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.
Teasing, then, and Steeljaw chuckled softly. "Well, if you haven't heard anything, then I certainly can't confirm or deny anything, as I was playing hookey from actually sitting on the monitor banks to go bask in the sun with Shadow at the time. All quite above board, of course - I had the monitor feed patched in."
Jazz's stroking was relaxing and Steeljaw half closed his optics, engine rumbling softly in time to the strokes. "Also," he remarked, "I think we have different versions of base crazy, as I've spent over twenty vorn in one section of one ship before." His optics narrowed more, thoughtfully. "Mind you, I did cover a great deal of it in poetry. It sort of became... poetry Sudoku, after awhile."
More seriously, he lowered his head, letting his helm rest against Jazz's chassis. "I can't... entirely say I'm glad to stay," he admitted. "But it's not for lack of good company."
Jazz thought back to the random bits of Cybertronian poetry that he'd found scattered around the base...and not always at mech-height. Sometimes upside-down on the ceiling, in fact. He'd had suspicions about who the poet was, given the timing and the uh...subject matter, so he was not surprised at all.
"I understand. No good choices here, huh? Don't think any of us 're where we want to be, all things considered."
He swiped one finger around the base of Steeljaw's audials, watching for a reaction that would tell him whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Personally, I'd want to be hangin' out in Kaon, little club called Highlight. Not to quiet, not too loud, just enough chaos to make life fun. Had the best homebrewed vanadium-rich high grade in the sector. That slag was like gettin' overcharged on CANDY...mmmm...n' I gotta stop thinking about it or I'm gonna be real disappointed next time I raid the still...."
Audials. He'd gone for vorn with no one who would even think about rubbing his audial linkages (much less anyone he would consider allowing to) and now there seemed to be a line of mechs willing to rub at them. Steeljaw couldn't find it in himself to complain, not when it eased aches he'd become so used to that rediscovering them was a surprise, tight, crawling sensations all through his helm and clear down into neck into his foreleg mounts. Optics slitting shut, he shoved his head harder into Jazz's hand, directing sharp tipped servos to where they would do the most good.
"Oh Primus, don't talk to me about candy. There was this one open air market in Crystal City... confectioner there made the most amazing candies. Not just the usual gummies and sticks, but works of art. Spun and frothed and crystal dusted, things that exploded or melted on your glossa. We'd go there after finishing a job." He vented a huff, leaning blissfully into the hand that was still rubbing at his audials. "One time, when I was young, Uplink let me pick out my own weight in candies. I slag near poisoned my tanks, but it was so very worth it."
Well, that headbutt was a definite yes, more, please if Jazz ever saw one. He put both hands to work on one audial, zeroing in on the plating with the same concentration he'd given his project up on the bench, right down to the microscopic inspection. He could see the micro weathering around the tiny plates and zeroed in on them as a likely source of wear and sticking. He worked his claws in to press on the worst offenders, working the hingepoints carefully loose before using fingers to apply blunt pressure to lay everything smooth. Wash, rinse, repeat, until Jazz swore he could feel the plates moving more fluidly under his hand. He unsubspaced a tiny bottle of maintenance lubricant and took an audial between thumb and forefinger, carefully rubbing in the thin oil with broad, massaging strokes.
"Pffft, yeah, I BET. I did that once with chromium bars. They were my favorite, you see. Weren't my favorite after I made my way through three cases of them and had to have my systems flushed." He smiled. That'd been an expensive binge. He'd been young enough, though, with Flashpoint's estate still large in his cortex, to think that consuming the windfall of extravagant treats had been better than selling them off.
"Oooh, and then there was the time when Blue got into the sweets cabinet and ate ALL THE THINGS. All of them. Ironhide was terrified. Rushed Blue to the medic and all." That one was only funny in hindsight, really. Ironhide hadn't been the only one panicking at the time.
Oil. Oh sweet Primus, the mech was either trying to seduce him or put him straight into deep level recharge, and Steeljaw couldn't be bothered to care which. Kicking up the pleased hum of his own engine a notch, he sprawled across the other's chassis, optics barely lit in pale blue slits as he leaned his head into clever oil coated fingers.
"Uplink probably would've done the same," he agreed, and if his vocalizer was half pleased purr he didn't think he could be blamed. "We had a better alternative, though - synch up, filter my systems through his. It was still several very uncomfortable breems that he never let me live down." Venting, Steeljaw stretched out, hind pedes tangling with Jazz's as he extended his own frame the length of the other mech's. "If you need to move, you should tell me now. It's... been a very long day already and that feels really nice."
Jazz grinned. "Hmm...am I in danger of getting pinned by a sleepy cat? Oh noes. What shall I do? Lemme think about it."
He got a little bit more oil and moved over to the other audial, his own systems (admit it, Jazz, your own coding) humming, pleased. He liked taking care of others. If only he could get this level of contentment from the rest of the crew. He smiled, wondering how Optimus would react to the suggestion of an audial massage to help him relax and recharge. The mental image was hilarious.
"S'okay. M'duty's over today." And nothing on the bench would blow up from inattention, he was 80% sure. Could use some recharge himself, really.
Jazz settled his back against the crate and pinged Ironhide with his location and a "don't wait up" note.
"Obviously," Steeljaw drawled, his voice corrupted with recharge laden static and the rumble of his own mini engine, "you are cat furniture and are going to stay put. The humans assure me that my correct title is 'feline overlord' and this is the proper order of the universe."
His optics were already shuttered and cycled down, disinclined to reboot without some strenuous overrides. The rest of his frame was threatening to follow suit. Steeljaw mustered enough wherewithal to nudge his helm up under Jazz's chin. "Thank you," he added more seriously, field weaving notes of gratitude on multiple levels. "If I can return the favor just let me know."
The last trailed off, more ventilation than word, sinking into the slow, quiet rumble of his systems.
<<sleepy tiem!>>
Last Edit: May 31, 2012 11:39:08 GMT -5 by Deleted
Jazz smiled, leaning his head back. "I'll put it on your tab," he murmured, fingers going still against his feline overlord's plates as he followed Steeljaw down the slippery slide into recharge.