lev_is_trying
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Jazz’s frame hardly let out more than a purr—unless he was purposely revving salaciously at the very uninterested Autobot SIC. Aside from Mirage and a handful of other ‘bots you barely knew, he was the only mech who ran nearly silent-
…Jazz’s engine roared with such enthusiasm you feared going deaf.
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you and jazz and prowl BANG
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Jazz turned onto his chassis with a huff, dimming his visor and snuggling into the few scratchy pillows like a cybercat in a millionaire’s berth.
“I’m just teasin’ ya, Blue. What’s up?”
:I- Okay. I’ve been checking up on someone every few cycles to make sure he’s okay and eating and stuff, but Praxus is pretty far from Iacon, and I can’t make the commute that often and still actually be able to help with reconstruction. Would you… be willing to step in for me?:
Bluestreak was clearly hiding something. Vague speech, stuttering, shaking voice, he had the whole package.
But Jazz was trained in getting himself out of bad situations! Not in avoiding them! Curiosity was brewing in the back of his processor and he at least trusted himself to put the little sniper down if needed.
”Okay. Let’s grab a cube after your shift an’ talk at your place?”
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Prowl was, like, 89% of the reason slag sucked so bad, with his constant nagging at the worst times ever, so Jazz felt no shame in stomping to the door and smashing the button to open, poison on the tip of his glossa-
Just to swallow it down when the Praxian standing before him, optics wide and servo raised to knock again, was decidedly not Prowl.
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singer jazz n bodyguard prowl hate each other SO bad it makes them look stupid.
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Ratchet had been treating desperate, skittish mechs a twitch away from deactivating him since far before the War began.
He had lost just as many mechs as he’d saved in that clinic.
What he could do, though, was save the two unconscious mechs on his operating table.
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Oh…” he breathed, staring at the capture featuring a mechling Bluestreak, chevron stubby and wings held close and low, stubbornly clutching onto Prowl’s arm.
”You knew Bluestreak when he was little..?” he asked, turning to face- to face Prowl who’s intake hung wide open, an uncharacteristic expression of shock.
”I… Jazz… Did you not know?”
”Nnnno?”
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After returning from assisting the restoration efforts, Jazz finds Prowl going through old photos.
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"Come home with me."
Prowl bit her lower lip, a physical effort to hold back the immediate, enthusiastic "yes" that threatened to burst forth. She took a steadying breath, the cool air doing little to calm the fire raging within her. “My coworkers,” she gasps. The mandatory bonding, the cheap whiskey—she'd forgotten all about it in her haste to meet Jazz. “No—they'll be fine without me," she said, her tone firm and final.
______
A cop walks into a bar, and leaves with the experience of a lifetime.
Bookmarked by lev_is_trying
13 Feb 2026
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Do Malwares Dream of Diagnostic Algorithms? by Purpleplums
Fandoms: Transformers - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
14 Feb 2026
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Elita's dead. Shockwave's on Earth. The Autobots on the Ark are soft, undisciplined, wasting resources on sentiment.
Prowl sees exactly what needs to be done. He'll optimize their systems, cut the excess, push them past the victory line. Starting with his first meeting.
Some gaps can't be bridged. Some victories cost everything.
Series
- Part 2 of Recollection of Days Past
Bookmarked by lev_is_trying
07 Feb 2026
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Knock Out finds entertainment in bothering Prowl about his relationship with Jazz, much to Prowl's annoyance.
Aka Prowl and Knock Out frenemy fic with some Jazzprowl.
Bookmarked by lev_is_trying
27 Jan 2026
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- Words:
- 122,725
- Works:
- 9
- Bookmarks:
- 154
Bookmarked by lev_is_trying
25 Dec 2025
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Summary
“Anyways, nothing about Alastor gives ‘maternal,’” Velvette says after a while. Alastor glances over his shoulder from the stove to find her in the barstool beside Valentino’s, now, with her feet propped in his lap. “You’re the mom. I’m obviously the cool aunt. And Vox is our deadbeat husband.”
Alastor snickers at the stove.
“So like, does that make the Radio Demon our kid?” Valentino asks, squinting as he strains the metaphor.
“I dunno—good thing there’s no CPS in Hell.”
Alastor openly snorts.
(The Vees have dinner together like a fucking family, Valentino takes Alastor on a field trip, and Alastor and Vox do some light and friendly bonding activities. Set in approximately S2E6.)
Series
- Part 3 of They Could Have Been Worse
Bookmarked by lev_is_trying
25 Dec 2025