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.
"Couldn't usually get all of us t'gether," Ironhide admitted. "Shipboard. Always needed somebody on duty, somebody on watch. Took turns. Could only do all of us when we were station-side, docked up, or ridin' second with another squad."
Or when the need for frames packed close around each other had been greater than the need to not rely solely on autopilot. Times of pain and hurt, unplanned, immediate, or times of joy - fewer, more planned and scheduled, but there. He knew both ends of the spectrum and could have wished for the latter, but the pain of the former was where they both were. He pressed close to Shadowrunner, echoing understanding, comfort, and need, curled into the near-familiar wash of an accepting field.
Shadow nodded silently, because she understood that, too. They had seldom been all together once Labyrinth started sending them out; they could go vorn without seeing one another, lengthy separations which did nothing to make them less a cohesive whole, only made their time together more vital. Until the last time, when he had called them all back to base...
She couldn't suppress the ache of that memory, feeding into more recent hurts. After a moment, she didn't try, loss mingling in their fields, both of them seeking solace for old pains as well as new.
"Didn't have regular duty shifts. Gone too much." Too much risk in contact between them, in knowing who and what and where, and nothing to hold onto but the occasional tightly-encrypted communication from Labyrinth. She didn't even have those anymore, much less the promise that eventually, this would end and she could go home, even if it was only for a little while.
Not something she dared dwell on. "Don't know how Lab had his ship rigged; never questioned anything he did," she continued with a rough exvent, her words scraping out of her vocalizer, slower now. "Wasn't our place, and once we were trained, we didn't see each other much. Wouldn't have wanted anything to take from what little time we had."
Ironhide wrapped his arms around her frame, engine crooning a rough, shaken sound of comfort and sympathy, a wordless rumble of together, presence and understanding. There wasn't, for once, any undercurrent about her former commander - only the mingling sense of loss for what had been, even if what had been was different from what was commonly accepted.
Leaning his helm against hers, he dug deep in his archives to dredge up time faded memory packets. Sensory snapshots to ping her with, the solid press of heavy frames and the harmonic sound of engines all tuned to the same key, pale stand-ins for the reality of two frames that couldn't compare but faded comfort all the same.
He couldn't speak for all of them - should never have tried, the fault and fallout of having promised too much against a group of individuals weighing heavy on his spark - and his modifiers emphasized the singular personal even as they offered as much as a bare grouping of two could be, echoing her own words back to her. "Long as yeh need meh, Shadow, or want meh. Yeh ain't alone."
Shadow was grateful for both the force of his arms around her, and the ghosts of what had been, different from what she had known and yet strikingly similar in all the ways that mattered. For a klik, she let herself mourn the things they had both lost, pain rippling through her field before she forced it back down and locked it away.
This wasn't why she was here, and she didn't dare fall back into the trap she had so eagerly flung herself into before.
"I know," she said quietly, optics offlined. She knew he believed his own words; she knew that for now - with only the two of them present - they were true, and the cynical whispers in her processor about what would happen later could be ignored. Later, he would be back in the care of his cohort, the half-truths and might-once-have-been-truths between them irrelevant and forgotten. Later, none of this would matter, just as what had gone before no longer mattered. But for now...
"I love you," she said quietly, and that was nothing less than the whole truth. No matter how she might wish otherwise.
Ironhide's vents hitched slightly - not surprise, but a relief from a pain he hadn't been aware he was bracing himself for. A need to wrap around her, sooth the undercurrent of hurt in her field with solid presence and support, warred for a moment with the need for the support and presence she was offering him. In the end he compromised by curling both of them around one another, an equal tangle of limbs and plating and the thick overlay of field, wrapping them both in a cocoon of their own making.
"Love yeh too," he told her, glyphs wrapping bitlet-family-friend-sibling-cohort into a sparkfelt overlap as tangled as their frames. LiveFor-DieFor-StandBeside echoed distantly, glyphs saturated in a history and function he was sick to rust of denying, the most saturated permanency he could offer. "Always."