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.
All right, that was about the most adorable thing ever.
Jazz was fairly sure that, as, if not a co-creator, at the VERY least a favorite uncle, he should be freaking out a la Ironhide about bitty baby Bluestreak being too young-innocent for...well, what had just happened on the floor of the control room. Let alone what it looked like the two of them wanted to do the second they got back to Blue's quarters.
As it was, Jazz just hoped that Blue's berth was sturdier than it looked.
"Naw, take your time. Just let us know if there's anything you need, Legion. Though you might wanna move it off the control room floor." Jazz shrugged. "'less you WANT an audience. In which case I'd still suggest the rec room. Pillows."
Legion might've held a monopoly on the world's supply of' 'big and stupid'-brand grins, but even living snark-factories had to fess up to positive emotion every now and then. Now, audience be damned, was one of those times. The wry smile he flashed his newest doorwinged attachment, all but brimming over with amusement and fond exasperation and simple, honest love, turned a face made for lopsided smirks into something to write home about. 'Home' in and of itself was a vague idea at best for a mech who'd spent his life on the move, but the humans might just have been onto something when they said 'home is where the heart is'. Reunited with those thought lost, welcomed by the living embodiment of the cause he fought for and mercifully spared a fate worse than Ratchet death, Legion was finally home.
"My heroes, both of y'," He snorted, hoisting Blue an inch or two higher. Damn the little gunner and hir memory too- Blue hadn't forgotten how to make hir favorite pillow twitch and squirm with precious little more than a feather-light touch. "Temptin' as tha' sounds I'd rather not put a permanent kink in poor Wings' cortex. Time an' place an' all tha' slag."
Speaking of times and places, he could very easily think of somewhere he'd rather be, namely 'anywhere less public than this' and 'right the frag now'. Exit, stage left, before Blue could get any more creative. No, scratch that. Any more evil.
"I'll be in touch!" Legion called, hastily making for the exit. (And ignoring the way his voice fritzed on that last syllable.) "Sometime... uh. Later."