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.
Silence stretched between the three of them after Cleaver spoke, a response that had been at the ready dissipating. But nothing on Ironhide's faceplates, to her, revealed what thoughts she figured were turning his gears at that very moment. A quick glance at Cleaver's own face didn't give her any leads, so she waited until Big Red seemed to come out of daze.
"…M'Kay." She began, tone light despite a raised brow she wasn't taking any care to hide as she glanced between them. "So boom-sticks on the back burner." Moving to the trailer hooked to the back of the Apache she began to unload some of the cargo, putting it into some type of order that was out of the way but prepared to be organized and moved in-- most of the items human things. "So you said you had some cupboards in need of scrubbing?" She turned to peer up at the newly installed piece just behind their helms. "Starting with that one?"
"Mmm?" It took Cleaver a few seconds to come out of her own haze when Cat spoke. Given how ridiculously protective Ironhide was, she'd expected some argument out of him before she ultimately got her way. His solemn agreement had stunned her where she'd been braced for a battle of wills, and she looked down to Cat as if surprised that the human was even there. "Oh, yeah. Hang on, I'll get you some general cleanser."
Leaving Ironhide to pick himself up off the floor, the medic retrieved one of Cat's plastic cleaning buckets from the pile of stuff against one wall and dipped it into a large cannister of foamy liquid. Setting it on the bottom shelf of the cupboard along with a human-friendly sponge, she knelt and offered a hand to Cat to lift her up.
Teaching was a familiar habit, and Cleaver fell into it easily. "General cleanser isn't medical grade, and wouldn't be harmful to you so long as you didn't marinate yourself in it overnight. I use it to wipe down the berths and the surfaces. Stronger grades for equipment, and a High-Grade derived one for surgery."
Simultaneously, and with the brunt of her attention, Cleaver glyphed gratitude to Ironhide. ::Thank you, love. Know my way ain't like yours, but just 'cause this sparkling's gonna be born into a war don't mean it's got to be a part of it.:: A flicker of affectionate amusement. ::Though I can't imagine you're being much good in the field glitching like this over the bitlet. How'd it go telling the others?::
Ironhide wanted to try to explain, share it with Cleaver - this was amazing, almost as much as the sparkling's existence itself, it changed EVERYTHING... and he didn't know where to start. She had said it herself; just because ou would be born into their war didn't mean that ou had to be part of it. She had said it calmly, though, almost off handedly, and he was still standing there wrestling with the concept that this, their sparkling would have actual choice. Absolute and true free will. That their cohort's sparkling could be anything at all, and not just a function defined by class or war or faction.
He didn't have the words for that and in the end it was easier to step into her field once more, his hands brushing her sides - heat of healing on one side, heat of manufacturing on the other, soothing both as best he could by touch. Easier to put that aside for a moment and just let her amusement wash over him and answer it in kind, rueful but not in the slightest bit embarrassed. ::What, yeh mean t' tell meh none of th' others've sent yeh a vid yet? Primus, Ah think Miko - that's one of th' human children - got th' whole thing on her phone an' it's been makin' th' rounds of th' base.:: It was purely fond amusement, no sting or seriousness to it, and he transmitted a memory clip with it to illustrate - flat on his back on the rec room floor, buried beneath the frames and shared fields of the entire rest of the cohort, Jazz and Bluestreak and Shadowrunner alight with the matching joy to what still, undiluted but now controlled, echoed through his own spark.
The area, once she was up set up inside, wasn't overly large… overly large in terms of some of things meant for giant mechanisms in the room. Giving her new boots (yes, she was loving them) one last tug she took up sponge and bucket and set to work, looking over her shoulder once or twice as Cleaver explained to show her attention was there. As easily as Cleaver slipped into teaching, Cat eagerly soaked it up with as much enthusiasm as day one. Playful poking and complaining aside, she did her tasks, did them well, and would more often than not spend whatever time left with her own version of 'studying' whatever was taught.
She turned away from the corner of the cupboard, shifting around for another refill from her bucket --- Internally gasping. 'Wha--! ho- hmm…' Filled with a sudden what, need to possibly squeal, no, definitely squeal, sudden urge to fill this deep gap in her mind of things-she-did-not-know! And then she realized, not a second later, she was staring. 'Eheheheh…' Almost smoothly she dipped her head back to the bucket, let her bangs conceal her expression and carried on.. maybe too slowly.. with her work. So, Red Mech wasn't just any visitor, he was Cleaver's visitor. Screwed up expression quickly smoothed itself out into smirk, lips curling upward… not so much that she felt she had found a secret (open affection usually wasn't part of secret keeping), as much as it appeared that Cleaver had a Special Male Friend. Much grinning, squealing, possibly some ice cream and energon (if she could coax her into it) could be had later, though. She wouldn't want to intrude (too much) on things Cleaver possibly wanted on the DL.
She paused… Brows knitting as that thought warped and twisted. If this Thing was the type of Thing she figured it was, it wasn't a secret, right? It wasn't a secret… from specific people, certain possibly hyperactive people who happened to express their feelings with a loud voice, lots of touching, and hand gestures… Right? 'Am I the last fucking one to figure this out?'
In her reflections, she'd managed to complete nearly double what she first started with. Not a peep, not a glance. She was being…quiet.
At the transmitted clip, Cleaver snorted a laugh before she could stop herself, which only compounded Cat's 'I'm not looking, honest' expression. It was rude to exclude her human companion through Cybertronian communications, and the old medic made a point not to where it could be helped. Cat hadn't expressed any displeasure with some things going over her head in a series of clicks and whistles, or worse - seemingly silent communication through field, glyphs and data transmission, but that didn't mean she didn't feel snubbed.
Moonshot and Reflector didn't know about the sparkling - in part because she simply hadn't seen them between the size of the base and everything that needed doing in it. She was also dreading Moonshot's reaction in a weary sort of way - the mech felt like another protective fusser. Cat would like to know, though, and wouldn't be completely intolerable for doing so.
And there was no time like the present.
"Sorry, Cat - Ironhide was showing me a clip of his cohort's reaction to the news. Gonna be having a little bit running around here in a few, ah, months." A step back with a wry smile, blades raising to both human and mech alike. "So go ahead: glitch out and be useless together for a klick. But I still want that cupboard scrubbed."
She'd practically tipped the bucket of cleanser when she heard her name, scrambling to look somewhat innocent and hide (unsuccessfully) the bright-eyed look and pursed-lip smile, managing a squeaky "Mm?!" before giving Cleaver her full attention. Whatever 'secret-keeping' thoughts buzzing around in her mind before had scattered the moment she saw them again, and again had to fight the urge for an approving thumbs up. So it was with dulled senses, still on the 'Cleaver has a Special Male Friend!' high, that she received the news.
It took the span of a second to completely process, facial expression going from tilted head and knitted brows 'Did I just hear what I thought I heard?' to excited shock when she played back the words. "Oh mio Dio. Really?!" 'Little bit' combined with 'a few months' next to Big Red Boyfriend and a smiling Cleaver could only mean one thing. Words couldn't describe the growing excitement on her face, so she did what most any female would do and congratulated her in the unspoken way. The squeal was something of a new sound that might have shattered the nearest wine glass, only slightly muffled by the gloved hands around her face. Bouncing to her feet she ran to the edge of the cabinet, as far as she could go without falling off the edge to be as close as she could without experiencing the failure of a tackling hug to close the gap between them.
Her squeals had at least settled into uncontrolled giggles after a few seconds, giving her the opportunity to actually stand still long enough to try and express herself. Words, however… were not quite there yet, and came out in a garbled mess ending with "YAY!" and throwing up her arms, only to now direct this energy to the mech as well. Words: "I! Nng! YAY!" …Almost.
In truth she didn't know what this actually meant, nor had she bothered to exactly think about the details of this entire process and WHY it might different. That would come later. Young one coming into the world new and small and little bit-like still meant young one, and given Cleaver's expecting open arms for the 'glitch out', young one still meant just as much good things for them as it did here on Earth, process aside. So it was this combined with the Special Friend glee that sent her thoughts into a tailspin, taking some extra time to be able to sort herself well enough to speak. But she got there. "Oh, I'm so going to be useless for the rest of the day."
Ironhide ducked his head slightly, a sheepish sort of admission skating through his field at Cleaver's words. Cat's reaction - sheer unfeigned, unadulterated glee - made his own spark turn over, though, pulsing with a matching joy that ached to be expressed as freely as the young woman did, high pitched squeals and wordless flailing and all.
He drew in a deep ventilation and managed to work the worst of it out in a quick twitch flick of his plates, like a ripple through his systems. He could, despite what Jazz might accuse, LEARN. He could certainly practice some restraint. And maybe it edged his field, underscoring near everything in a faint tinge of joy, but he managed to keep it from being an overwhelming wave. ::Ah've been tryin' not t' glitch out, dahrlin'. Ah start layin' it on too heavy, yeh go ahead an' smack meh.::
Aloud, though, he couldn't resist leaning towards Cat with a conspiratorial grin. "Yeah," he whispered to her, sotto voice, "that was pretty much mah reaction too."
Last Edit: Mar 31, 2012 15:50:13 GMT -5 by Deleted
::It's nice to see you this happy, love, honestly:: Cleaver assured, smiling at the red mech, soaking in the delighted warmth in his field. Carriage was a monumentally priviledged and wonderful experience as a baseline, but Ironhide's wonderous perception of it somehow made it more so. She was appreciating it anew through a mecha who had never experienced it before, and it pleased her no end to share in his joy. ::Happy's fine, it's the not letting me get on that'll warrant a smack if ya push it too far.
To Cat, and her body language screaming for celebratory physical contact of some description, Cleaver huffed a genuinely regretful sigh. "No hugs or climbing until it's out, I'm afraid- plates are too hot whilst it's manufracturing, and I won't have you burned off of my frame." She activated her holo on the shelf, dressed in her search-and-rescue flight suit by default. "Hope this'll do you, though." The woman held out her arms a little, permission and an invitation.
The hologram wasn't anything like Earthlings had imagined so far, even as far as Star Trek was concerned. It was something more physical, looking solid… but more than that it had a feel. With the presence of mist tickling the cheeks, or snow melting on the skin, hair raising on end in the way it would with static in the air, warm like the touch of family with all the presence of ideas, thoughts, consciousness, yet nothing there at all. She danced happily into the embrace, her brain searching and failing for a description that may not ever be found in her life time. But she grinned up at the holo's Cleaver, expression practically writing out her thoughts: What ELSE would her new heavy duty lab suit be for?
Perhaps it was the rumble of Ironhide's voice, combined with still riding the high of everything she considered wonderful news among one she considered good friend (and one quickly being written down in her book as such), whatever it was, a giggle bubbled up enough to scrunch her glasses up on her nose and squint her eyes. "Good, there's no better way." If expressions were fist-bumps…
There was real solidity to the hologram (when it was working properly...), and Cleaver had made good use of it in the past to collect postal orders and items for Cat after the young human had become a permanent tenant. Now, Cleaver used the solidity to hug Cat tightly, smiling into the curious sensation of errant hairs.
"Moonshot... don't, rightly know yet," she finally admitted, dropping her arms out of the embrace. "Not seen him in more than high-speed passing since we shipped in, and it's not something I'm just gonna put out over the comm.s."
Despite arms dropped, Cat stayed close to the hologram-- a somewhat comfort having something the same size available to hug, poke, and communicate with without having to strain her neck. So it was to the hologram that she smirked something of an understanding. "Gotchya." She said, with the type of calm tone that suggested she wouldn't be the one to shout it over the intercoms. She may shout. But not about it.
She added an affectionate hip bump that could only mean (ice cream) chatting later, moving straight into a more casual side embrace. "See? Didn't glitch out that bad." This time her voice was calmer, but no less excited, and with no less amount of light in her grin. "Congrats, though, you two."
Ironhide leaned gently into Cleaver's side once more, hand raising automatically to cup the heat of her plates. "Don't know what Ah've done t' deserve it," he admitted quietly, resting his helm against hers for a moment, "but it's th' best thing t' happen in mah function." Mindful of their small audience, he grinned, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek. "Thank yeh, dahrlin'."
Cleaver tipped her helm into his, optics shuttering into the brief contact. He just couldn't comprehend that this sparkling was part his, and it was understandable, if a little frustrating. Ironhide was full-frame, sparked with other full-frames and likely had only met a scant handful of self-generated Cybertronians (like Bluestreak) in his life. Cohorts commissioned their newsparks fullframe, and self-generation was a story about 3% of the population that had never reached the masses.
Perhaps when he was physically handed the bitlet, and could feel the partial resonance in its spark frequency, the similarities in its makeup, it might sink in. Maybe. For now, he was involved and happy. Cleaver couldn't rightly ask for more.
"Lookin' forward to you thanking me when I hand it over to you for sittin'," she ultimately replied, her physical body stepping away from his as her holo retreated from Cat. Fond as she was of both of them, she was starting to feel put on the spot. "Betting you know that sparklings recharge in short bursts, and like slag are you allowed to miss a playtime or a feeding."
From the way she said it Ironhide vaguely concluded it was meant to be a warning of some sort, but the effect didn't work quite as planned. Or at all as planned. He managed, by force of will, to clamp down on his vocalizer, but there was no restraining the surge of anticipation, excitement, and something almost like craving need that lanced through his field, vibrating up through his struts to blaze bright through his optics.
"Ah know," he managed, and it came out reasonably steady for the amount of sheer emotion behind it. Sense memory exploded through him, still clear and preserved over the vorn, and he didn't press a hand to his own plates only out of sheer stubborn refusal. Mass and sensors recalled vividly the feel of a tiny frame tucked secure and safe beneath his own armor, the entirety of his own world telescoping down to that one point of perfect completion.
A hard click rebooted his vocalizer, clearing the worst of the tremble that wanted to creep into it. "Ah'm lookin' forward to it too, believe meh."
She thought she did extremely well to contain the squeal that fought its way up when Ironhide stepped in, but, the energy was now trapped in her body and it had to do something. Instantly her hands came up instead, expressing quietly what she was thinking with a grin and two thumbs up. Approve of this, she did. Quickly she turned, winking at Cleaver, to take up the sponge and drop down to scrubbing again before she volunteered herself for sitting. It would be a terrible idea... and the first place she would likely go would be in whatever it had for a mouth.
Instead she settled for a mental 'Me, too!, giving the energy a place to go without disturbing (too much) a moment between two creators. Only when she felt she was in the clear did she look up and away from the panel she was scrubbing. "Not that I can do much.. but if there is something I can do.. Something my short stature can assist with." 'Baby-proofing, maybe.' Flexing slightly as she said this. "Lemme know. Otherwise I'll just party it up with my cupboards, here." She said, returning to two-handed scrubbing. This could count for her abdominal work-out for the day.