#hooked au!

[dmercer91]

you mentioned char making orphan jokes

and all i can think of us someone making them mid-game

and char is fucking laughing at em, while jack is being held back by nico and dawson from swinging at the player

(but one does probably go too far and dawson and nico are like “get him”)

it’s matty tkachuk

it’s so, 100% matty and charlie knows he’s not being malicious cause it’s him

she’s literally giggling like a maniac cause he’s giving her so many new jokes and jack is both upset cause she’s laughing and upset cause what did you just say about my girlfriend

she doesn’t really care about the last comment, she’s still laughing, until she sees how affected jack is

dawson fully lets go of jack and nico is definitely thinking about it, but decides it would be cool if his lady bing finalist alt didn’t get laid out by matt tkachuk

oh, wait- | hooked au, jh86

it started during a faceoff- tanner standing shoulder to shoulder with matt while he gnawed on his mouth guard.

“nice twig. daddy’s money?” she furrowed her eyebrows, giving him a look. he grinned, chuckling to himself “oh, wait-“

she shook her head slightly, giggling to herself and looking back towards the ref.

then, the next faceoff they had with each other was at centre ice, after she’d scored.

“know you don’t have an old man to shoot on, but go easy on bob, char. he’s not as spry as your little brother,” he winked, charlie looking to her skates and holding back a snort

“i’m telling bob you called him old.” he smirked, crouching and leaning closer into her, getting ready for the faceoff. that was the first one jack heard, and to say he was displeased would be an understatement.

when they were both in the box after a friendly line brawl, she already knew what she had coming

“i like your style,” he yelled, a grin finding its way on her face

“yeah?” she sprayed water into her mouth, waiting for his response

“yeah! very motherless. so sick,” this time around, her head tilted back in laughter and she shook her head at him, still giggling and trying to catch her breath

“thanks! the daddy issues are really highlighted in your right hook,” she retorted, matt snorting as he put his gloves back on.

jack had been watching from the bench as the whole conversation played on the jumbotron- glaring at it since is wasn’t hard to read their lips cause of how loud they were yelling

nico took notice quickly, nudging his shoulder and shaking his head. “don’t even think about it,” dawson chimed in as well, nodding along with nico “she can take care of herself,”

then, by the end of the game, matt had taken notice of jacks glares to him. he knew that the two of them were dating- and originally he hadn’t meant to step on anyone’s toes, but now he was in too deep to leave the chance sitting there.

jack was renowned for keeping away from shit stirring on the ice, and matt wanted to see how far he could push it before jack deemed it necessary to respond

so, at the face off “if ever you need someone to call daddy, you know where to find me,” could crisply be heard over the in-arena music.

jack turned his head, the ref was honestly a little stunned, and charlie was giggling uncontrollably.

because the game was tight, akira had been on the bench and nico, dawson, dougie and timo were all around the face off circle

dougie and timo knew to leave tanner be- if she was offended they’d know. nico and dawson each grabbed jack by the collar, feeling him jerk against them

“this is the weirdest chirping i’ve ever heard, matty,” tanner laughed, a little confused at jacks anger. this was what matthew was known for- he should know it’s nothing serious

“that wasn’t a chirp,” matt winked, jack moving against nico and dawsons grip once again. dawson tilted his head a little, releasing his grip and patting jack on the shoulder, earning a glare from nico

charlie had rolled her eyes, still in position and finding the whole situation fairly funny.

“i’m not into that. ask him,” she nodded to jack, his face flushing a little while matt smiled

despite the fact that she saw no reason to be mad, tanner wasn’t gonna let jack go without defence.

“i’m fucking with him,” she nodded, smiling over at matt. “i know, he’ll get over it. but for future reference, women in committed relationships don’t like to be flirted with,” she gave him a pointed look and he nodded, putting his fist out for a truce

“just orphan jokes, then?” she smiled, knocking her glove against his

“just orphan jokes,”

[proxycrit]

Day 40- KARA KARA BAZAAR

The Sand Shroud’s full of walking corpses, half the gerudo population said “f that” and is heading for the hills, and the other half is sharpening their spears and bunkering in gerudo town. The situation is a tad more fraught than our two heroes originally considered. (To be fair, they crash landed near the Bazaar’s lighthouse like two duelling eagles in a death spiral. Standards are low.)

(This totk rewrite au is called Familiar Familiar! It all starts when Zelda doesn’t get sent back in time.)

((Wanna support me? Check out my patreon, with my throw away sketches and references! Remember to use web or android folks, apple charges 30 percent tax.))

[noodles-and-tea]

personally i think the funniest way of explaining anything off about the reported timeframes in your au is to have both stan & ford being absolutely terrible with time

stan being like damn the 50s sucks & little ford going its the 60s???? & ford going ‘nearly 30 years ago’ and fidds being like ford you’re like 30 that doesn’t make sense

I love that so much

[lilybug-02]

Eww bugs.

Bug Fact: Face mites are microscopic mites that have adapted to only live in human hair follicles. All adult humans have them, but they are harmless and are passed down from parent to child. Pictures Below

V2 First || Prev // Next

Volume 2 Masterpost ▴♥︎▴

They also only live like 20 days and don't even have an anus so they're pretty clean.

The only time they can be a problem is if you take/have immunosuppressants which can allow them to multiply too fast, leaving skin dryer than it should be.

[gatoburr0]

lesbians are so awesome I wish they were real

[keferon]

Imagine me waving my lil hands for you to pick up your drink orders haha

Request from Jackalyote Designs are heavily based disformer’s art

Aaand Constructicons + Jazz + Prowl for tacocatjones. That was..supposed to be a sketch but I got carried away :]

[zillychu]

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:

[random-cockroach]

SNOW BOTS ARE BACK BABE, IF IT WILL BE LIKE THAT EVERY YEAR I MIGHT DIE ONE DAY OF HAPPINESS WHEEEZE (I mean, drawing them like that is so much faster, plus colors, plus snow, plus they all are alive, COME ON IT'S A DREAM) Go smooch @keferon and everyone who makes "everyone is happy" content wheeeeeze

[dmercer91]

an idea i had was nhl!ranger reader is like fairly aggressive, yeah?

like she’s had to hold her own, and prove her own bc she’s a woman.

but against this one team, she’s absolutely brutal.

and maybe it stems from her old rivalry with one of the players, OOOH OR MAYBE one of the players almost ended her career in juniors??

i made a new player up for the sake of this being friendly for people who cherish the usa wjc players however they play for the hawks just cause.. she’d so have a vendetta against the hawks idk i feel like she’d despise them

like she’s just here to serve cunt, fuck shit up and curse a bitch out

also, i picture charlie with a scar in the front of her eyebrow, like where the hair still grows straight rather than to the side, due to where her injury was

this…. turned into a full fic. blame my perfectionism and incessant research, idk. there’s also minimal jack which is why the title is njd

the full story | hooked au, njd

u-20 world juniors, december 26, 2019. preliminary rounds

line brawls were your forte. not only were they fun, and usually harmless, but they also gave you a chance to prove that your physicality wouldn’t be an issue if you got drafted to an nhl team.

in a canada vs usa game, the rivalry usually called for some penalty minutes

currently, your helmet was nowhere to be found, your gloves were voluntarily discarded, and your nose was bloody.

you’d concentrated on keeping the us players away from nico, and the guy who’d originally slid into the net and tripped him had taken most of your attention.

tyler shaw- a bigger centre who’d been drafted to chigaco the year prior.

you were holding up fairly well, until he took a stray stick off the top of the net and used it to shove your hand off his jersey.

you slid, turning so your back was facing him, and he cross checked you in the back of the neck, sending you forward and face first into the goal post.

a final time, he did the same near your shoulder blades, effectively keeping you down on the ice.

the room was spinning and the lights were too bright for your liking- you felt like you were ready to faint and throw up at the same time

dawson was quick to switch his fighting to shaw, quickly looking over at you to see if you were still conscious.

jamie drysdale had left what was essentially an aggressive, ill intended hug with the guy he’d picked up for the scrum to pull you over to the boards, giving an alarmed look to the coaching staff.

you weren’t responding to your name, or charlie. you were squeezing his hand but it was your only true sign of consciousness

most of the players had pulled away from their respective fights, staring over at you and jamie with looks of concern, some looking at shaw with looks of confusion- including his teammates.

when dawson was satisfied with his defence of his friend, he skated over, flexing his fingers in pain from punches.

he made it over a few moments before the teams medical staff, taking your hand and having jamie back away a little.

“you in there, char?” he took your neck guard off, knowing you’d always felt like it suffocated you.

you blinked, looking at him. he smiled, squeezing your hand.

“nico fell,” you murmured, worry laced in your voice for your goalie

“he’s padded like a marshmallow, rocky. i think you fell a little harder,” you smirked at his nickname for you, a mock of your likeness for fights.

that was all the reaction you had to anything for the rest of the night- a small grin.

when staff made it to you, you’d gone nonverbal again and you seemed to be slipping in and out of yourself. sometimes it looked as if you’d been out, couldn’t feel a thing, and other you were squeezing dawsons hand so hard you were cutting off circulation

the medical team had dawson and jamie help you off the ice, dawson staying with you in the ambulance since he’d been ejected from the game due to his defence of you.

when you were finally allowed visitors, the doctors let you explain to dawson- who you made promise to dumb it down and kid friendlify it for your little brother.

your neck was broken from the initial check. the doctors weren’t sure if you had paralysis until you became verbal again and calmed down enough for them to run necessary tests.

they concluded that other than some tingling in your arms and feet- you should be able to walk and eventually skate just fine.

you required surgery to fix the broken bones it your neck, but luckily the break did no damage to your spinal cord, so you’d be able to make a recovery.

they told you that other than your lack of ability to concentrate, which you assured them came long before the injury, you had no physical or memory related issues cause of your concussion

due to you presumably losing consciousness and going nonverbal after the blow, as well as your headaches and two consecutive seizures in the ambulance, they did imaging tests to see if you had any skull injuries or bleeding

you got lucky.

there were many opportunities for the injury to be career ending, even fatal- but the hospital assured you that you’d be able to return to mundane life in a week or two, after the concussion symptoms, and that you could return to sports once your neck was healed and you were cleared by your women’s league.

dawson was your caretaker, never leaving your side cause he was so anxious that the doctors had missed something- he needed to be ready to help if you needed him.

you tried to keep it lighthearted, despite your boredom and your throbbing pains

“my face feels eight feet wide,” you complained, eyes fluttering shut.

dawson stayed quiet, looking over at you for a moment and then returning to making you your lunch

“at least the several pints of blood coming out of my head made me look sick,” you chimed, smiling to yourself and pouting when dawson paid no mind

“mercer. you’re killing me, dude,” he sighed, coming over and sitting on the couch next to you.

“i was worried about you, y/n. i didn’t leave the waiting room other than to pee, i had nurses bringing me food cause they saw i wasn’t leaving. on the ice, i tried to make jokes but i was losing it,”

you leaned your head on his shoulder to the best of your ability with your neck brace, taking his hand.

“you’re still stuck with me. i’m too stubborn to die,” he finally cracked a smile, leaning his head onto your head.

“im holding you to that,”

-

january 5th, 2024. chi @ njd

you’d been dead silent ever since you’d gotten back to the dressing room since warmups.

tyler shaw had been marinating in the press box all season, and the team had chosen today to finally give him a spot on the fourth line.

when you saw his last name on a jersey you already weren’t fond of gliding around on the ice, your head immediately went back to the game that could’ve ended your life,

he’d been suspended from competing in iihf games since the incident, and his career had gone down hill from there, but the fact that he was still allowed on professional ice irked you to no ends.

dawson knew well enough why you looked like you were about to throw up, but your boyfriend and your captain were confused and concerned.

nico nodded for dawson to leave him to talk to you and sat in the now empty cubby, nudging your knee pads with his own.

“you alright, charlie?” you smiled softly at the ground, your soft spot for nico already grounding you.

“i’m okay, neeks,” you rested your head on his shoulder, the padding making for a comfortable spot.

“back in november you got enough penatly minutes against these guys to beat jack for the next two seasons, so how about we cool it today, yeah?” you giggled, wrapping both of your arms around nicos one that he used to pat your knee

“no promises. haven’t seen shaw since my last juniors game,” nicos lips parted, not having seen shaw on the ice during warmups and not clocking that your vendetta against the hawks was partly due to him.

“never mind. do crime, have fun, all of the stuff a captain absolutely wants to see,” he kissed your forehead and you laughed, looking up at him with a bright smile

“thank you, ni. your silly accent and questionable rule bending made me less prone to crimes,” he grinned.

“if you need a minute tonight, you’ll tell me?” you nodded and he hummed, staying in dawsons cubby while lindy spoke and up until it was time to get back onto the ice.

[jokesitos-art]

Roles invertidos??? eso creo.

[knight-arts]

My ass, baiting a friend to be slightly more interested in Transformers:

[shibascrem]

Last Memory

My fanart for Sharp's Alternian AU

For those not following me on blsky

[sjincer]

my friends made a silly little au where autobots are humans and decepticosns are cybertronians who should be scanning the planet for resources and any useful information

but it looks like they all end up smooching humans oh no.

had to draw constructicons (as holoforms) and prowl (police officer paul lol) tho. he thinks he’s going insane at this point

oh yeah and quote by @countkeny about them because i just can't

[shirmirart]

kissing and hope they caught us...

[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."

[scary-grace]

Shigaraki is barely conscious, barely breathing, as you come close. Spinner was unsure of what to expect from you, but your first act strikes him as completely incongruous — you lift the crown of white roses from your head and settle it on Shigaraki’s. Shigaraki doesn’t stir, and on the other side of the coffin, the priest’s shoulders stiffen. “That proves nothing.”

“White roses are anathema to vampires. They teach you that in your book of demons,” you say. You unclasp one bracelet from around your wrist, slide one ring from your finger. “They speak of silver, too.”

This gorgeous art piece is a commission drawn by @oxygen537art (check out their Twitter!) and based on a scene from my fic Pariah! If you like Shigaraki, vampire fics, or just had a real time of it watching Nosferatu, please check it out here!