Hello!!!! I am alive, kinda of. I promise Softspark shall have an update soon 🫡🫡🫡
After my concussion I also received some sad personal news that knocked me on my ass honestly. I lost the ability and the will to write or read or anything.
I’m slowly coming back around however and with that I dragged myself out to see Project Hail Mary and by god that movie was good for the soul. So naturally I had to combine my two hyperfixations.
Do you have a favourite transformers piece of media currently? Or a favourite obscure tranformers character?
Ohhhhhhh I haven’t really thought about it. The first show I ever watched was Beast Wars 😁.
I’d say Prime would be my favourite show, I feel like the character designs, writing ugh the whole thing was soooo good. It was the only show with humans in it that I actually liked (apart from Armada). I have only dipped my toe in the comics, so I don’t really have an opinion on them. Animated was great too😩.
So I perhaps, maybe got a concussion and the Brain had Not Been Braining so next chapter is gonna be delayed. Was also banned off screens for a few days but today I am free to terrorise once more😩
A light warning. This might be a bit icky, due to a crazy fan, but I do my best to gloss over it without going into too much detail. If you feel like it is too much, jump to the next paragraph breaker, I will have a summery of the fan's behaviour at the bottom.
<<Previous <<The Beginning>> Next>>
_____________________________
"common"
{mer}
{[common words mix in mer]}
(mer/echo Jazz doesn't understand)
.: echo-speech :.
_____________________________
He needed space, he needed a moment — scratch that, he needed several, a week would be preferable, to just decompress… everything.
But when Jazz turned away from the crowd to him; still wearing that fake smile, and yet, expressing a small amount of concern in the furrow of his brow — Prowl left — he did not flee, he did not cower, he left; calmly. To the surface. To the only place he could, into the sectioned off pool. There was this buzzing ache throughout his whole body, a tension that Prowl was well aware of the reason behind it. The temptation to sooth it, to conceal, to obstruct himself from their eyes, their cameras, by using the hammock as cover was immense. But he could not show such weakness, especially now. Prowl could reject them, ignore them, but he could not show fear.
Fear was the first step to control. And Prowl would not submit.
In the shallows, Prowl rested his right shoulder against the edge while he braced himself with the back side of his loosely curled tail. It would have been more comfortable to rest in the hammock, but that could be seen as an act of seeking comfort. Another display of fear. It would have been easier to simply stretch out along the floor, but shallow breaths made for a reckless dive.
What now?
Be calm.
What was he suppose to do now?
Deep, slow, breaths.
How was he supposed to appeal to Blaster now?
Panicking will be of no help to anyone.
The human may show that he cares for Jazz, but how much of it was like one does for–for a pet?
Stop—
Prowl tenses up, Jazz is suddenly within his field of vision. Though, now that he was brought back into focus, the soft ripples of water around him imply that Jazz had approached slowly, cautiously. Prowl then scowls down at the water in front of him, ashamed that he had sank so deep that the world had become senseless white noise. A dangerous position to slip into. How could he have let himself become so unaware.
Jazz's hand tentatively comes into view this time, giving him a small wave. Reluctantly, Prowl lifts his gaze back up and Jazz appears as if he wants to say something, but stops himself and tilts his head slightly towards him instead. Paired with the same expression before — it's as if Jazz is asking if he is alright. And it took Prowl another moment to recall why Jazz didn't just ask.
That whole precaution may have been pointless in hindsight — animals weren't people, animals couldn't talk after all. Jazz likely already knew how humans saw them, probably even tried to tell him yesterday before Prowl had rudely cut him off. Nevertheless, Prowl had made yet another error. He had been making a lot of them since he ended up in here, and it was both frustrating and embarrassing.
.: We can talk quietly, the humans, :. Prowl began, .: the humans… You tried to tell me and I… :.
Prowl was better than this.
.: … It's okay, :. though there was more kindness in Jazz's expression than those words conveyed. He was forgiving, empathetic to his faltering confidence.
Jazz then continued; likely to be reassuring to Prowl's distress, but he ended up fumbling over what he was trying to say. .: Not talking mer, uh…together to humans here, not talking mer is a good think. Echo-speech is safe, I think? Humans hear the clicks and think we are looking and hunting, not talking. :.
While there was not much emotion one could use with echo-speech, Prowl's numb expression set the tone well enough as he responded simply, .: understood. :.
Honestly, it should've been expected with how they were being viewed. But Jazz wasn't completely right either, because some were certainly trying to figure it out. As there was no denying the recordings, and Prowl didn't know if the revelation made those acts worse.
There was a bit of an awkward moment where Jazz; still holding on to that showmen smile, fidgeted. .: Are you… going to stay here? :.
Prowl gave a small nod.
.: Okay. :.
But as Jazz turns to leave, Prowl stops him, .: don't. :.
.: Don't what? :.
.: Play (with) humans. :.
Jazz tilted his head, puzzled, .: (with?) :.
.: Together, :. he offered, to help him better understand.
But Jazz just smiled brighter, though this one was less fake, there was still something that he was clearly misunderstanding. .: It's fine, Prowl. :.
Prowl scowled at him in return as his frustration began to boil. Fine? Had Jazz become complacent with the glass between them, with being forced on display, of being stripped of his privacy? There was no reason to do this, to play the part. Just ignore them. Don't give them the satisfaction of the attention. Reject them, retaliate, anything but indulge their fantasies like this.
.: No, it is not fine. Don't smile, don't wave, don't go to the humans. :. Prowl then pointed harshly at him, .: you are not to play with. :.
With a sudden slap, Prowl was splashed in the face. The shock of it stunned him into silence, while Jazz held a flicker of anger in his eyes before his whole posture shifted with regret. But not once did Jazz drop his smile. And when Prowl dropped his hand, Jazz recoiled sharply before darting off back into the main pool.
What just happened? Clearly there was a miscommunication; something that upset Jazz enough to childishly throw water at him, but he didn't know what words had been mixed up, what Jazz believed he heard Prowl say. Yet it just started up a new spiral with every little thought running through his mind — of him trying to piece all of Jazz's movements and reactions together in an attempt to fix where it went wrong — every possible escape plan being picked apart for anything salvageable — of the nightmare that he found himself trapped in — he couldn't find a point of focus, his mind far to overwhelmed to even make sense of anything.
Instead, Prowl looked up at the clouds, willing himself to just escape for a bit. Tempted to even pretend that he was in a tide pool along some coastal cliff side. For some form of reprieve. Just for a moment. And yet, reality only continued to spite him. Because he had caught a figure in the corner of his vision, and whether out of reflex or some dull sense of need for awareness, Prowl turned his head to make eye contact.
Blaster was leaning against the railing of the deck above their cage, and instantly, Prowl knew that he had seen everything. No matter how gentle Blaster's expression was, the gaze he held down at him was full of pity, Prowl felt chagrined.
Curse you all to the lowest pit.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
Jazz hadn't meant to let his emotions get the best of him, to lash out at Prowl like that. Prowl was freaked out, and he didn't need to hear the other's thundering heartbeat to know that, because he gets it, oh man does Jazz get it. Going from just interacting with caretakers and vets to being swarmed by fans, by people that wanted your attention, people you didn't even know.
But damn it all. What else was he suppose to do? Nothing? Most of his time was filled with wall to wall with nothing. He had seen every inch of this aquarium, read every info plaque, knew every routine of every exhibit. For better or for worse, Jazz longed for the moments of interaction with the public, for however brief of a time he could hold their interest. Even if he knew that humans and mers shouldn't mix, some days he walked the edge. Because, Jazz needed someone to talk to. Jazz needed someone to play with. Jazz needed someone he could touch in a way that wasn't clinical.
Not that he was ungrateful for Blaster's consistent presence, he was someone he could talk to, someone that he could play with, but it… it wasn't the same. In truth, it was such a relief to finally have someone on equal ground. Where his only worry was whether or not Prowl enjoyed his company. And as Jazz swam around, that worry only continued to fester. Because Prowl clearly hated humans, would Jazz dependency on human contact cause Prowl to resent him, to reject him?
Yet, time had passed far more quickly than he realized. Though the sound of the gate hydraulics were not loud, barely a soft hiss, it was one that Jazz could easily recognise. And without a second thought, Jazz enters the flooded passage.
.: Wait, :. Prowl calls out, causing Jazz to whip around within the narrow space. As he saw that Prowl swimming towards him, Jazz froze like a deer in headlights. .: Where are you going? :.
With sudden flashes from moments not that long ago, of how Prowl had reacted to Jazz lightly entertaining the crowd behind the glass, to what he was about to do — Jazz panicked, pressing his hands on either side he block Prowl from entering. .: Don't follow me! :.
Prowl stopped immediately, glancing over him with uncertainty. Though when the gate began to close, Prowl made a hasty movement forward —
.: Stay! :. He snapped at first, then weaker, .: please, stay here. :.
As the gate closes between them, Jazz is cast into an unfamiliar darkness.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
While he knew it was chatter of dozens of people, of squealing or crying children, the clattering or squeaking of different shoes, the dull thunks of hard cases and faint thumps of soft bags dropping to the floor, the clinking of buckles, and trinkets against the metal benches. The echos in the tunnel were heavily distorted into a loud hum of nonsense with random peaks. It was all white noise to Jazz, something that his brain just tuned out.
In the illusion of silence, in the darkness that shouldn't be uncomfortable, Jazz didn't want to acknowledge the change. Because why would this bother him? Why should it? It was normal, he sort of looked forward to this, he enjoyed it… most of the time. So why, why did he feel this way? This tightness, this weight, this dull ache that reminded him of loneliness, of betrayal. It felt wrong.
Though he was not given much time to ponder, he had missed the starting cue of the music and had to rush through the first movement to catch up. But then he fell into the motion, the same opener; a high breach into a heavy sideways flop that made a massive splash. Apparently it was iconic, something that people saw wild orca mers do often. From there it was dependent on the music, the show theme as it were. Sometimes it was wild with stunts to soak the crowds. Sometimes it was fast with acts of speed. Sometimes it was wacky and, well, kinda annoying, as he was made to act out a fool. But, Jazz thought it could be fun at times, he supposed.
Today was something balanced, basic, some might call it.
Jazz made many jumps, one or two with a twirl, another at a target ball that hung twenty-six feet from the surface. He could always tell how many first time guests or little kids were in the audience by how loud the reaction was to touching the ball. And there was a lot. Not that it was a surprise, Jazz saw how many had turned up at Prowl's reveal, how many had to had lined up at the Mer Exhibit entrance to be the first to see him.
Then there was speeding along the glass to create waves. Kicking and throwing water at the people in the front rows.
All while changing between doing acts solo and doing them with his trainer. Where he would perform stunts with them. A mix of tossing them in the air, of them balancing on his body, or propelling them through the water.
But it was here that Jazz was fumbling the most. His timing was off and he would miss or drop his trainer in the pool. Because every time he came into contact with them, Jazz couldn't help but hesitate. Again, he wondered why, why did this bother him now. Interacting with Blaster hadn't caused this reaction. But his trainer didn't say anything about it and remained focused on the show. So Jazz did his best to remain in character. And thankfully, it looked like his mess ups hadn't disappointed his fans.
As usual, during the cool down, one of the show crew would begin the educational part. Where Jazz would pose, demonstrate, or show the audience a skill or part of him, while they spoke about how he could do these things and why his species did them. What a wild mermaid did. How a wild mermaid lived.
There was only about a fifteen minute breather before he would begin the meet and greets on a side stage. Just like Blaster said, there was more staff around the pool and the theatre entrance, encouraging folks out at a casual pace. But little kids still ran up to the glass to wave goodbye, some even said 'thank you', or asked for a high-five. While Jazz wasn't allowed to come close to the glass before or after shows, let alone touch a guest without permission, he waved back with his charming smile and thanked them for coming.
"Hey, Rico!" A familiar voice called out to him, it was Bonnie. When he looked to her standing in the middle rows, as she waited for the line to clear out, she pointed to the beanie on her head. He knew what she was asking and gave her a thumbs up, which she mirrored in reply.
Bonnie was a regular here at the aquarium, and one of the few visitors that was a personal favourite of Jazz's. Beanie Bonnie as he and Blaster liked to call her.
When Jazz was ten, she had thrown her beanie into his tank during one of his shows. What the trainers had thought was a prank, turned out to be a gift. Because when Jazz tried to give it back, she said it was for him.
Back when he still had a temper and had difficulties working with any staff, letting him keep it was the only way to get him to cooperate. And it became his treasure, or rather the gesture had become his treasure. Anytime it tore she fixed it, any time it started falling apart or became too small she made him a new one. It had become a bit of a tradition to toss them back and forth during shows, much to the frustration of the staff. Some folks even tried to make it a tourist custom, for almost a year people would toss beanies and all sorts of hats in his tank, but Jazz only wanted Bonnie's.
He was glad that he got to see her today, it helped him to remember that he had some really good memories of doing shows.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
As predicted, the first guests of the meet and greet had a few questions about Prowl. Nothing that was against the rules thankfully. And there was a lot of rules about what people could and couldn't say or do with him. Not only was it on the paperwork for these visits, but it was also on a large sign at the theatre entrance. And yet, Jazz wasn't sure how to answer them. At least not now, not after what had happened.
What did he think of Prowl? I think he's really smart and brave, and I want to learn more from him.
Were they friends? I'd like to be… if I haven't ruined my chance.
But in the end, he simply continued to smile as he shrugged and answered with, "I don't know."
Other than that, it felt very much like the typical interactions. A couple of the usual questions for Jazz, a high-five or two, some questions for his trainer about how they train mers or what the practice routine was like, and ending with posing for photos. Though anytime that Jazz got distracted or his expression started to falter, he got a pat on the arm from his trainer – a soft reminder to focus.
The next group was pretty much the same. Which was great, as going through the motions made this whole chore easier.
Unfortunately, Jazz's bad day was about to get worse. Because he overheard the staff talking about her a moment before she climbed up onto the stage. One of his most prominent mega fans and his least favourite. Jazz couldn't recall her actual name anymore, back when she wasn't so… over the top. Back when she was a regular visitor and just liked to talk with him. But she was an influencer in recent years that went by 'Miss Orca'. She died her short hair black with white eye patch markings on the sides. She also wore a beanie and a custom wetsuit to match Jazz. In addition, everything she had was something with orcas on it or was orca inspired. This obsession made him incredibly uncomfortable.
Miss Orca was not well liked by anyone in the staff as far as Jazz knew. Her online activity and presence at the aquarium aggravated them. Whenever she made an appearance there would be constant jeers about her throughout the day. But Blaster hated her most of all, and not just because she openly declared that she was a better fit for his job.
According to Blaster; and things Jazz had overheard from other staff, she was not only a fake Atlantean, but someone that spreads disinformation on mermaids. The kind that puts both mers and humans in dangerous situations.
An Atlantean is a slur term that got reclaimed by mermaid activists in the past two decades. Originally it was used to insult those who believed that mermaids were people; that went back hundreds of years, that the idea was so outrageous that they must have believed that Atlantis actually existed. While many Atlanteans today aren't fully convinced that mermaids are truly people, they do all collectively believe in their rights and freedom from captivity. It is partly in thanks to these activists that improvements to the care of mers has improved across the globe, and laws in many countries have been created to help protect dwindling wild populations. Both from pollution and poachers.
The accusation that Miss Orca was a fake Atlantean lied in the fact that what she claimed to do and what she actually did. She'd talk like she cared about mer rights, but in truth all she cared about was being special. Ever since she had slipped and fell into the show tank during one of her first few meet and greets, and Jazz had been quick to pull her back up on to the ledge. She claimed that they shared a special bond, that Rico cared about her. The whole thing had been caught on camera too, and seeing as no one from the public had fallen into Jazz's enclosure since he was a child, it blew up on the internet. And now it was her mission to make sure that Rico was being looked after properly. Clinging to the fantasy of being Rico's saviour from uncaring staff, of potentially being loved by something mythical. Like some beauty and the beast scenario.
Over time, with every visit, it became harder and harder for Jazz to play his part. To be kind, to smile, to be the fun loving mermaid superstar that the world cared about. To be Rico Ricochet. Because Jazz knew she didn't actually care about him, just the idea of him. It was evident as she would touch him when he didn't want it, when he tried to back away. Because he couldn't tell her; or anyone, no if they weren't breaking rules. Refusal was bad behaviour, bad behaviour meant that he would not be rewarded, he would not be fed.
Well, perhaps that wasn't truly the case anymore. It hadn't been for a number of years. But Blaster said that his struggle with speaking up for himself and setting boundaries was due to trauma from his childhood. From his early years of captivity were he was conditioned into behaving in order to eat.
But, she would pet him, press up against him, or hold his face. The kissy faces and gushing about how cute he was were almost as bad as the poses she would ask for him to copy. The staff had made heated remarks behind her back about how some of them were too romantically implied, which only made Jazz dislike them even more. However, the personal feelings of staff were not enough to have her banned. As she never technically broke any of the aquarium rules and she was paying a lot of money to have these sessions monthly, if not weekly.
Because that's all they were, sessions. The moment it was over she typically left for the day. That was her proof of compassion, her 'checking up' on him. And within a few hours, she'd have more content on her account that pulled in thousands of views, of both hate and joy equally. She was just another person that saw Rico as a source of income and a thing to have.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
After a whole day of not really leaving the medical pool, Jazz thought that Prowl would want to be active once the aquarium closed. But Prowl only left to float out in the centre, staring up at the late evening sky. Which only fed into the state of anxiety that Jazz had all day.
Prowl had hardly spoke since this morning, nor had he eaten. He was upset clearly. But Jazz didn't know if he was mad at him, at Blaster, at all the guest, or perhaps just everyone. Or maybe it wasn't anger, but anguish? Frustration? Though maybe he should feel grateful that he wasn't ignoring Jazz, acknowledging his presence at least, even if only to stare off into the distance once more, answering his concerns with weak replies like 'I'm fine' or 'I'm not hungry'. Jazz was getting something, however small. Unlike whenever Blaster came around through out the day to check in or bring them food, Prowl wouldn't even look at him, he just scowled harder at the water.
"It's okay," Blaster tries to reassure Jazz before he leaves, "today has been a lot for Prowl. Perhaps tomorrow will be easier on him."
Jazz hopes so, but not only is Prowl not eating, he's also missing out on his medication. He worried about how much pain that would leave Prowl in. Would he be able to sleep? Would he be able to rest in the hammock? Perhaps that is why he was currently afloat in the main pool.
However, once the sky begins to darken, as the few stars struggle to be seen and the only lights remaining are the security lights, Prowl speaks. "Jazz."
{Yes, Prowl?} He answers, hesitating a moment before swimming up next to him, though mindful not to invade his personal space.
Prowl looks up at him for a moment, despite the guilt in his expression and the tense hold of his folded arms, his words carried conviction. {I will think of a way out, [Jazz.] And I want your help.}
_____________________________
We will not see Miss Orca again, she was a plot piece to show the worst side of Jazz's fans and that's it.
For those that skipped her. She was meant to show the horrible side of fans and of people that do not care about him as a living being, and take advantage of his current inability to say he doesn't like way they treat him. To pet or touch his face or make him pose for pictures that make him feel uncomfortable. She likes the control she has over the internet that believes that Rico cares for her in particular. Spinning nothing but a cheap fairytale at Jazz's expanse to generate income. Most of the staff hate like fans like this. And Blaster outright hates her for all this and because she poses as someone that cares about mermaids, yet doesn't seek to have them freed, on top of spreading disinformation that could dangerous to both humans and mermaids.
Additionally, during all this, some of Jazz's food trauma is brought up. About when he was a still a child he was trained to listen and behave or he would not given anything to eat.
Wheeljack design for my mecha au fanfic Sheepskin! But can honestly work as a general humanformers design lmao. He has a cybernetic prosthetic arm that I lowkey had no will to do (he got exploded like a little loser). In my head he's also like 5'3 ft, somewhat inspired by Wolverine but looking at him rn he looks painfully like Magneto. Or an implausibly old Quicksilver as that mfer is always dying in adolescence. Also Chapter 6 has been uploaded if that interests anyone!!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Some pilot Jazz ideations/concepts I've been messing around with for my ao3 fic SheepSkin, some def have a more Jazz-ish feel than others. But lowkey you could slap a cheeky grin and a visor to any one of these and you'd go "yup, that's a Jazz", and whenever I'm feeling stressed about my upcoming exam, I procrastinate and add a Jazz onto the board of sacrifice. And it makes me feel just a little silly inside. None of his appearances above are canon btw, just bits and bobs and possibilities. And me trying to figure out a goddamn hairstyle. Summary and link for the fic below! Literally just copied from ao3 ehehe.
After, Iacon is bombed in a sudden and devastating terror attack. Prowl discovers a series of disappearances as far back to Quintus Prime. He knew the Senate had their secrets, but who could’ve predicted this?
Meanwhile on Earth, mech-like kaiju start emerging from the breach. Jazz is having a very bad time.
——————
Or a pre-Cybertronian civil war horror mystery, with a dual POV alternating between both Earth and Cybertron! Heavily inspired by 90s mecha anime and Keferon’s Mecha Jazz AU.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
(I finally have chapter 6 finished)
I listened to a lot of Madonna while writing. I wonder how many people have listened to Material Girl due to this au. I would like to know for science purposes.
Just read your reverse! Mecha au! I love it!! Poor Prowl 😭😭 I cannot wait for Jazz to internalize this and heal up enough to decide how he’s going to react to the giant alien (who mayhaps could be boyfriend shaped as a treat :3) I love Jazz and Prowl’s vibe already what a power duo :D
Ahhhhhh thank you so much!!! It’s honestly so much fun to write how they react to each other and I’m about half way through the next chapter 🫡
They won’t be able to deny the power couple allegations in the future 😏
Does Prowl have fancy feet like Jazz's mech did now? I think I remember that being a thing...?
Yeah I wrote Jazz’s mech to have a bit insane amount of joints so he can move like he is possessed by the devil haha
And yes Prowl kinda? Has them? He defaults to having Cybertronian-like legs but he can transform them to be more like Jazz’s. The catch is - he absolutely fucking CANNOT walk on them akdnfhfhv
#so gorgeous #i remember following their Instagram account when I was younger #and they came up on my feed here? #so happy to come across them again #the art style is sooooo pretty #and the character’s expressions?!?!?!!! #chefskiss
It was time to up the difficulty, and Prowl just hoped that Jazz wouldn't quit on him. Jazz needed to relearn a vast number of words if Prowl wanted to share potential plans and for Jazz to provide insight on their imprisonment. And to improve his improvised teaching, Prowl was going to need a few tools.
Sorry it's so short, this chapter was really hard to write.
_____________________________
"common"
{mer}
{[common words mix in mer]}
{(mer Jazz doesn't understand)}
_____________________________
"Jazz," Prowl called for the other's attention once he had returned to the water, but Jazz blenched away. Strange, was he expecting Prowl to berate him? For allowing the humans to do what they wanted, for obeying their commands? But, Prowl would not fault Jazz for doing what he could to survive.
Trying to be amendable, Prowl softened his tone. {I need your help.}
Curiously, Jazz went from sheepish to concerned instantly. {Your arm hurt?}
{No, it's good.} Prowl dismissed the misunderstanding with a small shake of his head, before glancing towards Blaster cleaning up the medical supplies. {I want you (to) ask the human (for)…} Prowl was reluctant to say it this way, but it was all he had, {(for) help.}
Considering everything up to this point; with how much Prowl stubbornly refused the human, he wasn't surprised that Jazz froze in bewilderment. A moment later Jazz responded lamely, {what?}
Withholding his annoyance, Prowl pointed to Blaster and repeated himself. {I want this human's help, I no speak human, you can, you ask. Please.}
Jazz looked to each of them with an expression of uncertainty before addressing his caretaker. "Hey… Blaster?"
"Ya?" Blaster answered without looking up from his task.
"Prowl's asking for your help."
Leg pain be damned, Blaster twisted around quickly with his wide eyes set on Jazz. "Wait– what?" Then on the scowling mer, "for real?"
"Pretty sure." Though he didn't sound confident and was looking puzzled at the other mer. He hoped he hadn't misunderstood.
Being more cautious; of both his own pain and body language, Blaster shifted closer to the pier's edge. He also tried not to look too excited as he asked, "how can I help, Prowl?"
Seeing as both were now focused on him, Prowl did his best to explain with words and gestures. But then it was Prowl's turn to be taken by surprise.
{Oh, you want a stylus and a data pad.}
Wait, had he taught these words yesterday while doing math? Prowl both wonders and dreads what other words he may have attempted to teach Jazz. Though he couldn't deny Jazz's impressive memory recall and capacity to learn, especially given how few days it's been since they started. But a muddled mind might have made some things more confusing.
"Turns out, Prowl's not actually asking for help, he's asking for you to bring him a pen and paper. But… I don't think he understands that water will ruin it."
Blaster became visibly hesitant. He could take a few guesses as to what Prowl would want with it, but it was the possibility of Prowl getting caught that was his main concern. While Blaster wanted the world to recognize mermaids as people, there is a time and a place for this. He needs more proof, more time and more resources to actually reach the public and push back against those that would silence him — and all other like minded humans — under the guise of an atrocious desideration.
"I could bring a whiteboard and a dry erase marker instead." It wouldn't draw in too much attention, Jazz had been doing all sorts of art since he was little. Though in more recent years it happened less and less due to rising concerns for safe water conditions. Among other things. Now, with whatever Prowl had in mind, there was only one thing he didn't want them to do, just to be safe. "Just… no math, okay?"
The symbols matched on an uncanny level. Jazz doing it wouldn't be too odd, but Prowl solving math problems after barely over a week at the aquarium would draw in interests for testing. A loophole a particular arsehole would gladly exploit.
"I know," Jazz whispered. Then immediately he mentally scolded himself for letting it slip out; whether Blaster had heard him or not. Because, Jazz knew, he remembered what happened after he done math the first time.
Focusing back on Prowl, he gave him a smile as he says, {[Blaster,] said yes, give you a stylus and a data pad.}
Prowl was not expecting that to have been so simple, but he wasn't complaining. Perhaps it might be easier to put his plan into motion than he thought. Being polite; to advance his ploy, Prowl gave his thanks to Blaster.
Jazz was grinning ear to ear when Blaster glanced at him for a translation. "He says 'thank you'."
For a single moment, Blaster felt like a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
After a short demonstration, the tools were turned over to them. Blaster had given them a few colours; pink, green, orange, but they were all very light, pale or pastel. But then he left them alone. Or as alone as they could be with him lounging in the setup he had brought along with the whiteboard. His weird mobile office of a beach chair, laptop, and a small cooler; which he also used as a footrest.
As Jazz uncapped a marker for Prowl, he made the request, {no math, please.}
Prowl gave him a slightly puzzled look before answering. {No math. More words.}
With his worries put to rest, Jazz became very excited to see Prowl draw, and also to draw along with him.
Turns out Prowl is crazy good. And super fast at it too. Jazz has rarely seen this kind of confidence from artists that come to sit in front of his tank. Where they would shy away from a smile or a thumbs up, Prowl didn't even bat an eye as Jazz erupted loudly with joy and awe.
However the magic wore off as Prowl continued to focus on whatever it was he was trying to teach Jazz, rather than just doodle. Or draw Jazz's portrait — he had to try, okay? And with the heavy demand of so much information within such a short amount of time; more than they had ever gone through in one sitting before, Jazz really wasn't having fun anymore.
But he doesn't express it, because he wants to learn more, he wants more than just getting by. He wants to be able to ask and talk about so much with Prowl. Like, what kind of music he liked. Did he like to dance. Was there a game he liked to play. Did he like hats. What is his favourite colour. Was there a bird he thought was pretty. What kind of weather did he enjoy. What fish he likes best. And… while that was pretty much everything.
Looking between them, seeing this whiteboard filled with Prowl's clean, precise lines and Jazz's own messy, wild lines — his world never felt so big.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
Hours pass, lunch comes and goes, and this was how they continue to spend their day. Prowl drawing to better explain what he was trying to teach Jazz, words that he believed were important. But Prowl does humour him with a few off topic words. When Jazz needed a break or a reward to keep motivated, Jazz would doodle things he wanted to know.
And there were a number of them that Prowl didn't know what they were suppose to be. Now, it wasn't that Jazz was a terrible artist, rather they were things that Prowl honestly had no idea what he was looking at. One of the ones that Jazz kept repeating in hopes of an answer as something that looked like a fat starfish sitting at the top of a piece of kelp.
But then, there was one word that Jazz clung to with the most excitement Prowl has seen yet.
{Music!} Jazz cheered loudly and twirled around with glee, {the word sounds good! Music! Oh, oh, what is music words?}
Though before Prowl could attempt to say 'lyrics', Jazz began to sing. Prowl didn't understand the words, but the way that Jazz's voice shifted smoothly from sound to sound, it was… pleasant. The mer had a voice of a singer for sure.
{Song,} Prowl answered when Jazz ended the brief demonstration, too short to be a whole song.
{Song,} Jazz echoed mirthfully. "I like how this one sounds even more, it's pretty."
Seeing as this greatly uplifted Jazz's spirits, and with how horrible of a morning he had, Prowl took a little more time off topic to teach more words to do with music. He had never seen Jazz more excited.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
It wasn't until dinner time that Blaster struck up a conversation. "So… how is the language learning going? You seemed really frustrated most of this afternoon."
Jazz grimaced, "ya, I don't know why, but Prowl turned up the difficulty on me. Just started jumping into some bigger words or connecting ones and I just… struggled to understand. I'm getting there, but it would probably go a lot faster; and be a lot easier, if I weren't learning two languages at the same time."
"Two?" Blaster glanced between them in confusion. It really wasn't too much of a shock to hear that there were multiple languages among mermaids. Many mers were migratory and studies had show that groups had their own distinctive dialect of calls. But — "why is he trying to teach you two?"
"Mer can't be spoken underwater," he said simply.
"What do you mean it can't be spoken underwater?" Blaster couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why would mermaids have a language that—" he cuts himself off and lightly holds his throat as his eyes widen in realization — I can speak.
The sounds are very different from any language that Blaster is familiar with, yet it didn't feel overly difficult for him to repeat. But, was there a deeper meaning to this? Or was it just a language developed by mers that didn't have gills?
"I don't know," Jazz shrugged a little, "but it must be pretty common to do both. Though I've remembered more echo-speech than mer speak… or whatever we want to call it. I haven't a clue what it's actually called."
"What's the difference? With how it sounds, I mean, and if you want to share. Can I hear the same word but from both languages?"
"Sure!" Jazz seemed happy to share, maybe even a little proud. "I'll do 'help', that way you can use it with Prowl."
Blaster perked up a little at that, "I'd like that. Any words that can make things easier between us would be amazing."
"Ready," he asked and the human nodded, his attention fully focused on the mer. {Help.}
And Prowl was quick to bristle, Jazz could feel the intense focus the other mer was giving Blaster. Which only seemed to get worse as Blaster began to practice saying the word.
{What are you doing,} Prowl demanded.
{Teaching [Blaster.]} And when Jazz got a disapproving look, he stuck his tongue out in retaliation. {Are you going to learn human now? No? You shush.}
The dumbstruck look on Prowl's face from the sudden sass made Jazz crack up. This was actually pretty fun. Catching the wild mer off guard with banter. Jazz hadn't really had anyone to do this with before. Sure, there had been a few times before with Blaster, but this felt different. It felt safe.
{[Blaster] wants to help you. Learn a little to help more.}
Prowl hummed in reply, but at least he lessened his gaze on Blaster.
"Okay, so how does {help} sound in echo-speech?"
With a big smile, Jazz firmly pressed his lips together to show off that he didn't need his mouth or to expel air to create the sound. And it sounded, well, like an orca. A squeal like pitch that tapered into a whine; almost an aww, a sound that could be characterized as cute.
Even so, as Jazz repeated the word so Blaster could commit the sound to memory, Blaster felt… unsettled. Like a bad case of deja vu.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
It's just before their usual time to call it a night when Jazz remembers the important thing he was suppose to tell Prowl.
{Prowl, follow, I show you,}Jazz said before dipping under the water. Leading them over to the main window, beyond which was a room larger than his tank; that had been left completely dark for the duration of the quarantine. There was hardly anything they could see with their eyes — a combination of the partial one-way tint and the after-hours security lights coming in from behind them — but with echolocation they could make out the shape of the room perfectly and the two doorways.
.:In here,:. Jazz began, looking from Prowl to the room uncomfortably. .:hundreds of humans tomorrow.:.
.:Why?:.
There was so much that could answer such a small question. But Jazz was extremely limited on how to say it. How could Jazz possibly explain that he was an ambassador of their species? That people came to see him to learn about them, to better understand them. All in hopes that more people would come to care about mermaids. To care enough to accept the knowledge and discoveries researchers presented, for the changes they wanted to make for the ocean, to better protect their threatened species.
Then there was the one thing he never wanted to talk about with Prowl. It was bad enough on his own, when it came from the people around him. But for Prowl — the wild mer; who knew of the ocean and its dangers, who was strong enough to survive, who was brave, smart, and wasn't scared of humans, who was everything he could never be — for Prowl to learn the truth, Jazz didn't think he could handle the fallout. The rejection. Or the pity. Jazz already felt lesser, he didn't want Prowl to believe so as well.
Still staring into the dark room, Jazz answered. .:To watch and learn how we mer… swim and jump, eat, what sounds sound like.:.
Prowl sneered as Jazz's explained, .:humans want to watch?:.
Jazz nodded slowly.
.:Is that why we are in here,:. Prowl gestured to the tank around them before solemnly placing his hand over his bandaged wounds, .:and why the humans help me?:.
.:Yes,:. Jazz answered, disheartened as he watched Prowl's frustration rise as he put some of the small pieces of their situation together. Jazz wanted to reassure him that it was temporary, that he would see the ocean again. But until he had the words, until the time came, all he could do was try his best to make things less stressful for Prowl. .:The humans not come in here, in the water. The humans stay behind the glass watch, no touch, no hurt. Trust me.:.
There was a long moment where Prowl just stared down at the glass, clearly in deep thought. Then Prowl's hardened gaze was turned on Jazz. .:Tomorrow, we (will) not talk (while) the humans are here.:.
Jazz flinched, expression twisting in to mild distress, .:wait-no, Prowl—:.
.:We (will) not talk.:. Prowl repeated, firmly cutting him off.
No talking.
Okay, okay. It's fine.
No talking to each other while humans are around.
Jazz could do that.
That's easy.
It's just a small thing.
Jazz adjusted his expression to something more serious, but still casual, as he confidently nodded, and threw in a thumbs-up to sell the performance. Ignoring the weight that had settled in his ribs.
~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~
As the noise around the building grew, as did Prowl's guard, it sounded more than usual. Jazz had said a lot — 'hundreds', though he held some doubt about that — of humans were going to be here today. To study them of all things.
It enraged Prowl to learn that this was most likely the reason that humans had been becoming increasingly more dangerous over the past five decades. Just how many missing person reports had actually been abductions? From humans wanting to study them; their recovery, their movements, their voices, all to find advantages to fighting them. It was sickening.
But then he looked over to Jazz, whom was eerily calm for being in this situation. Just how many times had these humans come to watch for Jazz to be unaffected by their impending presence? At least, maybe, it meant he had been here long enough to no longer fear being butchered or tortured. Yet that was a horrifying thing in of itself.
{Prowl, it's okay,} Jazz said with confidence. {It's safe in here.}
To a point, maybe. But he refused to believe that anywhere was actually safe in a place like this. {I'm fine,} he answered simply.
{You're...} Jazz straightened up while giving Prowl a firm look for a moment before melting into a playful smile.
{(Tense,)} he provided, not denying the truth. But he rolled his shoulders and tried to loosen up, at least for Jazz's sake.
{Tense,} came the echo, of Jazz testing it out on his own tongue. {Are you tense because you're… scared?}
Did he mean worried? However the answer remained the same, {no,} a lie.
And not a very good one at that, with his heart betraying his calm expression. Prowl was nervous. All the odds were against him. He was wounded, had very little idea what he was up against, and all while he had someone under his protection. Try as he might, it made him a little jumpy; every little movement and sound caught his attention. Something to be identified, something to keep an eye on, something he could dismiss.
Metal poles softly clinking drew Prowl's focus to the observation deck above the pool. The humans had been setting up something there for a while now. Earlier over breakfast, Blaster had made a number of gestures towards it while talking to Jazz. And currently, Blaster was up there organising with others.
Yet another spot that humans were going to watch them from. They were surrounded with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and Prowl hated it. It brought forth a rage that tempted a reckless action, to just jump up there and get rid of them all.
But then Jazz perked up, just before he rolled under and Prowl calmly followed as he sank below the surface. The younger mer had approached the glass and was floating down low in front of it; the room beyond now illuminated with soft lights, revealing cheerful colours, plaques of indecipherable text, diagrams and photos, and artwork of the ocean. There was also a human Prowl recognized on the other side; the one that had taken away the other Prowl had injured with a ball. They waved at Jazz, smiling, and then gave a hesitant one to Prowl.
Then Jazz turned his head towards Prowl and waved him over with a gentle look; like Jazz was trying to encourage a frightened child. But, Prowl remained at a distance, narrowing his eyes at Jazz in response. What are you doing?
It started with a flutter of sound, then something running into the glass with a dull thud. Jazz's focus was quickly drawn away and down to the tiny blob pressed up against the glass, a human child. An exceedingly rare sight, so much so that Prowl has only ever seen one once before now.
But then there was another, and older. Followed by another.
More and more humans of all ages filled the view of the glass, yet so many were children. Smiling, flailing, jumping, filling in the expanse of the glass. A sea of eyes waving from mer to mer, only for dozens to settle on Prowl.
Prowl was use to crowds, to his presence drawing in the gaze of others in and out of cities. Holding himself with pride, with confidence in his hard earned skills and strength, Prowl's presence was striking in a way that could not be ignored; a threat, or a promise. For some, it was both.
Yet, these eyes were wide with delight and curiosity.
Prowl has hardly begun to process… anything, when Jazz trills his sonar at him. With his attention back on Jazz, he smiles brightly; projecting an assured and easygoing disposition. In what can only be taken as a gesture of reassurance, as a means of comforting Prowl. And it might have worked, maybe just a little, just enough to give Prowl a moment to refocus, if not for the immediate eruption of screams from behind the glass.
Rather than react with alarm like Prowl does — harshly glaring and fanning out in a defensive stance — Jazz spins, rolling above the ground with a wide and charming smile aimed towards the crowd. Like he's… playing?
Jazz waves to them. Acknowledges them. Welcomes them.
Delights them; pressing his hands to the glass and over a human child's, inciting a squeal of excitement.
Humours them; mirroring their gestures and poses for pictures, bringing forth a flurry of flashes.
Like this was some sort of performance, like Jazz was a celebrity greeting fans.
It leaves Prowl in a state of perpetual absurdity.
These humans… there's no fear, no acts of aggression nor defensiveness, no coordination, no clear focus. Just a swarm of the masses. This was no study. None of them were hunters or soldiers here to learn about their quarry. These were families and individuals here at their leisure, for a novelty.
Any thoughts or beliefs about mer and human conflict evaporated. Past theories on centuries of fighting over resources, of misunderstandings feeding hostility through generations, of mistakes that set the coarse for warfare that continues to be carried out by descendants — it wasn't acts of prejudice, not even at extremest levels, because there wasn't even recognition.
The wide window, the welcoming viewing areas, the monitoring.
This wasn't a prison, it was a public exhibition.
Nothing more than a zoo.
And Prowl was just an animal.
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Yes, I'm treating cetacean vocalization as transformer comm communications, there are even "private" pitches that they can use, like the channels on a radio you just got to tune into the frequency and some mers just have better radios. And yes, all sapient mers can use this form of speaking even if a good part of their anatomy is homologous with fish/sharks or seals/sea lions. Fish mers have already been given lungs to breath comfortably out of the water so why not?
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It also makes their society easier and less segregated. Mers still have flaws, no one way of doing things is perfect, but they sure as hell have more of their shit together than humans. Even fish-twitter is less toxic. (inside joke for those that get it)
Echo languages are also the primary form of communication in mer society since they tend to spend most of their lives in cities on the bottom of the ocean. But most mers know at least one spoken language (for reasons I won't disclose until much later in the story).
But being able to use echo-speech doesn't mean they can use echolocation/biosonar.
