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.
Only through truly heroic effort did Elita surpress the blurt of amused glyphs that wanted to escape at Bluestreak's... unique form of address toward Optimus Prime. She kept her face perfectly straight, her EMF refusing to waver even an iota as the Prime spoke.
"Of course," she answered levelly, even calmly as she pinged an upload request directly to Optimus. When he accepted it, Elita streamed to him not one of her own memory files but a live feed of the situation at the launch point, fed to her by a deployer-drone on the scene.
The civilian shuttles hover and mill uncertainly, clustering at the bottleneck that is the launch tube. They're an easy target, but they're also simple to defend; the Order is already in formation, wing-class warriors hovering defiantly between the Decepticons and their target.
Starscream is hovering too, posturing and threatening. The lead sister suggests he do something anatomically unlikely with a bridge piling.
Elita smiled, all her attention so fixed on the scene that she only barely noticed when Jazz took Bluestreak out of her arms.
Bluestreak hated times like these, when nothing ou could do could bring even a little smile to Prhams face. It meant he was going to leave again and he'd be hurting when he got back. He'd probably take Ironhide too and HE'D be just as hurt if not worse.
The thought of it made hir want to cry, scream. Nononono, but even as a sparkling ou could tell this wasn't the place. Instead Bluestreak settled for fussing into Jazz's hold. Wanting to be held and comforted and wanting to run away at the same time.
Jazz tossed an apologetic look at Prime as well as a very low-priority message to that effect. It wouldn't break Optimus' concentration, but would be there all the same.
Jazz pulled Bluestreak close, tucking Blue's head against his shoulder as he moved silently out of the room. "Shhh, shhh, Blue," he said once they were out into the hall and heading for home. "Shhhhh, s'okay. Primus on a piston, you gave me a fright, kiddo. You can't just go off by yourself without tellin' anyone, Blue. S'not what cohort DOES, 'kay? You disappear and I--" rouse the entire base 'n get groused at by security for Losing The Sparkling "--worry. I was afraid something bad'd happened to you."
It was evidently time to install a tracker on the sparkling. Jazz was sure that Ironhide would understand.
Unfazed by Jazz’s minor ping, Optimus only nodded distractedly, simultaneously routing Elita One’s visual feed to his unit CO’s who observed the situation in silence for a moment. There was a series of affirmative glyphs back, indicating understanding of what they were seeing and that they would prep for departure immediately. They listed off their ordinance, suggested a half dozen approaches, and queried him his orders in the span of a moment… and all that while Optimus listened and watched Jazz carefully assure Bluestreak that all was well. For a moment, that broke his concentration. He could not have said why, but there was something about that – about Bluestreak in the centre of the whirligig of planned violence that was what they were doing. He wondered how Bluestreak saw him, knew him only as this.
He got another query, answered swiftly that they would be departing in five minutes and to be ready to go. “Thank you, Elita,” he said, belatedly. His timing was off. Oh well. “They need a few kilks to assemble, but we can depart immediately.” He’d already messaged his first lieutenant, informing him that he would be in charge until the Prime returned. He had to force himself not to think of Bluestreak for whatever reason. “Do you require anything before we depart?”
No question in his mind, that the Autobots would help.
Jazz turned and raised his hands (almost but not quite but ALMOST like he was afraid that his cohortmate might turn him into a purple paste on the floor or perhaps vaporize him on the spot) as Ironhide walked in the door. "Hide? Hide. First thing: relax. Everything's fine. No hurt, no trauma, perfectly happy sparkling. See? Perfectly happy sparkling!"
Jazz sidestepped to pick up Bluestreak from the floor, as visual aid of perfectly happy sparkling. Not, of course, as a shield. Never.
Last Edit: Aug 28, 2012 20:48:55 GMT -5 by Deleted
Bluestreak had been happily playing with The Thing on the floor with Jazz before Ironhide returned to their quarters. Still holding it in fact as ou was held up and out as a not-shield.
Promptly dropping it however in favour of reaching out to the larger mech wanting to be held. The days upset not completely gone and relieved to see Ironhide home and not hurt.
It was late - very late, or early, or something about there, in what felt like a double handful of duty shifts strung back to back and mostly involving a particularly ugly brand of diplomacy, if one could call what the 'Cons practiced that. Ironhide had made it back to base and taken a brief detour through the washracks mostly on autopilot while still fielding reports, both incoming and outgoing.
He had finally - finally! - staggered back into quarters on a fraction of a tank of fuel and with exhaustion clogging his processor threads in a fragmented blur, only to be confronted with cohortmate (Jazz) and sparkling (Blue). When it took his recognition protocols THAT long to cough up something that should have been instantaneous it was a poor sign of what level he was functioning at and Ironhide cycled his optics a few times, trying to parse the first barrage of words to come at him in cycles that didn't have to do with casualty reports or supply shortages. "Happeh sparklin'? Tha's... good, yeah?"
His vocalizer was thick; Ironhide rebooted it and tried again, reaching out automatically to take Bluestreak, the bitlet's tiny frame tucked against his own. "Hey, Blue." And then, to mate, with a warm pulse for both of them, "hey, Jazz."
Ah, Jazz thought, it'd been one of THOSE missions.
Obviously Ironhide hadn't caught up on current events. That was fine. Jazz wouldn't hurry to fill him in. Not just to delay his own possible deactivation but because Ironhide looked like he was about ready to fall into a pile of parts on the floor.
"Hey, Hide." Jazz leaned in, one arm going around Ironhide's back to hug and to move him further into the room. In fact, torque that, they needed to just hit the berth.
Jazz pulsed home-safety-cohort as he tugged frontliner and sparkling toward the berthroom. "Look like you need a decacycle of recharge, mech."
Oh, Ironhide had had one of THOSE days. The day's that there wasn't much playing but he'd hold hir close, like to let go would be the end of his world. They'd pile up on the berth and just...be there. Ou could feel the comfort of Jazz's field and though hirs was still small ou let him feel hir adoration for him, for their family the same way. Chirping to him softly as ou snuggled into his plates.
Oh. BERTH. Now there was an idea, and Ironhide was happy to contemplate it from a horizontal position, buried in frame and field of cohort with Jazz tucked against his side and Blue cradled against his chest. There, that. That was what had been missing, and it soothed out all of the myriad aches and pains and fitful protocols that the mission had left, let his hydraulics actually relax and systems cycle down. Perfect.
Except... not. Ironhide frowned slightly, letting the last few kliks replay through his processor, and finally stirred himself to nudge his cohortmate. "Jazz?" His voice was still thick, glyphs bleeding out into static edges of exhaustion, but there was something niggling at his processor that wasn't letting go. "Why wouldn' Blue be happeh? Somethin' happen?"
Jazz could lie, of course. Ironhide would even believe it. But there was absolutely no way he wouldn't find out about it later. Jazz had been frantic when he'd found Bluestreak gone, and he'd made sure that everyone knew it. It was firmly lodged in the base rumor stream now, and it was probably only chance and looking like slag that had kept anyone from bringing it to Ironhide's attention at this point.
He supposed not getting smushified had been an unattainable dream. Jazz made sure that Blue was firmly snuggled between them.
"Blue went on a bit of a walkabout today. Just FYI, we need to start locking the door from the inside. Evidently ou's figured out how to trigger it and uh...tried it out today." Jazz leaned in to press helms to Ironhide's. "Gave me a Pit of a scare, but everything's fine, ou's fine, no harm done."
Bluestreak was at that age that all young get, were they're always aware of when some one is talking about them and while snuggling with Ironhide and Jazz was more important ou felt like now was a time to add hir own two credits.
"Had 'Venture Arrnhaid, met 'Lita found Prham."
Little face falling into a frown as the memory of what had transpired after They'd found him comes back. Pressing in closer to Ironhide and wanting to be tucked in safe.
Tucking Bluestreak against his chassis at the first disjointed pulse of disturbance from the sparkling's field was pure habit, perfected through repetition every time Blue had been upset or frightened. The armor plate flared around the tiny frame was instinct, and between his own frame and Jazz's Bluestreak was tucked safely within a living shield vastly bigger than ou was.
The stiffened flare of alarm through his own field was instinct as well, as the words sank in to jumble almost painfully through his processor. Blue had... there had been... WHAT?
Ironhide didn't realize the last had been spoken aloud until Jazz didn't, quite, flinch back from the rough edge of his tone. Everything after that was... well, if not instinct, then something like it, as he peeled the sparkling back out from underneath his plating so that he could lift Bluestreak up and examine, by optic and touch and weak, safe tactile scan, that the bitlet was hale and whole. Ou didn't sound distressed, didn't feel pained, but...
No hurt, no trauma, perfectly happy sparkling, Jazz had been assuring him the moment he walked through the door, and Ironhide vented on a stuttered note, tucking Bluestreak back between them, his hands going to Jazz's frame to pull the saboteur closer. "Blue... Blue did... went... oh Primus, we gotta stop that."
Last Edit: Sept 15, 2012 23:05:12 GMT -5 by Deleted
Jazz relaxed into the sudden suspicion that he might...not be killed. Oh, good.
He curled around Blue protectively, completing the wall, as he didn't have any illusions that that was why Ironhide had pulled him close. "Yeah." And he switched to comms, just because Blue looked a bit disturbed by something and it just seemed right. ::Ou found Elita in the hall, from what I can tell, and she took hir with her to see Optimus. I'm sure you'll hear all about it. I found out Blue was gone and roused practically the whole base. I'm sure it was the big story of the day, before the battle.::
Jazz reached over to rest a hand on Ironhide's hip, pulsing safety-ease-cohort at him. Ironhide was too tired to deal with all this right now, in Jazz's professional opinion, but he knew Ironhide too well to think that 'Hide wouldn't fuss until they found a solution. ::Not sure if it's proper sparkling-raising protocol, but what would you say to puttin' a tracker on hir?::
Oblivious to the talk going on between them and the mention of putting a tracker on hir Bluestreak settled down, calmed as ou was all but swallowed in a wall of safe/love/affection.
With the two adult mechs in conversation over their comms ou simply filled the silence with soft chirps and coos of hir own. Not saying anything in particular just not particularly fond of the quiet.