Doin' it with Style

💖 Your muse is someone I generally/already ship with mine but I want to get to know your portrayal

💦 I’m afraid I’ll break one of your rules! [be sure to specify/feel free to ask more about it]

🧪 I want to RP a sensitive topic with you/your muse and I’m not sure how you’d feel about it.

📌 Your reply is stuck in my drafts but I’d like to start something new (or talk about it first)

🍕 There’s something I need to know about your portrayal/muse before I write with you

❔ I’m not in the mood for big things at the moment, asks are just easier for me

🌹 My muse is getting attached to yours since following you (interactions or not) and I need to tell you how they feel

🍰 I have a cute idea for our muses, how do we make it happen?

🕶 I just want to know everything about your muse, but I don’t want to seem clingy/nosy

🥐 You almost broke my rules(or you did and I didn’t tell you), could you please refrain from doing [thing] ?

💫 I can’t keep up with your blog/shenanigans/etc. but I love what you’re doing!

⏰ You RP lots of time sensitive things and I’m either busy or feel I’m too late. Maybe we can do something less so?

💢 tumblr messed with my ability to reply (app crash, technical difficulties, etc.) and I’m just so mad/I’m having technical difficulties

🌌 I’m actually in the mood to write an AU of my muse in your fandom/verse instead of canon/my main! Any tips or ideas?

🎨 You RP subjects I’m inexperienced with, but want to get better! Help!

🎊 Sometimes you just make me so happy I don’t know what to do. Oops.

🧵 In our current thread/your writing, I’d like you to write about/describe [specify thing]

🎶 I really tend to space off sometimes and do my own thing, it’s not you!

☁︎  I was intimidated by your disposition/afraid to follow/send an ask to

♨︎  you seem really chill and I can’t wait to start writing with you!

♕  I’m impressed with your writing! 

✘  I don’t like your writing

✁  we used to write together, but we don’t anymore.

♋︎  I feel like we’re really similar and would get along well.

♡  I have a tumblr crush on you

☯︎  you’ve helped me improve my writing 

₪  I still haven’t had the courage to send you an ask/reach out to you

℥  I envy you for _____ reason

∞  I hope we write for a really long time!

∅  you annoy me

☛  I have something I need to tell you in IMs

❤︎  you are my favorite writer of your muse

❉  I’ve followed you for a long time

▼ I’ve heard bad things about you

A collection of random “I want to know…” sentences.

For Multimuses: Please Specify Muse(s)

“I want to know more about you.” 

“I want to know where you’re from.”

“I want to know what you do.”

“I want to know what you like.”

“I want to know what your hobbies are.”

“I want to know who your family is.”

“I want to know who your friends are.”

“I want to know what makes you happy.”

“I want to know what makes you sad.”

“I want to know what makes you angry.”

“I want to know why you’re hurt.”

“I want to know who hurt you.”

“I want to know why you’re scared.”

“I want to know what love is to you.”

“I want to know who you loved.”

“I want to know who you hated.”

“I want to know why you run away.”

“I want to know why you stayed.”

“I want to know why you left me.”

While the tactician’s attention seemed to remain focused fully on a datapad he was holding in his servos, one of the doorwings rose slightly, indicating that he did notice Jazz’s presence. The fact that sensory panels of his doorwings alerted him of his visitor before he even knocked was something Prowl decided to keep to himself though. 

“Even Ratchet is not so cruel to his patients,” he replied dryly, doorwings flicking a little. “I am quite certain that we are both aware that my company would not be the best cure for social deprivation.”

Well. A little bit of self-deprecation never killed anyone and to be fairly honest, Prowl believed his own words to be true anyway. He certainly wasn’t the most skilled at casual conversations or well-versed in all the little social cues, so it was logical that someone in need of an entertaining company would not be sent to him in such a situation. 

“No matter what you call it, bribery is a bribery,” he replied, rolling his optic and venting a sigh as a response to Jazz’s antics, even though his exasperation was completely staged. “I am uncertain if best is what I meant. Annoying would be a more precise description, I believe.” 

Once upon a time, back when they first met, he did consider the spy’s behaviour to be absolutely annoying, indeed. Now though? He has learnt to find amusement in all of it, and especially in this little game they kept playing. Jazz might have been a chaotic force, but Prowl - the same Prowl who valued order above everything else - was quickly learning to find beauty in this chaos. 

Blue optics shifted briefly to the other’s servo as if he was contemplating what to do for a moment, then the tactician clearly decided to ignore the gesture. Instead, he carefully adjusted the position of the nearest datapad, making sure it was now placed perfectly parallel to the bigger stack next to it, and soon after he stood up in one smooth move, doorwings automatically rising into their usual proud and professional stance. Once more the Praxian’s optics drifted towards Jazz, glimmering with a hint of something that could have been a smile.

“Shall we go then?”

“I mean it works for me, doesn’t it? After all I keep comin’ back to you,” Jazz said, ignoring the note of self-deprecation that slipped too easily from the Praxian’s lips. While yes, the Praxian was not the best conversationalist or a master at reading the room he still had plenty to offer-- whether he or other Autobots realized it.  Jazz couldn’t help but smirk at Prowl’s own antics that fed into his own. He laughed again. The sound confident and clear as it tumbled from his curved lips, “Oh right,” the Polyhexian drawled, “I think ya need to get your vocabulary check because you are mixing up two “A” words. Awesome,” he tapped one side of the desk with a digit tip to emphasis the word, then tapped the other side, “And annoying. Common mistake. Don’t be too hard on yourself, sweetspark,” Jazz leaned a little closer over the desk with a slightly more flirtatious posturing to him accentuated with a wink. 

Pulling his servo back when it was blatantly ignored he snickered, patiently watching the Praxian create order within his space once more. At one point Prowl’s natural draw to order and rules had driven Jazz up a wall. He could appreciate a well formulated plan, or a system-- everyone had their quirks and tricks to get through things, sure. But Prowl had been a whole new level that bordered on down yet aggravating. 

Jazz had grown to know better. Prowl was patient, methodical, critical, adaptable, and most importantly-- cared. He had come to understand Prowl (sometimes on a level Jazz didn’t think anyone else did) and found himself always wanting.... 

After all, you need chaos to know order, and order to understand the chaos. But you couldn’t have only one.

While the tactician’s attention seemed to remain focused fully on a datapad he was holding in his servos, one of the doorwings rose slightly, indicating that he did notice Jazz’s presence. The fact that sensory panels of his doorwings alerted him of his visitor before he even knocked was something Prowl decided to keep to himself though. 

If it were anyone else so casually picking up the carefully-arranged datapads from his desk and reading them, Prowl would have thrown them out of his office immediately. 

But this was Jazz. And the tactician has already learnt that Jazz was full of restless energy; always moving, always doing something, rarely actually being still. It was a complete opposite of Prowl himself, and in a way, it was quite fascinating to watch.

Which was something the tactician was doing now, blue optics following the other mech’s movements. 

“I thought so,” was a flat response, though there might have been a glimmer of something suspiciously close to amusement in the black and white Praxian’s  optics. “Perhaps I should send Ratchet a note that our Third in Command suffers from desperate loneliness then.” 

And there was this suspicious glimmer again. The tactician was definitely teasing his friend in his own way, once again hoping that his sense of humour will be understood. Still, when Jazz admitted he truly wanted Prowl’s company, his optics shifted away for just a moment, before there was a small nod followed by the most subtle flick of the doorwings.

That response might not have been the most enthusiastic, but the saboteur’s words certainly warmed the Praxian’s spark. They always did. 

“Let me clarify.  You need a bribe in order to do paperwork,” Prowl’s optics narrowed briefly. “It is not entirely legal and you are the worst Officer I have ever known.”

Except the tactician wasn’t being serious and his processor was already focusing on the other black and white’s offer. Sometimes it was hard to say no to his friend. 

Rec room might be a bit crowded or at least noisy at this hour, which wasn’t exactly something Prowl looked forward to, but perhaps his favourite table in the corner will not be occupied. Besides, Jazz wanted to spend some time with him, which actually aligned perfectly with what the tactician himself wanted. And Jazz seemed to enjoy such lively places.

Yes. He could do this.  

“Ah, yes. It sounds…acceptable.” A pause, blue optics looking straight into the other’s visor. “On one condition. You will then do paperwork in my office.” Another pause. “So I can…make sure you are actually working.”

Or, perhaps, so they could simply spend more time together. 

Restless energy, always changing, always moving. Those were traits that came with the name Jazz. Always improv, changing, fluid, new, yet familiar with every beat striking it’s own cord. Plus if Jazz couldn’t seem to help himself, but did his job well, where was the harm? 

Jazz threw his helm back slightly with a warm laugh at the banter calmly said back eagerly catching that glimmer of amusement in Prowl’s gaze. A dance of their own. Each striking a beat, and seeing if the other could not only match it but keep up. Jazz had come to love it. In truth the Polyhexian had come to-- well, let’s just say he was overly fond of the Praxian with icy blue gaze fixed on him.

“Desperate loneliness?” Jazz quoted, sitting down with a graceful flop into the chair across from Prowl, “That’s a good one, and honestly Ratchet might just send me back to ya. Cause the way to cure loneliness is, well, do what we are doin’ now.” A black servo gestured back and forth between them before resting that arm on the desk with a wide smile. 

Said wide smile turned cheeky with a playful, yet mischievous glint to his visor, “Oh thats such a strong label. Bribery. I told ya Prowler, it’s an incentive. And ya wound me,” Jazz pulled back for effect resting his servo over his spark, “I think you meant, best officer ya know.” 

While the tactician’s attention seemed to remain focused fully on a datapad he was holding in his servos, one of the doorwings rose slightly, indicating that he did notice Jazz’s presence. The fact that sensory panels of his doorwings alerted him of his visitor before he even knocked was something Prowl decided to keep to himself though. 

“Indeed. One of those days,” he simply replied. Blue optics finally shifted away from the datapad, instead focusing with all their intensity on the special ops agent. Doorwings rose and flared out ever so slightly when Jazz came closer, secretly tracking his every movement and Prowl simply listened.

Jazz liked hanging out with him. 

Those words made the Praxian’s spark flutter ever so slightly in its casing and he honestly wasn’t sure what to think about this. But at the same time, those words also sounded dangerously close to a compliment or at least a suggestion that there was something enjoyable about tactician’s company. 

Prowl didn’t know how to take compliments. 

“I find it hard to believe that you would willingly sit in the office doing paperwork,” he pointed out with a subtle flick of the doorwings. “Are you that desperate for company?”

Despite the monotone voice and usual rather blank expression on the tactician’s faceplates, those words were his attempt at teasing and he honestly hoped that Jazz would recognize them as such; he was one of the very few that seemed to notice and enjoy - or at least pretend to enjoy - the black and white Praxian’s jokes.

Just in case, white servo motioned towards the chair on the opposite side of the desk, even though Prowl was quite certain that Jazz didn’t really need any invitation. Hasn’t he casually invited himself to the Praxian’s office without even asking for permission and regardless of the tactician’s opinion on that matter many times before?

The agent laughed softly with a knowing glint settling across his opaque blue hued visor. He stopped at the front of the desk idle digits ghosting over the edge up to the corners of a couple data pads. Casually he picked one up skimming over the contents with a thoughtful hum. 

Stopping in his nosy skimming Jazz looked up over the edge of the data pad with a playful smirk and amused scoff, “Oh yea, yea so so desperate, Prowler,” he played into the tease with a tone that dripped with humor. Rolling his optics he went back to the data pad for a moment, “Nah, mech, I mean it. I wanted your company.”

Jazz clicked his tongue looking up going, “Wellll,” holding his chin with his other servo he looked upward as if the thought was tangibly there.

“Okay ya got me on one tiny detail: you are right that I don’t often willingly sit in an office to do this work,” he looked down again, gesturing to the data pads, setting down the one he had been holding, “But if there is a good incentive like---let’s say hangin’ with my favorite Praxian, and maybe ya and me gettin’ evenin’ fuel together then I’ll do it,” Jazz sat down then with a wide smile. If he had wings they would be fluttering.

While the tactician’s attention seemed to remain focused fully on a datapad he was holding in his servos, one of the doorwings rose slightly, indicating that he did notice Jazz’s presence. The fact that sensory panels of his doorwings alerted him of his visitor before he even knocked was something Prowl decided to keep to himself though. 

“Yikes, one of those days hm?” Jazz said easily, slipping into the office with fluid nearly silent grace. Approaching to desk blanketed with the likely suspect in Prowl’s current more than usual tart response Jazz continued his outward processing, “Not that I blame ya lookin’ at these, plus your less than thrilled demeanor with our earlier local-meetings.” The special ops agent winked at Prowl in a knowing way that was also vaguely cheeky.