i'm art/arty! | they/star/elle | 21+
Hello! I love lotsa things: cartoons, films, the sea, stars and you! Tfs, Sonic and UT in my heart always!
☆Header by my friend Siti!
Hello, hello! My name is Art but you can also call me Arty or Spark and I'm a disabled trans nonbinary chicano maker and lover of many things!! sometimes I create things too but this is my little corner of the internet you see :o)
they/them/elle (star neo if you want to be fancy!) 21+, eng/es, very tired but here to cheer and to tell my favorite artists how cool I think they are!
I try to tag everything but feel free to let me know if anything slips!
my art: #startydoodles
my writing: #startywrites
ao3: startmyspark (can have adult content!)
fanart tag: (forever happy TT)
all other blog things: #startyreblogs
take care always, and know that I believe in you!
"Mis sueños yo te doy…" ☆☆Uu T uU☆☆
id: a rainbow star divider of ball pit chains at the top and bottom of page, followed by a stamp of a starry rainbow in the sky, a trans flag with the words 'trans people should be happy', and tfgogo bumblebee smiling. id end.
Jazz closed his eyes and felt a ghostly touch on his shoulder. He heard the ghost gently whisper in his ear. They spoke in a calmer, gentler voice. Jazz drifted off to sleep.
Jazz and his new ghost buddy - some art from the second chapter of Cryptids and Consequences.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Jazz is waiting, hoping that Prowl will come and save him.
<-First | Next ->
Jazz didn’t know how much time had passed. It wasn’t something he had a way to keep track of.
The first day, or what he had assumed was the first day, was the worst. No matter how much he probed the ghost that haunted this place, it refused to share anything with him about what exactly was going to happen to him. Not knowing was a torture in itself. His mind wouldn’t stop coming up with scenarios and things that could happen.
“Why won’t you tell me?” Jazz asked.
“It wouldn’t help,” They said.
It was frustrating and did nothing to ease his growing sense of dread. He held on to a hope that Prowl would come for him. He reasoned there had to be some way for Prowl to track down the creatures that had taken him. It was only a matter of time before he found Jazz.
He had whispered to the ghost frequently the first day. The aliens who had taken him peered down and seemed to be confused to find him speaking to what they must have assumed to be nothing.
“I don’t think they can see me,” The ghost said as Starscream glared down into Jazz’s little prison.
“If you don’t want them to see you, they shouldn’t,” Jazz said.
It was bitter to mention. It was one of the many things he had learned from Prowl.
Starscream sneered down at Jazz. He heard the large alien whisper something under his breath, but it wasn’t anything he could make out.
“We don’t want them to see us,” The ghost said.
Starscream had pulled away from the box.
Starscream audibly noted that it had seemed like he was talking to thin air. They didn’t question him about it directly. As far as Jazz could tell, they didn’t consider Jazz worthy of conversing with. They never asked anything of him, and whenever Jazz spoke, one of two things would happen.
The first day, Jazz had mostly been left alone. A few times, Starscream or Shockwave would stare down at him. They would write things down on large tablets while observing him.
He felt like a science experiment. He heard them call him a subject of study. Jazz hated it.
Eventually, the adrenaline that had been keeping him awake faded, and he started to crash. Sleep sounded appealing, and he felt exhausted. But sleeping presented a danger.
“Someone is coming from me,” He said quietly, whispering in the dark cell.
He saw lights dance in the corner of his vision.
“We hoped for rescue, too,” The ghost said.
“None of you deserved this,” Jazz said.
His eyes felt heavy, but he focused on the conversation. He didn’t want to sleep.
“You don’t either. We hope someone comes for you.”
Jazz dug his hand into his thigh. “I know he’s coming.”
The ghost manifested next to him. They seemed more solid this time. Jazz looked towards its face, or where its face should have been. If he stared hard enough, he could almost imagine features being there, but their face mostly looked like an abyss. The ghost looked at Jazz with concern.
“You should sleep.”
“I don’t want to,” Jazz said coldly. He made a point of looking away from the ghost.
“Please,” The ghost reached out for Jazz’s arm.
Initially, the hand passed straight through. The ghost pulled back. They looked down at their hand and tilted their head. Jazz saw the ghost's hand clench for a second. They brought the hand gently back towards Jazz, and this time he felt the barest hints of touch through his sleeve.
“You will need any strength you can save.”
Jazz winced. That sounded grim. The ghost stared at him. Jazz didn’t respond, and the ghost didn’t move.
“Sleep. Please.”
Jazz tilted his head back and let it hit the metal wall gently. Jazz grumbled as he rested back against the wall of the cramped space. The floor and the walls closed in on him. He shivered. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore how dire this situation was. He closed his eyes and felt a ghostly touch on his shoulder. He heard the ghost gently whisper in his ear. They spoke in a calmer, gentler voice. Jazz drifted off to sleep.
Jazz woke up to the sound of loud metal footsteps. He pushed himself up off the ground and waited with bated breath, looking up. Shockwave stared down at him with his unblinking eye. Or at least Jazz assumed it was an eye. He stood still and unmoving just for a second. Jazz felt like he was being examined.
Shockwave reached a hand down inside Jazz’s prison. Jazz pushed himself away from the hand, but he couldn’t really do anything to get away from it. He felt the hand wrap around his torso, and he was lifted into the air. He kicked and screamed. He even tried biting at wires that he could barely see between the joints of Shockwave's fingers.
Nothing he did had any effect. Jazz was simply too small to really make much of an escape attempt. Jazz looked around the dimly lit space.
Shockwave was slow as he dropped Jazz on a flat surface. Jazz winced and wheezed as he landed on his back. Shockwave loomed over him. He pressed his fingers against Jazz’s chest. Jazz gasped and struggled to bring in air as he was easily held down.
“It is fascinating how seemingly weak the dominant species of this planet is,” Starscream said. “It’s a wonder they survived up until this point.”
Jazz watched as Starscream moved around the room casually. He pulled what looked like a small gun off the wall. It looked comically small in Starscream’s hands. He stood over Jazz and smiled cruelly down at him. At the end of the gun, he saw a needle. Something bright blue dripped out of the end of it. Larger than anything he had seen at any doctor, but it looked small in the hands of Starscream.
Jazz kicked his legs out and tried to push himself away as Starscream got closer.
Starscream lined the device up with Jazz’s arm. He didn’t even bother pulling the fabric of his hoodie back. The device passed through the fabric and into his arm. As soon as it touched his skin, he screamed. He struggled against Shockwave’s hand that was still holding him down.
The needle went into his arm. Jazz winced away from it, but it only seemed to go deeper into his skin. Starscream seemed to smile more as he pressed down on a trigger. It felt like his arm was burning. He was in too much pain to process the world around him. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The only thing that escaped was a wheeze. He didn’t feel the pressure on his chest. But his arm writhed in pain.
He closed his eyes and arched his back. He didn’t process anything but the pain. It was all he knew for a while. He winced as the pain started to die down slightly.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in jail again. The ghost sat by his side. They held a scared expression on their face. Its hands were resting over Jazz’s chest, and they glowed. Jazz could feel the energy flowing through his veins. The glow intensified, and the pain retreated more and more.
Jazz relaxed his muscles and let out a relieved breath. The ghost pulled their hands back as it met Jazz’s exhausted gaze. The ghost flickered in place. Its form blurred around the edges.
“What was that?” Jazz whispered.
“We told you, our strength is yours,” The ghost sounded weaker. It’s form frayed around the edges.
“Why did you do that?” Jazz asked.
“We did not want to see you in pain.”
Jazz rolled onto his back and looked out of the box into the larger room beyond its walls.
“Thank you,” Jazz whispered.
The ghost leaned into Jazz’s view. They looked around, almost like they were afraid of something listening in on them.
“Each time they take some one, they live a little bit longer. The first died after the first injection. The last lived for several days.”
Jazz clenched his teeth. He didn’t even know what he could do with the information. He was thankful to have it. He would take any potential advantage he could.
After the initial pain, Jazz didn’t feel anything different. He didn’t even really feel sick. Jazz was afraid to look at the arm they had injected. He knew it was a bad idea, but he wanted to ignore any potential wound.
The second time Jazz was taken, he still tried to fight it. He knew he couldn’t stop them, but he didn’t want to cooperate. He didn’t want to accept whatever was happening to him without a fight.
They injected him in the same spot; the pain was more intense. But this time, Jazz powered through it. He didn’t let himself scream. He didn’t want to give them satisfaction. Starscream seemed frustrated by his silence, but Shockwave looked like he couldn’t possibly care any less. If Shockwave did have any particular emotions, they would be hard to read. Shockwave didn’t have anything resembling a human face like Starscream did.
They observed Jazz as he pushed through the pain of whatever they were doing to him. The look of satisfaction on Starscream's face scared him. Jazz wanted to know more about what they had planned for him.
He racked his pain-addled mind and came up with a desperate plan. He arched his back against the surface they had placed him on. He made a show of how much pain he was in. He collapsed back to the table, limp. He closed his eyes and let his head roll over limply.
“Do you think this one will make it?” Starscream asked.
Jazz felt something large push into his side. He assumed it was one of Starscream's fingers.
“That is unlikely. They are lasting longer. However, none have yet to display any significant signs of large-scale conversion.”
“The last one did seem to have a spark chamber-like structure growing in its chest cavity,” Starscream said.
“The early forms of one,” Shockwave said.
“A full conversion may not be possible, but if we can get one of these flesh bags to produce a stable spark, we could attempt to reframe it.”
“Perhaps. First, one must survive to that point.”
“I will see if I can borrow a containment unit from the med bay. Despite its current state, this one does seem to already be doing better than our previous attempts.”
Jazz heard Starscream move above him.
“Besides, if this one doesn’t make it, we can just grab another.”
Jazz forced himself to keep breathing evenly.
Shockwave didn’t respond to Starscream. Jazz felt himself being picked up again, and he forced back any panic or discomfort as he kept himself limp. Jazz was starting to get the barest hints of what they were attempting to do, and he wanted no part of it.
Jazz knew that there were many ways for someone to lose their humanity. The more supernatural ones, curses, and magic were what he was looking into currently. Prowl had told him about other ways. Methods that were considered more scientific.
There were other aliens on Earth.
Prowl had told Jazz about all the ones he knew would actively pose a danger to humans. Some of them reproduced by taking humans and converting them into members of their alien species. Jazz had even looked into some of them as options for a form to take on. Most of them underwent some procedure to make them more loyal to their new species.
Jazz did not doubt that if they managed to convert him, they would mess with his head somehow. Warped and distorted who he was until he was loyal to them and willing to do whatever they wanted him to do.
Jazz just had to hope Prowl would find him before they were finished with him. A small part of Jazz refused to acknowledge the likely scenario that he would die like the other humans they had experimented on.
Shockwave was less gentle with Jazz as he dropped him back onto the floor of his small cell.
Jazz landed on his arm. He expected pain, but he was confused when he didn’t feel anything. It was the arm they had been injecting into. There was at least a minor wound there. It should have hurt.
Jazz waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps from Shockwave. He waited a few more seconds. When he was sure he was safe, Jazz pushed himself up. His arm felt off. It was numb. He could still move it, but it felt like it had fallen asleep.
When they had placed him back in his cell, he rolled up the hem of his hoodie in an attempt to look at his arm. He had to twist his neck awkwardly to see the injection site. He froze as he saw it oozing with a mix of the blue substance and his own blood.
He slowly lifted his other hand to the wound and gently touched it. It felt damp. But he didn’t feel any pain from the wound he knew was there. He could still move his arm, but he couldn’t feel anything in it. He traced the injury and felt echoes of sensation, but he didn’t know if that was from his imagination or not.
He pressed the wound harder, and he barely felt anything.
He frowned.
He didn’t know if he should have been relieved or if he should have been concerned. He clenched the fist of his numb arm and pressed his nails hard into his palm. He stared hard at his fist. He brought his clenched hand close to his face.
“Wait,” He whispered.
He trailed his hand down the veins of his wrist. Faintly, he could see something glowing underneath his skin.
He looked expectantly into the far corner of the cell. He knew the ghost was still here.
Jazz flinched as the ghost appeared inches from his face.
“You'd better hope that rescuer you keep talking about comes soon,” The ghost said. “The last one died the day after that started to happen. We don’t want you to join us.”
“He will,” Jazz insisted. “He’s coming, I know he is.”
The ghost sat next to Jazz and hummed. “We hope he does.”
“Do you have a name?” Jazz asked. “Or something I can call you?”
“No, we had many names, none of them feel right anymore,” The ghost said sadly.
Jazz lay down in the cell on his side. He felt exhausted, and the only thing he could do in this cell was talk to the ghost or sleep.
“Is it all right if I give you a name?” Jazz said.
The ghost flickered through many forms. It tilted its head. “You may.”
“Can I call you Ricochet? Cause you kept bouncing back.”
The ghost flickered once before solidifying again, “We would like that.”
Jazz fell asleep with nothing but Ricochet for company.
The days dragged on. Jazz never once gave up on the thought of Prowl coming to rescue him. He knew Prowl was coming. Jazz desperately clung to that idea. It was the only thing keeping him going.
Ricochet started to materialize more. They started to talk with a more consistent voice. Jazz was getting weaker; the two of them knew that. Ricochet had started to slip out of their cell. They would phase through the walls and wander short distances outside of their little prison.
Ricochet had whispered to him after coming back that they were called the Decepticons.
The Decepticons, Shockwave, and Starscream had taken him out of his prison more times. Each time, they injected him with the same substance.
Jazz had encouraged the ghost to leave more. He had told Ricochet that knowledge was power here; in reality, Jazz could see how negatively his deteriorating condition was affecting the spirit.
The Decepticons couldn’t see or sense the ghost. Ricochet was strange to talk to, but they were at least some form of company. He didn’t let his guard down. When Ricochet was around, he at least had the comfort of another pair of eyes watching out for Starscream and Shockwave.
One time, Ricochet passed back into the walls of his cell. The ghost seemed almost giddy.
“It’s their blood!”
“What is?” Jazz asked weakly.
“What they’re injecting you with! We saw a bleeding one in the halls; it was the same stuff.”
Jazz hummed. The knowledge didn’t do him a lot of good. But he was sure it was some sense of closure for the many humans that made up Ricochet.
Jazz was starting to lose track of how often he was being taken out. It seemed more frequent, but Jazz was worried he was losing time. Ricochet had told him they all started to sleep more and more before they died.
Jazz didn’t want to die here.
He didn't show weakness to the Decepticons. But whenever he was placed back in his prison, and when he was sure he was alone, he would cry. Whatever was happening to him hurt. They never fed him, they never gave him water, but he didn’t feel hungry, he didn’t feel thirsty.
Something was wrong with him. He was getting weaker and weaker, but Shockwave and Starscream almost seemed giddy at his continued survival.
Jazz had noticed that the glow in his blood veins was getting more intense. When Starscream and Shockwave first noticed the glow, they were elated. They talked about preparing a frame for him.
Jazz was half awake when he had caught a spine-chilling conversation between the two of them.
“The memories shouldn’t present much of an issue,” Starscream said.
He said it so loudly that Jazz was sure he was intending for him to hear this conversation. He seemed to take a genuine joy in his suffering.
“It will be a blank slate of a Cybertronian,” Shockwave said. “Base programming, some combat protocols.”
“It is poetic in a way I’m sure you can’t appreciate,” Starscream said.
“Your thinly veiled insults are not welcome nor appreciated,” It was the most emotion Jazz could remember hearing out of Shockwave. Distant traces of anger that made Jazz’s blood go cold, “I know what you are attempting to do. I see no point in it.”
Jazz heard the sound of Starscream's quieter footsteps echo just beyond his prison.
“Of course you don’t,” Starscream whispered as he stood over Jazz’s prison.
He sneered down at Jazz.
“Such a pathetic creature,” Starscream lowered his hand toward Jazz.
Jazz was too weak to move. He could only watch with half closed eye lids as Starscream extended a finger and dug it into his chest.
“If you die, none of your people will even know where you went,” Starscream pushed down on Jazz.
Jazz opened his eyes. His vision was starting to blur. He knew he was probably going to fall asleep again soon. He didn’t want to. Especially not with Starscream lingering over him like this.
“But if you live, you won’t even remember being this. You’ll happily go off and do whatever it is you're told.”
Jazz glared up at Starscream.
“A feisty little thing.” Starscream laughed.
Jazz used his good arm and attempted to push Starscream’s digit off his chest.
“Starscream, I require your assistance,” Shockwave said.
Starscream shot Jazz a final smug look before leaving.
Jazz curled in on himself. He only faintly noticed Ricochet rubbing his side. Jazz didn’t react. He couldn’t find it in himself to react. Ricochet's hands glowed again. Jazz felt only a little bit better that time.
“Tell me about him,” Ricochet said. “About the one you keep saying is coming for you.”
Jazz weakly opened his mouth and started talking.
“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Jazz said.
Ricochet almost seemed blurry when Jazz stared at him. Jazz squinted his eyes and shook his head gently.
“He’s always been there for me. We were starting to talk about some serious life changes when I was,” Jazz breathed in heavily, “Taken.”
Jazz stayed vague about Prowl, mostly out of habit. When he was with other people, he couldn’t just casually say he was dating an urban legend without being looked at like he had lost his marbles.
“We’re sure he’s coming, Jazz, you just have to hold on,” Ricochet said.
Jazz really hoped Prowl was coming.
When Jazz stopped talking, Ricochet started talking. They had told him that they had all died sooner. Jazz had survived the longest. They called Jazz strong. They were sure Jazz would make it.
Jazz didn’t know if that was a good thing. If he lived, it meant him becoming something different. It meant him losing his memories and becoming loyal to the beings who had taken him. Jazz didn’t want to forget Prowl. He didn’t want to forget Blaster. He didn’t want to forget the ghost who had been keeping him sane.
He wanted Prowl to find him. He wanted to go back to Prowl's cave and huddle into his fur. To have Prowl whisper in his ear about all of the things he had seen in his long life. He wanted to hang out with Blaster. He craved that feeling of safety he had felt with the two creatures.
The next time he woke up, something was wrong with his eyes. The darker cell seemed to grow darker. The next time they took him out, he couldn’t see. He felt his eyes move, he felt himself blink, but it was dark. He couldn’t see.
“Ricochet?” Jazz whispered.
“Yes?”
“Is it dark in here?”
Jazz had a feeling about the answer. Waiting for Ricochet to confirm it was horrible.
“No.”
Jazz shakily reached a hand to his face. He could feel his eyes. They didn’t hurt. But he couldn’t see. Jazz felt increasingly isolated and helpless. He sat in the cell. Not knowing what time it was, or what day it was. He didn’t even know how long he had been there.
Jazz tensed when he heard Shockwave's footsteps. Jazz put up about as much of a fight as he was able to. He could hear Shockwave standing over him, and he could hear the motors or whatever he had in his hands move as he grabbed Jazz. But he couldn’t see him.
“Fascinating,” Shockwave said. “Starscream, I need you to retrieve something from the med bay,” Shockwave said.
“I don’t see much of a point in it; it doesn’t matter if his optics malfunctioned, the frame will have functional ones.”
“I am interested to see if a graft will take at this stage. If it does, then we might not require a replacement frame.”
“Fine,” Starscream had whined.
Jazz listened as Starscream walked away. He heard the doors to the room open and close.
Shockwave had injected him that time. Shockwave didn’t immediately put him back that time. They put him on a new surface. Not being able to see what Shockwave was doing was adding a new level of fear for him.
Shockwave had left him alone, and Jazz felt himself starting to drift off again.
He felt the phantom touch of fingers on his arm. Ricochet was next to him. “He has something new in his hands.”
Jazz breathed quicker. Harder.
He felt the air around his face move. He could hear Shockwave get closer. Something was pressed against his eyes. Liquid, it felt like something had been poured over his face. He shook his head in an attempt to get whatever it was off. It didn’t move. It squirmed. It dug, it burrowed into his face. It didn’t hurt, but he felt it. He felt every terrible motion.
Shockwave was still standing over him. He heard the large Decepticon do its equivalent of breathing as it watched whatever was happening to Jazz.
His eyes burned as color and sight came back to him suddenly. Jazz almost screamed when he saw something again. Almost. He refused to give Starscream or Shockwave any satisfaction in his fear.
Shockwave’s single eye stared down at him. He wordlessly grabbed Jazz, and he was back in the box again.
“It actually takes well to its changes. Lord Megatron will be pleased with our progress,” Starscream said distantly.
Jazz pushed himself up off the ground of the dirty box. The skin where they had injected him didn’t hurt this time. Or he was in too much shock from seeing again to process the pain. He reached up towards his eyes and paused when he saw a ghostly blue light illuminating them. He looked around, confused. Nothing in his cell generated light.
He slowly moved his hands towards his face. Something cold and smooth was covering his eyes. It felt like glass. He could feel his hands touch the glass as if it were his skin. He patted rapidly, finding edges that met his skin. When he tried to pull the glass off, it hurt. He couldn’t get it off.
He tugged at the glass harder, hissing as it began to hurt from his attempts to take it off.
Ricochet was back at his side. The ghost looked critically at his face.
Jazz frantically looked toward the ghost. Ricochet seemed shocked. Their mouth slowly split open. Jazz waited for them to say anything.
“We don’t think that’s going to come off,” Ricochet said sadly.
Jazz struggled to breathe again. This time, he couldn’t tell if it was from the panic or from whatever was happening to his body.
He curled into a ball and tried to slow his frantic breathing down. Ricochet stayed by his side. He felt the ghost's cold fingers place a hand on his back through the fabric of his hoodie. He shivered. He wanted to cry. He couldn’t. He felt pressure build up where his eyes used to be, but nothing came out.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this.
He wanted to be with Prowl.
Ricochet kept him company as he drifted off. Sleep pulled him down. His dreams were a washed-out mess. Nothing concrete or solid.
His dream was a washed-out mess of color. Even in his dream, he felt weak. He felt exhausted. He could see his dreams distort and warp. He just wanted to be with Prowl even if just briefly. He wished he could dream of him so he could see him one last time.
“Just one more time, please,” Jazz whispered. “I just want to see him one more time,” He said.
This was his dream. He knew it was. He didn’t care if Prowl wasn’t really there; he just yearned for him.
Jazz was feeling weaker and weaker. He wanted to hold out hope for Prowl coming for him. Jazz was starting to worry about what Prowl would find when he did find him. Some alien that didn’t even remember him, or even a corpse. Jazz didn’t know what he preferred.
Jazz curled in on himself and let himself drift in his dream.
“What did this do to you?” A voice said. It felt calm, and it was so clear in his horrible, distorted mess of a dream.
He felt something touch his side. When he uncurled to look at what had invaded his space, he saw more blurs of color. Blues and reds. He felt something touch his mind. Its presence buzzed against his mind. He could practically feel it digging around in his dream.
“He is coming, rest.”
Jazz took that as meaning Prowl. He took some comfort in that. If he was going to die, he would at least want to do it in Prowl’s arms. Jazz didn’t think there was much hope for him at that point. He could almost feel himself fading away.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Next ->
Jazz was happy.
It was a simple statement, but it was true. For the first time in a long time, he was content with the life he was leading. Everything seemed to be going his way for once.
He finally felt stable in his life. He had good friends, he had a future he was looking forward to. The best part was having someone he loved who he knew deeply loved him in return.
It didn’t matter that his partner wasn’t human. At least it didn’t matter at all in Jazz’s mind.
Prowl wasn’t human; he was a creature in the purest sense of the word. Prowl was the Mothman, a creature Jazz hadn’t even thought of as real until he encountered him jumping through the trees during a hike.
Jazz connected with him in a way he had never connected with anyone else before him. Prowl had tried to scare Jazz off the first few times they had interacted. Jazz didn’t mind. He always came back to look for Prowl. Eventually, Prowl stopped trying to scare him out of the woods. Eventually, Prowl asked him why he kept coming back.
Jazz had said that Prowl didn’t scare him. Prowl had wondered why. The two of them spent hours talking that first time. The next time Jazz came back, they talked again. Eventually, it became a nightly ritual. Soon enough, Jazz called Prowl his friend; eventually, it turned into more than friendship.
Prowl had a home, kind of. He had a cave that he had modified over a long period of time into a home. It was a place where Prowl slept and stored materials. Jazz would hike there every day after work. He didn’t mind the long walk from his car. He just wanted to be with Prowl in a space where they didn’t have to worry about him being seen. Prowl visited Jazz’s at his place frequently, but it always involved keeping the curtains shut and a distant fear of being seen.
Prowl’s home was remote enough and far enough into the woods that it wasn’t an issue at his place. So Jazz didn’t mind hiking out if it meant he didn’t have to worry about Prowl.
They were lying together. Prowl’s arms and wings wrapped around Jazz as they just exited each other's space. Prowl smelled of the earth and of moss. It was a comforting smell that reminded him of camping trips he took as a child.
“I’ve been thinking about it again,” Jazz said quietly.
Prowl shifted and looked toward Jazz with an unreadable expression. “Oh?”
“I wouldn’t mind looking like you, I think,” Jazz said carefully.
Prowl’s eyes dimmed, and he looked up. Jazz knew it was a delicate subject. He had tried bringing this up a few times. It was hard for him not to think about it. Jazz was human, but Prowl wasn’t. Prowl would outlive Jazz by hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Jazz didn’t want to leave Prowl alone.
“Bargaining your humanity away is a curse, Jazz, if you became like me, like my brothers, there's no guarantee what you would end up as,” Prowl said. “Being cursed isn’t something I want for you.”
Prowl delicately traced Jazz’s side with one of his talons.
“I don’t really care what I end up being, as long as we get to be with each other,” Jazz said.
“You have decades left to choose Jazz; most humans who become something else don’t get this choice. I don’t want this to be something you regret. I just want you to be happy.”
Prowl could be about as emotive as a brick at times. Jazz had assumed early on that he wasn’t a very emotive creature. Jazz had learned over the years that he was. He just expressed it in different ways.
Prowl grabbed tightly onto Jazz. He could hear his partner's wings adjusting and twitching against the blankets. He was getting nervous. Jazz decided to drop the subject for now.
After a few seconds of silence, Prowl seemed to relax. Jazz promised himself that he would bring this up again soon.
He felt safe as he fell asleep. He knew nothing would happen to him while he was with Prowl.
Jazz woke up to Prowl gently caressing his head.
“Good morning,” Prowl said.
Jazz hummed, “Morning.”
Prowl shifted and got up out of his makeshift bed, which he had made in his cave. It was mostly a collection of animal pelts and blankets, but it was comfortable enough.
“Early start?” Jazz asked.
“One of my brothers wanted to talk to me today. I might end up being gone for most of the day.”
Prowl huffed and adjusted his wings as he changed his position.
“What are your plans for today?” Prowl asked.
”You ask like you don’t already know,” Jazz joked.
”It’s polite,” Prowl said.
Jazz was impressed and intimidated by Prowl’s abilities.
He could predict things before they happened. At least as long as he knew enough about all of the factors involved. From what Jazz understood, there were very few things Prowl didn’t understand enough to predict events. Whenever he came across a new unknown, he would fall into a flurry of research until he knew enough about it to make an accurate prediction.
Prowl knew Jazz enough to accurately guess what he was going to be doing most of the time. Or at least that’s what Jazz assumed. Prowl had never confirmed it.
“Run some errands and head back to my place, nothing weird.”
“I’ll fly by tonight,” Prowl kissed his head, “Maybe we could do dinner?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick something good up.”
Prowl guided Jazz outside of his cave and picked Jazz up from underneath his arms. Jazz didn’t feel the need to grab onto Prowl as he took to the sky. He knew Prowl would never drop him. The early morning air burned against his lungs. Early morning light was just starting to swoop across the forest.
The flight was short and familiar. Prowl dropped Jazz near the trail. They embraced one final time before Prowl took off into the trees.
Jazz’s phone pinged as soon as Prowl flew away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“You know you could at least pretend like you're not listening,” Jazz said.
“I haven’t got a single clue what you're talking about, Jazz.” His phone started a call without interaction or prompting. “I just called at a good time.”
“Sure,” Jazz said. “Blaster, you are one of the worst liars I know.”
“He always drops you off around the same time. I saw your location change rapidly, and I waited before splicing into your phone.”
“Smart,” Jazz said.
”Yeah, I don’t want to hop in while you two are being all romantic. I did that with Rewind and Chromedome once, and I am still traumatized.”
“Does Rewind know that?” Jazz asked, fighting to keep a smile off his face.
“Thankfully, no. If Eject ever found out, I don’t think I would ever live it down. I don’t want to think what Rewind would do.”
Jazz slowed his walk down as he talked with his friend. He had known Blaster for longer than he had known Prowl.
He just hadn’t really known what Blaster was until recently. He had assumed his friend was human. Just a really shy one that didn’t go outside a lot.
Blaster had trouble describing what exactly he was. He said he just existed one day. Blaster was some kind of digital ghost. Or entity, being? Jazz wasn't sure what the right word was. Blaster existed on the internet. He was good at pretending to be human online.
“You want to hike back with me?” Jazz asked.
”Maybe another time?” Blaster said nervously. He heard Blaster sigh over the line, “I don’t know how you do all of that every day.”
“What all the hiking?” Jazz said as he walked down the trail.
“All the breathing, the walking, the existing! So exhausting to actually have a body.”
“I’ll take your word for it, I like breathing and all the existing stuff,” Jazz said.
“I don’t get what you see in it,” Blaster said. “Or what Rewind and Eject see in it. My own programs; I don’t know how they turned out so different from me.”
“The bane of parents everywhere, why did my children end up so differently from me?”
Blaster let out a burst of static. “They aren’t! They’re not my- They’re copies of my program; they’re not my kids! They were never children! They’re only a few weeks younger than me!”
“I don’t know, man, sounds kind of like they’re yours. Only a matter of time before you admit it.”
“You're a better troll than me sometimes, and you should wear that badge with a sense of honor.”
”Oh, I do, trust me, I do,” Jazz smirked and laughed quietly.
“Want to hop on a game tonight?” Blaster asked. “Found some new ones!”
“As long as you keep your skill level in the realm of human possibility, I don’t want to get banned for having a hacker on my team again.”
”That only happened once,” Blaster said.
“My poor account, gone forever,” Jazz shook his head as he smiled. “Such a loss.”
“See you tonight?” Blaster asked.
“Yeah, man, I’ll see you tonight.”
The call went dead. Jazz put his phone away. He trusted Blaster not to linger. He knew he could. But he trusted his friend to at least kind of respect his privacy. Kind of at least. Blaster wasn’t always the best with that sort of thing. He was never human; he was never raised by anything. Every social norm was something Blaster learned, and sometimes he didn’t understand some concepts. Privacy was one of the things Blaster struggled to comprehend.
Jazz hiked down the trail back towards where he parked his car. The only sound he heard on the trail was the sounds of his feet hitting the dirt. The animals had all been spooked off by Prowl. It was a common occurrence whenever Prowl would drop him off.
It wasn’t unusual at all, so Jazz didn’t think anything of it.
What was out of the ordinary was the sound of jet engines overhead. It was a familiar thing, but not one that had been heard in this area before. Jazz frowned and looked up as the sound got louder. The ground under his feet rumbled as the sound got louder and louder.
He didn’t have time to react as sound thundered around him. He heard a sound he couldn’t describe.
He looked up and saw a metal titan. It towered over his head. It looked like a robot, wires and metal and all. It had a very human face. Its expression was a firm sneer as it looked down at him.
Jazz had become very familiar with different creatures. Prowl had wanted to be sure that Jazz knew what things to avoid. Not all creatures were friendly with humans. Jazz was very familiar with all of those. This wasn’t a creature he recognized. He had met and heard of many of the things that lived beside humans. He racked his brain and couldn’t figure out what this one was. He couldn’t recall Prowl ever warning him about something like this.
Unknowns were dangerous. Unknowns killed humans who didn’t understand what they were dealing with. Unknowns where things Prowl couldn’t predict and couldn’t warn Jazz about. Prowl had told him if he was ever unsure about what he was dealing with, he should run.
Jazz tried to run, but the massive creature grabbed him by his leg before he could get far. Jazz scrambled to find purchase on the ground, but all he was able to do was scrape his skin against the gravel.
Jazz yelped as he was dragged up into the air.
“Silence, you pitiful creature,” It hissed. Its red eyes glowed brighter as it glared down at him.
“Let me go!” Jazz screamed. His leg ached from the angle he was being held. He dangled over the ground and tried to lift himself to free his trapped leg. The creature abruptly let go of dipping. Jazz closed his eyes as he fell. He landed harshly in the creature's other hand.
Jazz felt his phone slide out of his pocket. He watched in slow motion as it hit the ground. He swore.
“Be quiet, or I will make you quiet,” it said.
Jazz breathed heavily as he heard the sound again. He was encased in metal. He felt restraints around his chest. He looked around and realized he was in the cockpit of a fighter jet. His arms were trapped at his side by a seat belt that had wrapped itself around him several times. He couldn’t even move his head. The straps secured his neck in place and barely allowed him to breathe through his nose.
He was pushed back onto the stage as the plane took off into the sky. He gagged in his mouth as the craft accelerated. He dipped in and out of consciousness. The speed was too much for his body.
No matter how much he struggled, he was unable to free himself. He forced himself to breathe and struggled to stay awake. He awoke to the loud sounds of metal. He fell several feet as soon as he opened his eyes. He was in a large metal hand again.
He blinked and wheezed as he struggled to figure out what had happened. It was like his world had skipped forward.
“Another one?” A voice said disdainfully. Jazz couldn’t see who or what was speaking. He tried his best to move to find the source of the voice, but he was still slightly out of it. “Starscream, you can’t honestly expect anything out of this endeavor, can you?”
A cruel laugh sounded out in the air.
“Honestly, I don’t know why Shockwave insists we keep trying; none of them survived.”
Jazz was still slightly delirious, but his blood ran cold. Adrenaline pumped through his body. He opened his eyes and did his best to analyze what was going on. He was loosely held in the grip of a creature as it walked him down a giant hallway. Everything was made of metal. Wherever he was, it was cold. He was shivering as they walked down the hallway.
Dim purple lights shone overhead. Jazz had to strain his eyes to make out anything in the dark.
“Where are you taking me?” He asked.
He wasn’t graced with a response. With each step that echoed down the hallway, he was filled with more dread. He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t know what they were going to do to him.
He wasn't graced with anything besides a glare from the creature that was holding him. The hand underneath him moved its fingers, covering him. He was pressed down uncomfortably against the creature's palm. He struggled to breathe as the fingers tightened on him.
The only thing he could do was focus on his breathing as he was marched down the halls of wherever he was. Each breath was a struggle. Painful. He wanted Prowl, he wanted Blaster. He didn’t want to be there.
He stopped hearing the metallic clangs of footsteps hitting the floor. He heard air shift. Quiet words he couldn't make out were exchanged. The hand opened around him, and he took a sharp breath as it was suddenly much easier to breathe.
“This one screams less than the others.”
Jazz shivered at the cold and emotionless tone. The words filled him with dread.
He was plucked up by a slightly more delicate hand. Another creature. More metal. This one was red and blue. Its red eyes sneered down at him.
“Pitiful thing. Your kind is hardly worth the air you breathe on this planet.”
“Starscream,” Another voice called inside this new, horrible space. ”You waste your time conversing. It will either survive or it will not. Wasting your time on tormenting it is not an optimal way to spend your time.”
”Your lack of flair is boring as always, Shockwave.”
“I do wonder how long this one will last,” Starscream smiled cruelly down at Jazz.
Jazz shook. He felt fear. For the first time in a long time, he felt genuine fear. No one knew where he was. If Jazz didn’t know what they were from Prowl’s warnings about things to avoid, then Prowl probably didn’t know about them either.
Shockwave carried Jazz to the far corner of the room. The metal titan barely spared a glance as Jazz was lowered down into something. Jazz was unceremoniously dropped into what he would describe as a dark box. Jazz didn't know what to do as he sat in the dark little prison. He smelt copper in the air. It was too dark to see inside the box. It didn’t give him much hope.
He started to hear whispers. Out of a corner, he saw a faint glow, the vague outline of a person. Its form flickered and shifted, never quite settling on one shape for very long.
“Who’s there?” Jazz whispered.
“A new one,” The figure said.
Its voice was layered, many voices speaking at once. Different ages, different tones, even different accents. He felt colder as the figure took on a more defined shape.
It was a ghost.
Jazz sat up as he looked at the flickering form of the ghost. ”Maybe he’ll survive?”
Jazz kept his eyes locked onto the ghost. It approached him. Its head tilted as it looked down at him.
“He hears us?” It said.
“Maybe,” The ghost spoke to itself.
“What are they going to do to me?” Jazz asked.
A singular voice spoke out, “Is that something you really want to know?”
The figure stopped shifting. It took on a solid, singular form. It was shaped like a man. Parts were missing and replaced. He saw through the ghost into the other side of the box. The figure illuminated the cell as it became more solid. Stains littered the little cell, deep red, browns, and streaks of blue.
“Did they take all of you?” Jazz asked carefully.
“Yes,” many voices came out of the figure. It started to shift again, and its form flickered.
Jazz felt sad. Each voice and each form this spirit had taken was a different person. With how many forms he was seeing it shift into, Jazz wasn’t feeling too good about his situation.
“How many are you?” Jazz asked.
”We don’t know,” The man spoke again.
“We can lend you our strength, so you might live,” A young voice spoke this time, a child.
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Jazz whispered. He glared at the ghost, “What are they going to do to me?”
“Not much hope here. The first died a month ago, the second the next day. More people, more days, none live. We are all. We want one to live. We want vengeance. Take our strength and live.”
Jazz had been taught not to take bargains from anything. It was something Prowl was paranoid about.
“If I say no?”
“Our strength is yours anyway. We give it freely; it is a gift.”
Jazz didn’t agree or disagree with their offer.
“I want to know what they’re going to do to me,” Jazz insisted.
Could I perhaps,,, know a bit more about the mech with the red chevron?
Hi there, so nice to see you on here! Yes, yes I do want to share more about this one since it's been close to my chest.
TMR as it's called came about after writing some smut last year, funny enough, but it was very different than what it is now. xD This AU is me missing museums, loving plants, wanting Jazz to be around more kids (bc my headcanon is he's great with them and likes their company!) and wanting Prowl to be a girl dad. Having Prowl not be a cop is exciting, and Jazz as a teacher just works.
In TMR, Prowl's the new guardian for a 15 year old Strongarm after her creator/the mech he'd been dating shows their true colors. After seeing her struggling more and more, he decides to take the opportunity to transfer from Petrex's Museum of Fine Arts in Praxus to Iacon's History, Museum and Crystal Garden (IHMC) to be their exhibition curator.
Strongarm is adjusting as best she can, but her relationship with Prowl is different now that he's with her full-time. There's tension there and she knows he loves her but he is just so busy. It's hard.
Jazz is a high school dance teacher who's there for kids with rough home lives, making sure his room can be a place they can relax and let things out. Strongarm joins the class, and he notices something is up. He's determined to help as best he can.
Their worlds collide one fateful field trip day, and Strongarm and her new friends and the bots' respective coworkers have it in their processors now that these two really do need to meet again. And again. And again.
If only Prowl realized the mech likes him back!
Comedy, hurt/comfort, family dynamics, slow burn, meet cute!
All the things. The 3sf has just been a fun place to test out ideas!
Trayvon Martin should be turning 30 years old this week. As we honor his life, achievements, and joy, we send love to his family.
Trayvon Martin’s story reawakened a global civil rights movement under Black Lives Matter, uniting millions of us in the continued fight for racial justice.
We remember him by the words of his mother, Sybrina Fulton: as a boy who was “a vessel that represents so many others;” a boy who sparked a movement; a boy who deserved to grow old.
oooooh i wanna hear about “practice kissing (muppet au)” and “someone has a kink” 👀
Hi there autolysed! The Muppet AU is something @foxtherad and I have been very silly with, and the way these two secret lovers would smooch was something we had lots of laughs over.
Imagine this predicament: Prowl's a bird with a giant, razor sharp beak and Jazz is his fuzzy lover with a squeaky nose and no lips. It makes an awkward time finding the right angle to kiss like other mecha do.
Solution? They smooch like birds do, weaving back and forth and nipping at each other gently. When Prowl asks if Jazz if he wants to French kiss, Jazz goes along willingly but quickly learns that Prowl's idea of it is very different. (But don't worry, Jazz the Dog is very into it.)
Secrets, secrets!
But excited to write this one and share a doodle or two!
As for someone has a kink...this is a threeSF fill from my longer no Cybertronian war AU called, 'The Mech With The Red Chevron' (TMR)
Prowl's a single parent with a teenage Strongarm who's a new transfer to Iacon's History, Museum and Crystal Garden. Jazz is a dance teacher at Iacon High who just so happens to have Prowl's ward in his class!
This one will be a very slow burn but has some very fun and awkward moments planned, including this one! Things have started heating up over on my ao3 (M) and the two are going to be exploring some kinks like exhibitionism and voyeurism with the power of the DataNet, a black wand vibrator and an ethical porn site!
Have been having lots of fun with that one (and figuring out a name/categories on said site with friends has also been delightful. :D)
Now to just finish the first chapter and not have it just live in my head and docs (please bonk me)
Tea DOES make everything better!
*giant eyeballs* can I have some dets pls <3
Hello, hello! And yes, I agree! It really does <3
This is my teashop jazzprowl yuri! Wanted Prowl and her siblings working in a tea shop in either Polyhex or Praxus and Jazz is an artist who snuck out to order herself a drink to help her recover from a rough few nights of gigs! Of course she'll never miss grabbing her order from the cute (and intimidating) bot across the counter!
I need more but am a bit stumped on where to go!!!!!! AAAAA
Snippet for you:
Jazz was feeling fraggin' horrible, and was hoping to just make it in and out of the shop without any fanfare. The last thing she wanted right now was for any bot to ask for photos or autographs.
She'd skipped the traffic and opted to just walk the short distance to the coffee shop instead from her suite, much to Wave's disapproval.
C'mon. She was a grown mech, she could get herself her own gods damn drink if she wanted to.
Nevermind that she was feeling awful. Did she mention she was feeling awful?
Jazz didn't get sick. She didn't get sick because if she got sick she couldn't perform and if she couldn't perform she couldn't get gigs and if she didn't get those gigs she couldn't pay rent.
If there was one thing Jazz was good at, regardless of her actuators feeling like lead, was keeping herself unseen when she wanted to be.
She had slipped on a different colored visor and pulled on whatever she could find that was 'normal' (in her case, a knitted scarf her creator had made sure to send before her sparkday) to stay undetected.
She'd traveled through enough cities to know that there were bots everywhere that could so she went with throwaway aliases.
The pretty bot on the other side of the till was the only exception she'd make, however. To her, she was called 'Symphony'.
Prowl was terrifying and beautiful at the same time with a bright red chevron that was sharp enough Jazz thought it could cut a bot if they even tried to look at her wrong.
How she managed to move so gracefully around the glasses and crystals with such a lovely set of door wings, Jazz would never know.
And her optics? Wowzers.
Ok I want to ask about like. MOST OF THOSE WIPS LOOOL but I shall contain myself…
Tell me about “sweet salvation” pls pls pls. And… also “wet and messy” maybe 🫣
Awww Lamp, you're wonderful! I still get very shy about sharing my wips but getting better at it! Both of these are from the mechafauna AU where Jazz and Prowl are conjunxed and rescuing cybertronian critters that landed on Earth with a band of misfits!
Here's some sweet and spicy snippets for you because I like both flavors very much!
Sweet Salvations:
"You have a meal yet, lovely lover?"
[Too early. Much to do still,] came the reply through their private comm-link.
Jazz leaned a hip on the console. "Mhmm. I can see that. Well, you're one lucky mech with a 'junx who's got some foresight and some sticky digits."
A sleight of hand, and a piping hot mug of energon appeared in Jazz's free servo. Don't worry, he got this.
"Gotcha somethin' nice on my way outta the rec room. Whaddya say I take Teletraan I out for a spin, babe? My WPM's gotta be up there in the fifties, at least."
His Prowler had been distracted long enough that he'd taken the stylus out from his lipplate to roll between some digits.
Getting closer.
"How did that not spill on the way here?" Prowl teased instead of falling for the bait.
Jazz gasped loud enough that the bots chatting in the corner paused to glance their way. The Polyhexian quickly stuck his servo under a wing to signal he was fine to everyone, much to his partner's embarrassment.
Visor and bond glittering with mischief, Jazz pressed himself up to his conjunx a little more.
Time to lean in for the kill.
Wet and Messy valveplug under the cut! (cw: spike and valve play, mutual masturbation, sex toys, tribbing, side difference, pet names)
Prowl bit his lipplate hard enough he felt the slightest sting of a fang piercing metal, spike twitch in his hand at the visual.
"Don't hide yourself, angel. I wanna hear all those pretty sounds of yours, remember?"
A nod, and Prowl released his lipplate with a shaky invent. His spark pulsed faster as he looked into his partner's bright visor, at the way he was smiling up at him with so much affection and want.
"You enjoyin' yourself, sugar?" Jazz panted. "Like grindin' your wet valve on me?"
"Oh, Jazz," Prowl's hips stuttered as he lost the tempo momentarily. His digits squeezed his conjunx's hips as started rocking against his partner's leg kibble in earnest. "I do. It--ah!--it feels amazing."
Jazz groaned. "Beautiful. I love hearin' you, love it when you take your pleasure!"
Prowl felt himself flushing even darker at the noise coming from his and Jazz's slicked servos. They were dripping all over the berth, but he couldn't keep his optics away as he saw the toy slowly disappear in his partner's valve.
