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.
It was sad, Jazz thought, that he was getting used to things like this. Pit, he could practically HEAR her parroting something that Labyrinth had obviously told her once...probably after killing the pet involved, if what she was afraid he'd do was any indication.
Jazz went to his knees, shuffling over so he could put his arms around Shadow. "Those were Labyrinth's rules. They're not mine. They're not Prime's, and they're not OUR cohort's." He pressed their forehelms together. "Shadow, we all get time and resources to do what we want in our spare time. So long as it's not excessive, and so long as we're not hurting anyone, that's FINE. That is a RIGHT, and believe me, if Prime tried to take that away without a holy-Primus-'Cons-on-our-tails reason, he'd have a mutiny on his hands. The time is yours to waste, the 'bridge and energon is yours to use. Same as Rhinox can use his for gardening, or Bee can use it to go racing."
He nudged her gently forehelm-to-forehelm. "I'm never going to take anything away from you or tell you to stop doing something you love unless there's a really, really good reason. If it was endangering the team or yourself or the humans or something, maybe, but this ISN'T. This is just something you want to do, and that is OK. It's OK to do things just because they make you happy, Shadow. We WANT you to."
Jazz - field, behavior, words - could not have been less threatening, but Shadow still found herself wanting to cringe, reality not enough to overcome old conditioning. She countered it as best she could by hugging Jazz back, holding on to him in a way she never would have dared with Labyrinth.
She could tell Jazz she didn't want to disappoint him. She could tell him she wasn't like Rhinox, or Bee, or any of the others. She could tell him that 'happy' was supposed to come from following his will, not her own.
She could tell him, and he would assure her she didn't need to worry, that those things weren't true, that he wanted her to be her own person. Shadow knew that, because they had done this before, just like she knew that none of his words, no matter how sincere they seemed, would ease the certainties Labyrinth had etched into her code and spark.
This helped, though, both the physical contact that spoke cohort to her, and the fact that Jazz would allow it.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, loosening her hold on Jazz with ill-concealed reluctance. "I know there are new rules, I know. I'm sorry."
Jazz held on tight, tucking her helm under his chin. "I know. I know. Nothin' to be sorry for, you're doing everything right. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are. We'll keep remindin' you until it FEELS like it, eh? Slow and easy, one thing at a time. S'no problem."
It was hard, he knew, to break down conditioning, but they were working on it. Every time they did this, it was a small victory. Another outlier on the line that would slowly skew her away from what Labyrinth had trained her to expect.
He ran a hand down her dorsal plates. "S'no trouble at all. Look, Spot agrees with me." Jazz tilted his chin at Spot, who was sitting and blinking at them like he'd never seen giant robots hug before. "He thinks you're doing just fine."
Shadow laughed, a thin, weak sound, and obediently looked to where the cheetah sat staring at them. "More likely he's realized we're both glitched. Or he's wondering why the petting stopped."
She managed not to tense as she spoke, though part of her was still waiting, still afraid that Jazz just needed the right time to drive his point home. Unexpected actions always created a greater impact. Lulling her into a false sense of security would ensure she didn't forget.
The part of her that remembered Jazz was cohort wanted to relax against him, and after another few sparkbeats of Jazz doing nothing more threatening than trying to coax Spot closer, Shadow yielded to the desire. "I miss this," she said, the words soft enough that Jazz could pretend not to hear, even as closely as they were pressed together. "Being able to share things. I miss it."
Jazz's field held nothing but approval-protectiveness-affection. "We're always here. Me, 'Hide, Blue, we're here for you. S'what we do. We're not goin' anywhere, and you can share as much as you want with us. You don't have to--in our cohort, everyone's entitled to privacy when they want it--but you CAN, if you want. We're here to give you things you want, not take them away from you."
He hugged her one last time and loosened his hold, his arm still around her shoulder and his side obviously there for leaning on, should she want it.
Jazz smiled at Spot. "And Spot is definitely a good thing. Has he been getting better? Can he hunt on his own, yet?" His glyphs were curious, and as Spot edged closer, Jazz did absolutely nothing more threatening than rub a knuckle lightly under Spot's fuzzy chin.
"He's gotten a lot better." Shadow smiled as Spot rubbed his chin against Jazz's hand, scrubbing bits of fur and general dustiness into his joints as thoroughly as he ever did into her own. "He couldn't even walk when I found him. I left him near water and figured he'd either crawl off or die, but he was still there when I came back. So I fed him."
She shrugged. "I couldn't just abandon him after that. And now he's at the point where he tries to hunt, but nine times out of ten he just winds up hurting himself." She paused, then added reluctantly, "He's getting better, I'm just not sure he'll ever be able to hunt reliably enough to be left completely on his own."
"Ah, well," he said, his glyphs the fond equivalent of a verbal shrug at Spot's thorough marking and general investigation of his person. "That's all right. We're all friends here. Friends help each other out when they're having trouble. That's what friends do for each other, right, Spot? Right."
Spot seemed less interested in conversation than in getting the edge of Jazz's plates to scratch JUST the right place on his head. Jazz obligingly held his hand still so it could be used as a head-scratcher.
"We'll support him, and he'll keep trying, and who knows? Organics're tricky to predict. Sometimes they surprise you and manage the most amazing things."
"Maybe that's why I couldn't just leave him." Shadow watched for a moment, amused and somewhat reassured by the way Jazz was allowing Spot to monopolize his hand. She had worried, at first, that Spot would become easy prey for humans once he started associating her with food and safety, but observation had assured her that Spot could tell the difference between a human-made engine and a Cybertronian one as easily as she could. And while there were potential drawbacks to Spot viewing Cybertronians as safe, she found herself glad that Spot now knew to trust at least one other mechanism. Just in case.
She leaned over, resting her helm against Jazz's shoulder. "You know, he'll do that the rest of the day if you let him."
"Oh noes," Jazz said solemnly. "Have to spend all day here with you and Spot. Truly a fate worse than death."
He promptly shifted so that he was settled in even more comfortably. There was going to be grass and dirt embedded in his seams, but he didn't much care. Spot took the settling as an invitation to come closer and find himself a spot between them where they BOTH could be in face-rubbing range. Jazz couldn't blame him. In Spot's place, Jazz would have encouraged all the petting, too. Had, in fact, on several occasions.
"I got time," Jazz said. "Don't have duty for hours, yet."
Shadow made a skeptical sound, though she was perfectly content to continue leaning against Jazz and petting Spot. "You've always got something going on. Even LOLcat wars with Jaws have to be better than sitting in the dirt being rubbed on by a scruffy organic."
She smoothed some of the ruffled up fur on Spot's neck with a fingertip; Spot immediately scrubbed the fur back into tufts against Jazz's wrist. "Especially," she said, letting fond exasperation color her words, "one who's making himself scruffier by the nanoklik."
Jazz mimed thinking, "Hmm, let me check, hmmmmmnope, nothing on my schedule except 'quality time with Shadow and her cheetah'." And there wasn't. Jazz felt pretty accomplished, actually, given that his main objective had been to find out what was so interesting in Africa. It could have been something a lot less pleasant than a personable and scritch-demanding feline.
Jazz shifted around a bit to get comfortable, exposing a kneeplate that evidently Spot evidently thought looked even better than Jazz's hand. Jazz really hoped that Ratchet was done with inspecting all his bits, or Jazz would no doubt find himself in the oil bath again soaking out the fur.
...huh. Jazz stretched out the leg to make the spot more accessible.
"And hey, if Spot wants to be scruffy, as his friends we can only support him. Scruffiness is the right of all sentient beings, after all. Right, Spot?"
Spot squinted at Jazz and licked his own nose.
"That's what I thought," Jazz said. He leaned back on one hand and smiled.