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.
"I don't know how you got so lucky. Maybe you were a saint in a past life?"
Saint of blowing slag up maybe.
Happily tucked into Ironhides plates and holding onto him not just for hir own support but for the weapon specialist too.
"I know you want to keep us safe 'Hide and you hate it that you can't but...You taught us well. I'm the best sniper in the army. Jazz is...Well Jazz. Chromia's a force of nature and I can already see Shadow improving thanks to you. We'll keep ourself safe for you."
Ironhide vented shallowly. "Ain't really th' point," he said softly. "Ah know yeh can. Slag, Cleaver's a Neutral an' a medic an' Ah'm still pretty sure she could hand an Eradicon his aft if she had to. An' all of yeh are good, best at what yeh do. Ah ain't got any cause t' worry, but slag happens no matter how good we are."
He shook is head shortly, tucking his chin against Bluestreak's helm. "Still. Ah am lucky t' have yeh all. An' maybe Ah'm greedy t' want Cleaver too, but Ah think she'd fit in well."
"You're not greedy at all Ironhide, I think you deserve all the love and happiness in the Universe."
Well the little sniper may be a bit biased in that but after everything Ironhide had done for hir, for everyone he deserved that and more. Relaxed, nuzzling into Ironhides plating. Doorwings fluttering softly with his touch.
"I'm sure she will 'Hide."
Suddenly a more devious thought occurred to hir, door wings perking up.
Ironhide could, he thought, be excused for the half drawn intake that got stuck somewhere in his vents at Bluestreak's innocent words, locking up whole arrays in a choking intake/exvent conflict, fans whirling on to try to compensate for the sudden cessation of his vent system.
By the time he'd sorted it all and recovered his systems into something approaching normal operation, Bluestreak was still sitting there, innocent as the day ou was sparked, bright optics and twitching door wings. That thought was danger, though. That thought called to mind treasured memories of a Blue that had been small enough to fit in his cupped hands, of fragile plates and brilliant blue optics in a tiny face that had tipped up to him, the embodiment of so many infinitely precious things that Ironhide couldn't even begin to classify them all.
He shuttered his optics, clamped down joints and hydraulics that wanted to tremble, and tried to concentrate on smoothing out his ventilations. NOT on the old sense memory of a tiny form held close and safe beneath his plates, of the sound of sparkling chirps and clicks, or carefully watching over the draw of a tiny fuel tank siphoning off his own. NOT, slag and rust take it, on the ache that had taken up residence somewhere deep in his struts and mass when 'tiny' had become larger, self-reliant, taken steps away and then taken more, and he had pasted it over in pride at watching his sparkling grow, pride in Bluestreak's accomplishments and skills, but some part of that initial ache had never gone away.
Ironhide missed it. Missed it more than he could articulate, more than he wanted to think about, missed it with an ache that actually hurt, pangs of phantom pain beneath every plate that a sparkling could fit beneath, a trembling ache in his hands and against his chest plates, longing for a tiny weight and fragile form that had grown into the fully framed youngling in his arms long before.
Something broken and static laced leaked from his vocalizer; he cut it off sharply, rebooting it with a palpable short in the circuit, and made himself cycle a deep ventilation. Forced sensors to register only the here and now, the weight and warmth of his youngling, the way Bluestreak still fit against him in fashions they'd made and worked into over the vorn. Made himself not hold too tight, not shake with the longing, not betray the empty, hollow feeling inside, and most of all to NOT, under any circumstance, think of sparklings or recall the grainy image of the tiny bitlet Cleaver had sparked vorns and vorns before the war had ever started.
Did she feel the same, that empty pain of a place inside his code and spark that he had never known and that, once he'd known the feel of it, ached to keep serving its function long after the function was past? He didn't know. He couldn't even conceive of how to ask, the pain private and personal to him and unshared with even his cohort. Chromia and Jazz had never seemed to feel the same and he wasn't certain it wasn't a glitch, something cross wired in his coding somewhere, a pointless and flawed thing that he didn't want to admit to.
"Think," he managed at last, voice low and gruff and only faintly static streaked, "it's a mite soon t' be talkin' about that. Can't say it's crossed either of our minds. An' truth be told, bitlet, yeh shouldn't get yer hopes up. Ah'm not so sure Ah even could." He nuzzled the helm tucked against his chin. This close, there was no way his youngling hadn't felt the surprised shocked flare of his field, or the almost flat null that he had reigned it into, but there was little he could do about that. "Yeh came t' us pre-made, sparklet, but th' rest of us, we're full-framed. Ain't never heard of full-framed mecha makin' sparklings."
Last Edit: Mar 22, 2012 19:03:06 GMT -5 by Deleted
Ironhide was many things. Hir creator in every way that mattered, strong, brave, loyal to a fault. Subtle however? That was not one of those things. Bluestreak could feel as if it was hir own his embarrassed, hurt and the want too. This wasn't entirely the reaction ou had hoped for.
There was little ou could say to him but thankfully snuggles didn't need words and were much better at comforting. Holding tightly to him, permission to let him hold as tight as he liked. Nuzzling him and humming softly.
"But you still want one don't you?"
Ironhide had a parental instinct bordering on compulsive and he should be allowed to exert it upon actual sparkling once more.
For a long moment Ironhide let himself hold tightly, optics shuttered, hands stroking and petting carefully over armor plates that were thousands of times harder and stronger than the foil thin fragile plates he had once ghosted his fingertips across. His engine turned over sluggishly, half choked, and slipped into an old vibration, one that had soothed a clingy sparkling and an even more clingy guardian.
Bowing his head, he nuzzled into the curve of his youngling's helm. "Wouldn't be replacin' yeh," he said thickly. "Any more'n Cleaver's replacin' Chromia. But..." he pulled in a deep ventilation, swallowing down a wellspring of emotion, "if Ah ever took on carin' for another sparkling, yeh'd be th' very best older sibling for th' bitlet. Can't imagine better."
"Of course you wouldn't be replacing me. I'm irreplaceable."
Smieling brightly as he pressed hir helm up agianst Ironhides chest. Feeling the strong steady spark pulse beneath and the vibrations he generated. Long since imprinted into hir mind and spark as comfort, safety, love.
"And of course I'd be the best big sibling. I'll get to spoil it rotten and give it back to you. You're the best creator any sparkling could ever ask for 'Hide."
The sound and feel of his sparkling's systems pressed against his own, separated by adult plating or no, was soothing. Ironhide nestled Bluestreak closer, humming softly, feeling his own systems unclench.
"Guess we're even, then," he rumbled, dropping a kiss to the helm pressed against his chest. "Ah'm pretty sure yer th' best sparkling anyone could've had." He grinned, the humor of it all surfacing without the ache to tarnish it. "Not sure Ah could raise another t' yer standards. Yeh make meh proud, Blue."
There wasn't a doubt in hir processor that Ironhide would be the best, would raise the best and it was obvious in hir EMF. Smiling brightly and retuning the affection, kissing hir creator on the cheek.
"I'm happy I make you proud Ironhide. It's all I've wanted."
Ironhide rested his forehelm against his youngling's, field pulsing a smooth, steady wave of love. "Good thing, that," he rumbled, "because it's all yeh've ever done, sparklet. Made meh proud, made all of us proud. Wouldn't ask for more."