Time to do a little dimension hopping...
Mar. 29th, 2009 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luce... More bunnies. Ai.
Bunny from here: Toy Inspired Crossover!
Title: ((... you guessed it.))
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
He didn’t know exactly how long he stood there, unmoving and unable to make a sound. The two mechs in front of him hadn’t noticed his presence, something he wasn’t sure was a blessing or not. But eventually, his processors managed to get his servos moving, and he was fast leaving the scene behind.
Physically, at least.
Seared indelibly into his memory banks was the sight of black and white plating pressed together as one mech leant against another, carefully balanced on the edge of a desk, both lost in a fervent kiss. The sight of pale hands reaching for quivering doorwings, and of Prowl breaking free, arching with a soft gasp as those hands reached their goal. The sound followed him now, lancing through his spark, seeming to echo in his audios.
In the privacy of his quarters, he sank to the ground, muting his vocaliser against the urge to snarl or curse violently. Someone could hear, and he’d be found out. Burying his helm in his hands, he tried to erase the memory of sparklight glowing dimly in merger between the pair.
He failed.
Offlining his own visor in a futile attempt to blank out the images relentlessly playing in his CPU, Jazz leant against his berth, still seated on the floor, and waited for a morning he wished would never come.
= = =
The arrival of their guests had been a surprise. A burst of abnormal radiation in space, reported by Cosmos, was followed by the appearance of a badly damaged ship (it looked of Autobot make, but that could have meant anything).
Communicating with the ship had been futile. They’d picked up bursts of static, occasional words in Cybertronian, but nothing useful. Not wanting to risk the lightly armed minibot, the Autobots settled for passively tracking and monitoring the vessel as it made its way to Earth.
The battered craft’s flight path seemed to be aimed at the Ark. The moment it entered the atmosphere, the Autobots rolled out, Blaster still trying to make contact with the ship, and the Aerialbots took to the air to make visual contact and help guide the ship down.
Their initial reports had been puzzling. The mechs in the ship bore the Autobot insignia, but they had stared at the fliers like the Aerials were ‘Con sparked, and they had seen one of the mechs gesticulating wildly at another who was holding what looked like a large hammer, pointing at them frantically.
Silverbolt had tried signalling their good intentions, but then had to dart out of the way as a precaution when the dark blue mech slammed a fist onto an instrument panel, triggering the glow of a charging weapon, only for that weapon to fail. Slingshot, angered by the unknown mech’s hostility, flew directly at the observation deck, pointing in a rather sarcastic manner at the sigils engraved on his plating.
This tactic had the effect of causing another mech, black and white this time, to cuff the blue one across the helm, then gesture apologetically at the hovering Aerial with a resigned sort of grin and a shrug. Slingshot, won over by this act of violence to the blue idiot mech, grinned back. Fireflight joined him, wide opticked in curiosity, holding up a rather nervous Hound as the Jeep spelled out Cybertronian glyphs using his holograms, indicating their intention to help the ship land safely.
The black and white mech brightened in realisation, cast about for something to reciprocate with, and came up with a datapad. Scribbling acceptance and thanks on it, he held the object up for the fliers (and Hound) to squint at. They nodded, and Hound holographed a quick reassurance before Fireflight returned him to the ground. The Aerialbots gathered, and watched by the black and white mech in wonder, formed Superion.
Gently, the gestalt nudged the shaky craft towards an unoccupied field near the Ark, trying his best to slow the ship down. The transport barely avoided crashing by sheer luck, and skidded across the empty plain with several painful sounding screeches. The Autobots gathered cautiously about the ship, Superion coming down to one knee nearby (not separating, just in case the mechs were of a mind to still be hostile), and with a slow, harsh groan, the hatch opened.
It was difficult to say who was more surprised. The mechs who disembarked, or the mechs who met them.
= = =
There had been staring.
There had been surprised murmurs.
There had been wary silence.
Then the black and white mech stepped smoothly forward, smiling in a friendly manner. Jazz immediately identified his stance as a subtly defensive one, and noted that the mech’s movements placed him between the massed Autobots and hammer wielding mech and blue idiot mech (Slingshot’s words, not his, but they would suffice until the newcomers provided designations). “Well then, my designation’s Jazz. This here’s Ultra Magnus, and Sentinel Prime. Pleased to meet you all. May I presume that you are Autobots and thus, the good guys?”
Of course, he’d had to be the one to respond to that (and not just because he was the most adaptable of the Autobots, and had recovered from the shock the quickest). Grinning, he nodded in reply. “How ‘bout that? My name’s Jazz too. Yeah, we’re Autobots, on the side of light, freedom, peace and all that. Welcome to Earth, and Oregon.”
“Oregon? Frag it Jazz, where’d you learn to pilot, by correspondence course? That had to be the worst landing I’ve ever sat through. Thought you said the place we were headed to was called Detroit?” Jazz peered around the other Jazz to spot a red mech stomping down the ramp. Other Jazz glanced back with a disarming smile.
“Sorry, Ironhide.” He didn’t notice the Ark mechs starting at the name. “Last I knew, Optimus Prime and his crew were based in Detroit. But our ship’s nearly totalled and the nav. system’s fried, so I basically just followed the whole lot of Autobot signals coming from around here. Y’know, so we wouldn’t land in some Primus forsaken, Autobot-less place where the help and supplies we need would be a whole lot more troublesome to acquire.”
“Ah, ‘kay. Now I’m lost. Our base, Optimus included, isn’t in Detroit. Why would you think that?” Blaster had come to stand next to his Jazz (well, not his his, but rather the Jazz that he knew as opposed to this other Jazz).
“The Optimus Prime I know was there.” Other Jazz’s visor flickered, showing his confusion, and Blaster frowned.
“So, you’re a Jazz, you know an Optimus Prime based in Detroit, there’s an Ultra Magnus I have never seen before in my life standing behind you, accompanied a Sentinel Prime that seems to still be online and functional, and you have an Ironhide that looks younger than you.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty new, practically fresh from the Academy.” Other Jazz turned back to the Earth Autobots with a nonchalant shrug, and it was Jazz’s turn to frown.
“… Okay. Coz… this is our Ironhide.” He waved at a rust red Autobot stalking forward, fixing a suspicious look on the newcomers and their ship. Other Jazz regarded the weapons master, who was definitely considerably older than the others around him. Idly, the new black and white mech mused.
“… We have a lot to figure out, don’t we.”
Jazz sighed, chuckling ruefully. “My mech, that may just be the understatement of the decavorn.”
Bunny from here: Toy Inspired Crossover!
Title: ((... you guessed it.))
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
He didn’t know exactly how long he stood there, unmoving and unable to make a sound. The two mechs in front of him hadn’t noticed his presence, something he wasn’t sure was a blessing or not. But eventually, his processors managed to get his servos moving, and he was fast leaving the scene behind.
Physically, at least.
Seared indelibly into his memory banks was the sight of black and white plating pressed together as one mech leant against another, carefully balanced on the edge of a desk, both lost in a fervent kiss. The sight of pale hands reaching for quivering doorwings, and of Prowl breaking free, arching with a soft gasp as those hands reached their goal. The sound followed him now, lancing through his spark, seeming to echo in his audios.
In the privacy of his quarters, he sank to the ground, muting his vocaliser against the urge to snarl or curse violently. Someone could hear, and he’d be found out. Burying his helm in his hands, he tried to erase the memory of sparklight glowing dimly in merger between the pair.
He failed.
Offlining his own visor in a futile attempt to blank out the images relentlessly playing in his CPU, Jazz leant against his berth, still seated on the floor, and waited for a morning he wished would never come.
= = =
The arrival of their guests had been a surprise. A burst of abnormal radiation in space, reported by Cosmos, was followed by the appearance of a badly damaged ship (it looked of Autobot make, but that could have meant anything).
Communicating with the ship had been futile. They’d picked up bursts of static, occasional words in Cybertronian, but nothing useful. Not wanting to risk the lightly armed minibot, the Autobots settled for passively tracking and monitoring the vessel as it made its way to Earth.
The battered craft’s flight path seemed to be aimed at the Ark. The moment it entered the atmosphere, the Autobots rolled out, Blaster still trying to make contact with the ship, and the Aerialbots took to the air to make visual contact and help guide the ship down.
Their initial reports had been puzzling. The mechs in the ship bore the Autobot insignia, but they had stared at the fliers like the Aerials were ‘Con sparked, and they had seen one of the mechs gesticulating wildly at another who was holding what looked like a large hammer, pointing at them frantically.
Silverbolt had tried signalling their good intentions, but then had to dart out of the way as a precaution when the dark blue mech slammed a fist onto an instrument panel, triggering the glow of a charging weapon, only for that weapon to fail. Slingshot, angered by the unknown mech’s hostility, flew directly at the observation deck, pointing in a rather sarcastic manner at the sigils engraved on his plating.
This tactic had the effect of causing another mech, black and white this time, to cuff the blue one across the helm, then gesture apologetically at the hovering Aerial with a resigned sort of grin and a shrug. Slingshot, won over by this act of violence to the blue idiot mech, grinned back. Fireflight joined him, wide opticked in curiosity, holding up a rather nervous Hound as the Jeep spelled out Cybertronian glyphs using his holograms, indicating their intention to help the ship land safely.
The black and white mech brightened in realisation, cast about for something to reciprocate with, and came up with a datapad. Scribbling acceptance and thanks on it, he held the object up for the fliers (and Hound) to squint at. They nodded, and Hound holographed a quick reassurance before Fireflight returned him to the ground. The Aerialbots gathered, and watched by the black and white mech in wonder, formed Superion.
Gently, the gestalt nudged the shaky craft towards an unoccupied field near the Ark, trying his best to slow the ship down. The transport barely avoided crashing by sheer luck, and skidded across the empty plain with several painful sounding screeches. The Autobots gathered cautiously about the ship, Superion coming down to one knee nearby (not separating, just in case the mechs were of a mind to still be hostile), and with a slow, harsh groan, the hatch opened.
It was difficult to say who was more surprised. The mechs who disembarked, or the mechs who met them.
= = =
There had been staring.
There had been surprised murmurs.
There had been wary silence.
Then the black and white mech stepped smoothly forward, smiling in a friendly manner. Jazz immediately identified his stance as a subtly defensive one, and noted that the mech’s movements placed him between the massed Autobots and hammer wielding mech and blue idiot mech (Slingshot’s words, not his, but they would suffice until the newcomers provided designations). “Well then, my designation’s Jazz. This here’s Ultra Magnus, and Sentinel Prime. Pleased to meet you all. May I presume that you are Autobots and thus, the good guys?”
Of course, he’d had to be the one to respond to that (and not just because he was the most adaptable of the Autobots, and had recovered from the shock the quickest). Grinning, he nodded in reply. “How ‘bout that? My name’s Jazz too. Yeah, we’re Autobots, on the side of light, freedom, peace and all that. Welcome to Earth, and Oregon.”
“Oregon? Frag it Jazz, where’d you learn to pilot, by correspondence course? That had to be the worst landing I’ve ever sat through. Thought you said the place we were headed to was called Detroit?” Jazz peered around the other Jazz to spot a red mech stomping down the ramp. Other Jazz glanced back with a disarming smile.
“Sorry, Ironhide.” He didn’t notice the Ark mechs starting at the name. “Last I knew, Optimus Prime and his crew were based in Detroit. But our ship’s nearly totalled and the nav. system’s fried, so I basically just followed the whole lot of Autobot signals coming from around here. Y’know, so we wouldn’t land in some Primus forsaken, Autobot-less place where the help and supplies we need would be a whole lot more troublesome to acquire.”
“Ah, ‘kay. Now I’m lost. Our base, Optimus included, isn’t in Detroit. Why would you think that?” Blaster had come to stand next to his Jazz (well, not his his, but rather the Jazz that he knew as opposed to this other Jazz).
“The Optimus Prime I know was there.” Other Jazz’s visor flickered, showing his confusion, and Blaster frowned.
“So, you’re a Jazz, you know an Optimus Prime based in Detroit, there’s an Ultra Magnus I have never seen before in my life standing behind you, accompanied a Sentinel Prime that seems to still be online and functional, and you have an Ironhide that looks younger than you.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty new, practically fresh from the Academy.” Other Jazz turned back to the Earth Autobots with a nonchalant shrug, and it was Jazz’s turn to frown.
“… Okay. Coz… this is our Ironhide.” He waved at a rust red Autobot stalking forward, fixing a suspicious look on the newcomers and their ship. Other Jazz regarded the weapons master, who was definitely considerably older than the others around him. Idly, the new black and white mech mused.
“… We have a lot to figure out, don’t we.”
Jazz sighed, chuckling ruefully. “My mech, that may just be the understatement of the decavorn.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 04:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 04:17 pm (UTC)WOW! I must say that this is an interesting start and I do hope that you continue it. :)
Excellent job!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 04:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:34 pm (UTC)*gigglefits at icon*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 04:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 06:28 pm (UTC)Does the presence of TFA Ironhide mean the rest of Roddy's crew is with them as well? :3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 06:52 pm (UTC)Can't think of much more coherent joy. *happily camps*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 07:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 08:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-30 01:50 am (UTC)I think you deserve bonus points or brownies if you can pull off an ending where none of them are...how to put it....
brutes?jerks?I just feel for G1!Jazz and that it must be really hard for him to trust that Prowl could ever really love him, and not just be seeing Ani!Jazz in his place.(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 09:54 pm (UTC)I've always been of the opinion that as different as the Prowls of both dimensions look and act, aside from the way their attitudes towards their humans, the Bumblebees' are the most OOC between universe's.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-28 10:10 pm (UTC)...of course, that doesn't meant that i want you to abandon any of your other WIP bunnies. ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 09:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 12:08 am (UTC)On the other hand, the beginning of this fic nearly had me in tears too for poor G1 Jazz. Just what will happen when the Elite Guard finally got back to their universe?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 04:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 06:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-03-29 07:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 04:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-29 05:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-30 10:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-03-30 02:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-30 05:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-30 05:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-01 04:46 am (UTC)It's going to be interesting to see Sentinel Prime's reaction to G1 Optimus, and I um, third or fourth the desire to see a throw-down between the Ironhides. Heh.