(no subject)
Just a couple drabbles to break a mean writer's block I been having
Title: Pressure
Author: Dreamer Way
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Warnings: Implied drug use
Summary: First Aid seeks any kind of help to make sure he stays prefect.
As the doors to his office opened, First Aid entered inside and headed over to his desk. The last few megacycles had been killer. Ratchet had all of the medical staff working overtime after the recent Decepticon attack. Nearly half of the crew were in the medical bay getting repairs. It was the first time since the attack that First Aid was able to have a break as the work load started to lighten up.
Primus, he needed this.
All of his systems were low on energy, telling him to rest. But First Aid knew that he couldn’t. As Ratchet’s student, he had an image to hold up. Everyone had such high hopes for him. He had to be prefect, the prefect little medic. There was so much pressure on him to keep on working 110% all the time. But Primus, he need some help and this stuff was his only solution. All his medical datapads had only negative points towards this, but he could only see the positive right now.
Unlocking the bottom drawer, Aid lifted up a box. His brothers would have killed him if they found out he had this, Ratchet as well. He would be in major trouble if someone found out as Nucleon was dangerous and should only be use as a last resort for a medic. But that was only in large doses. Small ones would just give him a boost as First Aid had discovered back when he was studying thanks to one of his classmates. No harm in taking only a small bit.
Taking out a couple capsules of Nucleon, First Aid retracted his faceplate as he removed the lid off of one of them. Lifting it towards his mouth, Aid quickly swallowed the funky color liquid. Once into his system, a buzz rushed through him, a rise of energy and power took place. While, it was more than enough to handle of rest of his shift, First Aid felt the need for more. Taking the second capsule, he gulped it down as fast as the first.
When the second rush of energy entered his systems, First Aid felt something wrong. System error messages popped up in front of his optics faster than he could react to them. He lost his vocal and motor functions and found himself crashing to the ground. The rest became a blur as First Aid saw Swoop entering his office, a smile with two energon cubes in hand. Those quickly disappeared, the smile changed into shock and panic as the cubes spilled on the ground. The fading voice of Swoop calling out for Ratchet and Wheeljack was the last thing First Aid heard as his system send his body into stasis lock.
~*~
Title: Blaming You
Author: Dreamer Way
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters
Prompt: Silverbolt/Hot Rod/violent
Summary: Right now, Silverbolt really didn't want to deal with a drunk mech. Sequel to Flight by Midnight.
Sitting there in the rec room with all the noise around him, Silverbolt could still hear himself think. He really didn't want to talk to anyone right now. All he wanted to do was focus on how he had screwed up. He should have been watching Fireflight more carefully. He knew how much the young Aeirlbot wanted to go out at night and fly around; he just didn't watch him this time. Air Raid and Slingshot got into trouble again with Blades so he had to meet with Hot Spot and deal with them. Skydive was off who knows where, but Silverbolt could at least trust his second to take care of himself. But Fireflight...Fireflight was like their little brother, a daydreamer and one full of innocence.
Now, that was taken away...
Hearing laugher behind him and then a hand touched his shoulder, Silverbolt looking up from his drink to the mech behind him.
"Ah, why so blue, Silverbolt?" chuckled Hot Rod. The young mech was sitting a couple tables away with a few more young mechs Silverbolt didn't recognized. The only other two he did know were the green triple changer, Springer and the fast-talking Blurr. Moaning, Silverbolt didn't want to deal with this, not now. He knew the flame hood youth had a little too much high grade; he could pick up the smell of it from him.
"Ya know, you shouldn't be such a downer. Everything is ok!" giggled Hot Rod.
"Hot Rod, will you please leave me alone?" asked Silverbolt, trying to move away from the mech.
"Nope," said Hot Rod, "Ya know, maybe this will be a good thing. This should teach Fireflight to watch where he is going and keep his head out of the clouds!"
Silence gripped half of the rec room of those not drunk out of their processors. The group with Hot Rod were the only ones that were laughing, encouraging Hot Rod. Silverbolt narrowed his optics as he pushed away from the counter and looked down towards the drunk mech. Normally, he was a peaceful mech. He believed in talking things out with his fellow Autobots and that violence should be used as a last resort.
But, slag it he had enough!
"Shut up!" shouted Silverbolt as his fist flew and struck Hot Rod in the face. He didn't care if he was sent to the brig because of this. It would worth it by the long run.
Crashing back into his table, Hot Rod struggled to stay up. His friends stood up and tried to help him from falling hard to the ground, "Hey! What do you think you are doing!" shouted Springer.
"You don't know what its like, do you? You never had a teammate, a brother hurt like this?! You sit here, drinking away and being all merry. Well, one day the world is going to hit you and hit you hard! I hope one day, you make a mistake and it will cause someone you love to become hurt and you will learn how I feel!" shouted Silverbolt before he turned and left the room.
Hot Rod sneered as he finally was able to stay up, "Jerk..." he mumbled before turning back to his friends.