#jazz dent

[arcticmist0324]

The real question I have about the United Healthcare/Mangione case is if the Monopoly theme is intentional and if he (or whoever the mastermind is) has read Barry Lyga’s “I Hunt Killers” trilogy-specifically the second book Game.

[zombiivr]

Has anybody else read the I Hunt Killers book trilogy?

(First tumblr post) I’ve barely seen anybody talk about these books and I wanna post more about them but I wanna see if people have ever actually read them.

And if you haven’t read them, THEN YOU TOTALLY SHOULD BECAUSE GODDAMN THESE BOOKS ARE GOOD.

Also I’m going to write some fanfic about them too so if anyone’s interested let me know.

[azulhood]

DP X DC Prompt

The justice league ignore Amit Park in a time of crisis.

Years later, Harvey Dent is hired by the town to sue them.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Jazz: And that's why we need your help in taking my brother's custody away from Vlad Masters. Two Face, former DA and NOT a family lawyer: Kid, I don't know how to tell you this... Jazz, deflating with a sad puppy look on her face: Two Face: Fuck it, where does the bastard live, kid? I'll get your brother back.

[the-witchhunter]

I’ve had an interesting thought swimming around my head that I swear I’ve been meaning to write

You know what would be an interesting combination of characters?

Jazz and Harvey Dent/TwoFace

Specifically a Dent just getting back on his feet, released from Arkham and trying to learn how to exist in the world with his condition

I’m thinking a reveal gone wrong, Danny has disappeared to ancients know where, so Jazz cuts ties and Stays with her Uncle Dent, or maybe her bio dad if that’s more your game. Just an soaking wet and miserable Jazz showing up at his crappy apartment saying she’s his daughter or niece and him resisting the urge to flip a coin because he has enough on his plate as is, only to let her in telling her they’ll talk about it in the morning and point her to the shower so she can clean up and dry off

Why do I think this would be an interesting combo?

Jazz’s interest in psychology. A lot of times, as a fandom we depict her as an expert, and in a future timeline where she went to school and has been practicing psychology maybe, but default Jazz? She’s not an expert

Jazz wants to be a brain surgeon, psychology is an interest of hers but her understanding is very limited. She quotes Freud and Jung and has some amount of academic knowledge of the field, but she clearly doesn’t understand that psychoanalyzing friends and family and offering unwanted psychiatric advice is actually rude and something she shouldn’t do. She lacks understanding of actual therapy and is clumsy in applying her knowledge to people she knows

And I find putting her in proximity of someone with DID and probably PTSD would really be an eye opening experience for her

Because Dent might humor her, TwoFace will call her out. They both have hung around Harley to know enough to tell her, “maybe don’t take Freud so seriously” because man does everything go back to sex with Freud, and maybe quoting a guy that says she wants to boink her dad is not as strong of a point as she thinks it is

And the thing is, Harvey would likely still be receiving therapy as an outpatient, potentially taking meds to help deal with his conditions, likely a mood stabilizer or anxiety med to manage PTSD symptoms, so she’s front seat of him learning to live as a regular person in Gotham with his condition. She’s gonna see his good days, his bad days, the side effects of his medication, and it’s going to change her idea of what psychology is. It’s not just quoting things at people, it’s not just saying “this is good for people” but she’d see what it being put into practice would look like

Maybe that’ll push her away from the subject. Maybe it’ll make her more inclined to study, to learn not just about it as an abstract but how to actually apply it to help people. Learning about actual therapy practices. Maybe living first hand with mental illness would be the push to switch from neurosurgery to clinical psychology in her future plans

Also I just think that Dent would be empathetic and do what he could to help her, meanwhile TwoFace would help her cut loose a little, get a little chaotic and have some fun

You can’t tell me there’s not something fun about her and “Uncle Two-y” having a night on the town that only results in a little property damage. Relax Harv, they didn’t do anything too illegal, because they didn’t get caught or nothing

[hallowsden]

DC x DP Idea Thing #4

Dual-sided Rebirth AU (Official name pending)

Brain had this idea for over a week (or 2...) now, rent-free, but what if Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Ellie all reincarnated as Harvey Dent's kids? Jazz and Dan are the old set of twins while Danny and Ellie are the younger set. Will all of them remember their past lives? I say majority of it.

This is before Harvey got scarred and became Two-Face and maybe the mother is someone before Gilda Dent? Idk, all I know is that all of them present as Metas despite neither Harvey or their mother had the meta trait (this is a case that Black Canary II falls under from what my research says), Danny and Ellie's powers showing from birth while Dan's and later Jazz's activated after.

Danny and Ellie were thought to be dead when they were born but they proved otherwise. Danny froze a nurse's hand while Ellie went into goop mode a few times. Later Dan and Jazz both set something on fire but for two completely different reasons, severity, and time. At least to say, Harvey here has a handful, especially if he was acting as a single parent here.

Harvey's gonna have a bit of a hard time first as a parent, regardless if this is pre-Two-Face era or not. Man here is (secretly) terrified at the thought of becoming like his father to his kids.

It takes a while but he gets used to the life of fatherhood despite also being busy as hell. The kids help out by behaving (as much as they can anyways), though, Jazz's powers do come in handy.

(She's like SCP-999 essentially here when she notices people are stressed in her proximity, for lack of better words. No one noticed she had powers till it manifested into harmless flames that had calming effects to it when nearby. With her powers + support from her and the rest of her siblings, they managed to delay Two-Face's debut for a while later on. But uh, yeah, her powers are gonna be very helpful for Harvey when Dan, Danny, and Ellie all gain more powers cause OOOOO BOY, blood pressure, am I right?)

Harvey becomes more motivated to get into Law after all his kid's powers were shown so they can be seen/treated as equals and not have Metas outright banned from Gotham especially, even though he keeps his kid's status as "metas" away from public knowledge. It later becomes an open secret though.

As stated earlier, the Two-Face debut is gonna be delayed. Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Ellie are gonna be very protective of their dad (and pa when they officially meet Harv) after the attack. Mother henning children. I feel like Dan's gonna empathize with both of them a lot in a way and have late-night talks with dad and pa about the darker thoughts they all have.

As much as they all tried, though, Two-Face is gonna make an appearance cause this is Gotham.

When Two-Face era begins, Harvey and Harv likely avoid the kids (even if Danny and Ellie are still teens while Jazz and Dan are in Uni) as their way of protecting them from overall villain stuff the two do despite all of them trying to reach out to him and supporting them, hoping they'll get better.

I'm ngl, I feel like Dan and Danny are gonna join the criminal business with their dad and pa (much to their protests) cause someone has to look out for them. Ellie joins in on occasions for chaos and shenanigans (cause yes) and Jazz is glaring at Arkham with so much contempt cause YOU AREN'T HELPING HER DAD AND PA PROPERLY! (As well as the other inmates but STILL- YOU CALL THAT PROPER MEDICAL PRACTICE- Jazz ends up burning at least something whenever anything about Arkham is brought up. Everyone in the family is scared cause her flames normally don't even singe a thing)

Jazz is creating her own practitioner-place therapy thing cause TO HELL WITH ARKHAM!

I... Honestly don't know what I'm writing here anymore. More exhausted then usual. Might add/edit later. Idk. Just- Reincarnation for Fenton Kids, Harvey being Gotham's original Famous Dad before Bruce (which speaking of- he's Uncle Bruce and Dan and Danny don't trust him which confuses Harvey and Harv), and just, angst, fluff, chaos, and shenanigans.

[bugsticle]

logging onto tumblr after forever to get on my hands and knees to beg people to read the i hunt killers trilogy and ebooks. i have no one to talk about it with and it's driving me insane.THE BOOKS ARE SO GOOD, PLEASE I'M BEGGING.

[majjiktricks]

i have acquired :]

[batfamdannyphantomsstuff]

Why would you hide the treats on the bottom shelf?! 😭

DP X DC PROMPT

The Condiment King (represented by Two Face) and the Dairy King (represented by Jazz) go to court for custody of cheese sauce.

[tired-biscuit]

Logan would probably moan like he’s having the best sex of his life from just a shoulder massage. Do you think he’d deny he needs one? Or would you catch him off guard while he’s asleep?

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: friends to lovers, unexpected mutual pining, logan realises he’s touch-starved after you offer to give him a backrub, and you both get turned on by it.

divider credit: div1nepetal

what if you’re, like… his friend, who’s grown to care deeply about him over the years and wants nothing else but to help him out a little from time to time in simpler, more ‘humanly’ ways because of said caring?

i mean, he’s got super fast healing and all that jazz, sure, however that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get sore and thus — unbearably — cranky about it… and since you’ve known each other for so long, you’ve also gotten quite comfortable in each other’s company! so it wouldn’t be that odd if you were to offer to relieve the pain in your friend’s back when he swings by your place one random evening… right?

it’s really just to make him feel better, nothing else! because as soon as he flings himself onto his favoured spot on your worn out couch (a dent that he fucking made with the help of his heavy adamantium ass), you catch him repetitively stretching his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders every so often with a furrowed brow and a tight-lipped expression that somehow manages to appear even grumpier than his usual neutral.

you steal glances because of it. listen intently to the laboured sighs he keeps letting out. and after leering at him and his struggles from the corner of your eye for a little while, not at all paying attention to the movie that you’re supposed to be watching with him, you finally succumb. you turn to the side and propose your offer whilst wiggling your magic fingers, as you like to call them, right in front of his face, and logan, as is expected, denies it by gently swatting your hand away.

taking over pretty much the entire space on the couch from how he’s manspreading, he doesn’t even peel his eyes from the television that — unlike you — he’s actually watching when he tells you that, “you don’t gotta worry about it” and that it’s not that bad, then. for some reason, he even feels the need to add that he can handle himself just fine.

it all makes your eyes roll.

and instead of listening, you rather choose to persist. he’s a wall whenever he makes up his mind on something, you know this, but you also know that if you nag him and scold him for long enough, prodding and picking at the cracks between phantom bricks, he’ll have no choice but to give in and give you what you want just to make you stop… though not without adding a snide comment or two himself during it because he can’t help but act like a dick sometimes around the people he’s fond of, it’s just the way he is!

as you tell him to scooch over and lay on his stomach, you feel just a little bit bad that you had to resort to annoying him in order to being allowed to help him. however, the guilt isn’t nearly as strong as is the sense of victory that you’ve just achieved, so you allow it to curl the corners of your lips into a satisfied, cat-like smile while you busy yourself by straddling the small of his back. he can’t see your face anyway, so what’s the issue?

meanwhile, logan lets out a tired exhale, smushing one cheek against the decorative pillow that he’s folded his arms under so that he can still watch the tv while you work your supposed magic. he listens to your sheepish apology and request to tell you if you’re too heavy, to which he responds by calling it nonsense and that you’re insulting him by thinking you’re heavy whilst sitting on top of a guy who’s literally filled with metal.

and filled with metal he is, indeed! it’s not long before you realize just how much freaking pressure you have to apply to his shoulders and back in order to make him feel something. how much physical strength you have to put into it, to the point that you’re nearly sweating because of it. popping a bone in order to ease some of the tension is literally impossible, so you aim your focus onto the taut cords of muscle instead.

you can see them even through the thin white shirt that he’s wearing — they’re that profound. flexed and attractive, attained with hard work. but they become even more visible when he reluctantly lets you roll the hem of his shirt up towards the collar, unfolding his arms just so that he can lift the upper half of his body, and you right along with him, with no visible effort whatsoever.

the air in the room shifts a little after that; it gets kind of tense. because all of a sudden, you’re skin to skin. his should be covered in scars, but he’s lucky enough to have them all healed and smoothed away by his power. and while he may not be able to feel relief in his adamantium-covered bones, he sure as hell can feel the warmth of your palms running down the slopes of his broad shoulders, the grazing of your nails that nearly makes him shiver when they reach a particularly ticklish part on the nape of his neck, the heat between your legs as you continue to sit on him, dressed in nothing else but a pair of comfortable and tiny shorts…

forcing himself to be a loner, logan isn’t used to being touched like this all that much, and it makes him sensitive. and as a result, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and groan in absolute pleasure when you readjust by wiggling your hips on top of him and lean in super close to really dig your fingers into his strong back.

you pause at the sound; he can hear your breathing hitch a little before it continues to fan his shoulder blade. he’s already halfway on opening his mouth to say something in order to avoid things from getting too awkward even if he’s not the kind of man who minds if they do, when all of a sudden it hits him.

it’s barely there, just the faintest whiff of something sticky and sweet. it would be impossible to catch by a normal human, but he isn’t a normal human, now is he? no, he’s a mutant — a primal one, at that — and because of it, his nose is more than capable of catching a scent like this.

you’re… aroused. have gotten turned on by the sound he just made. are getting wetter between the legs by the second. and he can smell it.

fuck.

logan chooses not to say anything even if the pheromones that he’s steadily inhaling now are making his blood grow feverish to dangerous levels. meanwhile, you choose to remain quiet as well, simply continuing your ministrations as if nothing has happened.

something that does change, however, is the way you touch him. from that hiccup onward, you get more, should you say, intimate with it; even daring to comb your fingers through his rich, dark hair at some point and experimentally tugging at the roots, making him actually shiver this time.

he doesn’t just shiver, though. the action is so freaking good that it also causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head — he silently prays that he’s managed to squeeze them shut for a second time before you could catch it.

and that’s not all there is to it either. by now, his cock has become painfully hard in his pants. thick, hot and leaking pre-cum from how excited he’s getting. it makes laying down on his stomach extremely uncomfortable, but he thinks it’s better to suffer through it than enabling you to see what you’re doing to him both physically and mentally.

mind fogged by a mixture of your and now his own lust, he’s getting so horny that all he wants to do is rut into the couch while you continue to touch him. he doesn’t, of course, he’s been around for over two centuries so he’s pretty good at restraining himself, however that doesn’t mean that he likes doing it.

so he remains decent… well, somewhat. he pants a little bit, and he grunts and curses under his breath in a way that makes him sound like he’s balls deep in your cunt, folding you in a mating press and pounding away until you’re nothing but a whiny mess and his cum is trickling down your thighs, but he still tries his very best.

by the time you pat him on the shoulders and tell him you’ve finished, he fears he did, too.

[revelboo]

I bought this lovely keychain explicitly for my Soundwave themed Jeep at TFCon Orlando and promptly forgot all about it until now. Whoops.

Touch-Starved Headcanons

Megatron x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, and others. I just like the idea of big mechs coming undone at a little comfort.

Starscream

• Almost always the one to initiate it. Just absently scooping you up while grousing about his day and slowly feeling his tension ebb as he sits with you. And you in turn, relax into the feel of his warm hands and the gentle slide of a servo between your shoulder blades as you sleepily ask questions because you know he likes it. He’ll never admit how much he enjoys these moments, they soothe a need he can’t quite pin down. You’re not plotting against him. Not a threat. Just you and he needs this more than you know.

Megatron

• It’s been a long time since he’s let his guard down. Mostly because he knows the loyalty of his followers is a tenuous, uneasy thing. They might cheer his name to his face, but they scheme behind his back. And he can’t allow himself to really make friends with any of them. Any weakness will just be exploited. Used to hurt and betray him. You aren’t Cybertronian, though. He’s almost sure Soundwave deliberately leaves you with him, because the other mech knows how much he needs it. Slumping on his throne in those quiet moments when no prying optics are about, he cradles you against his chassis. Sometimes he tells you about Cybertron before the war, but usually he just idly holds you, his spark softening.

Wheeljack

• So busy. This mech forgets to refuel and recharge when he’s working on a new project, obsession consuming him. And he’s always working on something. It takes a bit for you to notice the pattern and realize the big guy isn’t taking care of himself. And that’s not happening. You walk across his desk to put yourself between him and whatever he’s working on, head tipped up as his vocal indicator panels flash at you in question. He might not remember himself, but a gentle request to share a meal is never refused. He carefully offers his hand and carries you to find an energon cube and something for you. Recharge is the same, a soft complaint that you’re cold and a light touch on his servos and sure, he’s picking you up to hold because he knows you like sprawling on him, soaking in his warmth. With how explosive his projects sometimes are, most Autobots avoid him. That you want to be around him? Understand that he’s lonely and needs this without making him ask? It means everything to him.

Soundwave

• What with his cassettes and his abilities, he’s never truly alone. Lonely, though? He drifts through the base, the voices of other Decepticons whispering in the back of his processor. There, but distant. But not you. He finds himself gravitating to wherever you are, the strange, chaos of your mind so fascinating. You calm whenever he picks you up, those snarled worries and fears soothed away with a touch of his servos. And his own tension drains away in turn. You give him one voice to anchor to when he’s adrift and in danger of slipping under.

Jazz

• No matter how stressed he is, he keeps that smile in place. It’s part of the mask he wears as a spy-nothing can touch him or put a dent in that perpetual good mood. Even if underneath the surface, he’s so tired of pretending. That exhaustion is always there, trying to drag him under. He can’t let that mask slip, not even around the other Autobots. They need him to be the easy, going spot of sun for the team. With you? His door wings can droop as he toys with your hair or feels your little hands cautiously exploring his much bigger servos. He doesn’t have to pretend that everything is alright. And he needs that so much his spark hurts.

Ratchet

Not much better than Wheeljack about remembering to care for himself. He’s too busy. And while he pushes himself past exhaustion, he’s more likely to take breaks if you’re about. He has no idea how long he’s been in surgery, hands a blur, but as he washes the energon off, he sees you. On the counter, back against the wall sound asleep. And then he’s picking you up, venting when you curl into him with a sleepy sound, smiling as he fusses at you. Humans need sleep. And have you eaten? He’s one to talk, but you’ve invoked caretaker mode now. You protest without any real heat and press your face against his palm and he just freezes before carrying you to his quarters to rest. Because you need him and he doesn’t want to put you back down on that cold counter as you cling to his servos. He can’t.

[azulhood]

I feel like Jazz should have her own Bio-dad Aus Now Bruce is a popular choice for most bio dad AUs, but let's add some variety. Harley Quinn is another popular choice, it kinda fits since they have ties to psychology. But let me give you another choice. Harvey Dent. Let's say Maddie and Harvey met at one of Brucie Wayne's fundraiser events, they hit it off, get a bit tipsy, then boom. Jazz's born. Jazz looks so much like her mum that Maddie doesn't even think that Jazz is not Jack's kid. (She does notice some things about Jazz that she couldn't have gotten from Jack or her, but admitting that would probably ruin her marriage, so she employs blissful ignorance.) Harvey, of course has no idea Jazz exists. Years pass, truths come out (or not), tears are shed, life goes on. Now Jazz is looking at schools, and she finds a good one in Gotham, you know, the home of her bio dad. She decides to reach out to Harvey. So, she talks it over with Jack and Maddie and they agree to let her go. Now you could have Jack and Maddie know that Jazz isn't Jacks kid and approve of her reaching out to Harvey, just them being supportive. Or, you could have them not know anything, and have Jazz do this behind their backs as an attempt to have a semi decent role model in her life. Your choice. But anyway. Here Harvey is, planning something (Next court case or next crime) and then, out of nowhere, a kid shows up on his doorstep saying "Congratulations, it's a girl, where's that child support?" And he's just so confused, like how did she find him (Tucker of course) and where were her parents? Harvey who's very concerned: ehh, you do know I'm a criminal, right? Jazz: My mum and other dad have a portal to hell in the basement, trust me, you're an improvement. Harvey who's even more concerned about this kid: ??????? Or you know, Slade Wilson is also an option.

[emacrow]

When Danny's core cracks while escaping into gothams, he doesn't disappeared or dies, but accidentally split his personalities

He accidentally multiples into tiny misshaped pieces of his own personalities that became tiny lil baby ghostlings the size of a toddler.

Which they all scattered and ran, spreading around gotham like they were running from the devil(GIW) themselves were after him.

While main piece human formed danny with barely his conscious left is stuck with the only piece of his core as his main personality.

The feral back off if you love your fingers and I will beat you into the grave while i spew comback puns at you personality.

Not even 7 minutes in gotham, he already attacked 39 strange strangers, fourteen people in clown masked, torn some messed up rejected clown apart, a guy in a green suit and ? Staff, ate some buffguy ectoplasmic injectors tanks, only to now being held by the scuff of his itsy bitsy white and red nasa shirt by a bat furry man in black, who had several bite marks dents all over his suit, arms and torn on his cape while he still biting the bat shaped metal thingy. .

Meanwhile near crime alley, red hood had found 3 tiny white haired toddlers, one even more paranoid then tim if possible, one clingy onto him saying I love you, and another one follow around crying a lot calling out for someone named jazz..?

Sequel here <-

[devils-yui]

Hi, yeah, sorry for the worst and most blurriest photo ever but oh my god do I think about this scene. SPECIFICALLY,,, D-16's strength and being able to lift up the absolute HUGE rock double times his size and probably more to help save Jazz while Orion Pax is pulling him out. Like, yeah--there was the jetpack, BUT EVERYTHING ELSE??? RAW STRENGTH ALONE.

D-16 is so strong and I've definitely mentioned this before in a post but since it got absolutely purged off the face of the Earth since my accidental deactivation, I will say it again now. D-16 is SO strong, even before his ascension to being Megatron.

People have mentioned this before and ofc I will address it, one of the main parts of D-16's strengths that we do get to see is him catching Darkwing's fist, marking of his fast reflexes and the fact that he caught Darkwing's fist, DARKWING--who is literally double the size of the cogless miner that D-16 is and yet still catches it, albeit with a tremble here and there but still he caught that fist before it would hit Orion. Also Orion getting donked too, even with just a semi-light punch from D-16, or at least the softest it could get to be believable. Then there's also D-16 punching straight ROCKS throughout their escape from the unstable energon mine, he PAVED a pathway for Orion Pax and Jazz to get out... AND OH MY GOD DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE CONCEPT ART WHERE D-16 CANONICALLY WORKS OUT BASICALLY WHERE HE WAS PUSHING DENTS INTO A STEEL PUNCHING BAG.

a STEEL punching bag!! and yeah okay I get it, they're metal--but if you look in the background, there's also some bots(?) training with the steel punching bag and from what I can see? No dents

D-16 is just STRONG, and I admire it sm. That's why he is the TOP of his sector I'd imagine like his strength just didn't come out of absolute no where or the fact that his strength came from receiving his cog, no. He had it since the start and having the t-cog allowed him to access his full potential and strength and GRHHRGHGR GRHRHR (proceeds to flail and foam at the mouth)

[smokescreenimusprime]

not my usual but it was too perfect to pass up and the idea was NOT leaving my head. Decided to write a snippet for @keferon's IMMACULATE Mecha Pilot Jazz AU, though apologies if the charactization is a lil funky, this is my first time writing either of these characters and double apologies for the undoubted slew of grammar and spelling errors

but that aside, I hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is It Self Sacrifice If It's Not Really You?

Despite the cacophany of the battlefield, Prowl's scream cut through it with with the ease of a freshly sharped blade through flesh and found it's home nestled into Jazz's ears.

He barely had a second to look up, hardly more than a glance, but it was all he needed to make out familiar white and black.

A Quintesson, one of the smaller but more freaky looking ones, was looming over his collapsed frame. He was pinned, his back to solid rocky walls and the Quint at his front, jamming it's tentacles into every crack of his armour they could.

He was putting up one hell of a fight, but something was wrong.

"PROWL!" he shouted, shifting his weight in preperation to bolt. "HOLD ON, I'M COMMIN-"

But the screech of the Quintesson he was currently grappling with forcefully stole his attention back, barely any warning given before it's gaping maw latched onto his mech's forearm.

It pulled, joints and plates creaking with the strain but still holding strong. It shook it's head and Jazz brought a hand up to brace against the outside of the monster, if only to stop the arm from being completely ripped out of the socket. He landed a few solid kick as it lifted him off the ground, but it's movements were still largey effortless, like his frame weighed as much as a tin can.

Prowl screamed again. This time it was louder.

Against all common (sane) sense, Jazz looked away from his enemy and toward Prowl

Some of his external plating was damaged, gouges in messy circle patterns with rivulets of blue energon sluggishly bleeding out. He seemed to be smoking too, thin curls of smoke wafting off his cables. His eyes were flickering wildly, something Jazz had grown to associate with too much damage and too little power.

All of the damage paled in comparison to where Jazz's focus was.

Now, Jazz didn't know how these guys had their mechs built, but they could hold up to some serious punishment. Their engineers seemed to keep an even more meticulous eye on any damage, and Prowler and the other's all had frames clealy meant to last.

But they were all still vulnerable at their cores.

And the Quintesson's tentacles, sparking with a terrifying yellow and red electricity, were pulling and prying right at the plating above that core.

It was starting to show some give too, a testimate to the true strength of the offending monster. Chest plating, no matter the make, didn't come off easily, intent to protect the most vulnerable parts of a pilot.

The electricity was already frying his frame, if it got a straight shot of that to his chest-

Jazz needed to do something.

Jazz needed to do something.

But what, what could he do, whatever it was it needed to be quick, he didn't have time to finish off this Quintesson, there wasn't time for finesse, he just needed to go to help to F I G H T -

Jazz readjusted the braced positioning of his legs, thanking for what was probably the thousandth time the engineers who'd made the adjustment to give him more flexibility and agility, and brought his free arm high above his head.

And brought it down.

His trapped arm creaked, the plating denting and squealing as the metal controted, sparks going flying and red error messages flashing in his vision.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

He made sure to keep his blows aimed at preciscely where he knew it was weakest and made sure to push with his legs as hard as he could, swaying side to side and focing the joint to bend in ways it had never been meant to. His movements became a dance to the orchestra of cables snapping and metal ripping and electricity cracking and his arm b r e a k i n g , the dance growing faster and more determined the louder the music played.

It felt like eternity, and the phantom sensation was disorienting. There was no pain, only uncomfortable pressure that built up and up and up, perfectly in time with the warning messages he forcefully dismissed. It was far from pleasant, but it was nothing compared to the cold burning terrified angry fight flight save him running full blast in his brain.

And with one final crack akin to lightning, he was free.

It was the furthest thing from a clean break, and to his mild surprise it didn't break at the elbow but rather a bit above it. In the second of freefall he had, he couldn't help but admire the shredded stump and mourn how he knew Ratchet was going to have his head for all the extra work.

He hit the ground in a roll and popped up running, stumbling and nearly falling face first into alien dirt at the sudden uneven weight distribution but he simply let his partial fall carry him forward until he was sprinting full speed.

With his remaining hand he grabbed the Quintesson and pulled, not letting go until it wasn't tearing into Prowl's front and instead embedded several feet in the ground. He dashed, not giving it even a moment, standing tall in front of Prowl.

The Quint got back up, enraged screeches and chitters coming out of it's mouth.

"Back off," Jazz growled back.

The Quintesson attacked, and everything became the hyperaware blur combat always became.

Dodge, dodge, punch, dodge, kick, kick, punch, dodge, jump, kick jump-

One of it's tentacles latched right onto the open stump and set a wave of electricity in.

His mech's vision went bright white, sparks exploding out even inside his cockpit and the smell of burning metal filling his nose. All the protective insulation was made useless from the direct route into the mech's systems.

Jazz jerked his arm stump back and headbutted it.

He got a tentacle to the face for his troubles, grabbers squeezing and cracking the visor. He planted his feet, one on solid ground the other on the slack of the tentacle, and pulled as hard as he could.

A decent chunk of the face came left it, not deep enough to affect any systems or his vision anymore than it was already damaged, but enough that it certainly wasn't pretty.

He kept more distance after that. Wouldn't do any good for him or Prowler if he got fried too. But the Quintesson was desperate, like a cornered animal, grabbing and clawing at anything it could gets it's tentacles on. The same gouges Prowl had began to litter his own armour as it kept making grabs, and the beastie even managing to get a few more much briefer electrical surges in.

It was obvious only one of them was going to walk away from this fight, and Jazz was not going to let it be the Quint. Prowl would kill him if he did

Finally he managed to get in a lucky shot, albeit at the cost of his feet. The Quintesson tried to get in a bite like it friend had, only to be met with the full force of Jazz's feet pressing them apart.

The teeth and other horrors might've torn through his feet but dammit if it wasn't satisfying to hear the crack as its jaw snapped and the body went limp.

The battle was still going on around them, but it was starting to wind down. A trio of bots had even started attacking the one Jazz had left behind.

The immediate area was clear, and there were more than enough bots he could shout out to for backup if he needed it.

"Prowler, you okay?" he said, though he noticed his voice had a bit of static lacing it. Maybe getting his face ripped off did more damage than he thought, or it could be lingering damage from the electricity. "Sorry it took me so long to come getcha, talk, dark and bitey kept me a bit occupied."

He wiggled his stump with a chuckle, leaning in closer. Kneeling down was difficult with the leaking hydraulic fluid and Quintesson salivia making it hard to get a solid grip, but with the current state of his visor he didn't want to risk missing anything on Prowl. To his relief, despite the extensive denting and electrical burns, Prowl's chest was thankfully uncompromised. Hopefully his mech was insulated

The electricity seemed to have done a number on his connection to the head though, the eyes were still glitching wildly and his normally expressive face seemed stuck.

"J-Jazz..." Prowl stuttered, and Jazz found himself frowning. Maybe Prowl got a bit more banged up on the inside than he thought. "You- your-"

His eyes were flickering wildly about Jazz's mech, and he could practically hear his friend's battle computer crunching away.

"Ah, don't worry bout that," he rapping his mech's chest with a fist. "This old frame's gone through worse. Nothing delicate got smashed, and I've barely got a scratch on me. Ratchet'll have me right as rain before you know it, so don't worry your pretty little head one bit."

"Speaking of, I'm gonna go find 'im," he stood back up, looking around the battlefield. "The fight's pretty much over, and I'm not sure if it's a great idea for you to be moving after all that zappy nonsense. Just sit tight and-"

"No!"

Jazz startled a bit at the sudden shout, looking back down at Prowl. The other man's mech suddenly lunged up, sitting straight and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Prowler? Is somethin wrong?"

"I will contact Ratchet," he says in a rush. "A comm message will be more efficient than searching on foot, not to mention I'll be able to tell him what to prepare for,"

Jazz raised a brow.

"Go right ahead, Prowl," he chirped despite his suspicion. He was fairly certain Prowl was hiding something from him, but prying would just make him clamp down tighter.

Prowl didn't seem like the sort to hide things from medics but...

He sat his mech down and leaned back against the wall. "You don't mind if I wait with ya, do you?"

Just to be safe.

Despite his initial assumptions, Prowl actually seemed to relax at his suggestion.

"Not at all."

[tinydefector]

Hello! How are you? This is my first time requesting so I hope this is okay, but can I request a shorter scenario g1 Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz and Ironhide with a human s/o lives for chaos? They would point at Megatron and say ‘bitch’ just for the reaction. 🩵

Cursing Megatron out

Ps I'm sleep deprived af it's 12am right now and just finished this so enjoy.

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: description of fighting, swearing

Masterlist

Ratchet masterlist

Ironhide masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Optimus prime Masterlist

________________

Optimus Prime

They yell loudly as Megatron goes to grab them, they smash him in the face with a tire iron as he is then tackled by Optimus. The Decepticon leader had ruined their date night. They flip him off as Optimus throws Megatron across the ground, his servo wraps around them quickly pulling them closer as they scramble up onto his shoulder. "Eat shit and die Fuck face!" They yell at Megatron. 

Optimus clutched their small form protectively against his plating, battling protocols roaring. Had circumstances been different, the Prime would have roared in fury at your fierce defence against the tyrant but he was dealing with trying to keep them safe. 

Megatron howled, clutching a fist to his dented face as energon streamed between digits. His optics blazed murder, craving nothing more than to snuff the fluttering spark of Optimus' and the human he held so closely. 

"You've made a grave error this day, little beast. No corpse shall hide you from my wrath!" Megatron bellowed, brandishing his fusion cannon as if to raze the very earth. His field screamed promised agony that sent lesser mechs scampering for shelter.

Optimus vented his battle mask into place, tucking them securely against the safety of his backstrut. weapons primed and wrathful fields promising eons of hurt against any who dared to touch his Human.    

"You shall not harm them, Megatron. Leave. now. while your spark yet functions," Optimus warned in a voice low and in a heavy growl that sounded feral and unlike the Prime.

"Maybe you should get Shockwave to give you a facial reconciliation!, oh wait I did it already!" They sneer back from Optimus' shoulder at Megatron. Their teeth are bared at him as they snarl. If anyone else had seen the human they would have thought they were an animal.

Optimus suppressed an amused sigh at their show of fangs, so small yet fearless against the monster terrorising his people for millennia.  Megatron bellowed in foaming rage, lunging toward where they perched upon Optimus's armoured pauldron. "Insolent pest! I shall grind your bones to powder and force-feed them to - aggh!"

A well-placed shot from Optimus's ion blaster struck the warlord, toppling the tyrant shrieking to the dirt. "Last warning, Megatron. Leave. or face me," Optimus rumbled, field pulsing protectiveness intertwined with fierce Protection.  

With a snarl Megatron takes off. Once both Optimus and his human lover settle from the adrenaline and battle protocols. Optimus cradled their small form within his battle-worn servo, venting slow ex-vapor to purge lingering fumes. His optics dimly regarded their fragile body. 

"That was a foolish act of bravery, little one," Optimus rumbled gently, digit carefully brushing across their  forehead and down their cheek admiring their eyes alight with fire. His spark swelled at the determination.  

"Sorry, I..  I got caught up in the moment, he missed me off ruining date night" they huff out while pressing their face into his neck cabling. Their body shakes from the adrenaline. "I hit Megatron with a tire iron" they whisper as it slowly registers in their own brain.

Optimus vented a soft huff of static, equal parts worry and weary amusement filling his field at their admission. "A valiant act indeed, though foolhardy against one as powerful as he," rumbled Optimus, vocals warm with approval despite the danger of the situation. His optics flicker in fondness. “Please do not do that again” 

Ratchet 

 Megatron let's out a horrific scream as he gets electrocuted. He hadn't noticed the humans who had shoved the taser between the plates of his armour. "Get Tazered Bitch, not so fucking tough now huh?" They shout at the downed Decepticon only to be scooped up by Ratchet. Ratchet swept them into his servo with a staticky huff, deftly dodging the warlord's flailing blows as voltage shocks wracked Megatron's colossal frame. His field buzzed approval at their fearless defence of him. 

"Reckless sparkling! You'll deactivate my rusting struts with stunts like that," Ratchet grumbled, though optics shone bright relief beneath grizzled plating. Megatron howled upon the earth, shaking off aftershocks that would crush the stoutest Autobot, madness glinting a terrifying helm snapped halfway 'twixt beast and machine.

Ratchet backed swiftly from flailing reach, hoisting their small form beyond harm's sight. Ratchet takes off transforming around them before he begins scolding the for how stupid they were, how dangerous it was. And the fact Megatron would personally hunt them now.

"Have you any idea how foolish that stunt was?!" Ratchet's engine revved indignantly even as he sped across the scarred earth, his cabin vibrating with barely-suppressed wrath and equal measure relief. 

His sensors remained fixed upon the precious organic cargo nestled within his altforms cab, monitoring vital readings  "Do you want a personal vendetta from Megatron? Because that's how you get a personal vendetta, you glitched little slagger!" Medical scans analysed each minute shift of breath. 

"Reckless, Just...do not scare me so, small one," Ratchet rumbled quietly, worried and care etched in every bolt and wire. 

"He had it coming Ratchet, plus that Amazon taser is getting a 10/10. 'WORKS GREAT, I Tazed a large alien warlord and he screamed like a bitch, will in fact work on creeps on the street' " they laugh while they look in the revision mirror to make sure they aren't being followed by said Decepticon.

Despite himself, Ratchet's engine sputtered an amused huff at their tone - so fearless in the face of giants who had destroyed armies. "Oh I've no doubt - the reviews certainly won't lack colour!" Ratchet agreed wryly, subtly activating scanners to sweep their escape route while watchful optics remained pinned to their reflection. 

His vents sighed relief upon confirming no stalking signatures upon their trail, enemy or otherwise. Swinging wide the Ark's bunker doors, Ratchet transformed with care not to jostle his delicate cargo. Blue optics peered down aglow with a glare "Come now, troublemaker. No more outings for the next month for you while the oaf licks his wounds." His states while guiding them to the medbay. 

“no fair Ratchet!” 

Jazz

They cling onto Jazz as the bot hides behind a boulder, multiple autobots had been out when the Decepticons had attacked. They are held tightly by Jazz as he debates the best possible to get them out of there unscaved.

Jazz vented softly, hugging their form protectively against his plating as pedefalls rumbled outside their scant cover. 

"Ain't nothin' t'fear, li'l light. Ol' Jazz'll getcha outta here one piece, ya feel me?" he murmured soothing static against their ear, subtly scanning surroundings through plating. An opening presented itself, if he could provide distraction just long enough...

Pressing a swift kiss to their forehead, Jazz.” Go, sweetspark! Ain't got but a klik - I'm right behind ya!" Jazz called desperately over the roar of weapons, swerving and banking with abandon to keep pursuers engaged but alive. 

 "Hey ol' buckets 'a bolts! Over here!" With that, he peeled from cover in a burst of speed, transforming mid-leap to present the biggest possible target, tailfins flared wide. Weapon systems engaged, greeting the three pursuing seekers with enthusiastically snarky exclamations as he led them on a merry chase. His sole purpose in those seconds - buy precious time, before sharply veering back toward cover with afterburners blazing. 

They do take off running but stop as they see Megatron advancing towards Jazz. They aren't far from either bot and in a split moment of bravery or stupidity their shoe is off and being flung right at Megatron's helm. "Your shit ass piece of Junk you lay a fucking hand on my boyfriend and I'll rip you apart with a fucking Magnet and plyers, don't you fucking test me you dipper wearing, goofy as looking supervillan wannabe!" They shout. It make the whole battlefield go almost dead silent. " Yea you fucking hear my bucket head, ill make you wish you were rusting!" They shout again. 

Jazz's optics widened in horror behind his visor, witnessing your defiant act through static-laced vision. Fear gripped his struts like freezing polyhexian tundra. 

Megatron's helm barely shifted from the impact, regarding their small form with optics glinting cruel amusement. His cannon charged with purpose to squash resistance as pointless and fleeting as an organic.

"Foolish creature. Your lives mean less than insects" Megatron sneered, taking ponderous steps their way that may as well have been a funeral march. The field around him broadcast murderous intentions that sent even the seasoned warriors around bolting for cover. 

Jazz would not be denied. With a grief-stricken keen that curdled energon in lines, he flung himself between you and that doom-wielding arm aiming to end what meaning he had left. His field pulsed frenzied protectiveness tangled with pleas no words could voice. 

"Ya want 'em, Megs, you'll hafta go through me first! An' I been dancin' this dance a long time..." Jazz spat static. Jazz was quick to get them out of there grabbing them and taking off. It isn't until they were back at the Ark did he finally transform, arms wrapped around them as he gives the a peace of his mind.

Jazz clutched their body against his chest plates long after abandoning the battle site, fleeing farther than ever felt safe from those sworn to end all he had left. His engine roared wildly, fuel pump pounding faster than any sabotage mission's duration against the relief of delivering them from harm. 

Only within the Ark's fortified bunker did his struts unlock enough to collapse wearily to the floor, holding them close as grateful cries and static escaped in equal measure. "Don't you ever fraggin' do that ta me again, ya hear?" Jazz gasped brokenly at last, cupping their face desperately within his quaking palm. His visor glimmered tears unshed, relief and terror warning in equal measure. 

"Can't lose ya...yer all Ah got left in this mess. Please, li'l light...don' scare me like that." Raw emotion clogged his vocalizer to near uselessness, pressing reverent kisses between choked intakes. 

"He was going right for you baby!, I'm not letting the 3 tonne prick hurt you, so what I lost a shoe next time it will be a hydro flask of salt water and I hope it dents his helm" they state as they grab his face plate returning his kisses with fevor.

Jazz huffed a static-tinged laugh at their fierce declaration, so brave yet trembling in his gentle grasp. His cooling fans cycled accelerated drafts, systems still buzzing from terrors faced alone to shield them from doom's sightless gaze. 

"Frag if ya ain't the bravest thing this side'a Cybertron," Jazz rumbled. He pressed his faceplate into their shoulder holding them tightly, not willing to let go yet. Curling them protectively against the humming mass of his spark, Jazz vented shaky ex-vents. "Mah brave, beautiful li'l light...keep shinin' that fire, sweetspark." Jazz whispered raggedly into their shoulder. 

Ironhide 

 Ironhide shoots at Megatron. His human companion latched to his back as he uses his body as a shield so the war lord couldn't get them. But they were making it rather hard as they tried antagonising Megatron. 

"Damn did they build you like a shit box on Cybertron or did you pick this form yourself!" They shout out. 

Ironhide careened across the scarred terrain, engine roaring as his heavy cannons unloaded volley after volley into the Con warlord's encroaching chassis. Megatron's howls shook the earth, armour blistering under Ironhide's righteous fury for daring to threaten his human lashed securely to broad backstruts.

"That's it, slaggertits, dance for me!" Ironhide bellowed back at Megatron. 

Megatron lunged forward through a hailstorm of plasma, cannons charging in a frenzy to end lives denying his rule. But Ironhide spun on a dime, releasing another blast to cave in an optical relay before transforming ram-tight around you both. 

His engine pounded like the Pit below, field alive with devotion harsh as his bearing yet gentle as newborn sparks flickering against red-and-blue armorweave. When Megatron gets too close they lob a can of WD-40 At him which Ironhide shoots cause it to explode in his face. "Get sunbeam shitlips!" They yell in delight as Ironhide takes off with them trying to get to safety.

"That's enough outta you, squishy," Ironhide rumbled, yet his cannons sang in harmony with your unbound spirit. His mission remained unchanged - shield the light of life, defying all forces that sought to smother its radiance. Ironhide's cannon fire consumed the volatile projectile in a brilliant fireball, engulfing Megatron in inferno. As they take off leaving Megatron in a fireball of energon and wounds. 

"Right in the visual output, squishy!. Primus, I think I'm in love," Ironhide roared instatically, tires biting earth as he tore across the ravaged wastes well beyond enemy sensors. His spark soared like the smelting winds of Vos. Ironhide's engine purred a low rumble as his struts unwound, tension leaching from armour plating now safe. His field pulsed weariness, yet underlying it swirled pride and fierce gratitude for your indomitable spirit so small, yet burned brighter than any star.

"Can't say I approve of y'all's antics out there, squishy. But Primus if you didn't frag up that rustbucket good," Ironhide chuckled, copper-sheened plating creaking in amusement. Never had he witnessed such fearless bravery, nor met a soul so worthy of the praise.

"He had it coming, Ironhide!You're not going to tell prime are you?" They had just faced down Megatron and cursed him out yet they were worried over being ratted out. Ironhide's engine grumbled a tired huff, his massive frame unwinding into a sprawl across the barren earth. He transforms lifting them up into his arms

"I'd be a fool to deny you put the fear of Primus in that rustbucket," Ironhide chuckled. "But Prime's got enough weighin' his wires. Don't need him fryin' more circuits over our antics." A digit gently booped their nose, gaze softening. "Your spark burns brighter than all the Well's glory. Ain't no mech takin' that from you - least of all one as glitching as Megs."

"Our secret?" They asked looking up at him.

"Our secret, squishy.” Ironhide replied, massive frame creaking gently as massive fingers curled to cradle them against his chassis.

Taglist: @angelxcvxc