So... I'm not dead (yet). Here's a preview of my submission for the 2024 Transformers Reverse Big Bang ( @tf-bigbang ), collaborated with the wonderful @onewingedsparrow who did the awesome art that inspired this fic.
This is:
my first ever big bang (reverse, but still)
my first time joining a TF fan event
my second 10K+ fic that I've actually finished
maybe the most fun I've had writing
the fastest I've written so far
The rest will be posted on AO3 starting at July 17th.
i want to like. do a worldbuilding exercise where i just. create. without planning to use it for writing or as a dnd setting. but i havent thought of a magic system in fucking ages i feel weak and dumb and uncreative about it -_-
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Here it is: my submission for the TF Reverse Mini-Bang ( @tf-bigbang )!!
Characters: Arcee, Bumblebee
Summary:
A simple scouting mission for energon goes awry from the start when the groundbridge breaks down, leaving Arcee and Bumblebee stranded halfway across the country. Arcee is not thrilled about having to drive the long way back. Bumblebee thinks this is a great excuse for a road trip. As expected, things do not go the way they would expect.
Also everyone who sees this need to check out @onewingedsparrow's awesome illustration of the fic here!
The rest of the chapters will be posted in the following days.
Prowl looked up from the battle reports at the sound of his office door opening and frowned when Jazz shuffled in. "You should be resting."
"You sound like Ratch'," Jazz replied, aiming for his usual cheer but falling short on account of the mess he was in. Ozone burn marks everywhere, armor dented and torn in places, temp patches covering one entire side, and visor shattered in half, leaving one optic bare. The only reason Ratchet would have allowed Jazz out of medical would be because he didn't have enough room.
...or maybe Ratchet hadn't allowed, and Jazz just snuck off on his own when the medic was busy with others. They just had an intense battle at Kappa Pass, securing the passage between Iacon and Kalis. The Decepticons had brought Bruticus Maximus, while Autobots from both Iacon and Kalis threw everything to defend the area and drive the Decepticons back south. Jazz had been in the thick of it, engaging the combiner directly, and it showed in every bit of his plating.
Prowl kept his disapproving stare until Jazz reached the couch for visitors and sank into it. "Has Ratchet discharged you?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Prowler," Jazz said, fiddling with his broken visor and coaxing it to come loose. Bits of reinforced crystals fell to the floor in glittering patterns. He wagged the unbroken end at Prowl. "And anyway, look who's talking. Optimus specifically told everyone those reports can wait. You're making the rest of us look bad by overachieving, Prowl, including Optimus himself."
Without the shield of his visor, Jazz's gaze was hundred times more intense. Prowl shuddered lightly. "I was not in the center of the fighting."
"No, you were blowing out that powerful processor of yours trying to keep track of and micromanage everything. Ratchet won't be happy if he has to treat you for headache on top of everything just because you don't know how to wind down."
Prowl flared out his doorwings. "I have to keep track of everything, if we are to win the battles."
He'd worked surprisingly well with the lead strategist from Kalis, and Autobot casualties had been at minimum as a result. He was proud of that, if nothing else.
"Ain't gonna help win the war if you burn out first," Jazz replied. He set aside the broken visor and fished out a replacement from his subspace.
Prowl watched Jazz examine the new visor critically, noticing tiny glints from shattered crystal particles still stuck near the saboteur's optics. Before Jazz could attempt to put on his visor, Prowl stood from his chair and strode around his desk. "Jazz, wait."
Jazz stilled as Prowl carefully brushed off the particles. Then Prowl took the visor and sat on the couch to get a better angle at lining up the edge with the connectors on the other's helm, making sure it was inserted in correctly. The visor, custom designed and built to be exact, fit smoothly and Prowl tried not to lament it when Jazz's optics went back to being hidden away.
The visor flickered as it integrated with Jazz's systems. He made minor adjustments for his comfort, then grinned.
"If I'd known all it took to get you away from your desk was to pretend I need help with this thing..."
Prowl gave a small smile of his own. "You are already too good at distracting me from work."
Jazz laughed. "Flatterer."
He shifted on his seat and leaned heavily on Prowl's shoulder, powering off his optics. "Well, I did come here to rest, actually, so let's see see if I can distract you just by recharging."
Prowl started to protest, but Jazz's engines were already purring contently, and really he wasn't wrong about that headache.
Later, when Ratchet came looking for Jazz and yell at Prowl for overclocking, he found the pair in deep recharge against each other on the couch. Tutting, he draped a medical blanket over them and left quietly.
The moon they had landed on was covered in ice and snow. It was a good enough pit stop as any—the moon was big enough to have its own atmosphere and received enough sunlight for their solar harvesters. Its low temperature should not bother them too much, as long as they stayed inside the ship.
Prowl escaped outside, leaving the engineers to set up the harvesters around the ship and ignoring their offer for protective field generators. Not the most responsible thing for a commander of what may be the last of the remaining Autobot force to do, but Prowl was done being responsible. Being responsible had done nothing for him in this war except get others killed.
As soon as he left the safety of the ship's force field he was greeted with howling wind. It did not take long for his internal temperatures to start dropping to dangerous levels, but Prowl went on. The icy chill biting into his protoform and the cold stares stabbing on his back were nothing compared to the hollow coldness in his spark.
Cold sparked. That was what everyone called him. Some went further, whispering that he did not have one at all. Some did not even whisper.
Perhaps they were right, because Prowl was not feeling much right now, not even the cold outside. It seemed as if the temperatures on his frame were starting to match with the ones within him. Prowl embraced it--this freezing numbness was better nothingness.
Something caught in his foot and he stumbled. His knees sank into the snow, soon followed by the rest of his frame. Prowl shuttered his optics as he lay in the snow. At least these were not acidic like the rains in Praxus. His systems beeped an alert on low temperature, insisting that he find shelter immediately or risk stasis.
A hand caressed his doorwings like a breeze.
"What are you doing here, sweatspark?"
Jazz. Prowl did not open his optics. "Waiting for you," he murmured.
A quiet laugh. Ghostly. "You know this ain't the right way to do that."
Prowl wanted to lean in to the touch, but his frame, now frosted over, was too heavy. A warning that he was going to go into stasis if the core temperature did not stabilize at once appeared on his display with a countdown.
"Come on now," Jazz said. "Back to the ship."
He felt himself get pulled up, but Prowl made no effort to move.
"Prowl, don't do this."
"If I open my optics, will you be there?" Prowl asked, watching the countdown tick steadily.
Without looking, he could imagine Jazz cocking his head slightly. "Sure."
Prowl blinked. Bluestreak's worried face came to full view. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were on either side, their expressions hidden under battlemasks as they tried to pull Prowl up out of the thick snow.
Jazz wasn't there.
"Liar," Prowl whispered as the countdown reached zero.
He was only responded by an apologetic laugh in the wind, far more real than the snow itself.
Of course Jazz wouldn't be there, Prowl chided himself as oblivion took over. Jazz was gone.
Jazz had gone dark after the power went out unexpectedly at the Decepticon base. The ensuing chaos helped the rest of his team get out, but no one noticed that Jazz wasn't talking in the comms until they all arrived at the rendezvous and he didn't show up.
Prowl was not panicking.
"Power outage?" he asked. "Why would the power going out affect our communications?"
"They could have a signal jammer running on emergency," Mirage said as if explaining something obvious to a youngling. Despite his cold haughty demeanor, there were tendrils of concern and fear slipping through his field.
"Relax, Commander, Jazz is a pro at this," Blaster said, which was a little hypocritical because his scans through frequencies were anything but relaxed. He was the one panicking, not Prowl. Prowl did not panic.
"And stop trying to reach Jazz," Mirage snapped at Blaster. "He doesn't have a scrambler like you do. You'll be broadcasting his location to any con half paying attention and we know Soundwave is in there."
Hound, who had been watching anxiously, laid a hand on Mirage's arm. "Mirage..."
Mirage just shook it off and stalked back to their evacuation transport. After hesitation, Hound followed him.
Blaster raised his optic ridges. "Someone's got a stick up their aft," he muttered, though he stopped actively scanning in case Mirage was right about accidentally exposing Jazz.
Prowl started pacing.
His tac module went over all the possibilities and tagging the probabilities for each. Their time window for evacuation was closing. If Jazz did not show up or make contact soon, the rest of them would be forced to leave him. Prowl thought about the possibility of Jazz being captured already. Statistically it wasn't high because Jazz rarely ever got caught in his missions, but the probability that something had gone wrong was getting higher with every astrosecond. Prowl tried not to think how his first time coordinating with the Spec Ops is about to end with Jazz getting captured for the first time in ages.
Or worse... but no. Prowl shut down that particular line of thought with some violence.
The chronometer kept ticking away. Prowl was about to call Prime to inform about their delay when—
"'Sup, fellas?"
Blaster yelped, throwing his scanners in the air and whirling around. Prowl jumped as well, though that was more because of Blaster yelling than the root cause of it.
Jazz easily caught Blaster's equipment and gave it back, grinning like a cybercat. Apart from obvious scratches and minor dents, he appeared whole and unharmed. "Did I miss something?"
Blaster took his scanners and made a sound between a laugh and a growl before contacting command to report success.
"Jazz, you—" Prowl started, then vented sharply. He started leading the way back to their transport. "What happened?"
"Ah, sorry for dropping off the grid," Jazz said, following easily. There was a slight limp in his gait but if that was the worst injury he had Prowl would take it as a win. "Soundwave was on to me and I had to think fast. Shot out the power core but then I had to offline my comm suit 'cuz Soundwave was mad after that." He chuckled as if getting Soundwave mad was a funny joke. "I was actually more worried he might track our rendezvous point."
"You knocked off the power?" Prowl demanded while Blaster grumbled about being taken for an amateur. He should have known it was too good a fortune to have been a coincidence. "The contingency plan for Soundwave was for everyone to get out as fast as possible, not go deeper in to take out the power!"
"The core wasn't too far off from my position at the time and it was a good way to buy everyone some time."
They reached the ramp. Mirage was standing on the top with folded arms while Hound just looked happily relieved. Whatever complaints Mirage was about to give was waved off by Jazz.
Trigger warning : Mentions of death..? I mean they’re at war.
[AN] Yes, another JazzxProwl fic, this time with a little heavier implications of relationship. I'm supposed to be writing my thesis but what the hell, I have my own sleepless nights, I liked the prompt and these two won't leave my head.
*****
It was well past midnight when Prowl finally logged off from his terminal. His work was finished for now, until the next batch of reports and data came in and then it was repeat all over again. All that was left for the time being is to send the compiled results to Prime, but Ratchet had expressly ordered him to hold back until the next shift.
"Both of you need to rest," he'd said. "It won't do any of us good to have either of you on edge."
Having talked to Prime earlier, Prowl was inclined to agree. He had not had a proper recharge for almost a fortnight now, starting with the Delta squad's disappearance, spending every night helping the Intelligence team to locate them, and then waiting while the rescue operation was executed. While Prime had the patience of the Alpha Centauri and keep civil regardless of his mood, Prowl found himself increasingly on short fuse. He needed a break.
However, once he was outside, instead of taking the turn that would lead him to his quarters, Prowl found himself taking the lift to the Observatory.
There was no conscious reasoning behind the decision. His logical circuits pinged, urging him to return, unable to make sense of the path his frame was taking. Yet Prowl continued as if possessed. He simply wanted to go there, drawn by an unseen force deep within himself.
The Observatory was located on top of one of the tallest towers in Iacon, tall enough to overlook nearly all of the city-state, and tall enough that one could barely hear the activity below. Over three quarters of its walls and ceilings were covered in reinforced glass, allowing uninhibited view of both the ground below and the sky above. Occasionally, bots would come here at night to share a private drink. Or to escape the reality that was their never-ending war. Tonight however, the entire floor was empty save for a couple old chairs stacked in a corner.
At the center was a spiral staircase leading up to the largest telescope, capable of capturing light from the deepest space. Oddly enough, the telescope was opened, as well as the service hatch. Prowl's gaze followed the service hatch through the glass ceiling outside.
And found the reason behind his sudden whim.
Jazz was sitting outside, precariously close to the edge. His back was turned, looking up at the starless night sky above. The narrow service hatch was built to send maintenance drones out to clean the windows, but Prowl supposed he shouldn't be surprised that someone as small and agile as Jazz could slip through it to get outside where no one could find him.
Prowl was neither small nor agile as Jazz, but he reached up to pull himself through the hatch as well, grimacing as each loud noise he made echoed across the Observatory. His logic circuits were going haywire, insisting that this was breaking regulations and an insane idea in every form, but he pushed through, eventually managing to clamber out on the roof next to the outside of the telescope. He straightened up, mindful of the glass under his feet and carefully keeping his gaze straight lest the vertigo hits him, and slowly moved towards his partner.
There was no reaction from Jazz, though there was no way he didn't hear Prowl's less than graceful climb through the hatch. Even when Prowl sat next to him there was no word from either of them. After making himself as comfortable as he could, Prowl stole a glance at his partner, who was supposed to have reported to the med bay after the briefing.
Jazz's visor was up. There were ghosts in his optics.
"Stop staring," Jazz suddenly snapped. The visor slid back down, swiftly returning back to the unflappable Third in Command who everyone relied on to keep a cool head.
Prowl knew better though. The Delta Squad had been Jazz's command, sent out on his orders. Now all that was left of the entire team was a single traumatised survivor.
"Sorry," Prowl said, looking away.
Jazz revved, clearly regretting his outburst, though he didn't apologize. "What are you doing here?" he asked after a moment.
"I could ask the same of you."
"You tell me first."
"I came to check on you," Prowl said. It was close enough to the truth, even if he hadn't realize it at first. "Now you tell me."
A puff of air hissed through Jazz's vents. "Had to get away for a bit."
"You could have at least finished your repairs first."
"What, this?" Jazz lifted his arm, where the plasma burn marks from the rescue operation still clung. "This is nothing. It didn't even scratch."
Prowl considered pointing out there could be other hidden injuries, but then decided it wasn't worth risking Jazz's ire at the moment. Not when he is so on edge, both figuratively and literally. There were other, more important matters to address.
"No one blames you for what happened with the Delta Squad," Prowl said carefully, watching his partner's reaction.
Jazz tensed, then sighed. The light from his visor dimmed. "That's what you think," he said.
"That's what everyone thinks," Prowl pressed on. "That's what Optimus thinks."
"Not me."
It was Prowl's turn to sigh. "That's why you're wrong."
Jazz didn't answer.
Gingerly, Prowl placed a hand on Jazz's knee. "You're thinking you should have gone instead of them. You can't be everywhere at once, Jazz."
Jazz stared at Prowl's hand, before placing his on top, clasping it. "I know," he said. Then he flashed a handsome smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine soon. I always do."
Prowl didn't doubt that Jazz would be fine for now.
But he had a sinking feeling that there would be many more nights like these, and if they continued, repeating over and over again...
@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt : Leap of Faith
Fandom : Transformers
Characters : Jazz (with mention of Prowl)
Word count : 543
Trigger warning : Injury
[AN] These prompts are just becoming excuses to write Jazz/Prowl feels...
*****
If there was one redeeming quality about the sublevels in Praxus outer districts, it was the silence. All the night time energy was distributed to the capitol center, which boasted never ending light show through Praxian signature crystals. That was where bots whose day-night cycle was reversed spent their nights, leaving the rest of the city-state in deep recharge.
Jazz limped through the deserted alley, one hand gripping his side, seething quietly. Despite his injury, he stayed alert and moved soundlessly, determined not to make any more mistake that could cost his life. One was more than enough for the night.
This was entirely his own fault, and that was what irked him the most. He had become careless in comfort, thrilled at getting a breakthrough in that last murder case. Because why should he suspect an intruder to be waiting in his own apartment which was notorious for having terrible security? Why would he expect the place he spent safely recharging every night to be safe like any other night? Why should he be surprised that, despite his precautions, someone else had broken in, waiting with a fragging knife in hand?
Because he was stupid, that’s why.
He reached a pile of abandoned storage cubes and sunk behind them to rest and sort out his side, where the damn knife scored a hit. It had been a serrated blade, because of course it was, designed to cause maximum damage whichever way it hit. Jazz was going to find out who sent the wannabe assailant and pay back ten-fold.
After rewiring and clamping off the ruptured lines to the best of his abilities, he leaned back against the wall to figure out what to do next. There was no medical center nearby that was open at this time. His apartment was compromised, and he could not well spend the night here, leaking energon the way he was. There was no one in Praxus he knew, or at least trust enough to go for help either.
No, wait.
There was that stick in the slag pile of an Enforcer called Prowl.
He felt a twinge of unease. With Prowl it was all or nothing. Either Prowl’s sense of justice blinded him to the lawful evils in the world, or he was smart enough to see shades of grey in between. And even then, Jazz was not sure where in that spectrum Prowl would put him in. They’ve only worked together briefly once, and Jazz was sure Prowl suspected his background and would jump at any opportunity to dissect his personal records.
Then it was straight back to the Underground life for Jazz.
Any other times he would rather just die than ask for help from a fragging Enforcer like Prowl, but he’d just had a breakthrough, and it would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste.
Besides, now he had a score to settle.
He checked his chronometer. Prowl would be working nightshift on his own right now. It should be easy enough to approach him discreetly.
It was a shot in the dark for sure, but hey, what was life without a little risk?
Between boring safety and a leap into the unknown, he would always take that leap.
