(no subject)
Title: Discover
T-Series: Animated
Character: Sari Sumdac, Isaac Sumdac
Rating: K+
Summary: Near misses sometimes go unnoticed
Prompt #1 Dodging a bullet
Sari Sumdac pulled off her shirt. She'd had a long day and just wanted to slip under her covers.
After tossing her daywear on the back of the empty chair, Sari put on a nightgown. She looked at the dirty shirt, dirty shirt, debating throwing it in the hamper now or later. Looking longingly at her bed, Sari decided it was easier to leave the cleanup for the morning.
Hearing the knock on her door, Sari made sure the All Spark shard was hidden. "Come in daddy."
"You alright Sari? You've missed dinner the last several days, and am always rushing through breakfast."
Sari lay on her bed, wrapped the bed sheets around her. "I'm fine. Have some new friends and don't want to spend more time away from them than I have to."
"Oh, okay." Isaac nodded. His eyes looked at the shirt, then he did a double-take. "Are your friends part of a gang?"
"No, daddy. Why?" Sari closed her eyes, not feigning her sleepiness.
"This shirt has got bullet holes in it."
Sari's eyes popped open and she shot upright. "I was shot at with real guns?" She fingered the holes in the cloth. "No blood - and I never felt a thing, honest!"
Isaac sighed. "I believe you." He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight - I'm doubling up your security droids in the morning."
Sari yawned. "Protective droids, ugh - I’ve got real friends now."
Title: Malpractice
T-Series: Any/All
Character: Ratchet
Rating: K+
Summary: A lack of concern does more harm than deliberate wounds.
Prompt #2 Irredeemable
Ratchet took one look at the item. He threw the part against the look, where it shattered. "I'm a medic! Not a miracle worker! I can't use slag hauled in from the scrap heap."
Wheeljack looked at the next item in the box. He could see flaws and faults in everything without scanning for damage. "Looks like the medbay acquired the scrapheap." He picked up the box. "Want me to take this to the smelter's pit?"
"Please," Ratchet rubbed the bridge of his nose. Now he had to examine every single box of supplies.
When First Aid came in seven joors later, he found Ratchet still at it. "What new intern accepted the latest cast-offs?" He joined Ratchet in trying to find any salvageable equipment from the latest supply drop.
"Fireplug," Ratchet vented. "Mech never checked the label against the contents before signing."
First Aid looked at the room. "Which containers are scrap and which are practice for incoming first-vorn apprentices?"
Wheeljack stumbled in. "Oh good, our relief's here." The engineer had heard the question and pointed. "All those lined up against that wall have got to go."
"Frag,” The unacceptable boxes greatly outnumbered the marginally useful. "Let me call Red Alert."
"And when she arrives, Red Alert is to bar Fireplug all access." Ratchet stated. "I hate dealing with students who don't care."
Title: Bad Starts
T-Series: Generation 1
Character: Sideswipe, Carly
Rating: K+
Summary: Figuring out how to begin correctly takes practice - and lots of mistakes
Prompt #3 First Line Poetry Generator
" 'In the chalice of refusal the puppets sweep'." Sideswipe read aloud. "What the slag is this?"
Carly groaned. "It's supposed to be poetry." She hid her face behind her hands. "I can't believe Spikes aid he thought it was okay."
"That boy can face down Decepticons, but is afraid of a pretty face?" Sideswipe shook his head.
Carly looked through her fingers. "You think I'm pretty?"
Sideswipe backpedaled. "I'm not a good judge of human-qualities of attractiveness, but I've heard Spike say he's smitten every time he looks at you."
"He did?"
Sideswipe nodded, wondering why all the human came to him for advice or suggestions or a second opinion on purely human stuff - like this poetry business and 'Do you think she likes me', of which the answer was 'yes.'
Carly lost all mortification. "Well, if you hated that first poem, maybe this other poem will work." She cleared her throat. " 'In the garret of intellect the salmon valley'--"
Sideswipe tuned out the nonsense stanza. He had enough of the girl's hopeless attempt at writing rhymes.
Title: Late Night
T-Series: Any/All
Timeline: pre-war
Character: Jazz, Smokescreen
Rating: K+
Summary: Youngsters enjoying the fun times.
Prompt #4 Setting: A casino in the early morning
"Come on, Jazz. Time to go."
"Gimme a moment Smokes - the song's almost over."
Smokescrean backed away from the only mech still standing on the open floor. He knew when it was a helpless cause.
The proprietor didn't. He'd learn. "We're closed, buddy. You two are here after-hours."
Jazz stopped in the midst of the dance. His optics shuttered, refocused on the two waiting mechs. "Cant' be - my friend and I just got here."
"Jazz, that was six joors ago." Smokescreen wondered at how easily the silver and white bot let himself be interrupted. Maybe he'd given up too soon?"
"Oh alright,” Jazz pouted, but departed without further argument. "So, how'd you make out in the card game?"
"Won more than I lost." Smokescreen admitted, letting Jazz take charge of the destination. "Some of my opponents have been playing for vorns," he trailed off.
"Come on mech, details! I want details!" Jazz had his servo wrapped around Smokescreen's arm and was heading towards the center of the city. "One statement is supposed to describe your entire orn?"
Smokescreen shook his head. Ah, this ploy again. "Jazz, I have got to go to work in less than three joors -besides all the casinos are closed."
Jazz stopped tugging. "M'kay. What about next orn? Or after work?"
"Maybe," Smokescreen hedged, suspecting Jazz heard 'Yes'. "After I refuel and get some decent recharge in me."
Title: Silence
T-Series: Bayverse
Character: William Lennox
Rating: K+
Summary: Not all debilitating wounds are life-threatening.
Prompt #6 Scenario: A character loses one of five senses at the worst possible time. How does the character cope?
*BOOM*
William Lennox ducked. His ears rang before rubble pelted his back. He couldn't hear the rubble hitting the tarmac, but it could feel it landing on his back.
When material stopped landing on and around him, Lennox chanced a look up.
His eyes spotted Ironhide ripping into the Decepeticon that had just shot up the building NEST had scattered around, and he saw Sabors being fired at the other cons, but he couldn't hear any of it - just the continuous ringing in his ears.
With his hearing currently out of commission, William couldn't depend on any verbal warnings - or pass along messages. He caught the gaze of Robert Epps and motioned for his second-in-command to take charge of the radio.
Will Lennox scurried forward, eyes open for any motion. Depending on how badly his eardrums had been damaged, he might be out of the field temporary. Or given a desk forever, where his life did not depend on being able to hear.
First though, Will had to survive this battle. Then, he could worry about learning sign language later.
Title: CHICKEN RUN fusion
T-Series: Any/All - unspecified
Character: Surprise characters
Rating: K+
Summary: What if ... some transformers had been cooped up like flightless birds? (fusion with CHICKEN RUN a 2000 movie)
Prompt #6 TASK: Write an AU where Transformers take over the main leads in a movie, TV show, book, etcetera. Go from there.
"What do we do know?" Mac asked. "We've tried every plan, every option. Nothing works."
"I refuse to give up - giving up means admitting failure and that, my friends, leaves us all dead." The mud-encrusted speaker looked at the freshly arrived delivery trucks and their packages. "There has got to be some aspect we're overlooking! and obvious flaw."
Mach put the stub of her pencil behind her ear. "Bunty, Babbs, sounds like escape plan 373812 is being plotted out right now."
The surrounding chickens sighed. "I'll tell the others we'll need to save some of our rations - are Nick and Fletcher still accepting feed?"
Later, a faint roll of thunder echoed through the concentration camp. Except for glancing upwards at the black star-filled sky, none of the captive birds gave the familiar sound any consideration.
None but one.
The mud-encrusted one, recently released from solitary confinement, noticed the faint flying, no falling object. "We've got incoming!"
Fowler, the oldest inhabitant and the only rooster in the joint roared, "Places everybody!"
The falling object slammed into the steel silo and plummeted into the confined pen. It's landing splashed grey mud on every coop and every bird. "Darn it! Almost had it that time." The new arrival shrugged one wing. "Nothing broken in that arm." Flexed the second wing. "Noth--OUCH! That's a sprain".
While Mac, Fowler, and Bunty ran to reassure the rest of the captive chickens their unexpected guest meant them no harm, the ginger-colored fowl stood in front of the red rooster. "Can you teach us?"
"Pardon?" Asked the nameless inhabitant.
"Can you teach us to fly? That's the only avenue of escape we haven't thought of yet."
"Can't teach you - not until I know your names. And who wall wants to learn?"
"My name's Prowl. We all want to leave, and we will escape en mass."
"Good to meet you Prowler. Call me Jazz."
The lights in the farmhouse turned on. Prowl hissed, and all the birds, except Jazz, immediately ran for their hay-beds. "Come on - Mr. and Mrs. Tweetly are making a surprise inspection of their stock. You, they might use as dinner." Prowl warned.
"Got it - where do I hide?"
Prowl looked around. "Fowler - Jazz needs to bunk with you!"
The white rooster half squawked his denial. Seeing more lights turn on, he swallowed his complaints. A new rooster meant it might be his turn on the chopping block.
Two nights later, his sprained wing in a sling, thanks to Mac, Jazz joined the planning/plotting session. He whistled as he looked over the plans to their failed attempts. "Man, you chicks have certainly done everything to get under the wire fence and past the guard dogs."
"Nothing's worked." Mac put away the loose sheets.
"Wouldn't say that." Jazz added his input. "Each of those attempts could have allowed three or more to escape - why didn't any of you leave?"
Bunty sat on her nest above the unauthorized meeting. "Can't do it. We agreed from the start it would be all of us, or none of us."
"Gotcha." Jazz nodded. "What made you think of flying?"
"You flew over that fence - would have shot across the whole compound if you hadn't hit that silo."
"Shot is right," rumbled the red rooster. "I had been fired out of a cannon - it's the only way I know how to get fast enough to fly."
Prowl blinked. Collapsed against the wooden post. "How are we to get enough speed then? That fence is too high to jump, and sling shooting over would mean a minimum of one or two remaining behind."
"Every listen to Fowler talk about his days in the Royal Air Force?" Jazz asked. "Humans are even more ungainly in the air than us - yet they fly all the time just fine."
Babbs squealed. "We fly a plane? I've always wanted to ride in an airplanes."
"No," Prowl regained her composure, processors working furiously. "We build ourselves a flying contraption - a glider if nothing else. Mac, can it be done?"
Mac blinked. "Give me the rest of the night to run the calculations and I'll tell you what we need to make it possible."
"Good. Bunty, see if you can't acquire some eggs for Nick and Fletcher. They'll provide the supplies much faster if they don't need to deal with chicken feed."
"Got it." Bunty saluted.
T-Series: Animated
Character: Sari Sumdac, Isaac Sumdac
Rating: K+
Summary: Near misses sometimes go unnoticed
Prompt #1 Dodging a bullet
Sari Sumdac pulled off her shirt. She'd had a long day and just wanted to slip under her covers.
After tossing her daywear on the back of the empty chair, Sari put on a nightgown. She looked at the dirty shirt, dirty shirt, debating throwing it in the hamper now or later. Looking longingly at her bed, Sari decided it was easier to leave the cleanup for the morning.
Hearing the knock on her door, Sari made sure the All Spark shard was hidden. "Come in daddy."
"You alright Sari? You've missed dinner the last several days, and am always rushing through breakfast."
Sari lay on her bed, wrapped the bed sheets around her. "I'm fine. Have some new friends and don't want to spend more time away from them than I have to."
"Oh, okay." Isaac nodded. His eyes looked at the shirt, then he did a double-take. "Are your friends part of a gang?"
"No, daddy. Why?" Sari closed her eyes, not feigning her sleepiness.
"This shirt has got bullet holes in it."
Sari's eyes popped open and she shot upright. "I was shot at with real guns?" She fingered the holes in the cloth. "No blood - and I never felt a thing, honest!"
Isaac sighed. "I believe you." He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight - I'm doubling up your security droids in the morning."
Sari yawned. "Protective droids, ugh - I’ve got real friends now."
Title: Malpractice
T-Series: Any/All
Character: Ratchet
Rating: K+
Summary: A lack of concern does more harm than deliberate wounds.
Prompt #2 Irredeemable
Ratchet took one look at the item. He threw the part against the look, where it shattered. "I'm a medic! Not a miracle worker! I can't use slag hauled in from the scrap heap."
Wheeljack looked at the next item in the box. He could see flaws and faults in everything without scanning for damage. "Looks like the medbay acquired the scrapheap." He picked up the box. "Want me to take this to the smelter's pit?"
"Please," Ratchet rubbed the bridge of his nose. Now he had to examine every single box of supplies.
When First Aid came in seven joors later, he found Ratchet still at it. "What new intern accepted the latest cast-offs?" He joined Ratchet in trying to find any salvageable equipment from the latest supply drop.
"Fireplug," Ratchet vented. "Mech never checked the label against the contents before signing."
First Aid looked at the room. "Which containers are scrap and which are practice for incoming first-vorn apprentices?"
Wheeljack stumbled in. "Oh good, our relief's here." The engineer had heard the question and pointed. "All those lined up against that wall have got to go."
"Frag,” The unacceptable boxes greatly outnumbered the marginally useful. "Let me call Red Alert."
"And when she arrives, Red Alert is to bar Fireplug all access." Ratchet stated. "I hate dealing with students who don't care."
Title: Bad Starts
T-Series: Generation 1
Character: Sideswipe, Carly
Rating: K+
Summary: Figuring out how to begin correctly takes practice - and lots of mistakes
Prompt #3 First Line Poetry Generator
" 'In the chalice of refusal the puppets sweep'." Sideswipe read aloud. "What the slag is this?"
Carly groaned. "It's supposed to be poetry." She hid her face behind her hands. "I can't believe Spikes aid he thought it was okay."
"That boy can face down Decepticons, but is afraid of a pretty face?" Sideswipe shook his head.
Carly looked through her fingers. "You think I'm pretty?"
Sideswipe backpedaled. "I'm not a good judge of human-qualities of attractiveness, but I've heard Spike say he's smitten every time he looks at you."
"He did?"
Sideswipe nodded, wondering why all the human came to him for advice or suggestions or a second opinion on purely human stuff - like this poetry business and 'Do you think she likes me', of which the answer was 'yes.'
Carly lost all mortification. "Well, if you hated that first poem, maybe this other poem will work." She cleared her throat. " 'In the garret of intellect the salmon valley'--"
Sideswipe tuned out the nonsense stanza. He had enough of the girl's hopeless attempt at writing rhymes.
Title: Late Night
T-Series: Any/All
Timeline: pre-war
Character: Jazz, Smokescreen
Rating: K+
Summary: Youngsters enjoying the fun times.
Prompt #4 Setting: A casino in the early morning
"Come on, Jazz. Time to go."
"Gimme a moment Smokes - the song's almost over."
Smokescrean backed away from the only mech still standing on the open floor. He knew when it was a helpless cause.
The proprietor didn't. He'd learn. "We're closed, buddy. You two are here after-hours."
Jazz stopped in the midst of the dance. His optics shuttered, refocused on the two waiting mechs. "Cant' be - my friend and I just got here."
"Jazz, that was six joors ago." Smokescreen wondered at how easily the silver and white bot let himself be interrupted. Maybe he'd given up too soon?"
"Oh alright,” Jazz pouted, but departed without further argument. "So, how'd you make out in the card game?"
"Won more than I lost." Smokescreen admitted, letting Jazz take charge of the destination. "Some of my opponents have been playing for vorns," he trailed off.
"Come on mech, details! I want details!" Jazz had his servo wrapped around Smokescreen's arm and was heading towards the center of the city. "One statement is supposed to describe your entire orn?"
Smokescreen shook his head. Ah, this ploy again. "Jazz, I have got to go to work in less than three joors -besides all the casinos are closed."
Jazz stopped tugging. "M'kay. What about next orn? Or after work?"
"Maybe," Smokescreen hedged, suspecting Jazz heard 'Yes'. "After I refuel and get some decent recharge in me."
Title: Silence
T-Series: Bayverse
Character: William Lennox
Rating: K+
Summary: Not all debilitating wounds are life-threatening.
Prompt #6 Scenario: A character loses one of five senses at the worst possible time. How does the character cope?
*BOOM*
William Lennox ducked. His ears rang before rubble pelted his back. He couldn't hear the rubble hitting the tarmac, but it could feel it landing on his back.
When material stopped landing on and around him, Lennox chanced a look up.
His eyes spotted Ironhide ripping into the Decepeticon that had just shot up the building NEST had scattered around, and he saw Sabors being fired at the other cons, but he couldn't hear any of it - just the continuous ringing in his ears.
With his hearing currently out of commission, William couldn't depend on any verbal warnings - or pass along messages. He caught the gaze of Robert Epps and motioned for his second-in-command to take charge of the radio.
Will Lennox scurried forward, eyes open for any motion. Depending on how badly his eardrums had been damaged, he might be out of the field temporary. Or given a desk forever, where his life did not depend on being able to hear.
First though, Will had to survive this battle. Then, he could worry about learning sign language later.
Title: CHICKEN RUN fusion
T-Series: Any/All - unspecified
Character: Surprise characters
Rating: K+
Summary: What if ... some transformers had been cooped up like flightless birds? (fusion with CHICKEN RUN a 2000 movie)
Prompt #6 TASK: Write an AU where Transformers take over the main leads in a movie, TV show, book, etcetera. Go from there.
"What do we do know?" Mac asked. "We've tried every plan, every option. Nothing works."
"I refuse to give up - giving up means admitting failure and that, my friends, leaves us all dead." The mud-encrusted speaker looked at the freshly arrived delivery trucks and their packages. "There has got to be some aspect we're overlooking! and obvious flaw."
Mach put the stub of her pencil behind her ear. "Bunty, Babbs, sounds like escape plan 373812 is being plotted out right now."
The surrounding chickens sighed. "I'll tell the others we'll need to save some of our rations - are Nick and Fletcher still accepting feed?"
Later, a faint roll of thunder echoed through the concentration camp. Except for glancing upwards at the black star-filled sky, none of the captive birds gave the familiar sound any consideration.
None but one.
The mud-encrusted one, recently released from solitary confinement, noticed the faint flying, no falling object. "We've got incoming!"
Fowler, the oldest inhabitant and the only rooster in the joint roared, "Places everybody!"
The falling object slammed into the steel silo and plummeted into the confined pen. It's landing splashed grey mud on every coop and every bird. "Darn it! Almost had it that time." The new arrival shrugged one wing. "Nothing broken in that arm." Flexed the second wing. "Noth--OUCH! That's a sprain".
While Mac, Fowler, and Bunty ran to reassure the rest of the captive chickens their unexpected guest meant them no harm, the ginger-colored fowl stood in front of the red rooster. "Can you teach us?"
"Pardon?" Asked the nameless inhabitant.
"Can you teach us to fly? That's the only avenue of escape we haven't thought of yet."
"Can't teach you - not until I know your names. And who wall wants to learn?"
"My name's Prowl. We all want to leave, and we will escape en mass."
"Good to meet you Prowler. Call me Jazz."
The lights in the farmhouse turned on. Prowl hissed, and all the birds, except Jazz, immediately ran for their hay-beds. "Come on - Mr. and Mrs. Tweetly are making a surprise inspection of their stock. You, they might use as dinner." Prowl warned.
"Got it - where do I hide?"
Prowl looked around. "Fowler - Jazz needs to bunk with you!"
The white rooster half squawked his denial. Seeing more lights turn on, he swallowed his complaints. A new rooster meant it might be his turn on the chopping block.
Two nights later, his sprained wing in a sling, thanks to Mac, Jazz joined the planning/plotting session. He whistled as he looked over the plans to their failed attempts. "Man, you chicks have certainly done everything to get under the wire fence and past the guard dogs."
"Nothing's worked." Mac put away the loose sheets.
"Wouldn't say that." Jazz added his input. "Each of those attempts could have allowed three or more to escape - why didn't any of you leave?"
Bunty sat on her nest above the unauthorized meeting. "Can't do it. We agreed from the start it would be all of us, or none of us."
"Gotcha." Jazz nodded. "What made you think of flying?"
"You flew over that fence - would have shot across the whole compound if you hadn't hit that silo."
"Shot is right," rumbled the red rooster. "I had been fired out of a cannon - it's the only way I know how to get fast enough to fly."
Prowl blinked. Collapsed against the wooden post. "How are we to get enough speed then? That fence is too high to jump, and sling shooting over would mean a minimum of one or two remaining behind."
"Every listen to Fowler talk about his days in the Royal Air Force?" Jazz asked. "Humans are even more ungainly in the air than us - yet they fly all the time just fine."
Babbs squealed. "We fly a plane? I've always wanted to ride in an airplanes."
"No," Prowl regained her composure, processors working furiously. "We build ourselves a flying contraption - a glider if nothing else. Mac, can it be done?"
Mac blinked. "Give me the rest of the night to run the calculations and I'll tell you what we need to make it possible."
"Good. Bunty, see if you can't acquire some eggs for Nick and Fletcher. They'll provide the supplies much faster if they don't need to deal with chicken feed."
"Got it." Bunty saluted.