Jul 15, 2021
[gremlin noises]
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[gremlin noises]
(x)
Nobody stays dead forever...
Do they?
LIKE FOR A TYRAN STARTER
"What do you think you’re doing?"
He’s magneted on to the larger bot, a reflex from when he’d used to scuffle with friends as younglings. “Got used t’ traps like this on my last dig. D’y’know how many ancient Cybertronians are real dedicated t’ protectin’ their temples?”
Jazz is shaking, just a little. Experienced as he may be recognizing tripwires, he’s not used to getting hit. “Didn’ wanna letcha get hurt. Y’okay?”
“ tell me the truth! i deserve that much, at least! ”
Had it been almost anybody else, Jazz would have whirled on them, shoved sharp fingers against their chest, and snarled at them to back off, to get their helm out of places it didn’t belong.
But humans always required a more delicate touch, a fact Jazz knew too well; so he knelt, allowing his frame to come closer to the human’s level.
“I would if I could.” His voice is soft, hesitant. “Melody, ‘s my job t’ keep ya safe. If I told ya, it- it could putcha in even more danger. An’ I can’t do that to ya. I jus’ need ya t’ trust that I ain’t doin’ this t’ hurt ya.”
@doorwings replied to your post “look @ this short king”
Manlet.
reportin’ ya t’ prime for bullyin’ me
@highdecadence replied to your post “RIP”
Fond memories.
wow. i’m so glad one of us is havin’ a good time
@pining-for-peace from here
Ratchet hadn’t really been paying attention to Jazz’s presence until he heard the smaller mech’s voice say that. He whipped his gaze from his workbench, optics fixing on Jazz’s.
“What now, Jazz?”
It’s the fact that his optics can fix on Jazz’s that brings him here to medbay, one servo on the wall to guide himself and the other holding the shattered crystal of his visor. He’s staring at a point slightly to the left of Ratchet’s shoulder, until the taller mech speaks and, audials twitching, Jazz slides his gaze over to... his mouth, still not quite his optics, but as close as he could get.
He already looks sheepish, lifting the broken visor higher. “I, uh, I took a bad fall sparrin’. Landed flat on my face.” The servo bracing on the wall leaves it for a moment, so gentle digits can feel the remnants of the visor still attached to his face. “Some o’ th’ humans helped me gather th’ pieces, but I dunno if it can be fixed.”
“callout post for Optimus, didn’t even react when holdin’ my dead body.”