#Impact sockets

[midseo]

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[kaontic]

Aw, he made new friends. :)

Apparently small, harmless (to him), yet very loud friends.

[theokusgallery]

Omori from Basil

This is how that one goes I think

[sneakyspades]

finally managed to fully clean my wisdom teeth extraction sites today and holy fuck did that smell. awful !

[kyooshi]

FUCKKKEDDD UPPPPP BRUUUHHH I LOVE THIS I LOVE UR WRITIBG WTFFF

Ok so, I've been having this taught of reader falling into a coma and not remembering anything from what happened before waking up. Which yandere do you think would take advantage and which would feel bad about doing so?

And why is it Diluc?

You were told you told a nasty fall. Right down the stairs at that. You're quite the clutz, one of your maids joked to you, but it's not like you'd remember. Everything about yourself, other than your name was blurry. Your name and something else. Red hair. Long red hair flowing down his back. Other than that, your mind was empty of memories, like you'd been reset with nothing.

"Master Diluc will be here shortly," the maid said with a smile as she used a wet cloth to dab the knot on your forehead. Swollen and painful, you could see the water in her bowl turning red from the dried blood, but she still smiled. Almost as if she enjoyed tending to you, "He's been dying to see you. You've had him worried sick, my lady,"

"Diluc...?" You repeated his name back, it felt foreign on your tongue, yet all too familiar at the same time. You forced yourself to think on that name as you'd done your own and nothing came up. Just empty, hollow, and blank.

She chuckled at your response, "Your husband! My boss. Master Diluc?" She tested these words while staring into your eyes, waiting for any sign of familiarity, but that flicker never lit in your eyes, and you grew more and more confused as she spoke. She watched your face change and in turn, hers did as well. You recognized the expression she was making. A look of worry and fear, that she tried to mask.

"I-i...have a husband?" You asked. The idea sounded crazy even to you. You'd gotten married and completely forgotten the person, forgotten the wedding, forgotten yourself.

Her little bowl was sat to the side and she dusted her hands on her apron. Moving quickly, she gave you a weak, worried smile as she marchd to the door, "I'll go get master Diluc." She said hurriedly, and she was gone. Leaving you in an unfamiliar room, with a strangely comforting ticking of a clock.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and he stepped in. He looked serious, almost scary, but also strangely remorseful. His eyes danced over to your forehead, where the bump was, then back to your face. His lip quivered as he knelt down at your bed side, reaching out to take your hand and being surprised that you allowed it. But his touch was gentle, he traced his thumb up and down the back of your hand, testing words on his tongue before he finally asked, "What do you remember?"

A weak smile formed on your lips. How could you tell him nothing? Or that all you had were bits and pieces of memories and even then, they weren't anything to go by. Yet that little shy smile was more than enough to tell him what you were thinking. He grimaced a bit before taking your hand and squeezing it, his touch was warm, borderline hot against the back of your hand.

"I'm your husband, Diluc Radnvindr and you're my wife. We've been married for two years," he spoke slowly, as if he were explaining this all to a child who wouldn't understand, "We live just a little bit outside of Mondstadt, I own a winery and the surrounding land as well."

At his mention of marriage, you looked down at your hands. Bare. Not even the indent of a ring on your finger.

"We don't have rings?" You questioned curiously, but sure enough, when you looked at his hand, he was wearing his wedding band dutifully. A plain gold band that wrapped around his finger.

Diluc's face tensed when you asked the question. It was an odd expression, not the type to face you expected your husband to make. But he still reached into a table at your side, opening a velvet box and showing you a similar gold band, only this one sparked with jewels and gems. It looked practically brand new. Not even a scratch or fingerprint on it. Almost like it'd never been worn.

"You always told me you weren't too fond of rings," he muttered, but his face looked sorrowful, "I couldn't force you to wear it so you never did."

You looked at that ring and you saw pure beauty. It looked like it was forged with love. You couldn't imagine why you didn't wear it, it was to pretty to not be seen. When you slipped the ring out of the box and onto the finger, Diluc made a face that was a mixture of surprise and horror. You gave him a questioning glance, but only was met with a stiff, but reassuring smile.

Days went by with you being a doting wife to Diluc, but the back of your mind something always felt wrong, like you were doing everything wrong. When you questioned why Diluc always ate his meals in his office, he did sit and eat with you at the table, but the maids looked confused at the sight of him. When you mentioned that it was strange that you and Diluc had supposedly been married so long, but didn't share a room, he allowed you into his bed. But even seemed uncomfortable by your presence.

Your dreams were restless that particular night. You dreamt of memories that you'd forgotten like you were living through them again. It was pouring rain and your heart was pounding. As you ran through the gardens, your feet bare and filthy with mud, all you could think was that you had to get away. But away from what?

Your heart thumping in your ears seemed even louder than the rainfall, your clothes soaked, fear being the only thing that pushed you further. When your wrist was grabbed, you screamed. Screamed harder than you had in your entire life. You expected to see a stranger when you turned, but instead you were met with familiar red hair, and angrier red eyes. Diluc.

He struck you. Hard across your cheek. It was a stinging slap, only calmed by the cold rain water hitting your face. Before you could even get the chance to fight, Diluc was dragging you back the way you came. Towards the manor. Towards your prison. You dug your feet into the mud, but you didn't stand a chance against his superior strength.

When you awoke in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes threatening to cry, his arm over your waist felt more like a restraint than a comfort. He slept peacefully right next to you as your mind tried to make sense of your dream, your memory. A pit formed in your stomach, a feeling of fear and worry as you thought about every strange thing about your marriage. About the strange way the maids looked at you. About how Diluc himself seemed almost surprised by what you assumed was typical martial affection. You swallowed hard as faint memories came flooding back. And the sudden realization of the fact that you were being lied to. And the liar, the cause of all of it, was nuzzling his face into you side.

[apextool]

Genius IS-627S 27 Piece 3/4" Dr. SAE Impact Socket Set

It is an impact socket set with 27 pieces. All Genius Tools Come With a Lifetime Warranty.

[thesocketlocker]

Impact Socket Sets: The Must-Have Tool for Every Workshop

No workshop is complete without a reliable impact socket set. Built for strength and endurance, these sockets excel in high-torque situations, making them essential for automotive and heavy-duty tasks. Browse our top picks for impact socket sets that combine quality, durability, and efficiency for all your mechanical needs!

[tony-hawks-underground]

Augh tools are so expensive. And i need to get basically all of them. I already ordered 1/2 drive sockets fortunately i already have 3/8 drive sockets but basically everything else i need that i alread had has been stolen

[toolssuppliersinuaedubaiuae]

ABASCOTOOLS: YOUR LEADING AIR TOOLS SUPPLIER IN DUBAI, UAE

ABASCOTOOLS stands as your premier supplier of air tools supplier in dubai uae, offering a diverse selection of high-quality equipment suited for various industrial and professional applications. From pneumatic impact wrenches to air compressors and everything in between, our products are crafted for durability, reliability, and superior performance. Explore our comprehensive range today and discover why ABASCOTOOLS is the preferred choice for businesses and professionals seeking excellence in air-powered tools.

[researchgroupreports]

The global impact socket market size reached US$ 1,077.0 Million in 2023. Looking forward, IMARC Group expects the market to reach US$ 1,551.6 Million by 2032, exhibiting a growth rate (CAGR) of 4.02% during 2024-2032.

[ferreterrotools]

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In the world of hand tools, precision is paramount, and JHALANI stands as the epitome of excellence. As a distinguished manufacturer of hand tools, JHALANI introduces a comprehensive range of socket set tools and impact socket set wrenches that redefine precision in every task. Trusted by professionals and DIY enthusiasts alike, JHALANI’s commitment to quality craftsmanship is evident in its diverse array of tools.

[toolboxwidgetau]

Explore the transformative benefits of 1/2 Impact Socket Holders. Learn how efficient organization can elevate your toolkit, providing quick access and durability for every project.

[hayatheauthor]

The Anatomy of Punching a Character in the Face

Punching scenes are a staple of action sequences in many genres. Whether it’s an intense brawl, a quick defense, or an emotional outburst, a punch can carry a lot of weight both physically and narratively. As a writer, it’s essential to understand what really happens when a fist meets a face—from the immediate impact to the longer-lasting effects on both the person getting punched and the one throwing the punch.

This guide will help you craft authentic, detailed, and believable punch scenes by exploring different areas of the face, types of punches, and the aftermath of such an impact.

1. Target Areas of the Face and Their Vulnerabilities

A punch isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Depending on where the fist lands, the consequences will vary significantly. Different parts of the face have varying levels of vulnerability, and targeting these areas produces different effects, from knockouts to broken bones.

A. Jawline: The Knockout Zone

The jawline is a classic target in many fight scenes, especially when knockout punches are involved. This area is highly vulnerable because a hit here causes the head to snap to the side, leading to a sharp rotational movement of the brain inside the skull. This movement disrupts the brain’s communication and often results in a temporary loss of consciousness—what we commonly refer to as a "knockout."

Common Effects: Dislocation or fracture of the jaw, loss of consciousness, slurred speech, and severe pain.

Visual Aftermath: Swelling around the jawline, bruising, and possible misalignment of the jaw if broken.

B. Nose: Breaking and Bleeding

The nose is another vulnerable target, known for being easily broken. It’s not just a fragile bone structure, but it’s also connected to many blood vessels, meaning a direct punch to the nose often results in immediate bleeding. The nasal bone can fracture, causing difficulty in breathing, and in some cases, the nose may need surgical intervention to reset.

Common Effects: Intense pain, bleeding, difficulty breathing, potential for a broken nose.

Visual Aftermath: Blood running from the nostrils, swelling, and significant bruising around the nose and eyes.

C. Cheekbones (Zygomatic Bones): Bruising and Fractures

The cheekbones are one of the more solid structures in the face but are still susceptible to breaks, particularly from a heavy blow. Damage here can lead to not just bruising, but potentially severe injuries that can affect the entire facial structure.

Common Effects: Fractures of the zygomatic bone, swelling, bruising, and pain extending to the eye socket.

Visual Aftermath: Black eyes, noticeable swelling on one side of the face, and a sunken appearance if the bone is fractured.

D. Forehead: A Hard Target

The forehead is much harder than most parts of the face and is less vulnerable to severe damage. However, punches to the forehead can still cause pain, disorientation, and dazing of the recipient. While it’s less likely to result in a knockout, it’s effective in dazing an opponent, especially if the puncher’s goal is to create an opening for another strike.

Common Effects: Swelling, redness, and potential concussions if hit with enough force.

Visual Aftermath: Redness, minimal bruising, and a dazed expression.

E. Eyes: Black Eyes and Swelling

A punch to the eyes is particularly brutal because the area around the eyes is delicate, and the skin is thin. It’s not just about swelling but also potential damage to the orbital bones. The impact can cause "black eyes," characterized by intense bruising and swelling that may close the eye shut for days.

Common Effects: Swelling, black eyes, potential orbital bone fractures, temporary blurred vision.

Visual Aftermath: Discoloration that starts purple and turns yellowish-green as it heals, swollen shut eyes.

2. Types of Punches

Not all punches are created equal. The type of punch thrown can drastically change the outcome of the scene, both in terms of damage and realism. Understanding these different types of punches will allow you to convey more varied and dynamic fight sequences.

A. Jab: Speed and Precision

A jab is a quick, straight punch, usually thrown with the non-dominant hand. It’s not meant to be a knockout punch but more of a setup punch to create an opening or keep the opponent at a distance. Jabs are fast and can be disorienting, especially if they repeatedly land in quick succession.

Common Effects: Light bruising, potential cuts, and swelling in the area hit.

B. Cross: Power and Impact

The cross is a powerful, straight punch delivered with the dominant hand. It’s often aimed at vulnerable spots like the jaw or nose. Unlike a jab, the cross is meant to deliver a significant amount of force, and when landed properly, it can cause serious damage.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken bones, severe swelling, and bruising.

C. Hook: Lateral Devastation

A hook is a wide, circular punch that targets the side of the head, particularly the jaw or temple. It’s one of the most powerful punches and is often used with the intent of knocking the opponent out.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe disorientation, potential for concussions, and jaw dislocations.

D. Uppercut: Lifting from Below

The uppercut is thrown upward, usually aimed at the chin. It’s a devastating punch that can lift the opponent’s head and jolt their brain, leading to knockouts. Uppercuts are especially dangerous when they land cleanly on the jaw or chin.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken teeth, jaw fractures, and disorientation.

E. Haymaker: Risky but Powerful

A haymaker is a wild, swinging punch delivered with as much force as possible. It’s often thrown with reckless abandon and is easy to dodge, but if it connects, it can deal significant damage. Because of its wide arc, it leaves the puncher exposed to counterattacks.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe bruising, and possible fractures if landed correctly.

3. Punch Wounds: What They Look Like and Healing

Punches to the face leave lasting marks, some immediately visible and others taking days to fully form. Understanding the aftermath of a punch will help you describe the physical toll on your characters more accurately.

A. Immediate Effects

Swelling and Redness: Swelling can begin almost instantly, particularly in areas with soft tissue like the eyes and lips.

Bruising: Bruises start off as red, then turn purple, blue, and eventually fade into yellow or green as they heal.

Bleeding: Punches to the nose, lips, and even cheeks can result in bleeding, either from the skin breaking or from internal damage like a broken nose.

B. Long-Term Injuries

Black Eyes: Punches near the eyes can lead to bruising that darkens the skin around the eyes, giving it a purplish hue.

Fractures: Broken bones, such as the nose or jaw, may require weeks to heal, and in severe cases, surgery may be necessary.

Scarring: If the skin is cut open, there’s the potential for scarring, especially if stitches are required.

C. Healing Process

Bruises: These typically take about a week to two weeks to heal, with the colors shifting as the body absorbs the blood trapped under the skin.

Fractures: Healing from fractures can take several weeks to months, depending on the severity.

Swelling: Swelling can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, with cold compresses helping to reduce it.

4. How the Punch Affects the Puncher

While we often focus on the person receiving the punch, it’s important to remember that throwing a punch can also take a toll on the puncher.

A. Physical Strain

Knuckle Damage: Hitting a hard surface, like a jaw or forehead, can cause damage to the puncher’s knuckles. This is known as a “boxer’s fracture,” where the small bones in the hand break due to impact.

Wrist Injury: If the punch is not aligned correctly, the wrist can absorb too much force, leading to sprains or breaks.

Fatigue: After multiple punches, especially in a drawn-out fight, the puncher can become fatigued, leading to less powerful or accurate strikes.

B. Emotional and Psychological Effects

Adrenaline Rush: For inexperienced fighters, throwing a punch can lead to an adrenaline surge, which can cause tunnel vision or reckless behavior.

Moral Conflict: If the puncher is not used to violence, they may experience guilt or shock at the damage they’ve caused, especially if the recipient is significantly injured.

5. Psychological Impact of Receiving a Punch

A punch to the face doesn’t only cause physical damage. For the recipient, it can have a lasting psychological effect, especially if the punch was unexpected or in a vulnerable situation. Writing this aspect adds depth to your characters and shows that a punch is more than just physical pain.

A. Shock and Fear

Fight or Flight Response: Getting punched can immediately trigger a fight-or-flight reaction. Some characters might freeze or retreat, especially if they’ve never been in a physical altercation before.

Loss of Confidence: For characters not used to violence, being punched in the face may cause a significant loss of confidence. They may question their own strength, bravery, or ability to defend themselves.

Increased Aggression: Alternatively, the punch may trigger a rage-fueled response, pushing the character into aggressive, reckless action.

B. Embarrassment and Humiliation

Public Fights: If the punch occurs in front of others, there’s often an added layer of humiliation. Characters might feel embarrassed, even if they weren’t at fault.

Internalizing the Event: The recipient of the punch may carry the emotional impact for a long time, replaying the event in their mind, feeling shame, or seeking revenge.

C. Post-Traumatic Stress

Lingering Anxiety: In extreme cases, receiving a punch can cause anxiety or even post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Characters who’ve experienced significant trauma might relive the event through flashbacks or become hyper-vigilant, avoiding confrontations in the future.

Fear of Future Confrontations: A character who’s been severely beaten might actively avoid scenarios where they could be hit again, making them overly cautious or paranoid.

6. Writing Tips: Making It Believable

Writing a punch scene isn't just about describing the physical action. To make the moment believable and impactful, you’ll need to consider various elements—from pacing and sensory details to character psychology and aftermath. Here’s how to make your punch scenes authentic:

A. Build Tension Before the Punch

Foreshadowing Conflict: Build up the tension before the punch is thrown. Is the character agitated? Are there verbal warnings or body language that suggests things are escalating? By slowly ramping up the tension, the eventual punch feels earned and inevitable.

Use Dialogue: A heated exchange of words can make a punch more meaningful. If the punch follows a particularly cutting remark or threat, it adds weight to the action.

B. Focus on Sensory Details

Physical Sensations: Describe not just the punch itself, but how it feels. Does the skin split? Does the puncher’s knuckles scrape against teeth or bone? Is there an immediate sting or delayed throbbing pain?

Sound: The sound of a punch can enhance the realism of the scene. A dull thud as a fist connects with soft tissue, the crack of a bone breaking, or the splatter of blood hitting the floor are all effective auditory details.

C. Show Immediate and Delayed Reactions

Physical Reaction: After being punched, characters rarely shake it off immediately. Staggering, falling, or momentarily losing their vision are realistic reactions. You can also show how the puncher feels—did their hand hurt from the impact?

Emotional Fallout: Punches are often emotional events. Show how your characters feel right after—whether it’s satisfaction, regret, or shock. The emotional weight of a punch can be just as impactful as the physical consequences.

D. Consider the Aftermath

Healing Process: Don’t forget that punches have a lasting impact. A black eye will take days to heal, and a broken nose could require medical attention. Characters might have to deal with soreness, swelling, or difficulty talking and eating.

Ongoing Tension: A punch can dramatically shift relationships. A once-trusting friendship could be shattered, or a bitter rivalry could be born. Make sure to carry the emotional weight of the punch forward in your story.

7. Common Misconceptions About Punching

Many writers fall into the trap of perpetuating unrealistic portrayals of punches. These misconceptions can make your scenes feel less authentic or overly cinematic. Here’s how to avoid them.

A. The Myth of the "Clean Knockout"

Reality: A punch to the jaw might cause a knockout, but it’s not always instant. In real life, knockouts are often messy and unpredictable. The recipient might stagger or struggle before finally losing consciousness, and they could wake up with serious concussions, memory loss, or nausea.

B. Punches Always Cause Immediate Bleeding

Reality: While a punch to the nose often causes immediate bleeding, not all punches result in visible blood. Even when skin splits, it might take a moment for blood to pool and become visible. Bruising and swelling often take hours to fully appear.

C. Punching Doesn’t Always Lead to a Win

Reality: Throwing a punch doesn’t guarantee victory. The puncher could hurt themselves, miss entirely, or end up escalating a fight they weren’t prepared for. Additionally, punches to the forehead or temple might not have the knockout effect portrayed in movies—they could just make the puncher’s hand hurt more than the opponent.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[keferon]

Part 2 of Jazz and Prowl in space!

Gonna start calling it Odds of Survival.

Prowl loves entrusting his life to reckless strangers.

———————————————————————

Prowl pulled the release to the airlock and the music was swallowed by the vacuum of space.

Bursting forward, Jazz launched outwards riding the pop of escaping air. The first quintesson had its eye socket repurposed as an ankle bracelet before the second measure even began.

Ah.

Prowl probably should have specified he wanted to try speeding past rather than confront their opponents directly.

Jazz's improvised footwear writhed sluggishly before the mech twisted his ped inside its brain case, finishing it off and turning to face the next nearest opponent.

Odds of survival 26%

The white and blue mech launched himself upwards as the nearest quintesson went for a dive bomb. It's teeth breaking on impact with the sky bridge. Jazz twisted in midair.

They fell in slow motion, back arching against a starlit backdrop. An upside down visor met blue optics. Jazz nodded his head to the side, flicking one horn up and one horn down.

Did he just wink? (#^%)

The falling mech unsheathed a blade from his wrist, driving it through the sputtering quintesson.

Oh Primus has he been flirting the entire time?

Jazz spun, slicing into the next quint to close the distance.

I can not. I can not assume that was intentional. It has to be a cultural miscommunication.

The last two quintessons pounced. Swinging hard, Jazz caught one's jaws with a forearm while he kicked the downed another in the side of the head. The third was attempting to bite into his back but the teeth couldn't get a full purchase on the rounded compact plating.

Odds of survival 22%.

Prowl snapped out of his social etiquette downward spiral. Sprinting from the safety of the airlock door, he knelt behind a large section of external piping, lining up his shots.

Tacnet spun to work.

It was designed to calculate hundreds of possible variations of large scale engagements, including the number of soldiers, type of weaponry available and could even determine the approximate number of ammunitions that would be left over, provided Prowl had enough data at his disposal.

Calculating the marksmanship needed to dispatch three hostiles at medium range while distracted by a highly competent ally?

Odds of Survival 32%

Laughable.

Three shots burst through the thin atmosphere.

Quintesson wreckers were built thick skulled and stubborn. Luckily they came with easily identifiable gaps in their organic construction.

The Quints fell from Jazz, each with a smoking hole where and eye used to be. Jazz looked at Prowl, then the smoking quintessons and back up to Prowl before doing finger guns again.

Speaking of thick skulled and stubborn.

Prowl put on his best Commanders Scowl and pointed in the direction they needed to be currently running in.

Doorwing sensors hiked as he picked up on movement from behind. The incoming hostiles was palpable even in the moons thin atmosphere. Quintessons rarely favored stealth.

Prowl began running.

Jazz kept pace, half turned around to keep track of the incoming troop. Prowl kept his optics locked forward, not remotely willing to risk tripping on the torn apart path.

Tacnet locked on to a large silvery pillow that'd been exposed to the atmosphere.

Expanding LLX Lithium battery. Explosion on contact 90%

Prowl shouted a warning but the air was too thin to carry beyond his own audials.

Jazz will step on the lithium battery in 1.5 clicks (88%) and will be critically injured in at least one leg (76%).

Prowl grabbed Jazz's servo and yanked.

Music erupted in the moment of connection.

Vibrations ran up his arm and across his frame. Inside his audials, Prowl could make out the song Jazz had begun in the airlock. Looking at his visor, mouth agape, only one thought could form in Prowls mind.

How fragging loud is he playing that music?!?

Jazz perked up, and pulled Prowl around in an arc. Multiple sharp impacts thudded into the ground behind him. Prowl turned and almost wished he hadn’t.

Three heavily armored Quintesson bombers equipped with bio-mechanical ballista.

The javelin like spikes were as long as Prowls arm and designed to pin targets in place while the slow moving blimp-like body of the bomber got into position to blow them all to the Pit.

Prowl tugged Jazz in the direction of their objective, refusing to let go in case he tried to launch himself at the bombers. Prowl wasn't sure how Jazz would manage to do so, but Prowl felt an overwhelming nagging sensation in his tanks that he'd fragging try.

Jazz was evidently fine with this arrangement.

As the music pulsed between their palms, Jazz leapt at a diagonal, pulling Prowl along for the ride. The low gravity was so damn floaty. It continually forced Prowl to readjust his footing so he wasn't frantically treading air every time his peds left the ground.

Jazz was evidently fine with that too.

Another round of ammunitions impacted where the two of them had been running.

Their egress began to take on a pattern Prowl was quick to pick up on. It took the bombers 8 clicks to reload, launching at the same time, half a click after musical flair in Jazz's song. At the moment of the flair, the mech would launch them in a nearly unpredictable pattern. After the first two times of nearly getting his arm dislocated, Prowl began catching onto these moments and moved his momentum in sync with Jazz.

They'd started dancing.

The Tactician had an iron fisted focus on matching Jazz’s frankly eradicate lead. The longer the duet continued, the more data he had to work with. Prowl steadily progressed from Reacting to Anticipating. Feeling a core deep satisfaction that came from sinking into mastering a new skill.

By the time they’d escaped the bombers range, they’d made it too the base of the first hurdle.

Their reprieve would only be brief. The bombers would catch up in approximately 50 clicks (88%), giving the mechs a small window of precious semi-safety in which they needed to scale the wall before them.

Prowl craned his helm back at the barrier.

He would not be able to scale it on his own in time (95%).

Could Jazz? (65%)

While carrying him? (19%)

Jazz rapidly tapped his side.

The alien was crouched low, impossible legs bent with potential energy. He tapped his own back, gesturing for Prowl to grab on already.

Prowl threw himself over the mechs broad back. His digits frantically searched for a hand hold, flinching away from nearly digging into fragile vents.

I can’t-

Jazz leapt.

“You’re really grab-able - Isn’t that kinda stupid?”

Stupid stupid stupid.

Prowl skated off of Jazz’s rounded compact plating, that he specifically SAID was supposed to make him hard to hold on to.

He landed hard on his aft, denta clanking together painfully.

47 clicks remaining.

Jazz hit the ground beside him before Prowl had fully gotten back up. Now facing him, Jazz grabbed Prowl by both wrists and pulled him chassis to chassis. Jazz positioned his arms to link Prowls servos behind his helm, then set his own servos tightly onto Prowls waist.

Jazz nodded once, like he was satisfied with what he’d just done.

Prowl made a facial expression that a psychiatrist would find concerning.

42 Clicks.

Jazz nodded again, like expected Prowl to respond in any coherent manner, and lifted.

Prowls legs swung forward on instinct. Following the motion, Jazz wrapped them around his waist. Through the screaming haze of his processor, Prowl had the presence of mind to lock his ankles together as he realized Jazz’s true intentions, and manually aborted the logic cascade that had nearly crashed over him.

Package secured, Jazz let go and started their ascension.

Legs bent at an impossible angle to slam multi segmented peds flat against the metal walls. Despite Prowl’s body blocking most of his view, the alien mech was unfettered by the lack of vision. Jazz hardly bothered with proper hand holds, instead opting for incredibly strong magnetic grip built into his servos.

The magnetic backwash splashed over Prowls doors wings, forcing him to temporarily offline them or risk crippling vertigo. The structure they were scaling shook violently like something large had just irrevocably broken.

This is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine.

At 35 click’s remaining, Prowl centered himself enough to search for their pursuers.

Damn it!

The bombers were a fraction faster than he initially calculated. Six clicks before we’re in range (87%). Luckily, Jazz was more than a fraction faster than initially calculated as well. At this rate, they’d reach the top simultaneously.

No reason not to be proactive.

Prowl found that if he tightly cupped one servo around the back of Jazz’s helm, he had just enough leverage to bring out a side arm. After all, the bombers were already in range of him.

Steadying his elbow over the other mechs shoulder, Prowl took aim.

Five clicks.

The bombers flew in V formation.

Four clicks.

Too heavily armored for a standard sidearm to pierce.

Three clicks.

The lead bomber opened up its front in preparation for combat.

Got you.

Prowl threaded the gap, his shot skirting over the ballista in favor of impacting the bombers prodigious cargo. He watched something spark inside a split second before it succumbed to total annihilation.

The shockwave felt like a single soft papft of a breeze in the starlit air.

Jazz hefted them over the top of the wall, not dropping Prowl in favor of sprinting with him at full speed across the top of the hurdle.

One of his arms curled around to support Prowls back, allowing the Praxian to release his death grip on their helm. Prowl leaned back into the hold, allowing Jazz freedom to see again.

Jazz turned his helm around 180 degrees-

Did not know he could do that did not know he could do that.

- to look at the fire works behind them.

Jazz whistled appreciatively at the sight. He turned back to Prowl, visor locked onto his face as they carried him across the roof.

Reverberating music, nearly crashing, numbed doorwings, and a deeply satisfying kill all followed by a display of casual body horror was making Prowl just a little bit delirious. As a result, Prowl wasn’t entirely sure what expression he was making, just that Jazz was inordinately fascinated with it.

Without looking away, Jazz leapt off the end of the roof.

Prowl watched as Jazz glanced over his shoulder and back to him.

Do a double take.

And then crush Prowl to his chassis.

Jazz’s visor was over bright, both horns snapped completely forward and from somewhere inside his chassis, Prowl could feel some internal component spinning into overdrive, sounding for all the world like teeny tiny screaming.

Why are we still falling.

Prowl turned as far as possible in Jazz’s iron grip.

The sky bridge was collapsing.

Odds of Survival 4%

———————————————————————

Jazz, everytime Prowl one-shots an enemy: I need to get his number.

If you’re curious, the song Jazz is playing can be whatever you like. Personally I kept switching between listening to “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by Kiss and “I Feel Love” 12” version by Donna Summer while writing.

- SSTP

OH GOD AHAHJFKFK THIS IS SO FUCKING GREAT HELP

And the concept of music playing between them??? I'm s o l d. "I was made for lovin' you baby" is basically JP OST for me at this point ehehhmgmgm

Jazz: Hookay I need to transport the machinery from the point A to point B. Focus! Let's go!

Prowl: One of those tiktok videos where you can see some Reddit post and hear AI narrating it while Minecraft parkour is playing on the background. Except it's gay panic instead of reddit post and internal screaming instead of narration and even more gay panic instead of minecraft. ......and everything is overheating probably lmao

Also can you really call it a JP fic if their odds of survival never dropped lower than 10% according to Prowls brain? Ahahjgkgk all amazing JP fics have to do this. It's inevitable and I love it so much~~

[thekinslayed]

Forget-Me-Not

summary | Aemond's devotion for his wife deepens as they navigate her recovery together

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | fluff, hurt/comfort, memory loss, injury, ooc aemond

wordcount | 2k

note | something short and sweet because i was inspired by the little crumb we got today <3 (here's some info on the flowers mentioned!)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

song rec | My Jinji - Sunset Rollercoaster

(dividers by @saradika)

It was midday, and Aemond had been reading in their chambers after the council meeting when the door opened. She walked into the room and looked around, surprised as if unsure whether she was in the right place. She had been like this as of late, trying to grasp at her memories' first tingle of familiarity.

The prince’s lady wife had lost her memory when she fell off her horse during a riding accident. Her lord husband had been preoccupied with his duties on the King’s council, leaving her on her own most days. She took to the Kingswood with her Sworn Shield, relishing the feeling of the wind whipping at her face as they rode through the woods. Riding was something she had always loved to do as a girl, the memories of racing with her brothers through her homeland a sweet comfort to the foreign atmosphere in King’s Landing.

Perhaps she had gotten too excited, too greedy, when she urged her horse faster and faster until she disappeared from her knight’s midst. 

He had found her on the grass, horse nowhere to be found. It was unsure how the lady had fallen, but she had taken a great hit to her head from the impact. She looked like a forest nymph surrounded by bright flowers and green grass, hair falling around her like a halo, only if it weren’t for the streaks of blood that dripped down her temples.

When she had awakened, the princess was greeted by the sight of silver hair and a lone purple eye that watched her with worry. Her eyes shifted to the sapphire lodged into his other socket, curious as to how it got there. He was familiar to her, but she could not tell how she came to know him, her own husband. Aemond’s chest panged with hurt when his lady wife looked at him with a hazy confusion, her quaint voice muttering, “Who are you?”

Since that day, Aemond and his sweet wife had been on the path of trying to regain, or rather rebuild, her memories. 

“Hello,” She greeted him meekly. She was so shy to him now, much like she was before they were married. The princess had learned her husband loved her a great deal, and perhaps she shared a deep affection for him too, one that no amount of impact on her mind could erase. 

But how do you love a person you scarcely remember?

“Hello, my sweet,” He said to her softly. Aemond rose from his seat to approach her, giving her an embrace as he kissed her forehead. She timidly nuzzled into his arms, breathing in his scent. Teakwood and smoke, a scent that triggered a glimmer of familiarity in her otherwise foggy brain. She had made an effort to know her husband once more, making a mental list of what she liked about him.

'I like it when he holds me like this,' she thought, adding it to her list.

“Is everything alright?” He asked her, pulling away to look at her. Aemond ignored the slight twinge in his heart when she still regarded him with distance at times. He couldn’t find it within him to be cross with her, not when he blamed himself for her accident.

“I am alright, I tried to go for a walk in the gardens, but I… I’m afraid I cannot recall the way. A kind knight helped me back… one of the twins? Oh gods, I cannot remember his name either.” Her brows furrowed while she tried her hardest to remember the knight’s name. She bit her lip in concentration yet to no avail. 

“Ser Arryk?” Aemond hinted, to which she nodded in response.

“Right... Yes, Ser Arryk.” She trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. The dragon’s wife would often be like this as of late, a name or a scent would bring about hints of her past life, but as soon as she was able to grasp the memories in her hand, they would slip through her fingertips once more, lost in the blurry sea of her mind. With all her effort at trying to regain at least a single piece of memory, she found herself with headaches at the end of the day. It frustrated her to a great deal. 

Aemond knew how hard she struggled, and how much her memory weighed on her. It pained him to see her like this, even more, when he could do so little to help her. He tucked a loose hair behind her ear before cupping her chin. 

“Fret not, you will remember,” He reassured her, tone soft and warm.

“We will figure this out, you and I,” The prince promised her, the way he always did, with a determination in his voice and his heart. The idea that she might be lost forever terrified him, but she was still here, in his arms, and Aemond would have her any way he could.

“Thank you husband, for taking care of me,” She took this hand in hers, kissing the back of it in gratitude. At first, she had been wary of showing her affection, not quite remembering how. When she had seen how much Aemond cared for her and showered her with so much love, it didn’t take long for her to realize why her past self loved him greatly.

“Do you have time to walk in the gardens with me? I have been wanting for some fresh air,” She suggested shyly. She spoke so softly ever since the accident. When once she had been bubbly and exuberant, her wit had been replaced by a soft, yet curious wonder equal to that of a timid doe. 

“Of course,” Aemond replied, letting her take his hand in hers. He kissed her cheek, soft and sweet, a gentleness to him that was only ever reserved for her. “We can go anywhere you want.”

His lady wife let him lead the way to the gardens. As they walked, she tried her best to remember the twists and turns that led her down the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast. She realized the wrong turn she had earlier, which led her to another wing of the Keep where Ser Arryk had found her. 

“How pretty it is,” Aemond said as they entered the gardens. They welcomed the fresh air that breezed through the open space. The princess hummed in response as she felt a spark of familiarity in her chest of being in the gardens. What she did or who she was with, she could not recall, but that was alright. To see such things and be touched by the affinity of knowing was a good step forward.

They strolled through the gardens, the bright variety of flowers making her feel delighted to be surrounded by such beauty. She ran her fingertips on the ones that interested her, often stopping to smell some. Her eyes trained on a shrub filled with small, delicate blue flowers. 

As she stopped, her husband stopped right along with her. When Aemond turned to look at what his wife held in her hands, the sight of a familiar flower took him by surprise. Her favorite ones.

“Those are beautiful,” he said, with an amused smile. The blue spray of flowers was the same one he had gifted her throughout their courtship, a symbol of true and enduring love. 

His wife looked back at him with a familiar glint in her eyes. “They truly are, aren’t they?” She said, feeling the velvety surface of its petals against her fingertips. She hadn’t quite realized its significance to her and Aemond’s relationship, but she knew that she liked them.

“Do you know what they are called?” Her lord husband asked curiously. His good eye studied her face as she pondered, a glimmer of hope rose in his chest. 

“Forget-me-not,” She answered.

Aemond hummed in response, grinning with delight. They continued to walk hand-in-hand through the gardens, his lady wife swinging their hands. In any other case, he would not have allowed this, the formal man he was, but he let her, seeing the pleasant mood she was in. Conversation flowed between them, comfortable and light. The princess could sense when her husband would mention topics that could trigger her memory, and she tried to indulge him as much as she could. 

Aside from the couple that roamed the gardens, some lords and ladies of the court had also taken advantage of the pleasant weather. The sun shone brightly after days of cloudy gloom casting its shadow upon King’s Landing. 

The princess felt the stares at her and her husband, more so at her. She had been subject to their gazes ever since the incident. Most would look at her with pity for her circumstances, some with wonder as to how her and Aemond’s marriage still held strong. She did not miss the malicious stares from the ladies her age, no doubt thinking that the prince would soon tire of having to nurse his fragile wife.

Poor Prince Aemond, how ever could he endure having such a blank and empty shell of a wife?

The princess’ free had clutched Aemond’s arm, ducking her head with insecurity as they passed a group of nobles.

“They all stare,” she said lowly. Aemond sighed, caressing the back of her hand on his elbow comfortingly. 

“They do,” he said softly. He gave a sharp stare to the people they passed, leading his wife away. It was difficult to discount the looks they gave her, reminding him of his own experience when he had lost his eye. It angered him that they’d be so unkind to his wife, after all she’d been through. “We cannot worry about what they think of us, my love,” he comforted her.

She merely hummed in response, somewhat unconvinced. They continued their walk with her head ducked low, her bright spirit from earlier now dissipated.

Aemond led her to a secluded area, where they sat on a stone bench overlooking Blackwater Bay. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You must not let them bother you, dear wife,” he said against her skin. His wife let out a heavy sigh, leaning her head against his. 

“Do you not think of me a burden?” She mumbled, fingertips toying with the ends of his starlit hair. The guilt she felt for having imposed such an inconvenience on her lord husband weighed on her heavily. He was a prince of the realm, and he had no time to play healer to his own wife.

“No, never,” He emphasized, looking down to meet her eye. A large, calloused hand cupped her jaw. His thumb caressed her cheek while she leaned into his touch. 

“The circumstances given to us may not be the most favourable, yes, but I almost lost you, my love. I would have fought the Stranger with my own sword to have you returned to my side,” Aemond professed. Tears pricked at the corner of his wife’s eyes, her lips quivered from his overwhelming love. A single tear trailed down her cheek but was wiped away in haste by the prince’s thumb.

“What anyone else thinks or feels about you is not our concern. You are my concern,” he asserted, staring at her with adoration. The princess sniffled, before nodding to her husband, a whisper of thanks falling from her lips. Her eyes met his amethyst one, committing the sight of him lovingly in her memory. 

Hesitantly, she reached a hand to cup his cheek, before leaning forward to plant a soft peck on his lips. She liked the feeling of his lips, she decided. Her lips planted another kiss on his once more, deep and passionate. They kissed until she was out of breath, having to place a hand on her chest, panting.

In the following days, the princess awakened to a vase filled with blue forget-me-nots on her bedside table. She spent her time by her husband’s side, and when he was away she would indulge in different pursuits that pleased her. Fragments of her past had started to return to her, while some would forever be lost. She did not mourn this loss, for she had found that the new ones she shared with Aemond were filled with the same fondness. Falling for her husband the second time around did not require great difficulty to achieve, not when he made it so easy for her to love him.

[bakedbananners]

secunit arms and legs brainstorming...

the organic tissue on the arms and upper legs is mostly aesthetic and for shock absorption. the lack of complex wrist and foot bones means they have a different range of movement to humans. they can extend/flex their hands and supinate/pronate, but lack the ability to perform ulnar/radial deviation. to allow for complex foot movements, they have a ball and socket joint in lieu of an ankle (tho it is higher on the leg). they cannot perform dorsal or plantar flexion at will, but their anatomy accommodates for it in the case of heavy impacts or unconventional positioning.

they have power lines connecting from their battery to the energy weapons. i'm not a physicist or anything, but i like to imagine they have cooling fans in their forearms that double as extra generators to prevent them from using too much battery power all at once.