Jo...you're a pest.
I still have those prompts from earlier, and I'll get those up soon-ish. Sorry for the two month disappearing act, I'm back now! Jo had this wild idea to do quick couple-hundred word prompts. These aren't very pretty, but here they are!
Royalty
They had no caste society, strictly speaking, but everyone knew where they lay. The gloss of your plating, the uniqueness of your build, and the accent from your vocal chords. All clearly told the world who you were and where you belonged. He felt grateful to be at the top of this chain, up here in the Towers where he was untouchable. Others tried to fit in, but only he and those built into this life would ever truly belong to it.
“You’re Mirage, right?”
He looked over at the sound of his name, picking it out from the sea of sound around him. If the life of a Prince had a price, attending these social gatherings would be it. Dreary things that held no more interest for him beyond what was needed to maintain the good connections he used to keep this life as it was.
The voice belonged to a mech about his age, a newcomer, though his accent hid it well. Most wouldn’t ever know this black and white didn’t belong, but Mirage did. There were things about him only a true Towers Prince could pick up to know this one didn’t belong.
“Yes?” he asked, not asking for the other’s name and not caring for it either.
“Thought I’d find you here, they said I might.”
Lazuli optics narrowed a little. “I see.”
“They also said I might be able to talk to you about joining the army. Heard you had some gifts we could use.”
Mirage turned and left the mech without another word. Princes didn’t have to put up with such things. Wars were for the warriors and rabble. He was untouchable.
Dive
He was young, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. First Aid could hear some of the mutterings around the base. Ever since Ratchet and Wheeljack debuted the new mech and his brothers to Optimus Prime, a lot of hype had been building around the new team. Everyone wanted to see how they would perform, if they could live up to the high expectations placed before them.
Then the time came to show off what they could do. It wasn’t until the combat section of their “break-in” training that people first started to take note of the quiet little medic. He was smart and fast and everything needed of him. Everything except the pacifism. If you’d asked him beforehand, he wouldn’t have told you he was a pacifist. Life was to be protected, of course. But he wouldn’t have outright refused to fight.
That was, until they put him in front of that drone.
He hadn’t done it. He couldn’t have done it. He dropped the weapon and backed away, refusing his creators and superiors and brothers. He would not do this.
His brothers would never think such a thing, but the others did…they said he was useless. One of Wheeljack’s mistakes. Something Ratchet must have miswired. An Autobot had to fight. There was no room for a pacifist in the ranks. No room for him.
He would make room. Ever since that day, he’d dived into his work. Without stop, he devoted himself to his studies. If he became the best, as good as Ratchet himself, no one would ever say he had no place among the Autobots. He was not a mistake, and he would prove it.
Shy
“Hey, you’re new here, arncha?”
Sideswipe looked up and grinned at the new ‘bot. “Yeah that’s right. Name’s Sideswipe, how about you?”
“Jazz. Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks,” Sideswipe offered him a cube of high grade which he accepted gratefully. “So what do you here?”
“Spec Ops, nothin’ too fancy. How about you?”
“Just your basic bruiser. That accent…where are you from?”
Jazz smirked a little and looked the younger ‘bot over. He looked confident, acted confident. A big red mech like him couldn’t hide if he wanted to. Jazz thought he might be wanting to, from the way he kept turning the conversation around.
“Polyhex. How about you? You’re Mid-town Iacon, right? You and your brother.”
Sideswipe only shrugged at that. “Oh we’re from here and there. So when did they get you to sign up?”
Jazz laughed and humored him. Shy or not, he liked this mech. He had style.
Royalty
They had no caste society, strictly speaking, but everyone knew where they lay. The gloss of your plating, the uniqueness of your build, and the accent from your vocal chords. All clearly told the world who you were and where you belonged. He felt grateful to be at the top of this chain, up here in the Towers where he was untouchable. Others tried to fit in, but only he and those built into this life would ever truly belong to it.
“You’re Mirage, right?”
He looked over at the sound of his name, picking it out from the sea of sound around him. If the life of a Prince had a price, attending these social gatherings would be it. Dreary things that held no more interest for him beyond what was needed to maintain the good connections he used to keep this life as it was.
The voice belonged to a mech about his age, a newcomer, though his accent hid it well. Most wouldn’t ever know this black and white didn’t belong, but Mirage did. There were things about him only a true Towers Prince could pick up to know this one didn’t belong.
“Yes?” he asked, not asking for the other’s name and not caring for it either.
“Thought I’d find you here, they said I might.”
Lazuli optics narrowed a little. “I see.”
“They also said I might be able to talk to you about joining the army. Heard you had some gifts we could use.”
Mirage turned and left the mech without another word. Princes didn’t have to put up with such things. Wars were for the warriors and rabble. He was untouchable.
Dive
He was young, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. First Aid could hear some of the mutterings around the base. Ever since Ratchet and Wheeljack debuted the new mech and his brothers to Optimus Prime, a lot of hype had been building around the new team. Everyone wanted to see how they would perform, if they could live up to the high expectations placed before them.
Then the time came to show off what they could do. It wasn’t until the combat section of their “break-in” training that people first started to take note of the quiet little medic. He was smart and fast and everything needed of him. Everything except the pacifism. If you’d asked him beforehand, he wouldn’t have told you he was a pacifist. Life was to be protected, of course. But he wouldn’t have outright refused to fight.
That was, until they put him in front of that drone.
He hadn’t done it. He couldn’t have done it. He dropped the weapon and backed away, refusing his creators and superiors and brothers. He would not do this.
His brothers would never think such a thing, but the others did…they said he was useless. One of Wheeljack’s mistakes. Something Ratchet must have miswired. An Autobot had to fight. There was no room for a pacifist in the ranks. No room for him.
He would make room. Ever since that day, he’d dived into his work. Without stop, he devoted himself to his studies. If he became the best, as good as Ratchet himself, no one would ever say he had no place among the Autobots. He was not a mistake, and he would prove it.
Shy
“Hey, you’re new here, arncha?”
Sideswipe looked up and grinned at the new ‘bot. “Yeah that’s right. Name’s Sideswipe, how about you?”
“Jazz. Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks,” Sideswipe offered him a cube of high grade which he accepted gratefully. “So what do you here?”
“Spec Ops, nothin’ too fancy. How about you?”
“Just your basic bruiser. That accent…where are you from?”
Jazz smirked a little and looked the younger ‘bot over. He looked confident, acted confident. A big red mech like him couldn’t hide if he wanted to. Jazz thought he might be wanting to, from the way he kept turning the conversation around.
“Polyhex. How about you? You’re Mid-town Iacon, right? You and your brother.”
Sideswipe only shrugged at that. “Oh we’re from here and there. So when did they get you to sign up?”
Jazz laughed and humored him. Shy or not, he liked this mech. He had style.