hello transformers hyperfixation, it's been awhile.
Okay, so some of y'all with me at the devil's sacrament, specially follow me for the transformers stuff.
i am so sorry to yall cause i've been dancing with pretty much every single other hyper fixation beyond that, so this one's for y'all!
Mecha Pilot!Jazz AU! Specifically, the one by @keferon
this is now gonna be a significant part of my personality, cause it has me in a chokehold. I have read every single one of the 46 fics on ao3 and spent twelve hours combing through tumblr so BUCKLE IN.
For fic-ish headcanons and brainstorming ideas because this ain't a fic.....yet.
MechaPilot!Jazz, who is first generation and has done so well with a mecha, barely any body-dysmorphia due to the transition from small, quishy human to giant metal being with- while similar- different anatomy.
He alive too, which is a pro in this project considering what i imagine has led to a considerable body count, especially if you factor in a drift aspect of the mech.
getting your body to withstand the movement, your brain to operate a very large machine to combat efficiency, dealing with either being hooked into systems so hard you feel the pain, or don't, but you still remember the way it felt when you were stabbed, only to walk around after mission's end like nothing happened.
Jazz lives and breathes in this mech and his superiors are pleased.
However, this means that Jazz gets the experimental tech. He gets the new gadgets, the customized weapons, gear, he gets special treatment.
This, in part, is both good and bad.
The freedom Jazz gets is great. He gets his mods, his music and for starting out as an orphan without any documented education, that's pretty great for him.
On the other hand, the constant supervision at base, the medical exams, the doctors, the politicians- regardless of the paycheck, of the food, equipment, Jazz hates that the cons are so negative, but the pros really do make up for it.
However, all good things must come to an end. Just like Viktor was consumed by Vortex (and haunting the narrative just as surely as he was the mecha), just like Ratchet reached his limit with all the dead bodies piling up, just like how Blurr's death meant the end of Shockwave's life, just like- well.
With the ever-increasing numbers of dead, if not missing people, with the alien invasion of Earth in a precarious balance of giving and gaining ground.
Something had to be done.
Jazz had always known- the longer he'd survived, that he thrived, the more he became one with his mecha, the more he excelled, and surpassed expectations- it was always going to be him. He was the best the program had to offer, after all.
With the increased number of brass walking through the base, with the extended hours in the medical halls, with the bigger and better technology that was integrating into his baby and how Jazz's own body was made better, well.
It was only a matter of time.
He's told the program is expanding to space.
He's told it'll be him to lead the way.
An outpost on one of the moons or asteroids in the solar system.
A mecha program, beyond the confines of their own planet.
So he does as he does best.
He puts on a smile, jams out his tunes and does his absolute best to make sure First Aid knows he's the squirreliest nerd he's had the pleasure of meeting. Even if he is a bit too engrossed with the alien's anatomy in all it's gooey and tentacled glory.
Ratchet gets a phone call, some good old-fashioned teasing on his secret boyfriend he still hasn't met and a promise to drop by for a visit. One he hopes he can keep.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get smuggled out of the base to street race in fast cars at fast speeds and Jazz makes sure their asses are covered so they don't get caught.
Hot Rod gets Jazz's old comics, Wheeljack gets the confiscated "illegal" contraband Jazz can smuggle out (the more flammable, the better), Onslaught gets locked in a closet with Blast Off, Nightbird gets a human-size set of ninja weapons that brings a smile to his usually blank face, Swindle gets a pair of fluffy dice and Brawl is presented with a new pair of boxing gloves.
Jazz bargains for Cosmos to be brought down from his lonely space station for a week of down time, and sics Red Alert on him because Cosmos needs friends beyond Jazz and Red Alert needs someone who can keep up with him.
As Cosmos once said, nothing better to do in space then to imagine all the ways everything could go wrong.
Jazz has high hopes for the two of them.
He also takes the time to go visit Blaster, bent over his workbench as he works on his smaller, deployable drone mechas.
Eject and Rewind are powered down on their recharge pads while Steeljaw remains in several pieces, his mechanical paws carefully laid out and disassembled.
Jazz pokes around, suggests some cool feature Blaster's new project could have, such as a rhinoceros base form, because the man's already got a lion, amirite?
A dozen mecha pilots. Thirteen if you count Vortex and First Aid as two.
Expansion into space means expansion of the mecha program. Jazz isn't sure how to feel about that, but regardless longer missions in his baby can excuse a lot of unpleasantry. Especially in the name of preventing the amount of mass casualties and reshaping of landmass on the planet they're currently trying to live on.
Still, a custom shuttle, more spaceship designed for his baby then himself, an AI as a pilot, five years of supplies and material and equipment, all double checked and tripled checked is a whole lot of freedom for one guy.
The aliens deciding the moment Jazz's ship- the one he affectionately calls Cowboy Bebop- is set to launch on his first official mission to cause a mess is pretty much par for the core.
Cosmos coming in clutch, leaving Red Alert behind on his space station to assist Jazz's mission give him just enough time to send confirmation and data back to base that the aliens are entering their solar system via a giant space door.
One that Jazz falls through, riding the wave of destruction from the ships that were attempting to enter their solar system and he thanks anything or anyone that is listening that his Bebop makes it through safely, his own fragile body protected by his mecha.
Landing covertly as possible on an alien planet God knows how far from Earth is probably the most exciting and nerve-wracking thing he's done in the last decade.
Which is saying something, considering the life Jazz lives.
In the end, Jazz will label this is the best day in his entire life, all thirty two years of it, including the last eleven years of piloting his baby through all her ups and down and close calls.
You see, this day, which has led to him being launched to God knows where in the vast, unmapped corners of the universe, to another devastated planet that Jazz has no idea is even in the same galaxy, has a native people he needs- maybe?- to avoid, has a bug problem-
Had a bug investation, oh God if this is what defeat looks like Jazz can't even begin to argue with Shockwave's increasing demands and general creepiness.
Jazz is stuck and on his own, at least, until he meets Prowl.
Prowl changes everything.
Because you see- not that Jazz noticed for a good solid bit of time there- Prowl is not a human. Not only is Prowl not a human, he is NOT a pilot in a mech suit, PROWL is a MECHANICAL LIFEFORM from a MECHANICAL PLANET.
Jazz is going to forgive himself the amount of time it took for him to notice.
In hindsight, a mecha being that pretty? That expressive? The different between the two of them? Jazz should of noticed, but considering the day he's had, a bit of leeway is the least of what he deserves.
Outrunning, outmaneuvering and outsmarting the aliens- Quintessons?- to get Prowl's damaged form onboard Bebop and away to somewhere not crawling with bugs is going up there, straight up to top three moments Jazz can't believe his bullshit worked, right next to an impromptu team up with Vortex, when First Aid was definitely passed out in the pilot's seat.
(Jazz knows how Viktor piloted that mecha, very little has changed since he became Vortex)
Jazz being given directions, a translation data thing, and safe harbor with others, just like Prowl was not in the playbook but he's flying by the seat of his pants here and honestly? Since no one knows where Earth is, he can't get back and it's not like the Quintessons aren't pulling their special brand of bullshit on them as well.
To the amazement, horror and confusion of everyone around him because oh, yeah.
Jazz hasn't told anyone he's a squishy, operating a shell.
Exactly like their stories of a specific boogeyman.
Nightmare fuel for their entire race.
He debates on telling Prowl, sometimes.
When the mech seeks him out, when he gets him to blush when Jazz teases him. When he gets in over his head and can't deny he's fallen head over heels for the second alien Jazz has ever met.
His luck is gonna run out one day.
With the weird truce and meshing of both Autobot and Decepticon troops, he can only hope- or dread- it'll be Prowl. An Autobot over a Decepticon.
Still, Jazz knows he's exactly the kinda guy to push his luck, to get a mile outta that inch he's been given and he ain't about to stop now, no matter how guilty he feels.
