Five down and one more to go.
Title: Where there is - Black and White 5/6
Rating: G
Warnings: More weirdness ahead.
Pairings: Implied Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, and someone else.
Prompt: For the December Challenge of the ProwlxJazz community: "where there is darkness, light."
Notes: This one's shorter and a little confusing. I don't like the beginning much, though but I'm too braindead and nothing's coming to me. This piece is G1 AU.
He truly believed there were souls, sparks, which despite their inherent light, were as dark as a black hole at their core. He did, because his was one of the darkest out there.
A spark that saw suffering and could not find an iota of sympathy. A spark that saw pain and wished nothing more but to increase it. A spark so twisted and vile, that he saw those like him as nothing more than little pieces of a board game, to be played with, toyed with, and disposed of or sacrificed whenever he felt like it.
Friendships did not last, for he didn't know what the meaning of friendship was. Love was non existent, there was no room for such feeling within that black void within his spark. Loyalty did not exist, trust was impossible to give, commitment was a joke to be laughed at. He ran around the world, rampant, living a life of excess and abuse, of violence, because in the end, nothing else mattered but his desires.
Then, he met him. He loathed him with such intensity he almost thought he'd burn his spark out with the flames of his hatred. He was good, very good in fact. He caught him when nobody else could, he overpowered him when nobody else could hold him down. And his optics burned with anger whenever he looked straight into the other mech's. At first he thought he had seen pity in those optics, as he was made stand up and pushed nonchalantly towards the transport. And that made him hate him more.
He saw him a second time, locked alone in his cramped little cell, after the last therapist left, declaring him a lost cause. Those blue optics that looked at him with so much emotion, which he decided he hated.
"Everyone has given up on you," he heard the mech say, and let out a bitter bark of a laugh, but stopped upon hearing the mech talk again. "But I will not."
The words were spoken with such certainty, such determination, he couldn't help but feel suddenly so small, a shadow repelled by a bright, blue light.
"Why would you care?" He asked the mech, wishing his voice didn't sound so small.
"Someone has to."
"I don't want your help!"
"That's too bad, because I'm not asking if you want it." the mech left, ignoring his words as he spat insults and hurtful words, promising him all kinds of tortuous fates should he ever dare to come back.
But he did come back, had him partly energized, all weaponry removed, and around his wrists, small inhibitors kept as a precaution dictated by law. He growled and spat more insults, all of which were met with an impassive barrier, expression unreadable, and optics soft and sad. He hated the caring he could see in those optics, Primus, he hated him.
He was brought into the mech's home and introduced to his mate. He almost made a snarky comment about how pathetically sweet of them had been to paint each other in matching colors, only for him to realize, from a small holographic display laying on a piece of furniture, that they had always been black and white. Like darkness and Light mingling together.
He realized soon they were also as different as day and night, yet the way they carried themselves clued him that those differences made them complimentary to each other. One lively and boisterous, friendly, kind, gentle and a little mischievous himself. The other stoic, quiet, reserved, strict, lawful and still kind and gentle. He could see an understanding between both, a perfect balance, a little bit of darkness to even out the light.
They welcomed him into their home, gave him a place to keep warm, something to do to keep his mind occupied, educated him where others left him on the streets to rust, they gave him love, they poured light into his darkness. And although old habits die hard, he found himself slowly ditching his old ways. That extra energon goodie he'd sneak at night, the extra currency he'd subtract from their accounts for his own use.
And they knew it. Both of them knew, and neither ever brought up a hand to strike his face plating, never yelled at, never given more than just a knowing look. At first he thought them stupid for not doing anything, idiots he could live off of, but eventually the kind smile of the slightly shorter one, with the blue visor and black horned helm, asking him if he'd like more energon during their meals forced remorse into him, and he stopped stealing energon. The book files and other recreative materials the one with the white helm and bright red chevron would bring him, giving him even a data card with an allowance all for himself to spend as he saw fit, and he stopped hacking into their accounts.
They gave him everything he never knew he wanted, the darkness of his spark dissipated under the blinding light of the two mechs' love.
He had been but a vicious, street hardened youngling when the one called Prowl caught him and took him under his and his mate, Jazz's proverbial wing. He felt for the first time what it was like to be loved, what loving someone felt like, because he loved these mechs as if they were his creators, and in a sense, they were.
On the orn his first true, legal upgrade, they proposed his adoption and he accepted gladly. On that orn, he choose to leave behind everything he once was, the blue patches of paint on his mismatched armor parts were removed, and he took on a similar appearance to that of the mech he once loathed but now loved like a son loved a father.
The blue paint on top of grey primer was gone, silver, black and red sparkled brightly matching a white face. Once golden optics now a beautiful shade of blue. They let him pick his own name, and both approved his choice with a smile. Bluestreak. A reminder of who he used to be to make sure he'd keep straight in this new path in life. A reminder that he was someone new, hopeful, optimistic, determined to be a ray of light in any lives he'd touch, just like Prowl and Jazz did for him.
Rating: G
Warnings: More weirdness ahead.
Pairings: Implied Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, and someone else.
Prompt: For the December Challenge of the ProwlxJazz community: "where there is darkness, light."
Notes: This one's shorter and a little confusing. I don't like the beginning much, though but I'm too braindead and nothing's coming to me. This piece is G1 AU.
He truly believed there were souls, sparks, which despite their inherent light, were as dark as a black hole at their core. He did, because his was one of the darkest out there.
A spark that saw suffering and could not find an iota of sympathy. A spark that saw pain and wished nothing more but to increase it. A spark so twisted and vile, that he saw those like him as nothing more than little pieces of a board game, to be played with, toyed with, and disposed of or sacrificed whenever he felt like it.
Friendships did not last, for he didn't know what the meaning of friendship was. Love was non existent, there was no room for such feeling within that black void within his spark. Loyalty did not exist, trust was impossible to give, commitment was a joke to be laughed at. He ran around the world, rampant, living a life of excess and abuse, of violence, because in the end, nothing else mattered but his desires.
Then, he met him. He loathed him with such intensity he almost thought he'd burn his spark out with the flames of his hatred. He was good, very good in fact. He caught him when nobody else could, he overpowered him when nobody else could hold him down. And his optics burned with anger whenever he looked straight into the other mech's. At first he thought he had seen pity in those optics, as he was made stand up and pushed nonchalantly towards the transport. And that made him hate him more.
He saw him a second time, locked alone in his cramped little cell, after the last therapist left, declaring him a lost cause. Those blue optics that looked at him with so much emotion, which he decided he hated.
"Everyone has given up on you," he heard the mech say, and let out a bitter bark of a laugh, but stopped upon hearing the mech talk again. "But I will not."
The words were spoken with such certainty, such determination, he couldn't help but feel suddenly so small, a shadow repelled by a bright, blue light.
"Why would you care?" He asked the mech, wishing his voice didn't sound so small.
"Someone has to."
"I don't want your help!"
"That's too bad, because I'm not asking if you want it." the mech left, ignoring his words as he spat insults and hurtful words, promising him all kinds of tortuous fates should he ever dare to come back.
But he did come back, had him partly energized, all weaponry removed, and around his wrists, small inhibitors kept as a precaution dictated by law. He growled and spat more insults, all of which were met with an impassive barrier, expression unreadable, and optics soft and sad. He hated the caring he could see in those optics, Primus, he hated him.
He was brought into the mech's home and introduced to his mate. He almost made a snarky comment about how pathetically sweet of them had been to paint each other in matching colors, only for him to realize, from a small holographic display laying on a piece of furniture, that they had always been black and white. Like darkness and Light mingling together.
He realized soon they were also as different as day and night, yet the way they carried themselves clued him that those differences made them complimentary to each other. One lively and boisterous, friendly, kind, gentle and a little mischievous himself. The other stoic, quiet, reserved, strict, lawful and still kind and gentle. He could see an understanding between both, a perfect balance, a little bit of darkness to even out the light.
They welcomed him into their home, gave him a place to keep warm, something to do to keep his mind occupied, educated him where others left him on the streets to rust, they gave him love, they poured light into his darkness. And although old habits die hard, he found himself slowly ditching his old ways. That extra energon goodie he'd sneak at night, the extra currency he'd subtract from their accounts for his own use.
And they knew it. Both of them knew, and neither ever brought up a hand to strike his face plating, never yelled at, never given more than just a knowing look. At first he thought them stupid for not doing anything, idiots he could live off of, but eventually the kind smile of the slightly shorter one, with the blue visor and black horned helm, asking him if he'd like more energon during their meals forced remorse into him, and he stopped stealing energon. The book files and other recreative materials the one with the white helm and bright red chevron would bring him, giving him even a data card with an allowance all for himself to spend as he saw fit, and he stopped hacking into their accounts.
They gave him everything he never knew he wanted, the darkness of his spark dissipated under the blinding light of the two mechs' love.
He had been but a vicious, street hardened youngling when the one called Prowl caught him and took him under his and his mate, Jazz's proverbial wing. He felt for the first time what it was like to be loved, what loving someone felt like, because he loved these mechs as if they were his creators, and in a sense, they were.
On the orn his first true, legal upgrade, they proposed his adoption and he accepted gladly. On that orn, he choose to leave behind everything he once was, the blue patches of paint on his mismatched armor parts were removed, and he took on a similar appearance to that of the mech he once loathed but now loved like a son loved a father.
The blue paint on top of grey primer was gone, silver, black and red sparkled brightly matching a white face. Once golden optics now a beautiful shade of blue. They let him pick his own name, and both approved his choice with a smile. Bluestreak. A reminder of who he used to be to make sure he'd keep straight in this new path in life. A reminder that he was someone new, hopeful, optimistic, determined to be a ray of light in any lives he'd touch, just like Prowl and Jazz did for him.