We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Steeljaw ignoring the implied jibe in her question told Shadow the level of processor fragged exhaustion he'd reached. Steeljaw answering the question with no snark of his own, just a weary honesty that echoed his lean into her, was enough to bring her hands up to settle at the base of his neck, both soothing the tight linkages there and holding him lightly in place.
"Whatever my feline overlord desires." Switching to her own comms, she said, ::You're almost paint free, and I have polish back in my quarters. It's not pillows and infrared heaters, but if you don't want to be alone, it's better than the vents, and less likely to be annoying than your usual spot on the monitors.::
"Polish me and I'll go into recharge on you," Steeljaw mumbled. "On you, on the floor, in the vents, pillows or no pillows - right now I do not care."
He hooked a careful claw into one of her seams, catching around the lip of the her plating. It was a youngling maneuver but he was far too drained to care. "I feel like slag, and I've fragged this all up." Deep invent through the above-liquid vents, exvented through lower submerged vents in a flurry of bubbles. Trying vainly for something that sounded more like himself than the low keen that wanted to burst forth, Steeljaw pushed through words that came out rough but suitably sharp. "I hope Rattrap gave a better show of it."
Uplink was, mercifully, silent. There was a time for words between them, a time when the shadow echo helped, and a time when it didn't, and right then, right now, after the initial burst of relief that his backup was still working, there was nothing that could be said that would make any of it any better.
Last Edit: Nov 24, 2012 16:19:21 GMT -5 by Deleted
"Rattrap was last seen eating a fluorescent yellow cookie," Shadow said. "Which was a show of something, but better is not the word that comes to mind."
She took the hooked-in claw as permission, running both servos down his sides until she could scoop him out of the solvent without leaving half his frame dangling in the air. "I'll steal some pillows from Jazz's quarters," she promised, "and you can take over my berth for a few hours." She ducked her helm against his, adding teasingly, "I can always stuff you in the vent if you aren't gone by the time I want my berth back."
"At least he found the Pit fragging cookie," Steeljaw replied. He leaned in as she picked him up - she was always so careful about it, polite, and it was a relief to sag into a properly supported hold. He rallied enough for one more game try, pushing a weak sense of empty amusement at her. "Though I'm sure if I had found an organic food item I would have had a lot more to say to both of you that wasn't professional before the end of the testing."
Mention of the vents, even in teasing, made him want to keen. Safe, surely, secure, but so very alone and all he wanted to do was cling as long as she would let him. It was queued in his vocalizer to promise any number of compromises - only a tiny section of the berth, or the foot of the berth, or under the berth, or on the floor - but Uplink threaded quietly through the rising panic. [Shh, mech - she's teasing, she's just teasing, haven't you sacked out on her space before?]
He had, of course, and stretched out the berth could hold both of them quite easily. Steeljaw bit back too many words that displayed too much weakness, venting raggedly as he pressed his face to Shadow's plating. Dimly, he felt the brief press of more hands across his back - Jazz - and the saboteur's promise to bring pillows to them if Shadow wanted to head straight back to her quarters. That was safe, and not alone, and Steeljaw curled himself a little closer, heedless of dignity or any other scrapped concern, and let her carry him to it.