If I cannot move Heaven.

The shuttle chuckled when he recognised the familiar tone, and took a glance about his surroundings - he was alone, for the moment, though he did not mind it. He returned the greeting with a trill, appreciative for the other’s existential reminder.

“Why, if it isn’t Blurr - have I ever mentioned you have impeccable timing?”

Because Wheeljack had only just stepped out, miracle as it might seem.

“What may I do for you in the temporary absence of my reclusive host?”

badspeeder

Blurr smirked and easily settled into his most comfortable stance. There was no reason to be hostile to Jetfire. So far, the shuttle had done nothing but be tolerable. And that was great for Blurr. His optic brightened.

“Hnnnh. I’ve been told that my timing isn’t that great,” he mused, leaning back on his heels before shrugging his pauldrons. “Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering what you two have been, well, up to.”

#starscream #guileless second #((hello there!))#((also if you happen to actually be in jetfire's presence RUN BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE O-);;))

He grinned at that; how thoughtful.

“Aside from the ‘experimenting‘, you mean?”

Wings folded back, the flier paced around Wheeljack’s workspace, glancing down the various paperwork that littered the grounder’s tabletops and benches; their projects remained, to Jetfire’s knowledge, at multiple stages of completion.

"He’s been insisting on upgrading me; in particular, my canons. He’s confiscated them for time being ... something or other about accuracy and targetting ...”

He had to pout; his darling had to be so technical, so dry. Jetfire rather relished the messy consequences of non-fatal hit-strike, and the colorful gore with which he could then paint.

“You know the rules - no fun allowed~”

#blurr #badspeeder

guileless-second started following you

A familiar presence ... and a wholly unwelcome one, at that. Jetfire's wings thrummed as his body language shifted from casual to predatory, rattling with each infinitesimally-scaled calibration.

“If it isn’t a Starscream.”

badspeeder

i-willraisehell

“Well hello there, big, bad and dangerous. K-Kyeheheeheh. How’s life been treating you here in your little corner of your verse, hn? Is the hermit around?” The hermit is Wheeljack.

“Why, if it isn’t Blurr - have I ever mentioned you have impeccable timing?”

Because Wheeljack had only just stepped out, miracle as it might seem.

“What may I do for you in the temporary absence of my reclusive host?”

#badspeeder #blurr

As Jetfire pulled back into the shadows,he couldn’t help but admire how … cute, this scene was turning out to be. Were the dinobots accustomed to these morning performances? It was the only explanation for why they wouldn’t be out and about joining their master … unless they were terrified of the noise. The shuttle suppressed a chortle, smirking widely to suppress his laughter - he wasn’t going to complain, no.

Ah-!

Just then, an idea sparked … but first, he’d wait for Wheeljack to get lost in yet another melody before he put his plan into action.

thestalkingmoodlight

Not even the Dinobots knew of Wheeljacks secret. They rarely slept in the lab, their cave was much more comfortable.

“You light up my life.”~

Without the facemask, Wheeljack was a very expressive mech. Closing his optics, Wheeljack began dancing with an invisible mech. His frame twirling around the lab.

With the engineer wound up in yet another song, his listener very intently honed in on his clunking steps, keep track of their echoing waltz throughout the lab.

Close ... closer ...

With a non-too dramatic hum, Jetfire reached out and very casually grasped Wheeljack by the leg, catching and dragging him straight into his dark clutches. Where he had interrupted his bonded, his brooding and musically superior tone filled in for the absent melody, replacing it with a version made sinister by his mock imitation of the grounder's displaced spacing:

"-finally. A chance. To say ..."

And though his crooning turned only more unsettling with each intonation, its gradual descent to a whisper managed to erase whatever menacing undertones their situation might have otherwise suggested. With a necessary vent and the brief silence it wrought, the ominous atmosphere quietly dissipated; when Jetfire's tone next returned, it was suddenly light-hearted. He adjusted his grip on the hips of his hostage, so that:

"... the western wind is blowing fair~"

With a light tug, he tipped Wheeljack in one direction - then the next. Back and forth, like a mast on a ship set to waves, set to his melody.

-across the dark Agean sea. And at the secret marble stair, my ‘Tyrian galley’ waits for thee~!"

As Jetfire pulled back into the shadows,he couldn't help but admire how ... cute, this scene was turning out to be. Were the dinobots accustomed to these morning performances? It was the only explanation for why they wouldn't be out and about joining their master ... unless they were terrified of the noise. The shuttle suppressed a chortle, smirking widely to suppress his laughter - he wasn't going to complain, no.

Ah-!

Just then, an idea sparked ... but first, he'd wait for Wheeljack to get lost in yet another melody before he put his plan into action.

it was rather a rare phenomenon to learn of Wheeljack’s ‘extracurricular’ activities, that, to actually catch him in the act was a bit of a surreal experience. Blending expertly against the shadows, Jetfire kept out of sight - as much as he wanted to see, he dared not venture directly into the lab. Listening would have to suffice for now, even as that harsh voice scraped against the surrounding acoustics; the shuttle found himself intrigued by the cacophany.

He’s got no timing.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the grounder had a very unique sense of rhythm … there was definitely a pattern to his warbling. Perhaps a few more rounds of sitting through the infernal racket would provide an answer.

thestalkingmoodlight

Unaware of his audience, Wheeljack continued his “dancing” and “singing” act around the lab.

Earth. Who knew the humans could be capable of something. Even if it was just music, it was something. Music in a number of different languages. About different things. Some of the music here was beautiful.

The musical ballads however…Wheeljack still wasn’t sure what he enjoyed about them. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of these songs, a mech like him never had time for something so silly.

Yet here he was, singing his ember out to an empty room.

“I'Il think of you every step of the way.”~

Standing on top of his desk, Wheeljack braced himself for the high notes.

“And I will always love you!”~

This time he had to flinch. Had to. Recoiling forward against his own frame, the flier tuned down his audials until the other’s shrill falsetto faded back to a bearable pitch. His bonded was in desperate need of vocal coaching. Taking just the barest risk, he peeked around the corner of his hiding spot; how the lab, littered with various glass articles, had survived the sonic assault, he’d never know.

Something must be done.

it was rather a rare phenomenon to learn of Wheeljack's 'extracurricular' activities, that, to actually catch him in the act was a bit of a surreal experience. Blending expertly against the shadows, Jetfire kept out of sight - as much as he wanted to see, he dared not venture directly into the lab. Listening would have to suffice for now, even as that harsh voice scraped against the surrounding acoustics; the shuttle found himself intrigued by the cacophany.

He's got no timing.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the grounder had a very unique sense of rhythm ... there was definitely a pattern to his warbling. Perhaps a few more rounds of sitting through the infernal racket would provide an answer.

Unlike most mechs, Jetfire’s ire for rising early did not come about as a result of the act itself - no. That was something that just came naturally to him; he'd wake, and then he'd simply be for that brief moment of quintessential quietness, when the world stood still and void of most things worth the commentary. But no - what irked him about mornings was the process that sometimes followed soon after awareness; self-maintenance.

Despite the considerable amount of pride he took in his frame, he wasn’t a particularly vain mech - he didn’t possess the sort of vanity that led some (Rodimus, he’d snicker) to fawn over themselves as if they were the universe’s gift to creation. However, given the requirements of flight, it was a necessary task that he had to undertake, as a flier, and so he would reluctantly gruel over it as needed. This morning turned out to be one of those days where his frame was demanding its upkeep - with a groan, he sat up from his sprawled position in his nest, and began to deftly work over his various joints and seams with a careless sort of precision. But during his ministrations, he couldn't help but became aware of a particular droning in his audials ... was that supposed to be music ..?

First. You're the last. My everything~

Oh slag. With the grace and stealth now afforded to him by his recent actions, the shuttle slipped from within the confines of his one-of-kind berth and followed the dull sound down to its source below, carefully so as not to disturb its reticent diva.

tftomfoolery

Wheeljack in all continuities loves romantic ballads from across the universe. He has a whole collection of them in all kinds of languages and he's memorized them all. He loves to sing along, even though he can't carry a tune in a bucket.

omg I love this

thestalkingmoodlight

badspeeder

knightofcybertron said: ((I thought about it, but I’m not sure gore and stuff would work out. These two may or may not get along.))

[[ Despite Blurr’s common habit of ending things with knives and blood, I can easily write a thread without such things. If you want to write something together, we can come up with something, no problem. ]]

i-willraisehell said: (would love to do a thing if you’ve got ideas~)

[[ I would LOVE to write with you again, as well. I don’t have many ideas. Maybe we could work together on that. ]]

((weeeeellllll, hmmm lesse, they previously agreed to work together, no? does blurr have any schemes that require a big dumb shuttlebird’s muscle/wings? and if so, would he like him to drag thestalkingmoodlight into it, too? because they could use some rp shenanigans, too))

#badspeeder #OOC

I like September

“What about it?”

thestalkingmoodlight:

“Oh clearly. The idea of silence just makes me so aroused I could overload on the spot.”

Wheeljack sighed as he crossed his arms, “I found a certain calendar aswell. Obviously your perverse, deviant mind has tainted mine. Get over here. Now.”

The shuttle grins deviously as he turns to look at his bondmate in the optics - oh? He takes a step - in the opposite direction from where Wheeljack stood, expectant.

“What do you know, it looks like I’ve got to run-”

Jetfire slinks out of the lab faster than the proverbial shadow in the corner of one’s eye, without so much as an explanation.