Snippets! Project Reset Snippets #1
Project Reset Snippets #1, to try to coax headspace back into writing. A little review, since it's been awhile, and I have two main headcanons now and it can get confusing:
1. Protectobot Beginnings - in which the Protectobots are sparked from the Allspark and constructed as adult-framed, although still very young, sparklings, and raised by Wheeljack and company on a secret planet. A complete AU geschmish of whatever elements of G1, movieverse, comics, and fanon strike my fancy. Also includes Roller and little!Bee created by an alternate, long-lost method of spark budding, where the new sparkling is produced directly from the parent in a tiny frame that grows over time. Weird stuff can happen, laws of physics ignored as necessary.
2. Project Reset - attempts to adhere loosely to movieverse canon, although without sweating the small stuff, or even, likely, major plot points and characterizations. Because, sheesh, what a mess. So sort of kind of sticks to canon except when I forgot or was confused or writing it another way would make me happy. The Protectobots were spawned by Optimus as hatchlings, some time after the launching of the Allspark into space. Barricade discovers and cares for the surviving hatchlings of The Fallen after the events of Dark of the Moon. Hatchlings must go through several molts, or instars, before reaching their adult frames and processing capabilities. Weird stuff can happen here, too (Y hello thar, Cybertron-right-next-to-Earth!).
Ok? Ok! Feel free to poke me if any of this doesn't make sense.
Project Reset Snippets #1
Warnings: mpreg in Snippet 4, of the "amorphous glowy chest-things" variety. Also, spoilery for who a couple of Barricade's hatchling horde grow up to be.
Arranged in backwards chronology - from more recent to long long ago.
1.
“Air Commander Starscream,” Ultra Magnus said softly, reverently, as he touched the recharging hatchling in Optimus Prime’s hands with a gentle talon.
Thundercracker, who along with Ratchet and First Aid was keeping the more rambunctious of Barricade's Horde corralled and at a safe distance as they said hello to the unhatched pods, looked over at the tiny hatchling and shook his head. “This is never going to not be weird.”
“You remember?” Optimus asked curiously, his optics brightening as he looked down at the second instar hatchlings clinging to his chestplates and arms.
Silverbolt nodded, also reaching to touch small Starscream.
“We remember.” Starscream stretched contentedly his recharge and then gripped one of Silverbolt’s talons with his own smaller ones.
“He likes me!” Silverbolt clattered his mandibles softly in excitement.
“I’m sure he does,” Optimus said, smiling. “He is lucky to have you as older brothers to watch over him.”
“You can give him ours, if you need to.” Ultra Magnus looked up at Optimus, his red optics serious.
“Give him what?”
“Our energon. He’s little now. He shouldn’t be hungry.”
Optimus ran his thumbplate over Ultra Magnus’s helm, which was currently shaped quite a bit like his own. It had taken many months for Ultra Magnus and his brothers to stop hoarding their rations, to trust that there would be more fuel when that was gone. They remembered all too well what it was like to go without. “You are right, small hatchlings should never be hungry. Nor will they be. We have energon enough for the new ones, and for you all, but I will remember your offer. Thank you, Ultra Magnus.”
2.
It had taken Barricade an embarrassingly long time to notice, although in his defense it wasn’t the easiest thing to read his own leg panel. That explained some of the odd, slightly amused looks he’d gotten over the last few weeks, at least.
“’To tolerate and coexist’? What the frag…”
“Oh yes, I’m sorry, I should have asked, but you were recharging so peacefully when I reset your nanites,” First Aid said, when he’d asked about it. “I figured ‘protect and serve’ might be a bit of a stretch.”
3.
“Blades, can you help me with this? They’re mostly installed, I just need you to secure the final attachments up here where I can’t reach.”
“Aid…” Blades gave his brother a worried frown even as he bent and found the necessary attachments. First Aid had been far too quiet since they had discovered the dead hatchlings on the Nemesis, and now he was installing feeding nozzles? Hot Spot, Groove, and Streetwise found them as Blades finished, watching as First Aid coiled the nozzles and tucked them neatly into his frame.
“So that’s what you’ve been up to,” Hot Spot said mildly.
“Fourteen are still unaccounted for,” First Aid said, stubbornly not meeting their optics. “I know I’m being…unrealistic, but…if we find them, they won’t be old enough to refuel on their own.”
“We’re going to Earth then?” Streetwise asked. “Optimus…” He didn’t finish. Optimus had said not to come. Sentinel Prime had been found alive and betrayed them, and Optimus had had to kill him, and then Megatron. Jazz and Ironhide, Mirage and, hardest of all to bear, Wheeljack. Deactivated, gone forever. Cybertron, destroyed. It didn’t seem real, any of it. Earth was still reeling from that final battle, the very survival of the planet in jeopardy. Optimus needed them, had to need them, as much as they needed him, and yet he told them not to come, and that hurt more than all of the other things put together.
“We’re not hatchlings, anymore,” Groove said. “Well, mostly not.”
First Aid raised his optics and Hot Spot nodded. They were going to disobey Optimus. They were going to Earth.
4.
“Optimus…”
Optimus turned to find Ironhide and Bumblebee looking at him with expressions that wavered somewhere between awe and concern.
“What? What is it?”
“You’re…glowing.”
Optimus blinked and looked down. His armor was, indeed, radiating a faint blue glow that had nothing to do with the reflected lighting of the ship. He ran a hand over his chestplates, realizing now what had been niggling just at the edge of awareness.
“It worked,” he murmured. Deep within him something, many somethings, stirred, reaching tendrils of bright new awareness through his entire frame. The wonder and terror of it floored him, literally.
“Prime!”
Bumblebee and Ironhide braced him as he sat down on the floor rather abruptly.
I’m calling Ratchet, Bumblebee sent, as he helped prop Optimus against the wall and bent to look worriedly into his optics. Optimus?
“I am well, old friends.” Optimus put a reassuring hand on the yellow scout’s shoulder. “I am well, do not fear, although…Ratchet is probably a good idea.”
Ironhide stood and crossed his arms, frowning down at him. “Prime,” he growled, cannons whirring restlessly. “What have you done to yourself now?”
5.
“Vanquished!” Megatron laughed and flopped dramatically on the ground as he allowed Orion to pin him.
“Ha!” Megatron grunted as the hatchling bounced a few times on his chestplates in victory. Oof. Now in his fourth instar, Orion was still thin as a rail, but there was a solid weight to his frame that hadn’t been there before. Megatron was just glad to see him back to his old, irrepressible self after his molt cycle, although that meant, of course, that he got neither peace nor recharge.
“Someday, I’ll be as big as Sentinel Prime, and then you’ll be sorry!” Orion promised, his blue optics twinkling merrily.
Megatron roared in pretended outrage, and rolled them over. Orion yelped and squealed in glee as he was pinned in turn, although Megatron was careful to keep his full weight off the hatchling. “In your high grade hallucinations, scraplet. Nuisance,” he added, flicking Orion lightly on the noseplates for good measure.
Orion buzzed and giggled, but then sobered and grew still, looking up at him. “What?” Megatron frowned back. “What’s on your processor?”
Orion didn’t answer, but Megatron stared him down, knowing from experience that the runt would spill his internals eventually.
“Nothing.” Orion shrugged one shoulder slightly. “Just, they were talking. About how Sentinel favors me too much. That I’d better watch out, because you would…”
“Because I would what,” Megatron growled dangerously.
“You won’t ever hate me, will you?” Orion said softly, not meeting his optics. “I’m not anything important. I’d rather not be important if it means you would hate me.”
“Those…give me their names!” Megatron gritted out. “I’ll rip their heads off, one circuit at a time! Listen to me. Orion.” He sat up, hugging the hatchling close, struggling to channel his rage. Orion buried his helm against his chest, holding on tight. “Listen to me. I will never hate you. Do you hear me? Sentinel made us brothers, and you are a nuisance and a pest and the bane of my existence, and I will give my very spark to keep you safe. You are my little brother, and I will never hate you, do you understand?”
He lifted Orion up until the hatchling met his optics and gave a shaky nod, and then hugged him close again.
“I promise,” he whispered against the small helm. “I promise.”
“Love you forever,” Orion whispered back. “I promise, too.”
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/79137.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
1. Protectobot Beginnings - in which the Protectobots are sparked from the Allspark and constructed as adult-framed, although still very young, sparklings, and raised by Wheeljack and company on a secret planet. A complete AU geschmish of whatever elements of G1, movieverse, comics, and fanon strike my fancy. Also includes Roller and little!Bee created by an alternate, long-lost method of spark budding, where the new sparkling is produced directly from the parent in a tiny frame that grows over time. Weird stuff can happen, laws of physics ignored as necessary.
2. Project Reset - attempts to adhere loosely to movieverse canon, although without sweating the small stuff, or even, likely, major plot points and characterizations. Because, sheesh, what a mess. So sort of kind of sticks to canon except when I forgot or was confused or writing it another way would make me happy. The Protectobots were spawned by Optimus as hatchlings, some time after the launching of the Allspark into space. Barricade discovers and cares for the surviving hatchlings of The Fallen after the events of Dark of the Moon. Hatchlings must go through several molts, or instars, before reaching their adult frames and processing capabilities. Weird stuff can happen here, too (Y hello thar, Cybertron-right-next-to-Earth!).
Ok? Ok! Feel free to poke me if any of this doesn't make sense.
Project Reset Snippets #1
Warnings: mpreg in Snippet 4, of the "amorphous glowy chest-things" variety. Also, spoilery for who a couple of Barricade's hatchling horde grow up to be.
Arranged in backwards chronology - from more recent to long long ago.
1.
“Air Commander Starscream,” Ultra Magnus said softly, reverently, as he touched the recharging hatchling in Optimus Prime’s hands with a gentle talon.
Thundercracker, who along with Ratchet and First Aid was keeping the more rambunctious of Barricade's Horde corralled and at a safe distance as they said hello to the unhatched pods, looked over at the tiny hatchling and shook his head. “This is never going to not be weird.”
“You remember?” Optimus asked curiously, his optics brightening as he looked down at the second instar hatchlings clinging to his chestplates and arms.
Silverbolt nodded, also reaching to touch small Starscream.
“We remember.” Starscream stretched contentedly his recharge and then gripped one of Silverbolt’s talons with his own smaller ones.
“He likes me!” Silverbolt clattered his mandibles softly in excitement.
“I’m sure he does,” Optimus said, smiling. “He is lucky to have you as older brothers to watch over him.”
“You can give him ours, if you need to.” Ultra Magnus looked up at Optimus, his red optics serious.
“Give him what?”
“Our energon. He’s little now. He shouldn’t be hungry.”
Optimus ran his thumbplate over Ultra Magnus’s helm, which was currently shaped quite a bit like his own. It had taken many months for Ultra Magnus and his brothers to stop hoarding their rations, to trust that there would be more fuel when that was gone. They remembered all too well what it was like to go without. “You are right, small hatchlings should never be hungry. Nor will they be. We have energon enough for the new ones, and for you all, but I will remember your offer. Thank you, Ultra Magnus.”
2.
It had taken Barricade an embarrassingly long time to notice, although in his defense it wasn’t the easiest thing to read his own leg panel. That explained some of the odd, slightly amused looks he’d gotten over the last few weeks, at least.
“’To tolerate and coexist’? What the frag…”
“Oh yes, I’m sorry, I should have asked, but you were recharging so peacefully when I reset your nanites,” First Aid said, when he’d asked about it. “I figured ‘protect and serve’ might be a bit of a stretch.”
3.
“Blades, can you help me with this? They’re mostly installed, I just need you to secure the final attachments up here where I can’t reach.”
“Aid…” Blades gave his brother a worried frown even as he bent and found the necessary attachments. First Aid had been far too quiet since they had discovered the dead hatchlings on the Nemesis, and now he was installing feeding nozzles? Hot Spot, Groove, and Streetwise found them as Blades finished, watching as First Aid coiled the nozzles and tucked them neatly into his frame.
“So that’s what you’ve been up to,” Hot Spot said mildly.
“Fourteen are still unaccounted for,” First Aid said, stubbornly not meeting their optics. “I know I’m being…unrealistic, but…if we find them, they won’t be old enough to refuel on their own.”
“We’re going to Earth then?” Streetwise asked. “Optimus…” He didn’t finish. Optimus had said not to come. Sentinel Prime had been found alive and betrayed them, and Optimus had had to kill him, and then Megatron. Jazz and Ironhide, Mirage and, hardest of all to bear, Wheeljack. Deactivated, gone forever. Cybertron, destroyed. It didn’t seem real, any of it. Earth was still reeling from that final battle, the very survival of the planet in jeopardy. Optimus needed them, had to need them, as much as they needed him, and yet he told them not to come, and that hurt more than all of the other things put together.
“We’re not hatchlings, anymore,” Groove said. “Well, mostly not.”
First Aid raised his optics and Hot Spot nodded. They were going to disobey Optimus. They were going to Earth.
4.
“Optimus…”
Optimus turned to find Ironhide and Bumblebee looking at him with expressions that wavered somewhere between awe and concern.
“What? What is it?”
“You’re…glowing.”
Optimus blinked and looked down. His armor was, indeed, radiating a faint blue glow that had nothing to do with the reflected lighting of the ship. He ran a hand over his chestplates, realizing now what had been niggling just at the edge of awareness.
“It worked,” he murmured. Deep within him something, many somethings, stirred, reaching tendrils of bright new awareness through his entire frame. The wonder and terror of it floored him, literally.
“Prime!”
Bumblebee and Ironhide braced him as he sat down on the floor rather abruptly.
I’m calling Ratchet, Bumblebee sent, as he helped prop Optimus against the wall and bent to look worriedly into his optics. Optimus?
“I am well, old friends.” Optimus put a reassuring hand on the yellow scout’s shoulder. “I am well, do not fear, although…Ratchet is probably a good idea.”
Ironhide stood and crossed his arms, frowning down at him. “Prime,” he growled, cannons whirring restlessly. “What have you done to yourself now?”
5.
“Vanquished!” Megatron laughed and flopped dramatically on the ground as he allowed Orion to pin him.
“Ha!” Megatron grunted as the hatchling bounced a few times on his chestplates in victory. Oof. Now in his fourth instar, Orion was still thin as a rail, but there was a solid weight to his frame that hadn’t been there before. Megatron was just glad to see him back to his old, irrepressible self after his molt cycle, although that meant, of course, that he got neither peace nor recharge.
“Someday, I’ll be as big as Sentinel Prime, and then you’ll be sorry!” Orion promised, his blue optics twinkling merrily.
Megatron roared in pretended outrage, and rolled them over. Orion yelped and squealed in glee as he was pinned in turn, although Megatron was careful to keep his full weight off the hatchling. “In your high grade hallucinations, scraplet. Nuisance,” he added, flicking Orion lightly on the noseplates for good measure.
Orion buzzed and giggled, but then sobered and grew still, looking up at him. “What?” Megatron frowned back. “What’s on your processor?”
Orion didn’t answer, but Megatron stared him down, knowing from experience that the runt would spill his internals eventually.
“Nothing.” Orion shrugged one shoulder slightly. “Just, they were talking. About how Sentinel favors me too much. That I’d better watch out, because you would…”
“Because I would what,” Megatron growled dangerously.
“You won’t ever hate me, will you?” Orion said softly, not meeting his optics. “I’m not anything important. I’d rather not be important if it means you would hate me.”
“Those…give me their names!” Megatron gritted out. “I’ll rip their heads off, one circuit at a time! Listen to me. Orion.” He sat up, hugging the hatchling close, struggling to channel his rage. Orion buried his helm against his chest, holding on tight. “Listen to me. I will never hate you. Do you hear me? Sentinel made us brothers, and you are a nuisance and a pest and the bane of my existence, and I will give my very spark to keep you safe. You are my little brother, and I will never hate you, do you understand?”
He lifted Orion up until the hatchling met his optics and gave a shaky nod, and then hugged him close again.
“I promise,” he whispered against the small helm. “I promise.”
“Love you forever,” Orion whispered back. “I promise, too.”
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/79137.html. Please comment wherever you wish.