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.
Ratchet leaned his weight back against one leg strut, crossed his arms across his chassis, and fixed Cleaver with a LOOK. "Ha! Don't give yourself too much credit," he told her bluntly. "The only thing upsetting our base is a Prime and a weapon specialist - both of whom are thousands of vorn old enough to know better - sulking on opposite sides of the base after they've fragged each other off. And believe me," he added sharply, "I've served with both of them long enough to know 'sulking' when I see it. Two overgrown sparklings who are dragging it out past the point of remembering what they were arguing about in the first place."
He shook his helm, lifting one hand to point a blunt finger at the other medic. "This is your wellbeing, and that sparkling's. Believe me, I can and will pull medical rank on the both of those glitches, and not get one word of argument." He vented sharply, the sound close to a snort. "Might do all of us a world of good to have them on different bases until they get over this snit. Stop Optimus from lurking around - which is a joke, at his size class - and drag Ironhide out of wherever he's holed himself up to nurse that temper of his. Good for both of them, good for us, good for you - I'm not seeing a downside."
Cleaver held the shorter medic's gaze as she reprocessed the highlights of that little tirade, struggling primarily to connect the pronouncement of 'sulking' with the Prime; and how Ratchet had managed to boil down the doubtlessly massive fallout of Ironhide's unsanctioned and horrific torture of Barricade to a 'snit'.
She glanced to Cat without meaning to, as if to see if she'd heard the same words come from the Autobot's vocaliser. Apparently she had.
Ratchet was now glowering at her pointedly, waiting for a response. It was touching, really - his concern amidst the clusterfrag of recent events, for almost all of which she was to blame. Not permitting any action on behalf of that concern was likely to get her hit again.
"It would be... good, to see Ironhide again," she ultimately replied, deciding that was the safest response. A quirk of a smile. "Berthside manner's come a long way since rounds. Effective."
Ratchet vented explosively - a short, sharp, derisive sound. "Didn't have scrap for berthside manner when I was doing rounds, and whatever I once had has been scrubbed off from dealing with frontline glitches for vorn," he scoffed. "A scuff upside the helm they understand. If I tried coddling them they'd roll right over me, and I don't have the fragging patience for it any more."
He flicked a short gesture between the femme and the human on the berth. "Finish up whatever you're doing here, then start on that resting. I'll go get that one's-" a finger jabbed at Cleaver's chassis "-sire, even if I have to drag him out of his quarters by his collar faring, the rusted out glitch. Give me a couple kliks to go kick his aft in gear."
<<ooc - wrap to Cleaver and Cat, while Ratchet goes to wrangle Hide?>>
"…So he seems nice." She muttered, angling her eyes up to Cleaver. She wasn't even trying to pretend like she was focusing on the finger assembly anymore; hadn't actually, for the last few minutes. Instead she stood on the edge of the berth, arms crossed over her chest, watching for a moment as the red and white frame of the Autobot medic retreated to a point to summon Big Red Boyfriend.
But eventually, she tilted her head back up to Cleaver, a small smile in place. "This'll be good! For you to decompress." Her smile widened a bit. "Just remember to.. y'know.. decompress when you're decompressing." She moved to nudge the finger with her toe, most of it reassembled with the exception of a few parts. "So work on this until 'Hide gets here...?"
Cleaver looked back down to Cat at the dangling question, the prickles that had lingered in her field after Ratchet departed ebbing away at the warmly affectionate smile she found. And it looked like the human was about as engaged with the idea of finishing the lesson as she was.
"Or we could catch up on some cable?" she suggested instead, offering half a smile back.
Ratchet was entirely correct in his anxiety over organics being in contact with exposed Cybertronian tech, the danger only minimised through deliberate care and focus. Cleaver was certainly lacking in that focus now, making the procedure that they could do another time anyway unnecessarily dangerous.
Extending a hand as a platform to her human companion, Cleaver inclined her helm with a nod towards the Atrium and, more specifically, the lounge/Cat's Kitchen corner. "With ice cream and energon, respectively? Can always pick up on this again another day."