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Feb. 3rd, 2010 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zomgitsalaurachapter 10 is now posted
Title: Silly Little Prompt Responses ch 10
Author: zomgitsalaura
Rating: T
Characters: Anyone i get prompted with but, at the moment, it seems to be mostly aerialbots and protectobots
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were
Author's Note: Most of the protectobot prompts were given to me by PLAYSWITHWORMS. All of these can be taken as being in her AU.
Warnings: someone made a wrecker very angry... also, illusions to slash
fanfiction is being retarded, so i will simply post the fic here behind a cut
the rest of the chapters can be found here -> http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5691058/1/Silly_Litle_Prompt_Responses
ATTENTION! ATTENTION! READ THE AUTHORS COMMENTS!!
IF YOU DON’T AND SUBMIT MULTIPLE PROMPTS AT ONCE, NONE OF THEM WILL GET DONE!!
Seriously guys, I wasn’t kidding when I said I had too many prompts for today.
I’m not feeling well and the fact that people ignored my plea and submitted more prompts, even after I asked them not too in the comments at the beginning, made me a little sad. :(
If you have prompts you want to submit, or if you submitted some yesterday after I asked you not to, you can resubmit it now. But please, one per person. I have twenty or so people who submit regularly now and I’m getting buried.
Mainly because this is an exercise for myself and every prompt I get in a day gets posted.
Not trying to be mean or anything, just getting too many e-mails to keep track of.
The prompts I DO get today may take a while to get posted because I’m feeling a bit sick at the moment; the heat isn’t doing great things for the migraine I have.
~ Laura
p.s
oh yeah, someone asked for links to the stories and communities I’ve mentioned here.
Lets see, first we have the cityjet community over on livejournal (most of my aerialbot stories exhist in the universe that’s been created here) remove the (dots) and place “.”-> community (dot) livejournal (dot) com/cityjet/profile
My Protectobots exist in Playswithworms little universe -> a link to her page can be found in my “favourite authors” section on my profile
----------------------------------------
Prowl / Skywarp / Falling
He probably shouldn’t have attacked the little grey Datsun. Mind you, he probably should have been paying better attention to his surroundings… and whatever it was he was shot with.
How was he supposed to know that the black and white one was such a good shot? Oh right, that one used to sniper, just like the one he had tried to jump on that roof.
It was probably not the best idea to try and escape by flying either, especially considering that the stuff he was shot with was starting to eat through his wing… which hurt… a lot.
He should probably land soon, before his wing snapped off from the strain, and he fell out of the sky.
Slingshot / Blades / All the World
If anyone asked, most people would say that Slingshot didn’t Blades. Most conversations between the two flyers usually ended in one, or both, of them insulting the other and walking away.
Most people, however, didn’t pay close attention to the two gestalt members and, because of this, were always wondering why their respective teams didn’t try to stop their fighting.
In truth, neither Blades not Slingshot hated each other. Insults and jabs were always coated in a thinly veiled sarcasm; never serious and delivered with a subtle grin.
They were friends and comrades, similar in their position as gestalt members and their willingness to move mountains in order to protect those they counted as family.
Jazz X prowl X bluestreak- a sense of family
(This one is a continuation of “family” in chapter 2)
Several hours after Bluestreak had commed Jazz, he was finally able to sign off shift. By now, it was well past midnight, the third shift having just turned over to the early morning group.
Bluestreak knew Prowl was busy, especially after the last few battles; the decepticons being particularly ruthless in their pursuit of energy. Jazz himself was still off active duty, having been captured, and then rescued from the decepticon brig. Prowl hadn’t recharged the whole time Jazz was gone, nor during the Porches long recovery in the Med bay.
Sighing, the grey datsun finally reached his destination, filling a cube of energon from the dispenser and consuming it in seconds. Before turning away, he filled another two cubes and, stuffing them into his subspace, wearily trudged towards his next objective.
Coming to a stop outside Prowls office, he reached for the key pad and input the code, letting his arm drop as the door slid open and he stepped inside.
Expecting Prowl to still be working at his desk, Bluestreak had to stop and scan the office when the tactician wasn’t there. Smiling to himself when he finally located the missing SIC, Bluestreak padded quietly over to the desk, un-subspaced the energon, a blank datapad and a stylus and quickly scribbled a note.
Once this was done, he made his way over to the filing cabinet and carefully removed the contents of the top drawer and, closing it quietly, walked over to the still recharging Jazz on the couch; head pillowed on the similarly recharging Prowls lap, and spread the blankets over the both of them.
Once all was done, he made his way back to the door, careful not to wake the napping duo as he shut off the lights and left the office, glad that his surrogate family weren’t working themselves too hard for once.
Aerialbots & Silverbolt - never leave a fallen comrade.
It was a rare sight, something that left Ratchet with a sense of dread. Stumbling over a piece of debris in his haste, the medic sent a frantic comm. to Wheeljack, both requesting assistance and transport, hoping that the damage wasn’t too great.
Skidding to a stop directly underneath the circling Aerialbots, the white ambulance slid down the sides of the crater until he was perched next to the unconscious Silverbolt.
At first glance, the Aerialbot commander looked terrible; cracked plating and dented wings leaking energon into the surrounding soil. A deeper scan, however, revealed that the concord looked a lot worse off than he actually was.
Sealing off the leaks, Ratchet signalled to the circling jets and watched as they resumed their halted attack on the decepticons, now fuelled by anger over their brothers grounding and the knowledge that he would be safe in the medic’s capable hands.
Skydive/Perceptor/ Oh no you didn't!
Skydive jumped, and almost dropped his armful of datapads and chemicals, at the sound of the expletive. Stopping in his tracks, he readjusted his precarious hold on the items and tried to discern just who the voice had belonged to.
Unable to place it, he decided that an investigation was in order. Hey, for all he knew someone had hurt themselves.
Spinning around and heading back down the deserted corridor, the jet keyed open each of the doors he passed, looked inside and discovered each one was empty.
Finally coming to the last door in the hall, he opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hello. Is there anyone in here?” he called, peering around a set of shelves and finally spying, of all mechs, Perceptor, hunched over a workbench at the back of the lab.
Laughing at the sound of another string of expletives and effectively startling the scientist into falling off his chair, Skydive placed his load on the bench and helped Perceptor back to his feet.
“Nobody,” the jet began, still giggling, “Is going to believe me when I tell them that you know how to swear better than Ratchet.”
Gestalt -> Show tunes
After being cooped up, recovering, in the Aerialbots quarters for so long, the entire Protectobot gestalt was ecstatic to finally be allowed to help with the cleanup.
Within only a few short hours, the five, happy mechs had managed to clean and clear more than the rest of the base was able to over a period of days. Even with First Aid only being allowed to lift small loads and Streetwise’s limp.
They weren’t too worried about Street’s leg; Ratchet told them that he was just getting used to walking properly again after so long being immobile.
‘Aid was recovering well too, even if it was still a bit strange not being able to see his optics through the new visor. Even the temporary flex steel that had covered his battered side had been removed; the large, still grey patch of unpainted metal that had been underneath now strong enough to protect the vital systems below the surface.
Having left the Medbay, or rather, having been dragged from the medbay by Wheeljack, Ratchet decided to take a detour on the way to the rec room, and the energon it contained, in order to check in on the busy gestalt. With turn about being fair play and all that, Wheeljack was also roped into the little excursion, not that he was complaining mind you.
When they reached the section of corridor the Protectobots were currently working on, the medic and engineer were greeted by the sight, and sound, of five, enthusiastically singing, mechs who, on occasion, would stop working momentarily in order to gesture in time with the song. Well, actually, it was four singing mechs and Hot Spot, who was trying to keep along with the tune but not exactly succeeding, none of the others seemed to mind though.
Wheeljack by this time, of course, had already joined in the chorus of the old show tune, gleefully taking hold of Streetwise’s hands and spinning him around a few times before depositing him into First Aids waiting arms.
Even with all of this going on, Ratchet was taken completely by surprise when Hot Spot, grinning and still singing horribly out of tune, grabbed him and got him started on the next verse of “When the first war ended”.
Hound meets Steve Irwin
Mirage was trying very, very hard not to laugh and was insanely glad that you couldn’t grin when in vehicle mode. Hound’s excited babbling, which had already surpassed Bluestreak levels and were well on their way to matching Blurr, coupled with his continual bouncing on his shocks, was not helping matters.
“I really can’t understand why you’re so excited.” Said the ex-noble, “He’s just a presenter from one of those wildlife shows you watch.”
“But Mirage,” gushed the excited jeep, “he’s not just a presenter, he’s a conservationist and he has a zoo and he helps rehabilitate animals and he saves crocodiles and he…”
Dialing down his audios, knowing that the trackers already impressive run on sentence would probably last a fair while, the secretly smiling spy just settled down on his wheels and continued to wait for Steve Irwin to arrive.
Sandstorm X Fireflight -Jealousy rears its head: a prologue to the don't touch
my jet
(FYI : the next three prompts will be in the same story line and are organised chronologically)
¬
Returning from their most resent mission, the Wreckers had been surprised when, instead of just the usual landing instructions, Metroplex had sent a personal message to Sandstorm, containing a short list of instructions as well as a meeting time.
Upon landing, Sandstorm had immediately made his way to one of the many unused corridors at the very heart of Metroplex, following the instructions precisely lest he get lost inside the immense cityformer.
Reaching his destination only a few minutes before the time supplied, the wrecker gently eased himself onto one of the many crates dotted throughout the unused hangar, absently noting that he should probably go see the medic about the stiffness in his hip joint.
Turning toward the door as it quietly hissed open, Sandstorm was surprised when one of Metroplex’s drone units, Scamper if he remembered correctly, entered the room and stopped in front of him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, the much smaller car, currently optic to visor him due to his current seated position, gave the wrecker an entirely too serious expression (especially considering his demeanour on the few other occasions Sandstorm had come in direct contact with him) and sighed breathily through his vents.
“Sandstorm,” he started, shifting his weight from pede to pede, “We have a problem.”
Sandstorm X Fireflight- to the victor goes the spoils, and the jet
(Set after “don’t touch my jet”)
This guy obviously had a problem following instruction. Well, it was either that or he had a death wish.
No, the mech definitely had a death wish, especially considering he was blatantly ignoring Sandstorms warning in the middle of the main rec room.
Currently, the black mech was standing with one arm planted on a table, leaning uncomfortably close to Fireflight as he talked and occasionally tried to snag one of the flustered jets erratically fluttering wings.
Face turning towards Sandstorm as the triple-changer unleashed a deep, guttural growl, Fireflight’s expression shifted from deeply embarrassed, to a strange mixture of grateful, elated and worried upon catching the murderous glint in the angry mechs optics.
The black mech, unfortunately for him, didn’t notice the jets sudden change in demeanour and, as Fireflight was distracted, grabbed hold of the nearest wing. Running his hand over the leading edge and drawing a surprised, breathy moan from the startled Aerialbot.
Before he could repeat the action, however, he suddenly found himself dangling several feet off the ground in the hand of one very, angry wrecker.
Foolish Ebony/Silverbolt/Can I go home now?
Several hours after the rec room incident, Ebony was found dangling, upside down, from the tip of radio tower seven by a rather smug Silverbolt.
Once he was retrieved, and suitably punished for breaking an antenna in his escape, Ebony was immediately transferred back to Cybertron. Much to the joy of every flight capable currently stationed in Metroplex.
Before he left, however, the dark coloured mech managed to accumulate quite an impressive collection of dents and scratches, almost all of them from the suspiciously large number of glitching doors currently adorning each and every entrance within Autobot city.
------------------------------
I proof read this as best I could but I’m not exactly feeling that well at the moment so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes you may find.
Title: Silly Little Prompt Responses ch 10
Author: zomgitsalaura
Rating: T
Characters: Anyone i get prompted with but, at the moment, it seems to be mostly aerialbots and protectobots
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were
Author's Note: Most of the protectobot prompts were given to me by PLAYSWITHWORMS. All of these can be taken as being in her AU.
Warnings: someone made a wrecker very angry... also, illusions to slash
fanfiction is being retarded, so i will simply post the fic here behind a cut
the rest of the chapters can be found here -> http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5691058/1/Silly_Litle_Prompt_Responses
ATTENTION! ATTENTION! READ THE AUTHORS COMMENTS!!
IF YOU DON’T AND SUBMIT MULTIPLE PROMPTS AT ONCE, NONE OF THEM WILL GET DONE!!
Seriously guys, I wasn’t kidding when I said I had too many prompts for today.
I’m not feeling well and the fact that people ignored my plea and submitted more prompts, even after I asked them not too in the comments at the beginning, made me a little sad. :(
If you have prompts you want to submit, or if you submitted some yesterday after I asked you not to, you can resubmit it now. But please, one per person. I have twenty or so people who submit regularly now and I’m getting buried.
Mainly because this is an exercise for myself and every prompt I get in a day gets posted.
Not trying to be mean or anything, just getting too many e-mails to keep track of.
The prompts I DO get today may take a while to get posted because I’m feeling a bit sick at the moment; the heat isn’t doing great things for the migraine I have.
~ Laura
p.s
oh yeah, someone asked for links to the stories and communities I’ve mentioned here.
Lets see, first we have the cityjet community over on livejournal (most of my aerialbot stories exhist in the universe that’s been created here) remove the (dots) and place “.”-> community (dot) livejournal (dot) com/cityjet/profile
My Protectobots exist in Playswithworms little universe -> a link to her page can be found in my “favourite authors” section on my profile
----------------------------------------
Prowl / Skywarp / Falling
He probably shouldn’t have attacked the little grey Datsun. Mind you, he probably should have been paying better attention to his surroundings… and whatever it was he was shot with.
How was he supposed to know that the black and white one was such a good shot? Oh right, that one used to sniper, just like the one he had tried to jump on that roof.
It was probably not the best idea to try and escape by flying either, especially considering that the stuff he was shot with was starting to eat through his wing… which hurt… a lot.
He should probably land soon, before his wing snapped off from the strain, and he fell out of the sky.
Slingshot / Blades / All the World
If anyone asked, most people would say that Slingshot didn’t Blades. Most conversations between the two flyers usually ended in one, or both, of them insulting the other and walking away.
Most people, however, didn’t pay close attention to the two gestalt members and, because of this, were always wondering why their respective teams didn’t try to stop their fighting.
In truth, neither Blades not Slingshot hated each other. Insults and jabs were always coated in a thinly veiled sarcasm; never serious and delivered with a subtle grin.
They were friends and comrades, similar in their position as gestalt members and their willingness to move mountains in order to protect those they counted as family.
Jazz X prowl X bluestreak- a sense of family
(This one is a continuation of “family” in chapter 2)
Several hours after Bluestreak had commed Jazz, he was finally able to sign off shift. By now, it was well past midnight, the third shift having just turned over to the early morning group.
Bluestreak knew Prowl was busy, especially after the last few battles; the decepticons being particularly ruthless in their pursuit of energy. Jazz himself was still off active duty, having been captured, and then rescued from the decepticon brig. Prowl hadn’t recharged the whole time Jazz was gone, nor during the Porches long recovery in the Med bay.
Sighing, the grey datsun finally reached his destination, filling a cube of energon from the dispenser and consuming it in seconds. Before turning away, he filled another two cubes and, stuffing them into his subspace, wearily trudged towards his next objective.
Coming to a stop outside Prowls office, he reached for the key pad and input the code, letting his arm drop as the door slid open and he stepped inside.
Expecting Prowl to still be working at his desk, Bluestreak had to stop and scan the office when the tactician wasn’t there. Smiling to himself when he finally located the missing SIC, Bluestreak padded quietly over to the desk, un-subspaced the energon, a blank datapad and a stylus and quickly scribbled a note.
Once this was done, he made his way over to the filing cabinet and carefully removed the contents of the top drawer and, closing it quietly, walked over to the still recharging Jazz on the couch; head pillowed on the similarly recharging Prowls lap, and spread the blankets over the both of them.
Once all was done, he made his way back to the door, careful not to wake the napping duo as he shut off the lights and left the office, glad that his surrogate family weren’t working themselves too hard for once.
Aerialbots & Silverbolt - never leave a fallen comrade.
It was a rare sight, something that left Ratchet with a sense of dread. Stumbling over a piece of debris in his haste, the medic sent a frantic comm. to Wheeljack, both requesting assistance and transport, hoping that the damage wasn’t too great.
Skidding to a stop directly underneath the circling Aerialbots, the white ambulance slid down the sides of the crater until he was perched next to the unconscious Silverbolt.
At first glance, the Aerialbot commander looked terrible; cracked plating and dented wings leaking energon into the surrounding soil. A deeper scan, however, revealed that the concord looked a lot worse off than he actually was.
Sealing off the leaks, Ratchet signalled to the circling jets and watched as they resumed their halted attack on the decepticons, now fuelled by anger over their brothers grounding and the knowledge that he would be safe in the medic’s capable hands.
Skydive/Perceptor/ Oh no you didn't!
Skydive jumped, and almost dropped his armful of datapads and chemicals, at the sound of the expletive. Stopping in his tracks, he readjusted his precarious hold on the items and tried to discern just who the voice had belonged to.
Unable to place it, he decided that an investigation was in order. Hey, for all he knew someone had hurt themselves.
Spinning around and heading back down the deserted corridor, the jet keyed open each of the doors he passed, looked inside and discovered each one was empty.
Finally coming to the last door in the hall, he opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hello. Is there anyone in here?” he called, peering around a set of shelves and finally spying, of all mechs, Perceptor, hunched over a workbench at the back of the lab.
Laughing at the sound of another string of expletives and effectively startling the scientist into falling off his chair, Skydive placed his load on the bench and helped Perceptor back to his feet.
“Nobody,” the jet began, still giggling, “Is going to believe me when I tell them that you know how to swear better than Ratchet.”
Gestalt -> Show tunes
After being cooped up, recovering, in the Aerialbots quarters for so long, the entire Protectobot gestalt was ecstatic to finally be allowed to help with the cleanup.
Within only a few short hours, the five, happy mechs had managed to clean and clear more than the rest of the base was able to over a period of days. Even with First Aid only being allowed to lift small loads and Streetwise’s limp.
They weren’t too worried about Street’s leg; Ratchet told them that he was just getting used to walking properly again after so long being immobile.
‘Aid was recovering well too, even if it was still a bit strange not being able to see his optics through the new visor. Even the temporary flex steel that had covered his battered side had been removed; the large, still grey patch of unpainted metal that had been underneath now strong enough to protect the vital systems below the surface.
Having left the Medbay, or rather, having been dragged from the medbay by Wheeljack, Ratchet decided to take a detour on the way to the rec room, and the energon it contained, in order to check in on the busy gestalt. With turn about being fair play and all that, Wheeljack was also roped into the little excursion, not that he was complaining mind you.
When they reached the section of corridor the Protectobots were currently working on, the medic and engineer were greeted by the sight, and sound, of five, enthusiastically singing, mechs who, on occasion, would stop working momentarily in order to gesture in time with the song. Well, actually, it was four singing mechs and Hot Spot, who was trying to keep along with the tune but not exactly succeeding, none of the others seemed to mind though.
Wheeljack by this time, of course, had already joined in the chorus of the old show tune, gleefully taking hold of Streetwise’s hands and spinning him around a few times before depositing him into First Aids waiting arms.
Even with all of this going on, Ratchet was taken completely by surprise when Hot Spot, grinning and still singing horribly out of tune, grabbed him and got him started on the next verse of “When the first war ended”.
Hound meets Steve Irwin
Mirage was trying very, very hard not to laugh and was insanely glad that you couldn’t grin when in vehicle mode. Hound’s excited babbling, which had already surpassed Bluestreak levels and were well on their way to matching Blurr, coupled with his continual bouncing on his shocks, was not helping matters.
“I really can’t understand why you’re so excited.” Said the ex-noble, “He’s just a presenter from one of those wildlife shows you watch.”
“But Mirage,” gushed the excited jeep, “he’s not just a presenter, he’s a conservationist and he has a zoo and he helps rehabilitate animals and he saves crocodiles and he…”
Dialing down his audios, knowing that the trackers already impressive run on sentence would probably last a fair while, the secretly smiling spy just settled down on his wheels and continued to wait for Steve Irwin to arrive.
Sandstorm X Fireflight -Jealousy rears its head: a prologue to the don't touch
my jet
(FYI : the next three prompts will be in the same story line and are organised chronologically)
¬
Returning from their most resent mission, the Wreckers had been surprised when, instead of just the usual landing instructions, Metroplex had sent a personal message to Sandstorm, containing a short list of instructions as well as a meeting time.
Upon landing, Sandstorm had immediately made his way to one of the many unused corridors at the very heart of Metroplex, following the instructions precisely lest he get lost inside the immense cityformer.
Reaching his destination only a few minutes before the time supplied, the wrecker gently eased himself onto one of the many crates dotted throughout the unused hangar, absently noting that he should probably go see the medic about the stiffness in his hip joint.
Turning toward the door as it quietly hissed open, Sandstorm was surprised when one of Metroplex’s drone units, Scamper if he remembered correctly, entered the room and stopped in front of him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, the much smaller car, currently optic to visor him due to his current seated position, gave the wrecker an entirely too serious expression (especially considering his demeanour on the few other occasions Sandstorm had come in direct contact with him) and sighed breathily through his vents.
“Sandstorm,” he started, shifting his weight from pede to pede, “We have a problem.”
Sandstorm X Fireflight- to the victor goes the spoils, and the jet
(Set after “don’t touch my jet”)
This guy obviously had a problem following instruction. Well, it was either that or he had a death wish.
No, the mech definitely had a death wish, especially considering he was blatantly ignoring Sandstorms warning in the middle of the main rec room.
Currently, the black mech was standing with one arm planted on a table, leaning uncomfortably close to Fireflight as he talked and occasionally tried to snag one of the flustered jets erratically fluttering wings.
Face turning towards Sandstorm as the triple-changer unleashed a deep, guttural growl, Fireflight’s expression shifted from deeply embarrassed, to a strange mixture of grateful, elated and worried upon catching the murderous glint in the angry mechs optics.
The black mech, unfortunately for him, didn’t notice the jets sudden change in demeanour and, as Fireflight was distracted, grabbed hold of the nearest wing. Running his hand over the leading edge and drawing a surprised, breathy moan from the startled Aerialbot.
Before he could repeat the action, however, he suddenly found himself dangling several feet off the ground in the hand of one very, angry wrecker.
Foolish Ebony/Silverbolt/Can I go home now?
Several hours after the rec room incident, Ebony was found dangling, upside down, from the tip of radio tower seven by a rather smug Silverbolt.
Once he was retrieved, and suitably punished for breaking an antenna in his escape, Ebony was immediately transferred back to Cybertron. Much to the joy of every flight capable currently stationed in Metroplex.
Before he left, however, the dark coloured mech managed to accumulate quite an impressive collection of dents and scratches, almost all of them from the suspiciously large number of glitching doors currently adorning each and every entrance within Autobot city.
------------------------------
I proof read this as best I could but I’m not exactly feeling that well at the moment so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes you may find.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 06:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 07:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 07:11 am (UTC)Metroplex isn't going to like that one
poor copter :(
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 07:14 am (UTC)He'd totally even help Metroplex in his Slingshot-napping plots.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 07:31 am (UTC)helping set up the pronz is always good
*feeds him candy and love*
here, have a trailbreaker, he needs love too *shoves them together*
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 07:23 pm (UTC)Freerange: OMG! ROTORS! *Tackles Blades to the floor*
Blades: O.O @_@
Trailbreaker/Blades? That's one I haven't heard before, any fic?
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 11:16 pm (UTC)my brain thought it would be cute.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 11:22 pm (UTC)it's probably where my brain snagged the idea from
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 11:24 pm (UTC)...Shit. nevermind.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-04 11:48 pm (UTC)they just keep dragging you bakc
no subject
Date: 2010-02-05 12:03 am (UTC)