CrashCourse

((Independant TF OC roleplay blog. AU with a mix-mash of info plucked from various universes. Please read sidelinks. Headcanon page will be updated frequently as I make stuff up.)) Status: Online M!A: None/Accepting

[mini-medic]

((Normally I don't do things like this, but this is just to show I am still alive and all that. So in honor of Munday I give you all this GLORIOUSLY SEXY picture of myself.))

[warrior-prime-blog]

Behind Crashcourse (Mun)

[mini-medic]

Name: Chels or Cara

Age (if you’re comfortable!): 21 

age you started roleplaying: 8th grade so like...13 right?

Height: 5’4”

OC’s or Canons?: I prefer OC's and have mostly played OC's, both fanon and totally original, but I've gotten into some canon roles before. Been told I play a good Ratchet.

Prefer to play females or males?: Depends on my mood. Sometimes I prefer to play masculine characters, other times I want to be feminine. In RPGs I always have 2 save files: male and female character so take that as you will.

Favorite face claim to play: —

Least favorite face claim: —

Worst rp experience ever: Um, never really had one? 

Fluff, angst, or smut?: I will RP anything and everything but let me tell you, I write some kickass smut (which this muse is totally counterproductive for)

Most overused FC: —

First character you ever made: ahahahHA. The earliest I remember is Patches. I don't even know what to describe him as. He was a freakin' soda bottle with paws and a voodoo doll looking head, long fox ears, a devil tail, and a straw hat he wore. I don't even know how or why I made him either.  

Worst character you’ve ever played: When I was a newb at roleplaying: Miya. Oh god she was so marysue I want to cry remembering her. White hair, blue eyes, fought with chakrams...yeah lets not talk about it

favorite type of plot: I don't like a super lot of plot really. Just enough of an outline for me to know where I want to go with things, but not so much its constraining. But I really like roleplaying adventure and romance?

At what time of day is your writing the best?: It's about the same regardless of the time, until about 2am when my brain starts shutting down.

Are you anything like your muse?: NOPE. Muse is pretty fun loving and out-going. Loves the outdoors and all that. Mun is SHYSHYSHY, a total wimp, and gets winded walking up a single flight of stairs. 

Worst thing about RP (in general or on Tumblr): I'll have to agree with the addicting part here. Like, no joke. Whatever homework isnt done by 8:30/9pm-too bad. RP time. 

To end on a good note — best thing about RP?: I love creative writing and world and character building- but I don't have the attention span to bring anything to life via short stories or other mediums besides RPing. 

Tag five or more awesome people: (weeh I don't know five people sooo)- rightframewrongspark rulebending-frontliner 

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

Stow nods at the femme as he explains, listening avidly, his young processor absorbing everything like a sparkling. Crash always seems to know just how to explain things so that Stow can almost instantly understandwithout causing him too much of a processor ache. He really did need to pay him back somehow…Crash was just doing far too much for him not to pay SOMETHING back. 

Armor still happily fluffed out, and feeling far, far cleaner than he had in a long time, he leans towards the femme. The initial surprise at making his own comm screech at himself was over, and he perks right up at the delicate little ping to his comm…a chirrup peeps from his vocalizer in curiosity, the noise much like the native bird species sitting in the grass and trees about them. He asks curiously, visibly pleased with the fact that he now has Crash’s comm code, “I can save this?”

He goes silent for a moment, before sending back a tiny little chirrup through the comms, his optics brightening in surprise at the lack of shrieking feedback. His lips purse in an Ooooo shape, and he does a bit of a full frame wiggle, turning to beam at the femme. “This is interesting! I like this…and I can communicate with anyone? Or do they have to be within a special area, or distance?”

He falls silent again, only broken by the occasional happy hum as he starts to branch out, seeking to see if he can find any open lines outside of their area. He does, mostly, find only human communications, and curiously pings one…a tiny squeaky voice answers in English, and he jerks, speaking aloud, “Oh, hello tiny human! What is your name?”

He giggles, beaming up at Crash, even as the confused woman on the other side of the line starts to speak. “I contacted a people! This is fun!”

[mini-medic]

It probably helped that, comparatively, Crash wasn't that much older than Stowaway. Only a little over 2,000 years old, which was hardly a blink of an optic for their kind. So it was easier for him to connect to the younger mech and explain things in a way he'd understand because it was a way he knew he'd be able to understand too.

Finishing up with Stowaway's back, Crash opened up his subspace again and rummaged around for something he could put the dirty rags in- no need to unecessarily poison the indigenous fauna with their chemicals. He managed to find a little container- of what he had no idea, he should really clean out his subspace some time- and shoved the rags in there. After one last wipe down of his servos he moved to sit next to Stow, silently handing over the rest of the rags and the bottle of solvent. He'd helped the other do his back, but the youngling could manage the rest of his frame on his own.

He allowed the other to lean on him, smiling crookedly at the innocent question. "Of course. How else would you contact me later?" The smile helping to hide his snicker at the little chirrup he received over comms, though he used it to catalog and save Stow's code. ::Glad you like it:: Using the newly established comm connection to send something more substantial than just a cheep over, to see how Stow would react. Though the question he answered verbally, "Well, in my experience it seems like you can talk to anyone. I mean, I have a hard time communicating with bots from my own universe sometimes, but I can still contact them at least. And I get random contact requests all the time." Though if he had optic ridges they'd have been raised at what followed-

"You...You contacted a human?" Green-ish optics flickering in surprise. It honestly hadn't occurred to the femme to even try tapping into the human network and oh Primus he felt kind of dumb for not having done so. "Heh, looks like you just taught me something new too. I never even thought to try that- it will certainly make my job easier if I can though." Though, in a slightly more serious tone he was quick to add, "Don't mention who or what you are though. I don't think humans know about...other sentient life. Who knows how'd they react to finding out big, metal mechs are on their planet." Which was his whole purpose being here, but he'd yet to figure that out.

[mini-medic]

callmebeastman bids tidings

"Er, uh, hi little...green...thing." As soon as it slips out of his mouth, Crashcourse could have hit himself because wow rude much? But just, he'd seen a couple of humans before and he was like 90% sure this wasn't one of them, so was it a new kind of alien? Wait, could it even understand him? He sure a slag hoped not.

[mini-medic]

overriddentechnoorganic bids tidings

"Oh!" Crash stared down at the tiny pinkish thing, for once glad of his small size; were he big like many of his compatriots, he might have stepped on...it. "Um, hello. How'd you get here?" 

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[mini-medic]

The pause and silence has the femme worrying for a moment that perhaps he upset the youngling even more by seeming dismissive of his worries. Again he twists his helm to the side, catching a glimpse of the younger bot. He didn’t seem too upset…

The smile and instant perking up was what relieved him though. He offers his own smile in turn, feeling his own spark pulse affectionately for the mech. Seriously. So cute. And such a burden he carried for one so young. Not like Crash could talk; considering how long their species lived for he was just barely considered an adult. “That’s right. Anything you want. And once I teach you how to use your comms, you can contact me whenever you have any other questions. Or if you ever need my help, I’ll come.”

Just like that, the tension evaporated and the mini-femme tipped his helm back in joyous laughter. For all that he may be incorrect in assuming Stowaway a youngling, based on the mechlet’s ‘verse on how such things were viewed, the black mech sure acted like one. Crashcourse gave one last full-body rattle of armor to make sure any lingering dirt or solvent didn’t cling to him, then twisted on his heels to stare up at the eager young thing.

Crash gave him one last lopsided grin, then trotted a little further up the hill to stand behind Stow so the height difference wouldn’t be as noticable. “You don’t have to worry about sitting still so much,” was offered, having a bit more experience with this so he could compensate for any movement, and able to tell the other was a little too excited to sit still for long anyway. That said, he crouched to pick up a couple of rags, hanging the extras over his shoulder- Stowaway was a lot larger than him. Mech was going to need more rags.

Not wanting to waste the solvent he too poured some on the rags and began buffing out outer plating first before he’d move onto seams. “While we’re doing this, how about we work on using your comms? Its like being able to talk to other bots, except from longer distances, and inside your helm.” Wait. That made him sound crazy. “Uhh…Weird as that sounds? Totally normal.”

[rightframewrongspark]

Stow beams at the small femme as he speaks, nodding slightly to the admission. He did fully intend to come back to latch onto his first friend and mentor at some future date…maybe when he could truly pay the femme back for his kindness. Stow owed at LEAST that much, and probably more, and he fully intended to give back what he’d been given.

Right now, however, his processor turns into jelly as the cleaning begins, his big frame going more than a little limp before he catches himself. He didn’t want to smush his friend, and he knows he could do some damage if he did land on him. Instead, he stiffens his joints automatically. His engine purrs loudly as he leans into the touches, his optics half lidded, ALL his attention on that lovely sensation. “OOoooooooyeahrightthere.”

A high chirrup of happiness escapes him as the little femme continues to clean his plating, vibrating slightly in his joy. His words, however, drag Stow from his cozy daydreams, his optics brightening, and flicking to the side as he listens.

"Um, that does sound more than a little weird." Humming to himself, he concentrates hard, fumbling in his coding. Ah…maybe it was this thing? Finding a line in the mass of information, he keys it on, a SHRILL shriek screeching through his comms before he flails, shutting it down with a loud YELP.

"Um…Oops." Hunching his massive shoulder armor, he grins sheepishly at the little femme. "I think I did it wrong."

[mini-medic]

The thing about friendship was that it existed on a natrual sort of checks and balances, rather than a conscious attempt of keeping tally. As such, Crash would be more than happy to see Stowaway without the need of the other feeling obligated to him in some way. There was nothing to be 'returned' except for the younger mechs continued kindess and acceptance.

And he certainly didn't need to be repaid for the current cleaning either; for his first time attempting it, Stow had done a pretty good job for the femme. Who promptly laughed at the others very obvious enjoyment of being cleaned. Standing behind the taller bot, the black mech missed the femmes bemused smirk; he was almost like turbopuppy getting scritches!

Crashcourse made sure to get every bit of armor he could reach, even wiping up the younglings helm and back of the neck. Working down to broad shoulders and digging into seams, tiny digits capable of scraping out even the most stubborn gunk.

"And it will probably seem weird even once you figure it out- you can accept or decline incoming transmissions with other bots, but if you accept them you can hear their voice inside your helm and it can be a little distracting when you first learn..." His helm cocked to the side as Stowaway flinched; he was fairly confident he hadn't touched anything he wasn't supposed to, so why-

Ah. Crash giggle/snorted, muffling the sound with his free servo. "Um, yeah...it's pretty hard to explain how it works. It's like, when you're near bots you've never been around before and you want to communicate with them, you can activate a bit of code to send out like, a request ping. If the other bot accepts you can get their comm code that way and initiate a chat. Then you have the option to save that bots code for later use or not." And Crash did just that, sending out a little request ping to brush against Stowaway's sensor suite, like a computer trying to connect with a new wifi.

[theredhellion]

Have a very frustrated, confused looking little femme wandering around and poking through things. "Hellooo?" Anybody home?

Okay, so, the Nemesis was a really safe place, no kidding. Flying well above sealevel, the unwanted mechs from that particular universe tended to have real hard time getting there.

Multiverse just really love to fuck that kind of things up, so it wasn’t really all that uncommon to find random mecha wandering about. Pretty much anything starting from sparklings.

None of them ever got a friendly welcome, though.

"Oi! You be a good girl and step away from that, and tell me what the slag do ya think you’re doing here while you’re at it," Sideswipe demanded, a blaster in his servo and comfortably trained on the… Well, to him absolutely tiny bot. Didn’t seem to be sparkling though… Too bad, those were easy to dispose of.

[theredhellion]

Well, it was true, they weren’t far! He didn’t think exact measurements were required. He could gice those too, though. Not that he was going to without a reason. And giving the little femme idea of how much longer he’d need to put up with the treatment wasn’t reason enough.

Sideswipe waited for a reply, expected it even. And he listened closely when it wad given, frowning to himself. Naturally, he was unhappy to hear the Autobots had won, but the “techincally” really was said for a reason. It seemed none of the battling factions had really won, and… Yes, he felt sympathy for the Autobots.

Having been one himself, he knew how close knit group they were. Of course he couldn’t be sure how exactly it had been in the mini’s ‘verse, but he could imagine it was something similar to what he had witnessed and experienced. And he didn’t want to think how hard it must’ve been, to be forced to do all that and… Well, he just didn’t see how it was fair to anyone.

But life wasn’t fair. And so the only comment Sideswipe gave was a simple “Harsh,” not sharing any of his thoughts.

Which quickly went to the Decepticons. He was sure that if the purple faction had won, none of that would’ve happened. Megatron would’ve put the mutinous peacemakers in order, he had faith in that. And to him, the thought was a huge comfort. War and fighting weren’t things he feared, bloodshed meant little to him. And he would much rather have Cybertron under Megatron’s rule than anyone else’s, and it didn’t matter much what ‘verse they were talking about.

With a snicker Sideswipe started to climb the ramp. Not that it was too steep. And was that daylight shining at the end? Why yes it was, and after rounding the gentle curve in the tunnel, the entrance to the flight deck became visible. A collection of flight capable mechs had gathered to chat at the open doors, before or after a training session most likely. They turned to watch as the grounder and his companion arrived, giving their greetings to the red mech. Some were loud, some simple nods. Crashcourse got a fair share of curious looks, but with the Decepticons, you learned to not ask too many questions.

"Ayo mechs~" Sideswipe gave his own greetings with his customary grin, then lifted the green femme in his grasp. "Who wants some target practice~?"

A dozen or so pairs of red optics brightened in interest and excitement.

[mini-medic]

Not being privvy to Sideswipe's thoughts, Crashcourse didn't concern himself with them. So long as the mech didn't try and slag him or yell at him for something that had been completely out of the mini's control, he contented himself with focusing on the present. Not on the war that had ended millenia ago.

"When there's that much bad energon between bots, peace couldn't be achieved any other way. At least that was the argument for it. I don't know. I wasn't sparked until after, so..." So all this was from the history files, rather than personal experience. Why he felt the need to tell Sideswipe that, he didn't know. Maybe it'd make the mech have some mercy on him, because of his age? Crash highly doubted it, but it didn't hurt to test the waters and see, right? And it sounded like Sideswipe was at least somewhat interested in what he was saying so maybe that interest would equate to the other actually keeping his promise and let him go.

And for one brief moment, the little femme actually thought Sideswipe might. There it was, the light at the end of the tunnel- literally! He actually perked up in the bigger mechs hold, optics fixed anxiously ahead to see where it was it would lead. Only for his hope to be tossed over the side of the ship, to plummet to its death against the ground. Probably exactly the reaction the evil slagger had been going for.

Hope turned to dread and the mini curled up in the Cons hold, absolutely petrified of all the other Decepticons on the deck. This did not bode well for him and the following words only confirmed that. But Crashcourse didn't panic. Oh, he made to look it, sure- "No! You fragger! You promised!" And was the genuine hurt in his voice? Maybe, but he hadn't been stupid enough to fully trust the Con, though he hadn't expected to be brought into a room full of them. It would make escape a lot harder, but they were still near the door, so...

During his 'struggles' he reached back and gripped the others wrist. Except this time, the touch sent nearly *65,000 AMPS straight into Sideswipe's systems from the paramedics ESD; the little bot not cranking it up to its full power, but still pretty damned high! 

((*Ehh, I know an average lightning strike averages 5,000-20,000 AMPS which I figured would like...tickle a TF or something. So that number I just pulled out of my arse to be honest; if you think it's too much/would kill Sideswipe or whatever just pretend its whatever value you think appropriate. Crash just wants it to hurt enough to be dropped))

[knockoutsapprentice]

This blog needs help… she be sinking…. OK MY PEOPLE, GOGOGO!

[mini-medic]

((Ahh, that was so nice, thank you. I go away on Haitus, coem to check on things, and get a bunch of new followers xD Still not sure when I'll be BACK back, but I'll try and do some greeters for all who followed within the next few days =w= Though I dont promise they'll be good, heh))

[mini-medic]

((On HAITUS. Muse has been kind of struggling with me lately. Not like I have many followers or anything, so mostly a heads up to Stowaway's mun. Probably because not much activity on here. But yeah >>;;  ))

[unitetheocs-deactivated20140126]

Unite the OCs

If you are an OC RP/ask blog, please reblog this!

I am making a master list of them all so that people can find them!

[askpp]

Reblogging. C:

[mini-medic]

[1900skywarp-deactivated20140825]

"Yeah. Apparently, it seems that some universes I had the pleasure to visit are at war, and I might have landed in a base or two…" Skywarp scratched the back of his head with a shrug. "I sure you hope you are as lucky as I have been and don’t cross paths with folks that want your head in a silver platter." Although, as long as Crash didn’t look like someone that was, apparently, in the spotlight like Skywarp’s alternates, he was bound to be OK no matter what universe he landed on.

"Well, you’ll find me quite full of surprises once you get to know me." Skywarp playfully winked at Crash, let out a small chuckle.

"Also, speaking of different universes, aside from universe hopping, what else do you and your friends do in your spare time?" Because, in all honesty, Skywarp was curious. He wanted to know more about that small bot.

[mini-medic]

Dark optics dimmed at that and while he did his best to hide it, some of the mirth faded from his features. It wasn't so long ago that war had ravaged his universe and while he'd known to expect it, to hear other universes were still dealing with it troubled his young spark. Crashcourse was, for their kind, inexplicably young for all that he was in an adult frame, having been sparked only a few years before the war was officially deemed over. 

"Then I will be sure to be even more careful." Perhaps being friendly was not enough. He knew from history lessons that not all mecha were lenient towards neutrals, either forcing them to convert or destroying settlements. He gave Skywarp a considering look as he thought about it, but since they were in public and heading towards a public place, he continued to follow after the larger mecha.

"Oh? Like what?" Perking up a bit as he trotted a little faster to walk side by side with the other. "You are a teleporter and a seeker. What other little secrets could you hide?"

He giggled a bit, then shrugged a single shoulder. While it was painful to think about the state of his home currently, Crash knew he could have it much worse. And all things considered, he knew he did not have a bad life generally speaking either. "My friends and I are opposite as opposite can be. Most of them are scientists or teachers. I'm the only one who does manual labor as part of my job- though we all have to pitch in to help rebuild....Anyway, I usually hang out with them at their labs or apartments. Way nicer than mine. Two of them even have working radios so we'll listen to the news and the few music stations that have started to broadcast again. I help my teacher friends make toys out of whatever we can find for the younglings they teach." Determinately not dwelling on the bad things.

"What about you? Looks like you've got a lot more to do around here than where I'm from." Maybe he could see about getting an under the table job and getting some treats for his friends. They'd really like that, he was sure.  

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

Stow vents softly, pausing in his cleaning as Crash speaks. He has to admit that the small femme has a very good point. Nothing about him is the same as the mech that had once inhabited this shell, at least as far as the vague information had given him.

What he knew for certain was that the frame was abandoned and empty, sitting in a crypt, waiting for it to decay and rust into nothingness. Its recent internment was the reason it was chosen to begin with…the spark…his spark, would have guttered in a frame less intact, one less perfectly whole. Like Crash was saying, they were not the same mech. Another soft vent, and he smiles, looking affectionately at the femme, “I…You’re right. I know you are…I can do whatever I like now, can’t I…”

All the young mech can do is consider the wise words being spoken to him, thinking about the implications, his servos moving on autopilot. He DID have a choice…and that, in a moment, lifts his spark. Shaking his helm back to the present, Stow squeaks, an utterly sparkling-like noise as Crash suggests switching places, nodding eagerly, “Yes, please!”

A full body wriggle courses through him, and he settles down, placing the cloths and cleaner to the side, trying not to twitch too much as he readies himself for cleaning. His pedes bounce just a little bit, like a sparkling just waiting for something they REALLY really want. 

Just this short conversation was enough to make him think, and with another little shimmy, he loosens his plating, fluffing himself up like a Earthly bird. He looks altogether extremely eager, and amusingly young.

[mini-medic]

The pause and silence has the femme worrying for a moment that perhaps he upset the youngling even more by seeming dismissive of his worries. Again he twists his helm to the side, catching a glimpse of the younger bot. He didn't seem too upset...

The smile and instant perking up was what relieved him though. He offers his own smile in turn, feeling his own spark pulse affectionately for the mech. Seriously. So cute. And such a burden he carried for one so young. Not like Crash could talk; considering how long their species lived for he was just barely considered an adult. "That's right. Anything you want. And once I teach you how to use your comms, you can contact me whenever you have any other questions. Or if you ever need my help, I'll come."

Just like that, the tension evaporated and the mini-femme tipped his helm back in joyous laughter. For all that he may be incorrect in assuming Stowaway a youngling, based on the mechlet's 'verse on how such things were viewed, the black mech sure acted like one. Crashcourse gave one last full-body rattle of armor to make sure any lingering dirt or solvent didn't cling to him, then twisted on his heels to stare up at the eager young thing.

Crash gave him one last lopsided grin, then trotted a little further up the hill to stand behind Stow so the height difference wouldn't be as noticable. "You don't have to worry about sitting still so much," was offered, having a bit more experience with this so he could compensate for any movement, and able to tell the other was a little too excited to sit still for long anyway. That said, he crouched to pick up a couple of rags, hanging the extras over his shoulder- Stowaway was a lot larger than him. Mech was going to need more rags.

Not wanting to waste the solvent he too poured some on the rags and began buffing out outer plating first before he'd move onto seams. "While we're doing this, how about we work on using your comms? Its like being able to talk to other bots, except from longer distances, and inside your helm." Wait. That made him sound crazy. "Uhh...Weird as that sounds? Totally normal."

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

Stowaway giggles softly at the thought of Crash jumping into a lake, a soft hum escaping him as the femme’s plating lifts, allowing him to clean even more deeply than he was. This was relaxing, even just listening to the femme was nice. Though as Crash mentions the concepts, déjà vu and cable memory, his smile fades into a slight frown. Not an angry one, but one of contemplation.

The small servo touching his own startles him, and he freezes in mid movement, optics wide. WHY did it feel so familiar? He would honestly love to know. “I guess. I have a feeling that whoever was in here before did this a lot, and not just for himself. Maybe they were someone who worked with…”

He pauses, looking down at both his and Crash’s arms, the small servo on top of his own. “The words are there. I want to say finish? And waxing. I’m not really sure, but…it feels good to do it.”

Shaking his helm, his stilled servo gets back to work, humming softly to himself, “I’m guessing that whenever I find something that is like this, it would be best off just to play along? It seems to settle a lot quicker if I just do what it likes.” He murmurs, absently, gently, running the cloth down muddy seams, and across flat plains of green armor. 

"I don’t know. They aren’t here, I know that." He just sighs, silently bending back to his task of cleaning the smaller femme, his optics focussed on his work. "I think I should know a lot of things that I’ve just not been allowed to access them yet."

Another soft huff, and he goes back to cleaning.

[mini-medic]

His helm remained twisted around, frowning as he watched the young mech struggle with...whatever it was he was struggling with. Crash wished he knew more about what was going on with Stow so he could be more helpful, but all he could really offer now was support.

"Mechlet, I think you think too much," he finally settled on, giving the others servo one last pat before drawing away, leaving Stow to continue cleaning on his own. Though now it was mostly for the mechs own comfort and benefit than it was for Crash's, since Stowaway admitted that the motions were soothing for him. "You worry too much about the previous owner of your frame. He's dead, gone. You're the one here now. Make the best of what you have. Its not like ghost sensations can make you do anything you don't want to, so make this frame your own."

As for what the other should do, the smaller bot shrugged. "Probably. Though if it ends up being something you don't actually enjoy, you shouldn't. Though I dont see a problem in liking to be clean, hm?" Tone becoming a little more playful as he tried to shift the mood. His servo reached back again, though this time to stop the other. "Here, how about I do yours for a bit? I already feel cleaner than I have been in ages," Stows attention to detail being impeccable. Though the femme still sported a few sad looking seams.

Another pat to his plating; "It will come to you in time. Like I said, you worry too much."

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

"Ooooo!" The young mech coos as he watches the small femme work, cleaning off his servo with ease. It was intriguing in itself for such a plain liquid to be able to utterly clean something so dirty so quickly.

"So, on this planet, do you use the local water sources, or do you have solvent for your washracks?" He queries interestedly, peering at the bottle in his own servo. Curiously, he snags a rag, and cleans his own slender digits, watching the dirt just slide away. As Crash speaks of cleaning his back, Stow nods, "Sure, no problem!"

That said, he wriggles around to sit behind the much shorter femme, liberally dumping the likely cold solvent on a rag and setting to work with a will, his optics bright and pleased as he hums softly to himself. He doesn’t mind this, actually. Somehow it feels like his frame is happy…possibly even accustomed to doing cleaning or detailing on another frame. This whole moment, as soon as the solvent came out of his subspace, it was like an echo was sliding into his processor. Not a memory of his own, not even truly a memory, since the processor had been blank except for base programming when he’d slid into the spark chamber…more like…physical memory. As the humans call it, muscle memory. Only…not? 

A soft huff escapes him, and his voice is tentative as he asks, “Crash…is it normal to have um…memories? But not memories? It feels like I’ve done something like this before, but I know I haven’t.” He briefly holds up the rag, before shaking his helm, and going back to work.

"It isn’t in my processor…" He explains slowly, gaining speed as he starts to blather,  "But…its there? I can’t explain it very well, but its like I know I’ve done something, and I get a weird feeling I know I should remember but I don’t, there are no files associated with it. I know this processor, and the memory was blank when I first took it, but… its really disconcerting…"

He shakes his helm, and mumbles, half to himself, “I feel like I’m missing someone important.”

[mini-medic]

While the liquid might be clear it was chemically powerful. Primus forbid it somehow got splashed onto a human; it'd probably dissolve them almost as fast as the dirt on his servos. Which was why, "I use local water sources. For one thing, there aren't any washracks big enough on this planet to fit us. Not unless you use a human carwash, but I can't go through those so I don't know what they're like. For another, this gets on anything organic it'll kill it." He waved at the grass surrounding them, "Don't worry so much abotu the plants, but if an naimal eats it or something, I'd feel really bad so I just jump in any lakes I find or something."

"In this instance though, I'm willing to take the risk." Crash blinks his optics, not expecting Stow to be so enthusiatic about it. Not like he was complianing. The mini stayed standing, making it easier for the younger mech to reach his back without slouching or anything. Given how damp and gross the organic material was on him, he didn't even notice the coldness from the rag. Just simply relaxed his frame, loosening up plating to make it easier for Stow to reach places. For a newly sparked mech, he sure seemed to know what he was doing.

For a while he remained quiet, simply humming softly as he enjoyed the pampering. The question from left field had the humming shifting into a questioning noise, helm twisting to glance at the bot behind him. There was a klik of silence as he pondered it, then: "Sounds a bit like déjà vu. The sensation of feeling like you've done soemthing, even though you don't. Its a trick of the processor..."

"Could also be cable memory. If the previous owner of your frame did this a lot, it'd be a comfortable motion for your frame." He frowned a bit at what followed, one servo reaching back to gently lay itself over Stowaways. "Like I said, I've never heard of anything like this before. There could be hundreds of explanations, or none at all. I'm sorry...

You'll find who you're looking for, eventually. I'm sure of it."

[horns-and-heels]

*blows a smooch* Glad to see you're feeling better LC ^^

oh ah… oh thanks…. he how charming of you!!

[mini-medic]

Well after all the trouble of getting you home it'd be pretty horrible of me not to check up on you 

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

The young mech blinks at the tone the femme uses, lifting his helm and peering over at her with a surprised expression…which quickly devolves into a utterly amused one, “OH! Oh…Oh dear.”

Spluttering with laughter, he quickly covers his mouth, optics crinkling at the corners as he stares at his mentor-friend. “I’m…” He descends into giggles, optics closed for a moment, gasping for vents as he laughs.

"Oooh, I’m sorry, Crash." He gigglesnorts, biting his lip, before moving to  try and pick some of the goo off of his friends plating, "I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t realize it was that…squishy."

"Okay!" As Crasher mentions his subspace, he nods, carefully wandering over to the road and other side, away from the ditch and up onto a small embankment. Once there, he plonks down on his aft and starts hauling items out of this magical storage space that sits within his arm panels. Mindful of the goo covering his entire belly, and half of his back, he gingerly sets the items on the grass before looking them all over.

Indeed, a couple of bottles of liquid with a dozen cloths, along with a massive pile of other stuff come from the storage - small metal and plastic chips with odd symbols and numbers on them, a tin of sweet smelling waxy stuff, a few cubes of glowing material, and a bunch of other items he didn’t have names for, including quite a few items that look like weapons. 

"Is there anything useful in here?" He chirrups, blinking down at the pile. He suspected that the fluid within the bottles would work, as well as the clothes.

"Maybe this?" He picks up a bottle, peering at it with wide optics, before holding it up to the femme.

[mini-medic]

Little servos fist themselves over his hips, a totally-not-a-pout tugging at his lips. "I'm glad one of us finds this amusing." Not that Crash particularly minded persay, but he could do without the laughing, thank you. A huff escapes as Stowaway tries to remedy the situation in vain, giving the youngling the closest approximation of a 'stink eye' as he possibly could.

"You're lucky you're so cute," was huffed at the giggled apology, one servo lifting to flick some of the goo off himself and onto the now already mostly brown mech. Crash let the younger bot move to the other side of the road without him for now, staying put to try and shake as much of the organic material off as possible. Plating rattled and clanked together as he loosened up armor and shook, sending detris and sludge all over the place. While it did help to get some of the bigger chunks of gunk off and out of his frame, Crashcourse still felt disgustingly damp all over.

With another soft huff the femme finally trotted across the road to catch up with Stowaway and see what the young mechs former host possessed. The weapons were immediately given a mixed shock and nervous look, the mini almost comically edging around them. If they were in the dead bots subspace he had little doubt they were loaded and/or charged.

Deep cyan optics flicked over the other assorted objects, his more immediate concern being to get clean. Each bottle was picked up and looked over: paint thinner, gloss, solvent-

Ah, perfect! Just what they needed. "Hm?" The femme looked up and glanced over to the bottle Stow held; another bottle of solvent. Made sense the bot before Stow would carry so much cleaning product on him. If he was a warrior one wouldn't think he'd see an actual washrack often. "Yeah, that'll help. I don't think there's enough here to get us back to our former glory, but we can at least get the worse of this gunk off us. Here, lemme just..." He spritzed soem of te liquid in his bottle onto his servo, then picked up one of the rags to polish them off, grinning up at the youngling as the rag came away brown while his servos were nice and clean. He repeated the process on his abdomen, clearing the area so he could more easily reach into his own subspace. "There. We're going to need a lot of rags for this," dumping his own smaller collection next to the other rags Stow already had.

"You want to start on each others backs so we can just do the rest ourselves?" He offered. Then once they were back to more or less themselves they could see what else the black mech was carrying

[rightframewrongspark]

New To This World

[rightframewrongspark]

"If by hurt you mean covered in organic goo, yes. Is my frame hurt, no. Why is this so smelly? Its so gross." He whines loudly, complaining as he tries to back out of the slough, only to shoot more mud all over his undercarriage. This bizarre sensation is met with loud whining, and a few more attempts to get out. If he was in mech shape at this moment, guaranteed he’d have his lip sticking out, a massive pout on his face.

It was bound to happen, but eventually the young mech mistakes drive for reverse, and with a startled yelp, he goes nose first into the gooey mess on the side of the road. His normally gravelly and deep voice matches to span octaves as he squeals, “EWWWWWW!”

Almost immediately, he transforms back, staggering from the ditch. His dark armour is completely covered in slippery algae and rotting plants, streams of water made even more dirty by the mud he’d thrown around as he’d tried to get away from the sucking grasp it had on his front tires.

Now, his wheels clotted with dirt, his panelling absolutely covered in liquids, mud and smushy greenery, he just staggers up to the road, his arms held away from his frame, his expression one of utter horror and pouty sadness. He even has a spray of mud on his cheek, “I am so gross right now.”

[mini-medic]

The calm, totally unpanicked response gets the femme to start calming down, though he doesn't start backing up just yet. In fact, he edges a bit closer to the side of the road where Stowaway had driven off of to peer down into the ditch to see if there was an easy way to get the youngling out. Which in turn had him wincing in sympathy to see what exactly the other had driven himself into.

"Organics decompose, which is a lot less effecient and gross than being melted down," he offered by way of explaining the stench, even though Crash knew it was probably more of a rhetorical question. "Perhaps you might try-"

Nevermind. Crashcourse spluttered as a bit of the sludge splattered over him from Stow's spinning tires, causing the femme to quickly scramble away. "Ugh!" So gross! Little arms and legs flailed as he tried to shake the foul smelling substance off. The sound of transformation had him glancing over to give the taller bot a petulant look; even though he knew Stow hadn't meant to hit him with it on purpose, the youngling was very impulsive. Crash had meant to tell him to try transforming in the first place and they both could have avoided this mess. Why must younglings be so impulsive?

"Me and you both," another flick of the arms, sending more mud and Primus knew what else across the pavement, "Unfortunately, I'm not sure where any local water sources might be." Unlike Stow though, Crash was pretty used to being damaged and dirty from his job back on Cybertron so he had no problem tapping a dirty digit against his lip in thought. "Maybe take a look at that subspace of yours and see if you've got any cleaning supplies. Your frame looked pretty well kept so there's a good chance of that being the case."