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.
Ironhide was... Shadow exvented quietly, optics offlined as she analyzed what she was feeling from him. Beyond the affection and reassurance and the things that were meant for her...Yes, he was enjoying this, and not for any reasons that might make her wary. Just a genuine pleasure in caring for her, in seeing her happy (then she had to stop and consider that, because she was happy, and it wasn't just the absence of threat/worry/fear, it was a swirl of safe/warm/content/protected/loved that very nearly dumped her straight back to the floor in shock).
She caught hold of Ironhide's arm for balance. "I can walk," she said, and felt his immediate blaze of disbelief. "No, I can, but," she tucked her helm against him, want and need and a sheepish admission of self-indulgence in her field, "I'm not above taking shameless advantage of you, if you really don't mind."
Somewhere, in the back of his processor, was a niggling sense of things he probably shouldn't be doing - such as treating a seasoned Autobot warrior like a youngling, or metalhandling a femme all over the place with a familiarity that should have rightfully seen him punched by now - but there wasn't anyone to tell him no, apparently not even Shadow herself, and the part of things that felt right easily overwhelmed the unrealized shoulds. He SHOULD be doing any number of things, true, but what he needed to be doing was exactly what he did - bending to scoop her up at small of back and knee, lifting her easily into a two armed hold that put no weight or stabilizing need on her arms. She was only a head or so shorter than he was but he outmassed her easily, nearly in armor plate alone, and she was no more a burden than his own sparkling would have been.
"Wouldn't've said it if Ah didn't mean it," he told her, pressing his forehelm briefly to hers with a pulse of affection. "C'mon. Let's get yeh sorted."
It was a short trip from washracks to quarters and Ironhide angled to let her input her own codes at the door to her room. Sparse inside, mistakable for empty, but the only thing it needed it had and when he put her down it was onto the berth, settling her gently onto the surface with a last caress along the edge of her helm.
"Get some recharge," he rumbled. "An' tomorrow, we'll go out an' do it again, an' we'll keep doin' it until those welds heal up an' yer shootin' like Ah know yeh can. Alright?"
Some part of Shadow had still expected...not a trap, precisely...but at least a little teasing over her request, not to find herself scooped up with a rumble of satisfaction, the warmth of Ironhide's field surrounding her as securely as his arms. She leaned into him, field open and content and drawing in as much of that security as she could, and admitted in the privacy of her own processor that she probably should have figured it out by now: Ironhide didn't make offers unless he was prepared to follow through on them.
After that, it wasn't really a surprise that he didn't set her down at her door; the only surprise was when he said they were going out shooting the next day.
Pleased surprise, and she made sure that he knew it before she teased, "What happened to all those instructions you were giving me earlier? Don't trust me to follow them?"
He'd ended up down on one knee by her berth in the process of setting her down without dropping her; it would, Ironhide told himself, just be for a moment, but knew in his spark that it was a lie even as he was shifting his weight to better settle mass against knee and hip joints. "Trust yeh just fine," he assured her, tracing a thumb along the finials of her helm. "But Ah got th' time, an' yeh ain't the only one needin' practicin'. Been sittin' on mah aft in this base too long. Yeh mind the company?"
He didn't think she would mind and his engine was already spinning up, slow, deep idling rumbles that echoed in the quiet of the small room. He traced another light touch across her helm. "Get some rest, bitlet."
The rumble of his engine was absolutely cheating when she was better than three quarters to recharge already and fading fast, and Shadow had to make an effort to respond to his question. "I don't mind company if it's you," she admitted, making no attempt to filter the words. Ironhide wouldn't hold them against her, after all.
She wanted to tell him he wasn't leaving her any choice about getting rest, but that really was too much effort. He also wasn't leaving, as far as she could tell.
And that was really, really all right with her.
Turning her helm slightly into Ironhide's touch, Shadow let herself slide the rest of the way into recharge.
He waited until she'd cycled down; waited until her systems had quieted, deep and easy, his own effortlessly maintaining the steady droning rumble. He kept up a steady rhythm, a soft, steady motion, tracing light along the edges of her helm until the last glimmer of light had dimmed from her optics.
She wasn't his bitlet. He sat in the dim quiet of her room, watching her recharge, his files recording the quiet sounds of her systems at rest, and told himself that. She wasn't his bitlet.
She had been someone's, though. He had no doubt of it. He knew what a youngling spark felt like in a full frame - had been one himself, countless vorns distant, and had seen countless more throughout his function. Shadow... didn't feel like that. Shadow felt like Blue, and he could picture, in his mind, the tiny handful of yellow opticed sparkling that she would have been.
She had been someone's, and that someone wasn't here and she wasn't his, but maybe, when she needed it, he could try to fill that gap for her. Just for a little while.
He waited until she was deep in recharge, then waited awhile longer, engine rumbling soothing notes of rest and safety, before he finally pushed himself away from the side of her berth and let himself silently out.