Prompt 1/2 & 3 Response
Title: Small Details
Continuity: Movieverse
Rating: G
Character(s): Unnamed humans, Ratchet
Warnings: None
Summary: Prime forgot to mention an itty bitty detail in his reports for the humans
Notes: Prompt 3. Scenario: meeting a cityformer for the first time.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
It was a good thing it wasn't high summer else Ratchet would be dealing with a hell load of pissed off soldiers looking like lobsters. Since NEST was recruiting from the best from across the world some of them just weren't used to the higher temperatures during the summer months.
And why are we all outside sitting under the shelter of a treeline some distance away from our base?
Well, that would be because the aforementioned highly advanced robotic being from another planet has banished us all so that he can do some routine maintenance. At least we aren't alone, the rest of the Cybertronians have also been expelled by the cranky medical officer and the small copse of trees is now looking like a strange mix of automobile show and truck stop.
Except for the fact that several of the cars are no longer cars, the wreckers had gotten bored some time ago and the rest of the Cybertronians are doing their best to ignore the fact that they were now jousting. With trees. In fact, Prime had only spoken up to warn them to put them back in the ground once they were finished if they were still in one piece.
But back to the matter in question. Ratchet. Repairs. We'd often seen him prying of wall panels and adjusting things, hell, we'd even seen him clinging to the towers of the base with a strange magnetic device so he could fix things. So why did he need us all outside? What was he planning to do, flood the entire thing with toxic gas to fumigate, he's always complaining about Earth rodents and their ability to get everywhere. But even that wouldn't explain the presence of the rest of the Cybertronians at our outdoor party.
Finally.
I'm not the only one to get up from whichever spot seemed convenient for lounging as the hard to miss luminescent form of the medic ducks out of the main doors and strides away from the Cybertronian city that has become our main base of operations.
And then...
Then...
It...
...
I think Prime forgot to mention something in his briefings.
At least I'm not the only one. Hell, even Lennox just rolled off Prime's hood to sprawl in front of his grill, and his voice, when he finally finds it, sounds exactly like mine would if I actually had anything coherant to say. A fine mix of shock, accusation, horror, awe, and did I mention shock?
"Prime, our base just transformed."
Title: Virtual Flattery
Continuity: Movieverse
Rating: G
Character(s): Ratchet, Jazz
Warnings: None
Summary: Ratchet is trying to put Jazz back together. Jazz isn't helping...
Notes: Prompt 1: Poetic license & 2: Dreamscape
Ratchet sighed, a distinctive human trait, but at this exact moment it summed up his feelings all too well.
The mech beside him preened, flickering his plating at the medic, who simply sighed again, venting atmosphere from his vent system with a whistling hiss. "If you would cooperate it would be greatly appreciated." If sarcasm could kill the mech would be flat on his aft for the second time.
Thankfully for Jazz, sarcasm doesn't seem to be a primary cause of deactivation for Cybertronians. "Sorry Ratch."
The white and red medic merely huffed, his armour flaring lightly. "I'm trying to work, you aren't helping."
"Sorry." The silver mech stood still for several nanoclicks before bouncing lightly on his stabilisers as he leans over the medic who is plugged into a console typing away at lines of coding. "But what would happen if I do this?"
Ratchet twitched.
Jazz yelped as a heavy hand, complete with a new paint colour, landed on his scruff, hoisting him into the air like a recalcitrant sparkling. "Stop meddling. I can't bring you back online till I've repaired all the coding issues." The silver mech was abruptly dropped as Ratchet sat back down and returned to his console.
It wasn't his fault he was bored. He'd been sitting here for vorns and vorns and vorns. Well, maybe not quite that long, but it felt like it, while Ratchet shifted through his coding. He couldn't help it if he was totally and utterly bored stiff. So stiff his physical form has probably rusted away by now. So really, could Ratchet expect anything else?
And then he found something in his coding that shouldnt have been accessable. So sue him, as the humans say, for being curious. But after a short inspection realised he had found something that could keep him occupied.
Medical codes, meant to be locked away behind firewalls unless a medic hardlines in and accesses them. Codes that can shape the virtual reality of a mechs processor so that a medic can keep them calm or explain things.
Adjusting the medic back to his current Primus forsaken lime green colour scheme he earns a muttered thanks. And now he's bored again. He's changed the landscape, orange upside down organic trees with tentacles in a purple swamp currently, he's changed Ratchet back to his Cybertronian red and white, and then to a glorious shade of pink, which apparently wasn't appreciated as his collar plating still feels dented, and now he can do what?
It is not till Ratchet glances up, wary about what has kept his patient quiet for so long that he finds out what Jazz decided to do next. "What the slag do you call that?" Ratchet asks, a faint splutter of static clouding his voice as he tries not to laugh at the utterly ridiculous image.
Jazz grins, his virtual reality form now resembling Ratchets, except he has what the humans would call devil horns perched on top of his helm, the required wings and tail are also present and a large wrench completes the image. "Poetic License?"
Continuity: Movieverse
Rating: G
Character(s): Unnamed humans, Ratchet
Warnings: None
Summary: Prime forgot to mention an itty bitty detail in his reports for the humans
Notes: Prompt 3. Scenario: meeting a cityformer for the first time.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
It was a good thing it wasn't high summer else Ratchet would be dealing with a hell load of pissed off soldiers looking like lobsters. Since NEST was recruiting from the best from across the world some of them just weren't used to the higher temperatures during the summer months.
And why are we all outside sitting under the shelter of a treeline some distance away from our base?
Well, that would be because the aforementioned highly advanced robotic being from another planet has banished us all so that he can do some routine maintenance. At least we aren't alone, the rest of the Cybertronians have also been expelled by the cranky medical officer and the small copse of trees is now looking like a strange mix of automobile show and truck stop.
Except for the fact that several of the cars are no longer cars, the wreckers had gotten bored some time ago and the rest of the Cybertronians are doing their best to ignore the fact that they were now jousting. With trees. In fact, Prime had only spoken up to warn them to put them back in the ground once they were finished if they were still in one piece.
But back to the matter in question. Ratchet. Repairs. We'd often seen him prying of wall panels and adjusting things, hell, we'd even seen him clinging to the towers of the base with a strange magnetic device so he could fix things. So why did he need us all outside? What was he planning to do, flood the entire thing with toxic gas to fumigate, he's always complaining about Earth rodents and their ability to get everywhere. But even that wouldn't explain the presence of the rest of the Cybertronians at our outdoor party.
Finally.
I'm not the only one to get up from whichever spot seemed convenient for lounging as the hard to miss luminescent form of the medic ducks out of the main doors and strides away from the Cybertronian city that has become our main base of operations.
And then...
Then...
It...
...
I think Prime forgot to mention something in his briefings.
At least I'm not the only one. Hell, even Lennox just rolled off Prime's hood to sprawl in front of his grill, and his voice, when he finally finds it, sounds exactly like mine would if I actually had anything coherant to say. A fine mix of shock, accusation, horror, awe, and did I mention shock?
"Prime, our base just transformed."
Title: Virtual Flattery
Continuity: Movieverse
Rating: G
Character(s): Ratchet, Jazz
Warnings: None
Summary: Ratchet is trying to put Jazz back together. Jazz isn't helping...
Notes: Prompt 1: Poetic license & 2: Dreamscape
Ratchet sighed, a distinctive human trait, but at this exact moment it summed up his feelings all too well.
The mech beside him preened, flickering his plating at the medic, who simply sighed again, venting atmosphere from his vent system with a whistling hiss. "If you would cooperate it would be greatly appreciated." If sarcasm could kill the mech would be flat on his aft for the second time.
Thankfully for Jazz, sarcasm doesn't seem to be a primary cause of deactivation for Cybertronians. "Sorry Ratch."
The white and red medic merely huffed, his armour flaring lightly. "I'm trying to work, you aren't helping."
"Sorry." The silver mech stood still for several nanoclicks before bouncing lightly on his stabilisers as he leans over the medic who is plugged into a console typing away at lines of coding. "But what would happen if I do this?"
Ratchet twitched.
Jazz yelped as a heavy hand, complete with a new paint colour, landed on his scruff, hoisting him into the air like a recalcitrant sparkling. "Stop meddling. I can't bring you back online till I've repaired all the coding issues." The silver mech was abruptly dropped as Ratchet sat back down and returned to his console.
It wasn't his fault he was bored. He'd been sitting here for vorns and vorns and vorns. Well, maybe not quite that long, but it felt like it, while Ratchet shifted through his coding. He couldn't help it if he was totally and utterly bored stiff. So stiff his physical form has probably rusted away by now. So really, could Ratchet expect anything else?
And then he found something in his coding that shouldnt have been accessable. So sue him, as the humans say, for being curious. But after a short inspection realised he had found something that could keep him occupied.
Medical codes, meant to be locked away behind firewalls unless a medic hardlines in and accesses them. Codes that can shape the virtual reality of a mechs processor so that a medic can keep them calm or explain things.
Adjusting the medic back to his current Primus forsaken lime green colour scheme he earns a muttered thanks. And now he's bored again. He's changed the landscape, orange upside down organic trees with tentacles in a purple swamp currently, he's changed Ratchet back to his Cybertronian red and white, and then to a glorious shade of pink, which apparently wasn't appreciated as his collar plating still feels dented, and now he can do what?
It is not till Ratchet glances up, wary about what has kept his patient quiet for so long that he finds out what Jazz decided to do next. "What the slag do you call that?" Ratchet asks, a faint splutter of static clouding his voice as he tries not to laugh at the utterly ridiculous image.
Jazz grins, his virtual reality form now resembling Ratchets, except he has what the humans would call devil horns perched on top of his helm, the required wings and tail are also present and a large wrench completes the image. "Poetic License?"