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.
"Tryin's all any of us can do," Ironhide assured her, tucking her a smidge closer, plates flared protectively over hers, across spark and the heated warmth at her side. "Yeh ain't ever done a base before, ain't had ties with either faction, it ain't somethin' yeh just fall into an' get right straight off th' line. But if this here is gonna be yers, yeh gotta think big picture, all th' angles." He pulsed a thread of amusement to her. "First rule yeh learn bein' in command - everybody else? Is gonna be slaggin' STUPID if yeh let 'em."
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "As t' not havin' enough imagination..."
It was easy, the memory file still fresh from sharing it with Shadow. Three times half a dozen, eighteen strong at their height in his function time, heavy plated war builds all of them, even the scouts. Piled loose and strutless, fields interwoven even more than frames, a solid, tactile, sparkfelt and tangible manifestation of cohort-home-safety. He repacked it and pinged it to her, tucking his faceplates against her throat cabling.
"Been a long time gone," he admitted quietly. "And Ah ain't tryin' t' make y'all into some kinda replacement. That ain't what we are any more. But... it's what Ah know how t' offer, if yeh need it." A nudge against her. "Means yeh can use meh as a pillow if yeh want, but th' berth might be better for layin' on, dahrlin'."
Base commander, unofficial as it was, was not what Cleaver had been intending when she'd 'bridged her ship, Cat, Reflector and Moonshot into this mine. Nor when she'd (stupidly) requested an audience with Megatron to establish a DMZ that the Decepticons would honour. The old medic had just hoped that she had enough favours left to call in to get the warlord's assent (and his talons in her side, but even that had been getting off lightly, she knew) because she was tried of planet-hopping and scraping by. She hadn't intended to take charge of anyone aside from whoever was on a medberth.
Until another Neutral they could trust showed up, however, Haven was on her shoulders. High time to start acting like it.
Now, however, was not the time to go over mistakes made so far in even greater detail, nor to think about the future of the place. Now was the time for them, because today had been a condensed and flaming vial of Pit.
"Stayin' the night. Good," Cleaver affirmed, smiling into his plates and holding him tighter for just a klik. She shifted to put a reformatted blade to the ground to get to them both to their pedes and onto the berth, but hesitated. Looked over the file he'd shared with her again, and added quietly: "Feel, safer with you here, 'Hide. Even just in recharge."
"Ah ain't goin' nowhere," Ironhide confirmed. The tightness of Cleaver's hold had told him everything he needed, and some rotations were just like this - Shadow breaking on him, then him on her, and now Cleaver on him, and some days a cohort held together that way, in domino chains of who was up and who wasn't and as long as they held together that was fine. Shadow had the situation, had their backs, and that was trust enough that Ironhide could focus on Cleaver, on soothing the little tremors in her field and on getting her settled comfortably on the berth, laying down beside her where his own mass could form a buffer against the outside world for a space of time.
He pressed his helm to hers, letting micro adjustments of plating joints fit them easier together, one arm tucked around her chassis where the heat of their soon-to-be sparklet was a bright point against his sensors. "Safe as anythin', love. Nothin' t' worry about right now. Yeh just get some recharge, yeah? Ah'll be right here."
Though Cleaver had all but staggered here close to exhaustion, this conversation had put a tonne of tension back into her lines and geared up her systems for flight or fight. As resolved as it could be for now, and with Ironhide settled back against her plates and not avoiding her optics as if doing so would lead to some kind of catastrophy, Cleaver felt the hard heat gradually ebb away until it was only a dull ache of a thing, devoid of urgency. Something to think on later.
She didn't fall immediately into recharge as she had done when he'd held her like this in the past. Instead, after a hummed assent, she lay silently with her optics off - just listening to the sounds of the warrior's systems winding gradually down. Absorbing the warmth and fiercely strong pulse of his life force.
Ironhide's own route to Cybertronian sleep took her to recharge rather than the weariness and need for defrag in her own systems. And she settled all the more thoroughly for it.