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.
((OOC: Dropped Bee so feel free to puppet him. I'll NPC him for him if you guys would like me to for when Bee's embarrassing reel gets shown, or feel free to write him crying in shame in a corner as you please. XD))
Bee had nearly fallen over laughing and Bulkhead wasn't doing much better, intake and vents mistimed around a laugh that injected air into his tank and had his sytems running choppy. Leaning over, he reached out to nudge at Shadow's shoulder. "Frag, I knew the 'Cons had some dumb ones, but that wins it! He actually tried to run you over? Serious?" He laughed again, the sound only half hiccuped. "What was he, some kinda Mazda Miata scrap? Bearings bigger than his process, that's for sure!"
Shadow looked somewhere between affronted and embarrassed, but that was alright - they were all taking their licks, and with his own safely behind him Bulkhead was ready to just mellow with the high grade warming his circuits and go with it. Nobody ever died from a little friendly ribbing.
Steeljaw had bumped his helm affectionately against Shadow's - ::I may have an idea of something suitable for our little resident rat problem,:: he had allowed, but then Shadow's segment of the review came on and he wasn't going to talk through THAT.
Just as well, as he was promptly pulled into her lap. Steeljaw didn't mind the mechhandling - Shadow had settled comfortably into the position of a friend who had carte blanche to do so - but the stiffness in her field alarmed him. He pushed his own helm up under her chin and pulsed wordless reassurance at her.
Whatever attack of nerves had alarmed her faded quickly enough. Steeljaw's audials perked up in response, field warm and cheerful, but he put on his best approximation of a severe voice as he reached for her arm. "Nevermind that! Did you have this disinfected? Sterilized? Do you have any idea of where that 'Con has been?"
Jazz mock-shook a finger at Shadow, picking up where Steeljaw left off, his glyphs full of playful teasing and an undertone of "I am not being serious at all, no really you are awesome". "Now, I've thought about this incident, Shadow, and I've decided that there are two possible conclusions. One is that that idiot was just glitched in the head. Always a possibility. Second possibility is that.... You are just not scary enough. I mean, that 'Con ran right into you, no fear at all. Obviously not frightened. And then I went over the rest of the footage and found THIS."
The video shifted to the inside of Starscream's lab, focused on a random Eradicon. "Um. You're running out of time, Autobot, I already called reinforcements! They'll be here any second! You better, uh.... Make like a tree! Go on! Shoo!"
Jazz stopped the video (right in the middle of the Eradicon's shooing gesture) and turned to Shadow, deadpan. "Yes, we definitely need to get you some remedial scariness training if ERADICONS are telling you to SHOO. That's it...3pm terrifyingness lessons with Ironhide, every day. In a few weeks you'll have the Raddies leaking oil at the very sight of you."
Shadow had relaxed enough to laugh along with the others, and was cheerfully assuring Steeljaw that no, really, Ratchet made her soak her Con bite in disinfectant the whole time he was welding her side back together, when Jazz suddenly pulled out the last of the footage she'd sent. It reminded her that she needed to talk to Jazz about the human life signals she'd detected on the Nemesis, but that could wait until the party was over. The human hadn't been in imminent danger - aside from the danger posed by the raid itself - and in the aftermath of the raid, Starscream was unlikely to take the time to dispose of one small organic.
Tagging the human as a subject to bring up later, Shadow crossed her arms over Jaws and shot Jazz a grin. "But I don't waaaaanna spend my afternoons with Ironhide," she said, in a fair approximation of the tone of a sparkling denied sweets. "He's boring and he makes me shoot things."
She flopped back more comfortably in her seat, bolstered by Jazz and Steeljaw and the good natured teasing of the other Autobots. "Clearly," and now she rolled her optics at herself, voice shifting back to normal as one hand flicked toward the screen, "I am completely opposed to shooting things."
Her glyphs were full of cheerful self-mockery, and she took a cue from Rattrap's earlier performance, raising her cube in a mock toast. "Or at least I'm opposed to actually hitting them."
Aaaaaaaan' whatever I Spy's problem-a-th-moment was looked like it was solved. Rattrap, still wiping the sticky remains of the energon gummy off his faceplate, gave her a mock glare. "I notice ya ain't got any problem hittin' ME."
Bulkhead had given up any pretense at dignity - not that he had much in the first place - in favor of just laughing, long and loud, until his vents were wheezing static and his plates rattling with the vibrations. "...SHOO..." he managed to blurt out, and then it was just more wheezed laughter as he mimicked the Eradicon's feeble little gestures in Shadow's direction. "Oh Primus, what'd he think you were, a turbocat... Pit, they're gettin' dumber ever day over there!"
Steeljaw settled in against Shadowrunner's chassis, quietly purring. He hadn't had any of the highgrade - didn't intend to - but everyone else had and dignity, or anything like it, was being drowned in overcharged tanks full of highgrade and gummies. So really, cuddling up to the warm mesh of Shadow's chassis was perfectly alright, and he unwound a tool tendril to snag another gummy, which he pitched for distance - or tried to - at Rattrap.
His aim, unfortunately, was lacking, the tendrils never really made for trying to throw things with them, and the gummy fell well short of Rattrap's head. "Scrap," Steeljaw muttered. "Waste of a good gummy."
Shadow offered him another one, possibly as a consolation prize, which he took because really - gummies. Leaning into her plates, he let his engine purr a little harder in her grasp, leaning up to bump his helm lightly against the underside of her chin. "I think Bulkhead's right - if that 'Con thought you were something to be shooed away like a pest, they must be throttling back their processors to conserve power."
Jazz's voice, deepened and amplified as if he were an emcee, boomed out over the room, "And now...the moment you've aaall been waiting for! The star of our show, our scout extraordinaire...BUMBLEBEEEE!" The vidscreen bloomed with an awards-show-style montage of video clips. First, some obviously taken from around the base, of Bumblebee grinning, joking, shadowboxing, playing video games (and winning). Then, some of Bee being badaft that had obviously been donated by other mecha on the base or had been dredged out of the archives: Bee running and shooting and being awesome.
"Now, Bumblebee had some tough competition, but he pulled out an amazing DOUBLE WIN in our award show tonight. First up: The Golden Winglet for Best Performance Impersonating a Seeker! SO good, in fact, that he fooled a seeker himself!"
The vid of the incident with Jetfire had been tricky to deal with. Jazz had only had Bee's own to go with, and the size difference between Bee and the Seeker and the amount of manhandling that Bee had gone through had lent itself to some distinctly non-comedic shots. Jazz had done his best, choosing some of the obviously flaily bits, filling in with some chibi diagrams, and adding in a peppy Three Stooges-esque soundtrack used to frame some of Bee's more hilarious spates of yelling at Jetfire that he was not a seeker.
As hilarious as it was, though, Jazz would have felt slightly bad ending with it, which was why he'd saved the absolute best for last.
"Bumblebee's most outstanding role, though, was no laughing matter. No, Bumblebee's starring performance made the night." Jazz solemnly saluted Bee, then held out a sealed pack of gummies. "Bee, I am proud to award you with the Golden Gummy award for Best Performance Slagging a Decepticon Warship. ...and I've been a 'Bot AND a 'Con. Believe me, I know a good takedown when I see it.!"
The feed from the core had been a slightly easier edit. Jazz had just cut to all the good parts (setting the charges, leaping through the air and catching the catwalk, evading Shockwave and dominoing the Eradicons). He thought that the Chariots of Fire soundtrack as Bee slow-mo leapt for the ventilation shaft and made his escape was a particularly good touch. Also the chibi!Bee making rude gestures at a chibi!Shockwave.
Bee immediately hid his face and gave a muffle chirp-whirr of despair as Jazz cycled up the video and announced his name. Oh Primus, no. If he’d had the vocoder capacity he would have whimpered but settled for flipping his doorwings flat to his back and ducking behind the couch so he could shrink and hide just behind Shadowrunner’s head where he could observe the damning footage with several bots’ worth of mass and a piece of furniture between himself and the humiliation. The distance didn’t help. He felt stupid anyhow and proceeded to hide his face against the back of the couch while the bad parts of the footage which consisted primarily of Bumblebee chibi cartoons on account of Bee having been unconscious or suffered head trauma at the time the old jet had tried to drag him through the Nemesis and toss him out an airlock.
He only peeked through his fingers at the announcement of something called ‘The Gummy Award’ and the sound of something shaking a pack of said sweets, presumably at him. Blue optics zeroed in on the pack, doorwings quirking cautiously up… only for the scout to immediately hide his face again at the onslaught of praise and fanfare about the whole thing with Shockwave. That bit had been so terrifying he hadn’t thought it possible to be funny or badass considering he’d spent the majority of that encounter panicking like a new spark but something about Jazz’s soundtrack and first-person cuts made it all seem very action-movie ridiculous.
Bee pointed at himself as if to say, ‘What? Me? Seriously?’
Shadow felt the embarrassment in Bumblebee's EMF as he ducked down behind her; it was enough to make her pulse a little reassurance into her own field, even if it wasn't enough to keep her from making a few intended-to-be-overheard comments about senile Decepticon seekers to Jaws, who was cuddling against her as happily as any organic cat. It was warm and comfortable, and she was half turned in an effort to grab Bumblebee and "encourage" him to climb over the sofa to join her, rather than hiding behind it, when the footage changed from Bumblebee's encounter with the old mech to his run-in with Shockwave.
Jazz's words opening - I've been a 'Bot AND a 'Con - hit her like an energon prod to the dorsal plates. For a nano-klik she wanted to purge, every off-hand comment she'd ever ignored rising up from her memory with mocking clarity. The video footage of Bee's encounter with Shockwave played through unnoticed; Steeljaw was talking, but she couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words.
All she could do was stare at Jazz, who was still laughing and playing to his audience, and who was not at all the same mech she'd known mere moments before.
She moved Steeljaw to the sofa beside her with a motion that was not - quite - a shove, though it was far more abrupt than she normally treated him, and got to her pedes. "Patrol," she said before Jaws could ask, and didn't care that he probably knew as well as she did that her patrol didn't start for nearly another breem. "I really need to go on patrol."
Steeljaw watched Shadow go with his audials cocked firmly back in surprise, optics spiraled wide. Being abruptly ousted out of her lap and dumped onto the sofa had been surprising enough, but the flashfire flare of something in the femme's field set his own plates on edge. A quick skimm of the security feeds and a ping to Blaster revealed nothing - except that Shadow's patrol didn't start for another breem, but the femme was hellbent on burning rubber out of the base.
The symbiont huffed, unsure of what exactly had bit her tail and half tempted to go after her except... wheels versus pedes, even four of them, was no competition. Plates twitching, he settled back down on the sofa. There were some moods that required solitude, but she was smart enough not to let injury or other things that required a secondary servo to help with fall under that heading. He would find her when she came back - one of the advantages of security detail was knowing where everyone was at any given point within the base. In the meantime, there was no help for it but to let her drive off whatever was unsettling her. He didn't have to like it, but there was nothing else to do, and the room at large still heckling the nearby scout.
Leaning over, Steeljaw gave Bumblebee a nudge with the flat of his helm. "Yes, you. Do you see anyone else with the bearings to try to blow up Shockwave?"
"You," Jazz said, hopping down from his impromptu stage and walking over to place the gummies in Bumblebee's hand with a final salute. "Good job, Bee." He grinned, giving Bee an affectionate burst of longwave before the bot got reeled in to be noogied by Bulkhead.
Jazz's gaze fell to Steeljaw, who was still looking off after Shadow. Jazz had seen her leave rather abruptly, but he'd not seen why, and from the surprise in Steeljaw's field and the set of his audials, evidently it hadn't been planned. He sent a wordless ?? to Steeljaw and got the equivalent of a glyph shrug in return.
Meanwhile, Bee was hugging his Golden Gummy award to his chestplates as his 'friends' offered to 'help' him take care of them.
Jazz plunked himself down on the couch that Shadow had recently vacated, leaning back with a happy sigh as the presentation dissolved naturally into the party, as the best ones did. He grinned, soaking in the happy fields of friends and allies and a cat that was leaning heavily against his thigh and looked like he might have designs on Jazz's lap.
Jazz pulled a cube of high grade out of his subspace and settled in.