapon, and then draped an arm across Pyrrha's shoulders. "Baby Daddy? Is there something we should know about going on in... Jaune's room behind closed door?"

"No."

"Good." Terra continued to smile, "Let me give you the same advice Mama Arc gave me. No ring... no hanky-panky. Understand?"

"Yes." Pyrrha wanted a hole to open beneath her and swallow her up.

"Good." Terra patted Pyrrha on the shoulder. "Get back to honey-bunny, I'll take care of this mess."

Slinking away completely embarrassed, Pyrrha activated her scroll to call Jaune and let him know she was safe, but just as she was tapping the screen a call came in. She didn't notice in her distracted sate.

"Jaune, it's Pyr. You're safe. I'm on my way back to you. Stay put."

"Jaune?" responded a voice that Pyrrha was dreading to hear. "Since when do you have the contact information for one Jaune Arc, and since when have you been calling yourself Pyr? Or was that his idea?"

"Mom!?!"

"Yes, my dear daughter it is your very cross, stressed and worried mother." Athena answered. "So would you care to..."

"Sorry... mom... you're... breaking... up..."

"Pyrrha, that trick will not work..."

Pyrrha pinched the bride of her nose as soon as she disconnected the call. She would deal with her mother later, much later. She tapped her thumb absent mindedly against the screen of her scroll as she started to make the descent to the streets below. The tell-tale woosh sound effect made her eyes go wide.

"No!" she whispered in horror as she just understood what had happened. Even though she had signed out of her chat with Blake, she had left it open. Open on to that photo... which she had just accidently sent to her mom.

In Athena Niko's suite she stared at her scroll. More than a little annoyed that Pyrrha, her daughter had unceremoniously tried the "going through a tunnel" trick before just hanging up on her. Then sent her a rather strange picture.

"What am I looking at?" Athena asked her executive assistant.

"It looks like your daughter wearing a set of boxers on her head, mistress."

"That's what I thought." Athena's fingers went slack and she for the second time that day passed out from emotional shock.

(A/N - Thank you to everyone whose helping make this such a fun series to do. SPEACIAL THANKS to @pilot-boi whose works of art are providing the inspirational basis for these stories. Also SPECIAL THANKS to @rwby-encrusted-blog for their additions to these AUs.

Okay I admit I’ve been thinking about this AU some more

They are rotating in my mind

[lesbiannieism]

i need 7+ seasons of dead boy detectives specifically to see the long-term payoff of charles putting a jar of bees in his bag

[mayomkun]

Our hometown's in the dark

[sincerelyrf]

thinking about how Edwin just. doesn't actually swear throughout the entire show except for in hell when he screams "THAT IS SO FUCKING STUPID IT'S UNBELIEVABLE" at Charles for coming to hell to save him

[sirassban]

I Drew Mech pilot AU jazz & prowl (I love them so much it hurts) by @keferon  (this is definitely ooc but 🤷‍♀️)

[demon-of-lemons]

I've made a whole list of songs that ruined my brain AMVs in my early YouTube days so I was curious if this was universal.

I listed only one song per artist, no fandom songs, and only from my experience. Feel free to share yours that I didn't list!

[saintcainn]

[taddymason]

And if you're broken You'll make your own thing You'll make it so big For all the world to see

[starmocha]

Apple of My Eye [Caleb + Son ★ 2k words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] A silly morning making breakfast together. A/N: ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MY BOY DAD CALEB SHENANIGAN IS STARTING YAY. I’ve been yapping about this since November lmao Tag list: @lavlynyan @miudle @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @goddessnyx216 @qyuin @asiaticapple 【 request to be added 】

Caleb had always thought the best day of his life was marrying the girl he had been in love with for nearly their whole lives.

He was wrong.

It turned out it was actually the day she gave birth to his son and made him a father.

Before that, it had always been him and her against the world, his hand in hers from then until eternity. From the moment he had first held his son in his arms, his shocked face staring down at the little baby cradled in his arms, unable to fathom that this was his child he had with her. However, the moment his son’s tiny hand grasped his finger, holding on tight with all of his strength, Caleb knew he could never imagine a life without his little co-pilot.

The sun wasn’t out yet, but Caleb had already begun to stir from sleep, completely conditioned to waking up early for as long as he could remember. However, there was one other person in this household who was adamant about being the first to wake up.

Caleb remained in bed, laying on his stomach facedown, his cheek pressed to his pillow as he lounged lazily, hearing from down the hallways the rushed soft pitter-patters of little feet on hardwood floor. He could hear his bedroom door creaking. It was never closed completely, always left opened slightly ajar so his son could come in whenever he needed to.

The little boy peeked in before pushing the door opened further and proceeded to toddle his way to his father’s bed. He attempted to climb up, the sounds of his incessant grunting and whining nearly made Caleb burst out laughing, but he managed to quickly compose himself, remaining as still as possible in bed to not rouse suspicion from his son.

The little boy continued to try to climb, his small hands unable to grasp the mattress and pull himself up. He whined in frustration before crying out, “Help! Daddy, help!”

Caleb stifled his laughter. He pretended to still be asleep.

“SOS! SOS! Daddy, SOS!”

This finally broke him.

Caleb rolled over onto his back, his arm clutching his stomach as he shook and laughed hard to the point his sides were hurting.

“Daddy!”

“Okay, okay,” he answered as more laughter unwittingly escaped. “Distressed signal received, my little co-pilot.”

With a gentle curl of his finger, he manipulated his Evol, the gravity around his son lightened and suddenly the little boy floated up giggling and kicking his feet in delight. He was lured closer to his father before dropping into Caleb’s waiting arms.

The little boy was still in a light blue onesie with little yellow airplanes all over, the soft fabric of his sleepwear brushed against Caleb.

Caleb peered down gently into a pair of identical violet eyes. His son really had taken after him in all aspects from physical appearance to his personality and even mannerism. Sometimes, Caleb couldn’t help but teased his wife about how her genes didn’t even try, their son a perfect replica of him.

The only difference Caleb saw was the sweet innocence of a child still remained in his two-year-old, and he was determined to safeguard that for as long as he could, wishing his son to always be bright-eyed and happy.

“Daddy?”

It was like looking into a mirror.

“Hm?”

“I miss Mommy…”

Definitely a copy of him.

Caleb hugged his son a little tighter, sympathizing with the child completely.

“I miss her, too,” he said, “but she is away helping other small children like you affected by a wanderer attack.”

The boy pouted, not completely understanding his father’s explanation. He didn’t know why he had to share his mommy, but he wanted her home with him again. He raised his head, his cheek puffing in frustration as his eyebrows furrowed in serious contemplation. “Can we make Mommy not go next time?”

“Huh?”

“I want her to stay with me…”

“Selfish little rascal, aren’t you?” Caleb teased. “We can try, but she would probably be disappointed in you.”

“Disap… Disap…” The boy’s brows furrowed even more as he struggled to repeat that odd word his father had just said.

“She would be unhappy with you,” Caleb explained gently.

The toddler immediately looked guilty, his pout disappeared the moment he heard his father’s explanation. “I don’t want her to be unhappy…”

“Then be a brave good little boy for her,” Caleb said, his hand smoothing his son’s disheveled hair back. He continued in a soothing tone, “Can you do that for her?”

“Yes!”

Caleb smiled, amused by the determination in his son’s eyes. He settled more comfortably in bed with the toddler laying on his chest. “Okay, let’s sleep for a while longer,” he said, letting a yawn slipped through. “Daddy will make breakfast for the two of us in a bit…”

“But I’m not…” the little boy yawned as his father rubbed his small back gently. He nuzzled his face against his father’s chest. “…sle…epy…”

“I know,” Caleb responded agreeably, his own eyes closing at the same time as his son’s. In minutes, the room was filled with the sound of gentle snoring, both father and son slipping back to dreamland in the dark, cool room.

About an hour and a half later, Caleb and his son were both fully awake. After washing up, they both headed for the kitchen with the little boy sitting on his father’s shoulders, his small hands grasping Caleb’s hair as if they were reins as he “steered” his father into the direction of their destination.

“Are we ready for landing, my co-pilot?” Caleb asked, his eyes darting up to check.

“Ready!”

Caleb smiled and used his Evol to lift his son into the air, always delighting in the little boy’s sweet giggles. “Alright,” he said, “You are cleared for landing.”

Caleb’s smile widened as his son squealed happily as he guided the boy to float gently down, letting his feet lightly touch the kitchen countertop. He steadied the boy and helped him sit down. “And how was your flight today, sir?”

“Good, Daddy!”

He laughed and leaned down, his forehead touching his son’s. “Okay, let’s get breakfast ready, buddy,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but Daddy is so hungry, he’s probably gonna end up eating his plate, too.”

“Your plate?” the boy repeated, astonished, making a face at him. “Daddy is so silly…!”

“Silly, am I?” he countered back in mock-surprise. “No, not sillier than you?”

“Yes, sillier!”

“I dunno,” he repeated, heading to the fridge to retrieve some ingredients. He set on the counter a couple of eggs, green onions, tomatoes, and a container of shredded cheddar cheese. “Who’s the silly little boy who dunked his cotton candy into water and watched it melt away after being told not to do it?”

The boy pouted and shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no, Daddy is sillier!”

“Yeah?” Caleb asked, grabbing a small cutting board and a knife from a drawer. He proceeded to finely minced the green onions and diced the tomatoes. “Sillier than a certain little boy who didn’t want to come inside for naptime, because he was too busy holding a leaf to shade his new frog friend he found outside?”

“Daddy is sillier!” he cried out in response to his father’s teasing.

“Okay, okay,” Caleb laughed, relenting, “Daddy is sillier than you.”

He leaned over and pecked his son’s cheek. “But I don’t see it as a bad thing, do you?”

He gazed down into identical violet eyes, seeing the same mirth reflected back to his. Caleb grabbed the eggs he had set to the side, bringing them over to his son along with a medium-sized bowl. “Okay, can you crack these eggs for Daddy?”

His son grinned and nodded enthusiastically, carefully grabbing the egg Caleb handed to him. He followed his father’s instruction and carefully cracked the egg on the side of the bowl and with Caleb’s guidance, he broke the egg.

“Good job, buddy,” Caleb praised, smiling softly as he could see the little boy brimming with pride. “Three more eggs to go.”

After the last egg was cracked, the toddler held up his small hands to his father, frowning as he said softly, “Daddy… my hands are yucky…”

Caleb chuckled in amusement and picked up his son to carry him over to the kitchen sink. “Not a problem,” he said, turning on the faucet, and holding his son close to the running water so the boy could wash his hands. He set the boy back over to the counter. “All good now, partner?”

“All good!” the boy cheered. “Daddy, Daddy, I can do it!”

“Hm? You want to beat the eggs?”

His son nodded eagerly.

“Okay,” Caleb said, handing the boy a pair of chopsticks. He chuckled as his son gripped them firmly in his small fist. “Just like how you usually see me do it. That’s it. Keep going, we want to break all of the yolks and have everything mixed evenly.”

He added in the earlier vegetables he had chopped along with a generous helping of shredded cheese. He urged his son to continue mixing. He could see the toddler was quickly tired out by the task. “Little buddy, permission to take over?”

“Granted!”

“Thank you, sir!” Caleb responded and took the pair of chopsticks from his son. He heated up a frying pan with oil over low heat as he vigorously beat the eggs. Once it was mixed to his liking, Caleb slowly poured the beaten egg mixture into the fry pan, hearing it sizzled gently. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his son trying to stand up and tutted disapprovingly. “No, buddy. No standing while I’m over here. It will be over soon.”

The boy pouted and sat back down obediently. He still tried to peer and watch his father make their breakfast.

Caleb moved the egg around slowly, letting it cook gently while he turned to place some sandwich slices into a toaster. It wasn’t long before everything came together and he dished everything out onto two plates: one adult-sized and one child plate, shaped like an apple with three divided segments.

They both sat down to eat together and Caleb smiled again as he watched his son happily eat his scrambled eggs and cutup pieces of toast.

“Is it yummy?” he asked, taking a bite of his own.

The boy nodded brightly. “Daddy’s food is always yummy!”

“Well, thank you, buddy,” he quipped. “Much appreciated. What should we have for lunch later then?”

“Daddy’s chicken.”

“And dinner?”

“Chicken…”

Caleb laughed. “2 AM snack?”

“Chicken!”

“I can make so many things,” Caleb said with an amused smile with faux exasperation in his tone, “Don’t you want to try other things, too?”

“Okay, Daddy,” the little boy answered, easily swayed by his father’s persuasion. He added innocently, “But I also like Daddy’s chicken…”

Caleb smiled and leaned over, his cheek nuzzling against his son’s before giving the toddler a quick peck. “I know you do,” he said lightheartedly, continuing with a laugh, “Your mother made me make it for her for six months straight while you were in her tummy.”

The boy smiled, not quite understanding his father’s quip. Instead, he grabbed his father’s face and blew a wet kiss against Caleb’s cheek, giggling nonstop.

“You little rascal,” Caleb said with feigned irritation.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

The boy smiled back cheekily and Caleb couldn’t help but wondered if he had ever smiled or laughed as much as he seemed to ever since his son was born. His eyes widened a little when his son grabbed his hand, the vast difference in size clear as day.

“Daddy’s my best friend.”

Caleb breathed in quickly before he sighed happily. He smiled back.

“You’re mine, too,” he responded as he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his son’s temple. “So happy you came into my life, my little co-pilot.”

[imabookloverandafangirl]

reblog this if you see your favorite band

[novankenn]

Ice Cream Social?

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

Pyrrha Nikos, formerly the Goddess of Death. Once the Invincible One. Was NOT happy, and very uncomfortable. Jaune Arc, the former target of a contact killing that she had only a couple short months ago attempted to cash in on without her mother's knowledge, was dragging her into a "Mom & Pop" Ice-Cream Parlor. The once assassin now "secret" girl-friend was VERY uncomfortable in such social gatherings.

"Jaune can we?" Pyrrha tentatively asked as they prepared to enter the establishment.

"Pyr?" Jaune asked, his voice indicating his confusion at his "bodyguard's" resistance. "Is something wrong?"

"No... maybe... yes?" Pyrrha stuttered out.

"Ah... huh?" Jaune raised an eye brow. He withdrew his hand from the action of pushing open the establishment's main door. "That was... confusing. Is there something wrong, Pyr? You know you can tell me anything right?"

"Anything... su... sure. I... know that." Pyrrha replied, while her in her mind she pictured Jaune's mother and sisters giving her a glare. Pyrrha KNEW she couldn't tell Jaune the reality of the world, that she was part of, and that his family was shielding him from.

"Pyr?"

"It's just... just I feel underdressed... and I've never... gone to one of these before." Pyrrha's voice faded from tentative to barely above a whisper as she answered.

"It's an Ice Cream social, Pyr." Jaune informed her. "It's not a big deal, just a bunch of us spending money on ice-cream to help a local charity."

"But... still..." Pyrrha stammered, a slight embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks. It was a combined reaction, one from not knowing how to be average and normal, along with the fact she was acutely aware of Jaune's hands cupping own.

"Wait here." Jaune smiled, that warm goofy, comforting gesture. Pyrrha's heart skipped several beats every time he used it on her.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked suddenly wishing he hadn't released her hands.

Her scroll buzzed in her pocket as Jaune stepped through the door, leaving her alone outside. Pulling it out after loosing sight of Jaune in the crowd gathered in the shop, she opened the messaging application. It was a message from Terra. Jaune's sister-in-law, and a member of the legendary Sisters of Mercy. A fact when revealed caused Pyrrha to seriously question many of her life choices.

"Stop being a fraidy-cat and woman up, Nikos!"

"What? How? Where?" Pyrrha typed out in response.

"Inside. To your left." was the repsonse.

Pyrrha looked up from her scroll and in the direction instructed. There seated at the counter running the length of the massive plate glass windows was Terra Cotta-Arc. Eating a rather large and overly topped sundae. Pyrrha actually was surprised at just how many toppings the dusky skinned woman had piled onto the dish. So many in fact she couldn't even tell what flavor of ice-cream she was eating.

Terra smiled at the former assassin, as she took another heaping spoonful of toppings. Raising her free hand she wiggled her fingers at Pyrrha, before dropping her hand back to the table and typing something out on her scroll.

"You need to woman up there, Goddess. You won't catch Jaune's eye acting like some pre-teen school girl."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are." Terra replied. "You fell for him, not step up and stake your claim before some skank steps in."

"I would never let that happen!"

"There's that fire!" Terra replied, "Now... oh never mind."

"Huh?" Pyrrha responded, until she head the bell chime as the door was opened. Looking up, he blush became instantly nuclear. In a complete replay of their first face to face interaction Jaune was standing before her, a simple, plain ice-cream cone held out to her.

(Commissioned Image by @pilot-boi)

"Ja... Jaune?"

"Here Pyr." Jaune stepped forward holding the slowly starting to melt creamy treat. "I made my donation, and got you a treat. We can go somewhere else, if this make you that uncomfortable."

"I..." Pyrrha hesitated. Her scrolled buzzed, and she took a quick glance. It was another message from Terra.

"Pussy. Take the cone!"

"Pyr?" Jaune questioned, a look of concern, "I thought you liked vanilla? Did I mes..."

"NO!" Pyrrha shouted, startling Jaune. He almost dropped the cone, and if it wasn't for Pyrrha's honed reflexes it would have been lost to the sidewalk. "Thank you."

Jaune's faltering smile returned twenty-fold, making Pyrrha almost swoon, as he lifted the cone with a shaking hand and gave it a lick. Pyrrha actually preferred cookies-n-cream, but each time Jaune got her vanilla... it tasted like heaven.

"Good girl. ;-)" appeared on her scroll. Pyrrha hurriedly stuffed the object into her pocket before reaching out and tentatively taking Jaune's hand.

"Want some?" Pyrrha asked her cheeks glowing a vibrant red, as she held the cone out towards Jaune.

Jaune didn't lick the cone, but instead took a bite off the opposite side that she had been licking. His goofy ice-cream coated grin making Pyrrha's heart fluttered.

"Want to go for a walk in the park?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha nodded, as she let Jaune take her hand, and when he wasn't looking twisted her cone about and took her own bite off the side of the cone he had. She felt her scroll buzz, and buzz and buzz. Obviously her little action didn't go unnoticed. Pyrrha was dreading what those messages would say once she looked at them. Taking another bite from her cone, she let Jaune lead the way towards thier next destination.

[kalwithatrenchcoat]

A Caregiver. A Motivator. And a child at heart.

[keferon]

Odds of Survival Part 3

Unstoppable forces meets immovable objects.

Or Prowl finds new reasons to be concerned.

———————————————————————

While Prowl had destroyed the bombers attacking their end of the bridge, the other side had no such saving grace.

The opposite end of the sky bridge had broken off from the Commerce Tower and was now swinging downwards, creating a miles long ramp to obliteration.

There was a 4% chance Prowl could technically survive the impact. However he’d almost certainly be reduced to a sputtering spark trapped in a compacted pile of scrap that had once been his frame. Without instantaneous medical intervention, he would most certainly perish even in the event of the 4% survival chance occurring.

4% halved to 2% when Tacnet registered Jazz magnetizing his hands to Prowls frame.

Tacnet spun wildly and without traction. Whatever actions Prowl could have taken to mitigate the incoming damage was removed by Jazz’s inescapable hold. Every possible strategy terminated instantly in a flurry of error messages as Tacnet tried to factor for the impossible.

Physically, Prowls servos moved on their own, driven by some core deep coding for self preservation that had him frantically clawing at Jazz’s back for either a hand hold or escape as Tacnet spat out a single coherent plan:

(Brace For Impact)

The Praxian briefly wondered if he’d crash before they crashed.

The mechs jolted as Jazz made contact with the bridge turned ramp. A fountain of sparks spraying from his pedes as Jazz hit the bridge upright and began skating down the buckling surface.

Jazz wasn’t just passively sliding along either. Prowl felt powerful legs tense and thrusters make quick adjustments to narrowly avoid lethal splinters of braking pipes and metal sheets.

Odds of Survival 5%

Odds of Survival 6%

Prowl watched the impossible as Tacnet slowly ticked upwards. Through some stroke of insanity, Jazz was controlling their descent. Analyzing the white mechs motions, Prowl concluded they were practiced. Unbelievably, Jazz somehow had previous experience with similar circumstances.

On what Fragging planet does somebody regularly go careening down incredibly steep slopes at high speeds with only their own athleticism to keep them alive?!

Skill alone wasn’t enough however, because Jazz was slowly loosing control. As the sky bridge swung inexorably downwards, their ramp was steadily becoming steeper. Prowl could feel one of Jazz’s legs beginning to involuntarily shudder under the continued strain. The obstacles kept coming faster and faster, the visored mech barely keeping pace.

If he dropped me, Jazz has a 23% chance at saving himself.

Prowl caught sight of a chunk of bridge breaking outwards that spanned the total width of it. No getting around it. The jagged edge lifted just high enough to bisect him just below the wings. Prowl turned away.

Jazz leapt.

The deafening vibrations of metal on metal grinding suddenly stopped. An instrumental segment filled the gap.

Gravity ended their short reprieve.

This time when they collided with bridge, Prowl felt Jazz land wrong and then suddenly the sky was whipping past his optics.

Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge.

Tacnet greedily took in their current velocity, rate of rotation, and angle of the sky bridges decent to inform Prowl that Jazz and his combined weight would land on his helm.

Thank you Tacnet, I hate you.

Jazz shifted and Prowls vision went white.

Despite Tacnets certainty to the contrary, Prowl was not unconscious or dead.

ERROR, moon, ERROR. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, ERROR, bridge, rubble. Stars, moon, bridge, rubble.

They were flipping through the air again.

Jazz landed on his feet this time but couldn’t stop their rolling. Prowl felt fast painful scrapes against his servos and peds.

Stars, bridge, rubble. Stars, bridge, rubble.

Tacnet took in their velocity and rotation again. Calculating their distance to the wreckage at the end of their fall.

Impact Survival 74%

Impact location Doorwings 87%

At least his doorwings were already offlined.

By then, the two mechs were no longer bouncing, but rolling fully across the remains of the bridge. Prowl locked himself around Jazz and braced for impact.

Collision was instant and deafening.

Prowls sense of balance was rubber banding. The instant stop after what felt like vorns of spinning out of control was just as disorientating as the fall itself.

In a lapse of memory, he onlined his doorwings.

Prowl remembered why he left them offline a click too late and sucked in a vent.

Except. They were functioning. The edges stung and the tip’s were badly chipped but both sensors were fully operational.

Blunt helm trauma. He must be having a severe processor malfunction. Prowl unlocked protesting joints and looked over his shoulders at his doorwings.

They were only lightly damaged, fully functional, and only a servos width from the pile of rubble he was being held above.

A black and white arm extended past his wings, buried wrist deep in the wreckage.

Jazz still had a death grip around his waist, visor pressed into Prowls shoulder.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried. If he put his vocalizer against his audial, the sound should carry. The music played out its final notes, leaving the silence of the moon in its wake.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried a little harder, pulling at the servo still magnetized to his back, unhooking his peds to kneel on the rubble. They had fallen into the 90 degree crook of the second cylindrical extension. The bridge had come to rest at last, kicking up enough moon dust to obscure their survival from any searching quintessons. For now.

Jazz slurred something in his native language, before repeating in common, “Gimme a click. I’m gonna throw up real quick.”

Prowl flared his wings, scanning the area. It was a relatively short drop to the moons surface. Once there, Prowl could transform and carry the both of them at speed to the outpost. Clearly, Jazz had no trouble holding onto him.

Speaking of, Jazz finally, slowly began to uncurl from Prowls frame.

He looked terrible. His visor had splintered crack’s across one side, the isolated fragments independently flickering. One horn was stuck pinned against his helm, sparking where shrapnel was jammed into the gap. He was visibly wobbling, and even with an em field Prowl could tell he was badly disoriented.

Jazz stared at Prowl for a while, before looking to his hand still buried in rubble. He tried pulling it free gently and when that didn’t work, got a completely ruined and mostly toe-less ped braced next to it and yanked

Jazz’s hand came free. At the same time something important looking snapped and fell out of his shoulder. The limb going limp.

Prowl didn’t have the bandwidth to process that at the moment.

Instead, he plucked up the chunk of shoulder into sub space. Tacking that onto the growing list of injuries they’d both needed tending to.

Cautiously, Prowl reached up to gingerly touch the back of his helm, fully expecting to feel exposed and crushed circuitry. Instead, he felt several dents, aligned in parallel. Very tender, but most certainly not as damaged as it should have been.

How?

Tacnet answered by mapping the contours of the dents, drawing Prowls optics to the back of Jazz’s obliterated servo.

The remains of the sky bridge shuttered.

Odds of Survival 45%

Prowl got Jazz’s attention and began pulling him towards the ledge they’d need to descend. Effectively deaf, probably blind, down an arm and forced to walk on two severely injured peds, Prowl only felt some relief when he finally wrangled Jazz to rest on top of his alt form.

Watching him struggle down the ledge was utterly disturbing to watch. Jazz limped along as if he was completely desensitized to pain, behaving as if he was more annoyed by his injuries than agonized.

Package secured, Prowl gunned it for the outpost. Even injured, he trusted Jazz to stay magnetized to his frame with whatever he had left to hold on with.

Out of the dust cloud, Prowl was intimately aware of how exposed they’d be. Confident he wouldn’t loose Jazz, Prowl focused entirely on plotting the most efficient route to the outpost.

The moment it came into view, Prowl pushed his engine past the redline as he registered sniper shots firing just past and above them.

Pursuing quintesson wreckers 78%.

Sure enough, a dead wrecker crashed into the moon dirt a short distance to their left.

Prowl managed a drifting slide past the out post gates, losing exactly enough momentum to match the speed of a running mech, then transformed back to root mode in the same maneuver. An exceedingly useful technique when chasing criminals and a damn effective way to shoulder someone on your roof through a door in the most efficient manner possible.

[Bluestreak, I’ve made it inside the outpost. I have an injured mech with me.]

[Heya Prowl! I saw you tearing it up out there with your backpack buddy! I’ve got a few more stragglers to take care of but you’re welcome to use the medic case I’ve got with me in here. I’ll ping the door for you.]

The primary medkit should be in the outpost storage closet. That is unless Bluestreak pulled it into his snipers nest to tend to his own injuries (22%). Or because Bluestreak pulled it there to force Prowl to bring his “backpack buddy” within conversational distance (92%).

He felt a tap at his shoulder, “Are we safe here?” Jazz yelled in the thin atmosphere. Visor flickering worse than before and visibly making an effort to stay balanced upright on eviscerated peds.

Priorities.

Prowl ignored his annoyance. He hit the trigger to pressurize the airlock and pulled Jazz’s good arm over his shoulders to stabilize the other mech. He had easily a dozen lines of questioning queued up in the backlog of his processor, every single one tagged with Jazz as the subject line. As much as Prowl itched to piece together the puzzle of why he was “Like that.” It’d have to wait until they were both in more stable condition. At least now his vents could actually do something to start cooling his overstressed processor.

“For now. We are somewhat safe.”

Prowl muttered quietly in addition, “Against all odds.”

———————————————————————

Bluestreak, seeing Prowl with some very obvious hand prints and very specific paint scratches: “What in the pit did he do to you?”

Bluestreak, seeing Jazz walk in after him with a broken arm, busted horn and an utterly torn up paint job across his back: “What in the pit did YOU do to him?!”

Either one or two parts left, next up Jazz pov.

-SSTP

OH HELL SSTP LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND REALQUICK THIS IS A FIVE STAR MEAL FOR MY SOUL FKKDJFG I JUST. I NEVER FUCKING GET TIRED OF THE WAY YOU WRITE I know I'm probably repeating myself at this point BUT IT'S JUST WHAT MY TRUTH LOOKS LIKE OKAY. EVERY TIME I SEE AN ASK FROM YOU AND START READING IT I GO "Oh M A N the author cooked so hard they should've made Ratatouille 2 about this way of placing words."

[neds-bread]

They’re both so cute ahhhhgdgsg

[jowbokitten]

Turns out she's rly fun to draw bvfdvb

(I like to think she still sounds like pilot Pentious bcuz i miss him hhh)