Waaay late Advent!! 24, 25, 26, 27
Dec. 31st, 2012 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camfieldBluestreak/Thundercracker-sex toys
Rated M
Day 24
“That is not a sex toy.”
Bluestreak snorted. “Says you nancybot. Perhaps if you were less sparkling and more real mech...” He let the sentence hang in the air.
Thundercracker gave him a look. “Then how about you show me how you can even use that as a sex toy and prove me wrong. In the name of peace and all.”
The gunner snickered and held up the dismembered pede. “Just watch and learn Crackerjack. Maybe you’ll actually get to join in someday.”
Blaster/Breakdown - Mommy
Rated R
Blaster held the frame tight to his chest, crooning softly in Cybertronian. Grieving for the child he’d never gotten to know, for the mech that had come to them so broken and beaten that not even Ratchet had been able to save him.
Blaster had known from the second they’d met on the battlefield who Breakdown was. The frame was different, but the spark was the same. The sparkling he had carried within his own frame, who had never gotten to see Cybertron. Who would ever see Cybertron. Why Vector Sigma had deigned to send this spark back out, Blaster didn’t know, but it tore at him that twice he had missed the chance to see his youngling grow up.
He had sat with Breakdown in the medical bay as soon as the mech had been admitted. Holding his hand and whispering apologies, fairy tales and nursery rhymes. All the things he’d wanted to do when the bitlet had been still growing alongside his spark.
Breakdown had been conscious for some of it, wordlessly accepting Blaster’s comfort. Whether Ratchet had told him or not, the mech somehow knew that his defection came just a little too late to save him. He offered Blaster crooked half smiles that were indistinguishable in whatever emotion he held behind them. Allowed him to gather his protoform up and hold him close, even asking at times for the comfort of Blaster’s arms.
In this last drugged haze he’d given a real smile at being held. Softly murmuring ‘no pain’ before snuggling in.
So Blaster held him. Spark and EM field pulsing love and care while his creation again died within his grasp.
Prowl/Ratchet-Secrets we Keep
Rated R
Day 25
“I won’t lie for you again, Prowl.”
Ratchet stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with an easy grace. Prowl gave him a hurt look that was quickly schooled into indifference.
“Noted. I am sorry that this has caused you any trouble, Ratchet.”
The medic sighed, but turned. Pretending not to notice when black and white doorwings trembled, or that even before he’d shut the door behind
him Prowl had already inserted another virus chip into his disintegrating data slot.
Jazz/Prowl-Escaping captivity
Rated PG
Day 26
“I refuse.”
Jazz glared at Prowl. Light glinting off of his visor as he turned his helm slightly.
“Yah don’ have a choice.”
“I will stay, Jazz. I am still needed here, I cannot run off the klick you decide that my skills are no longer needed.”
Prowl stood with his arms folded tightly under his front bumper, optics burning bright as he spoke. Jazz gave a growl, even as he acknowledged
the pain and desperation within the other mech. He knew just how hard it was to go from war to peace time for a specialty frame. Prowl wasn’t
the only mech who had been specially built and coded for use during war. He wasn’t the only preprogrammed mech that the Autobots had
utilized.
He was, however, the only one who still clung to his function, even when he was doing more harm than good in his current capacity.
“Yah skills are no longer needed. Th’ war is over, Prowl. Over. Th’ humans don’ need yah here, they’ve been askin’ th’ Prime t’ take yah back. They’re done
wit us, don’ want anythin’ t’do wit giant alien robots anymore.”
"I cannot be obsolete Jazz. I cannot!"
“Ah know, Prowler, Ah know.”
Carefully Jazz closed the distance between them, resting his forehelm against Prowl’s chevron. “It isn’t th’ end of th’ world, Prowler. Yah can get
through this, just like th’ rest of us have.”
Prowl flinched. Drawing his doorwings in until they were flat against his back, his vents coming more and more quickly. There was a panic in his
optics that Jazz recognized, the fear of becoming nothing more than scrap metal. The former Second in Command was still holding himself to
exacting specifications, in a world that had no place for them.
“My code...”
Jazz shook him. Gently, but firmly. “Yah code may tell yah what t’do, but it ain’t who yah are. Th’ spark that spins inside yah chest, that’s
what tells yah who yah are. We can change code, Prowl. Primus knows Ratch has done it more often then he’s cared ta, but we aren’t slaves t’
that code. There isn’t any reason for yah t’ be here and yah know it.”
The doorwinger shook. From his helm to his pedes his frame rattled as armor plates clanked together. His optics shuttered and a keen rose
from him. Going from something thin to a full wail as emotions poured out of Prowl. His leg hydraulics failed and the joints in his knees
buckled, Jazz wrapping one arm around him and holding him tightly. Not letting Prowl fall even as his own joints creaked from the added weight.
His other hand moving in just a little to stroke the thumb over coolant tear wet cheekplates.
“Shhhhh, we’ll getcha set right, yah alright, Prowl,” Jazz murmured. Holding the other mech as he let go of vorn worth of hurt and sadness and riding
out the emotions as they came.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Prowl walked through the door to Ratchet’s new clinic and quietly asked for the medic, it was with Jazz’s hand in his own and a smile on his
face.
Inferno/Red Alert-Phobia.
Rated PG
Day 27
Most of the Autobots you talked to would tell you that Red Alert was paranoid. The few that knew better would only smile and move the
conversation in another direction. Red Alert himself did little to dissuade the notion, in fact going so far as to push it as the truth
everyone thought it was. Keeping himself locked in his hub, rarely going out and never without a chaperone.
It was the perfect cover, and one that Red Alert gladly kept up for Inferno’s sake.
So when Inferno clutched Red Alert too tightly, or kept too close for it to be explained away by conventional means, he created a diversion.
Drawing the attention to himself to keep it off of his bondmate. Continuing to do so for as long as he was able.
Because Inferno was the one with the unrepairable glitch that threatened to override his common sense. Inferno who would sit in the security hub
for cycles on end, under the guise of visiting Red Alert, and watch the monitors with such intense focus he had to at times be sedated to rest.
Red Alert bore it, because he refused to let anyone know. War injuries came with a high stigma, especially ones that manifested as unrepairable
glitches. He took the stigma with his helm held high. Playing his part for the masses and curling up next to Inferno when they were alone.
Taking care of the larger mech, just as he had been taken care of for vorns prior.
Rated M
Day 24
“That is not a sex toy.”
Bluestreak snorted. “Says you nancybot. Perhaps if you were less sparkling and more real mech...” He let the sentence hang in the air.
Thundercracker gave him a look. “Then how about you show me how you can even use that as a sex toy and prove me wrong. In the name of peace and all.”
The gunner snickered and held up the dismembered pede. “Just watch and learn Crackerjack. Maybe you’ll actually get to join in someday.”
Blaster/Breakdown - Mommy
Rated R
Blaster held the frame tight to his chest, crooning softly in Cybertronian. Grieving for the child he’d never gotten to know, for the mech that had come to them so broken and beaten that not even Ratchet had been able to save him.
Blaster had known from the second they’d met on the battlefield who Breakdown was. The frame was different, but the spark was the same. The sparkling he had carried within his own frame, who had never gotten to see Cybertron. Who would ever see Cybertron. Why Vector Sigma had deigned to send this spark back out, Blaster didn’t know, but it tore at him that twice he had missed the chance to see his youngling grow up.
He had sat with Breakdown in the medical bay as soon as the mech had been admitted. Holding his hand and whispering apologies, fairy tales and nursery rhymes. All the things he’d wanted to do when the bitlet had been still growing alongside his spark.
Breakdown had been conscious for some of it, wordlessly accepting Blaster’s comfort. Whether Ratchet had told him or not, the mech somehow knew that his defection came just a little too late to save him. He offered Blaster crooked half smiles that were indistinguishable in whatever emotion he held behind them. Allowed him to gather his protoform up and hold him close, even asking at times for the comfort of Blaster’s arms.
In this last drugged haze he’d given a real smile at being held. Softly murmuring ‘no pain’ before snuggling in.
So Blaster held him. Spark and EM field pulsing love and care while his creation again died within his grasp.
Prowl/Ratchet-Secrets we Keep
Rated R
Day 25
“I won’t lie for you again, Prowl.”
Ratchet stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with an easy grace. Prowl gave him a hurt look that was quickly schooled into indifference.
“Noted. I am sorry that this has caused you any trouble, Ratchet.”
The medic sighed, but turned. Pretending not to notice when black and white doorwings trembled, or that even before he’d shut the door behind
him Prowl had already inserted another virus chip into his disintegrating data slot.
Jazz/Prowl-Escaping captivity
Rated PG
Day 26
“I refuse.”
Jazz glared at Prowl. Light glinting off of his visor as he turned his helm slightly.
“Yah don’ have a choice.”
“I will stay, Jazz. I am still needed here, I cannot run off the klick you decide that my skills are no longer needed.”
Prowl stood with his arms folded tightly under his front bumper, optics burning bright as he spoke. Jazz gave a growl, even as he acknowledged
the pain and desperation within the other mech. He knew just how hard it was to go from war to peace time for a specialty frame. Prowl wasn’t
the only mech who had been specially built and coded for use during war. He wasn’t the only preprogrammed mech that the Autobots had
utilized.
He was, however, the only one who still clung to his function, even when he was doing more harm than good in his current capacity.
“Yah skills are no longer needed. Th’ war is over, Prowl. Over. Th’ humans don’ need yah here, they’ve been askin’ th’ Prime t’ take yah back. They’re done
wit us, don’ want anythin’ t’do wit giant alien robots anymore.”
"I cannot be obsolete Jazz. I cannot!"
“Ah know, Prowler, Ah know.”
Carefully Jazz closed the distance between them, resting his forehelm against Prowl’s chevron. “It isn’t th’ end of th’ world, Prowler. Yah can get
through this, just like th’ rest of us have.”
Prowl flinched. Drawing his doorwings in until they were flat against his back, his vents coming more and more quickly. There was a panic in his
optics that Jazz recognized, the fear of becoming nothing more than scrap metal. The former Second in Command was still holding himself to
exacting specifications, in a world that had no place for them.
“My code...”
Jazz shook him. Gently, but firmly. “Yah code may tell yah what t’do, but it ain’t who yah are. Th’ spark that spins inside yah chest, that’s
what tells yah who yah are. We can change code, Prowl. Primus knows Ratch has done it more often then he’s cared ta, but we aren’t slaves t’
that code. There isn’t any reason for yah t’ be here and yah know it.”
The doorwinger shook. From his helm to his pedes his frame rattled as armor plates clanked together. His optics shuttered and a keen rose
from him. Going from something thin to a full wail as emotions poured out of Prowl. His leg hydraulics failed and the joints in his knees
buckled, Jazz wrapping one arm around him and holding him tightly. Not letting Prowl fall even as his own joints creaked from the added weight.
His other hand moving in just a little to stroke the thumb over coolant tear wet cheekplates.
“Shhhhh, we’ll getcha set right, yah alright, Prowl,” Jazz murmured. Holding the other mech as he let go of vorn worth of hurt and sadness and riding
out the emotions as they came.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Prowl walked through the door to Ratchet’s new clinic and quietly asked for the medic, it was with Jazz’s hand in his own and a smile on his
face.
Inferno/Red Alert-Phobia.
Rated PG
Day 27
Most of the Autobots you talked to would tell you that Red Alert was paranoid. The few that knew better would only smile and move the
conversation in another direction. Red Alert himself did little to dissuade the notion, in fact going so far as to push it as the truth
everyone thought it was. Keeping himself locked in his hub, rarely going out and never without a chaperone.
It was the perfect cover, and one that Red Alert gladly kept up for Inferno’s sake.
So when Inferno clutched Red Alert too tightly, or kept too close for it to be explained away by conventional means, he created a diversion.
Drawing the attention to himself to keep it off of his bondmate. Continuing to do so for as long as he was able.
Because Inferno was the one with the unrepairable glitch that threatened to override his common sense. Inferno who would sit in the security hub
for cycles on end, under the guise of visiting Red Alert, and watch the monitors with such intense focus he had to at times be sedated to rest.
Red Alert bore it, because he refused to let anyone know. War injuries came with a high stigma, especially ones that manifested as unrepairable
glitches. He took the stigma with his helm held high. Playing his part for the masses and curling up next to Inferno when they were alone.
Taking care of the larger mech, just as he had been taken care of for vorns prior.
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no subject
Date: 2013-01-02 10:46 pm (UTC)The Prowl/Ratchet one certainly intrigued me, I'm not entirely sure what Prowl was up to.
Prowl/Jazz was lovely, I like the idea of mechs struggling against coding and have rewrite parts of it to adapt.
no subject
Date: 2013-01-05 01:24 am (UTC)That one made me tear up a little as well, but the idea of it... family against family, is one of my weaknesses.
Prowl has a problem. Ratchet is Not Amused.
Prowl/Jazz is my baby. And it's fun to write the dichotomy of 'required' vs 'want'.