Some SG renditions of some music lovin’ bots! Blaster’s SG color palette is official, while I just winged Rosanna’s. (by literally putting a negative filter over her to get the colors.)
Feel kinda awkward about posting this one since it's based on RP and I usually don't post stuff with other people's characters, shippy or otherwise, if they aren't just a background role.
Buuuuuuut...doingitanywaybecausefuckthepolice.
Today, there was no music and frankly, it disturbed Jazz. The base was horrendously quiet and he knew exactly why. The reason sat before him, optics blank and frame shadowed by the lit screens of Teletraan-X.
Rumors had been flying left, right, and sideways about Blurr’s sudden disappearance, how Blaster had somehow been involved and how the mech had threatened Rodimus with the total destruction of the communications network if he hadn’t complied with his demand of servitude. Rodimus, of course, had said he’d bravely defended the army against this usurpation and knocked Blaster unconscious, leaving the officer to be directly hooked into Teletraan’s mainframe.
Jazz didn’t believe a word of it. Threatening the network seemed like something Blaster would do, but in exchange for a leadership role? The bot had confided to him before that he hoped he never was promoted past communications. “Too much zcrunity”, he had said. “I’m more likely to get zlagged for an error vhen I’ve got a pretty title zhan if I don’t.” Clearly, he’d been wrong.
Aforementioned mech was slumped next to Teletraan’s main console, optics dimly flickering as the supercomputer’s hold on him waned and waxed. It was strange seeing the lively mech lying there, cast aside like a broken doll as the mainframe forced him to keep the systems running. Jazz wasn’t sure what Teletraan was doing, but whatever it was couldn’t be good if Blaster wasn’t even moving anymore. He didn’t dare yank the hardline out of Blaster’s helm. Who knew what would happen then?
“Ya hearin’ J at all, Blast?” There was no response, just a gentle dimming of the mech’s optics. Jazz knelt next to the mech, tilting his helm as he examined his friend. Prime’s voice hovered in the back of his processor, angrily denouncing the emotional attachment he had to the mech. It was the one creed of Prime’s he couldn’t quite get behind. He knew that Blaster would send him away if they became too distracted to function for their lord, but until the German speaker said “nein”, he didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge himself.
He was beginning to regret that decision. Seeing Blaster like this settled on his ember poorly, swirling pity and helplessness into a slowly burning rage, one that he couldn’t relieve. Prime was still absent, Blurr was now MIA, and Rodimus…well, who knew if he could even be trusted on a good day, let alone after this. Blaster, of all the mechs, should have been the last to be subjected to something like this.
“C’mon, Blast. J knows Teletraan ain’t gotcha dumb in there,” Jazz remarked, tapping against Blaster’s forehelm insistently. “Gimme some kinda sign y’hearin’ this.”
The screens of Teletraan dimmed before resuming their normal brightness. Jazz’s helm turned, eyeing them suspiciously before turning his gaze back to Blaster. No change.
“Ya ain’t just gonna be leavin’ me out here all alone, are ya?” he continued, settling down to sit next to his friend. It hurt like a wound, but he knew Blaster would go crazy if he was left alone in silence. They both did. “Ya ain’t gonna believe what Rodimus is doin’ neither. Shit’s getting’ crazy an’ J don’t like it.”
There was a small movement, Blaster’s servo twitching and rolling over. Jazz paused, the surge of hope almost making him sick as he waited. Nothing more happened, Blaster’s optics dimming to near black. He could almost scream.
“That ain’t fair, Blast,” Jazz said, trying to keep the waver from his tone as a sudden thought struck him. What if Blaster simply never recovered, even after Teletraan’s hardline was removed? What if he just stayed like this? He shook his helm fiercely. No. That wasn’t an option.
“Ya gotta come back to me, Blast,” he insisted, servo reaching to grip the other mech’s servo. He was strong, but he wasn’t going to be able to last if it kept this quiet. “Gotta wake up an’ get back to playin’ all of ya tunes.” He paused. Blaster had to hear him. His audios never went deaf. “…it’s too quiet with ya like this.”
Blaster’s optics brightened a little, the red returning as his servo twitched again, fingers curling. His mouth, hanging open listlessly with no words forthcoming, finally started moving.
The lines Blaster had bugged, the network he had painstakingly crafted and monitored while he was conscious, came flooding from his mouth. The feed changed every few minutes to something new. Reports from allied countries, private negotiations from half the base, comm calls from Autobots and Decepticons alike, all streaming from Blaster’s vocals in an endless burst of changing tones and languages.
Jazz relaxed a little, feeling the weak grip on his servo change in pressure as the chatter continued. Blaster could hear him. He was somewhere in there, at least.
“J hears ya, Blast,” he replied, answering Blaster’s unspoken question. He shifted, settling against the wall Blaster was propped against. He kept his grip steady, refusing to let Blaster’s servo slip from his. “Don’t ya worry. J gonna figure out how to get you outta there.”
