Hunter Green (Part 7)
Oct. 25th, 2008 06:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceI really should be working (or preferably, sleeping), but bunny was very patient with me the past week (they're learning about give and take in a relationship), and so I post this. *flops into bed*
Title: Hunter Green (Part 7)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
Jazz stared.
“You missed the start. They stood there looking at each other until ‘Hide lunged for Hunter, and then it looked like Hunter was just going to keep out of his range until ‘Hide hollered for him to ‘quit playing and use that damn battle computer of his already’.” Bumblebee seemed to be enjoying himself, watching the scene play out below them. Prowl’s job and usual tactics meant he rarely fought in close quarters, and the mech was intensely private about everything, including his personal training, so seeing this was a bit of rare treat.
“And Hunter, being the good little bot he is, obeyed. Now we’re waiting for Ironhide to yell at him to start fighting back.” Sideswipe chimed in, his twin shaking his head at the red Lamborghini's antics.
“Quit blocking and start hitting Hunter!”
“And there we go. ’Hide lasted a breem. You owe me a week with that new vid game I know you’ve got.” Bumblebee playfully swatted at Sideswipe’s annoying poking finger as he conceded his loss.
Down on the training floor, Ironhide shouted again, and Jazz had to snicker at his words.
“Oi, what the slag did the ‘Cons teach you? How to tickle a bot to death? Come on, I didn’t get Ratch’ to fix your sharp pointy things for you to go do arty little engravings with.”
Hunter had progressed to actively making contact with Ironhide, bringing what the other mechs watching finally noticed were claws into play. Yet, he did not seem to be doing any sort of damage. The sharp tips would glide harmlessly off the other mech’s armour, instead of digging into the metal.
“I’d rather not make Ratchet angry sir.”
“Frag Ratchet, I’m the one you need to worry about right now.” The red mech’s attacks grew stronger and more vicious, driving the black and white backwards to the wall. The mechs at the viewing area shifted, some in concern, and some to get a better look. At the last minute, Hunter dropped to the ground, balanced on his toes, doorwings flared wide and almost flat, then he darted below Ironhide’s arm and to one side.
His opponent realised the edge of a doorwing was aimed straight for an elbow joint, but was unable to avoid the blow in time. The curved swipe of the appendage dug a sharp tip into the gap of his plating, and he had to follow or risk having wires torn out. With his balance yanked out from under him, Ironhide went to one knee, and grinned at the mech poised in a predatory crouch on the other side of the room.
“Hah, haven’t had that pulled on me since Prowl finished his training.”
“Are we done yet?” The mech sounded resigned, as if he knew better.
“You barely scratched me youngling. What makes you think I’m done?”
“’Hide, have you taken a look at your paintjob?” Not surprisingly, Sunstreaker was one of the first to notice, and the mech looked up at their audience, puzzled, then inspected his paint as directed. As Ironhide took a closer examination of his armour, dozens of faint scratches a hair’s breadth deep into his paint, just showing the bare metal below, were revealed, tracing over vital points, areas where he knew his energon lines and important circuits lay near the surface. A proper gouging, like he knew those claws should be well capable of, over any of these scratches could have been trouble. Looking over at Hunter, the mech ducked his head and held out his hands, and Ironhide saw that the previously white claws were now flecked with red, the same shade as his paint.
“Sorry.”
Ironhide had to laugh. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
========================================
“Bluestreak! Y’gotta see this!” A crash at his door roused the mech out of the light recharge he’d fallen into.
“Whu-wa?”
“Primus Blue’, hurry up! I don’t want to miss any more than I already have!”
“Coming, coming. What’s going on?”
“Ironhide’s checking out Hunter’s moves in the training rooms, and frag if it isn’t the most entertaining thing I ever saw.”
“He WHAT?!”
“Blue’! Slow down, y’gonna kill someone at that speed!”
When the gunner reached the viewing platforms for the training rooms, he saw that a few mechs had already gathered in the area, optics trained on the mechs at the centre of the floor below. And Hunter… was not a pile of scrap. His surprised relief must have been obvious, because Sideswipe clapped him on the shoulder lightly and grinned.
“Blue’, the mech does have Prowl’s processors and programs, he’s not going to die on the training floor against Ironhide. Now against me or Sunstreaker, I make no promises.”
Out on the floor the rust red mech was talking, looking insufferably pleased with himself.
“Now we’ll see what you can do against multiple mechs.”
At Hunter’s groan he patted the mech on the helm. “It’s not so bad, I’ll even join you. And if you’d decided to get serious and actually dealt real damage to me or that drone, this’d be over by now.”
“No, it wouldn’t, because you’d still want to beat the slag out of a few holo-drones.” Inwardly, Ironhide knew he’d always cherish the sight of Prowl acting like a petulant youngling, no matter who was in control of the tactician’s chassis at the moment.
“Ah, but you’d only have to watch me beat the slag out of a few holo-drones, and not have to join in.”
As the mech heaved a defeated cycle of air, Ironhide smirked and started calling up more of the training holograms. Out of the corner of an optic, he saw the black and white sneak a trepid glance at where he knew the cameras were. So that’s why the mech had been holding back. He froze the holos, putting the simulation on hold.
“Don’t worry ‘bout how Red’s gonna take this.” Caught, Hunter turned back to him quickly. “The mech’s always wound up. We know Prowl can fight. We also know you can get into Prowl’s memories and data, and that implies that you could fight like him, battle computer and all. Learning that you can hold your own in combat’s not going to change anything.”
“Then, if you’re taking it that I’ll be using Prowl’s techniques, why do you wish to see how I fight? Presumably you know how your tactician behaves in battle.”
“The ‘Red Alert appeasing’ answer would be ‘cos I need to know what the ‘Cons taught you, what else you’re capable of in addition to what I know Prowl knows, in case by some chance you glitch and decide to kill everyone, so I can take you out before you manage to off me.” The matter of fact way this was said incited a quickly hidden half grin, and Ironhide grinned back before becoming serious again.
“The other answer is: What happens if you’re attacked by ‘Cons? They’re gonna be real fragged at you after that stunt on the battlefield. You have the data, but can you use what our tactician knows, and how well? Can you be counted on to keep yourself online, keep those with you from falling, and not get in our way?”
“You would count me as one of your fighters?”
“At the very least, I’d know if you needed protecting.”
“… You’re trying to insult me into showing off.”
“Is it working?”
“No.” The flat, dry answer was belied by the glint of humour in Hunter’s optics.
“Ah well. Was worth a shot.” A casual shrug, drawing out another quick smile, and a considering look at the holo-drones arrayed about them in an odd sort of tableau.
“But I admit, it does sound like a good idea for you to know, in the case I do ‘glitch and decide to kill everyone’. I’d prefer to keep the Ark’s crew alive. Besides, I don’t think Prowl would appreciate his life’s work being undone by me, or his servos getting rusty from disuse.” Ah, was there a little eagerness he’d heard? He’d been right, back when Ratchet had first unveiled Hunter’s blades. No harm in having pride in your abilities, and he’d guessed Hunter took especial pride in knowing how to use them because Prowl didn’t.
“Then you’ll not hold back now.”
The holos rushed them. Amongst the simulations Ironhide moved with a speed and agility that did not seem to tally with his age, striking and blocking with ease. He knew he’d have to adjust for the mech beside him, but was pleased to find he’d overestimated by how much.
Prowl knew his style, inside out, and was always where he was needed, to cover a gap or take on an opponent. And the tactician was always in time with him. Jazz had once commented that should the SIC ever loosen up, he’d be a wicked partner on the dance floor. And wouldn’t that be a sight Ironhide would pay good energon to see.
Hunter was not Prowl, but he was keeping up with him. The youngling would falter often, carrying out one set of moves, then switching quickly to another sequence as whatever familiarity he had with the first series faded and he was left bereft of the next step. The fluid grace of their tactician was still there, present in brief flashes when Hunter let servo memory take over and forgot he didn’t quite know what he was doing, and he had to admit the Decepticons seemed to have trained the youngling well, though the thought niggled at him in more ways than he could consider right then.
There. That was nothing he’d seen Prowl use before, and Hunter’s ease with it suggested that he’d learnt it as Hunter.
“Forget about Prowl’s stuff and just use what the ‘Cons taught you. S’what I really want to see, anyway.”
A silent nod was all he got from the mech, before Hunter’s blades slid into position and the mech began to use them in earnest, claws coming into play to tear into opponents, movements smooth and effortless. Yet beneath the force of the onslaught there was a control their SIC had also exhibited. Hunter stayed near, never more than an arm’s length away as they whittled the simulation down, and as the last drone fell to a shot from his laser cannon, Ironhide considered his partner’s tactics in their fight.
“Megatron wanted you close by his side in battle, I presume.”
“I believe that was the intended result of the instruction I received.”
“So he could play more head games with us. Fragger. Well. We’re done here.”
========================================
As they made their way off the training floor and up to the viewing platforms where a certain almost definitely concerned gunner would be waiting, Ironhide brought up another thing that had struck him as odd during the simulation.
“Hunter. You’ve had less than a year’s training, correct?”
“Technically, yes.” The blasé answer did not satisfy Ironhide, and he simply raised an optic ridge in the manner that had his trainees back on Cybertron spilling in seconds. Hunter held out a breem longer than most.
“Their teaching methods were most effective.”
Ironhide growled, not happy about having his theory proven correct. “Meaning you were chucked straight into live blades and weaponry.”
“Nothing to inspire getting things right straight off like getting sliced open or turned into… I think it’s called Swiss cheese?”
“Don’t be trying to make light of the subject, kid.”
“I had what you taught Prowl and whatever else he knew. I did alright for myself.” He was answered in the same sort of even neutrality Ironhide associated with Prowl in ‘on duty mode’ (which the tactician had not left since… frag, hundreds of vorns ago), a sign that Hunter was hiding behind suppression programs again (Prowl had really used them far too much. Ironhide cursed himself for only noticing when he had Hunter to compare the SIC’s behaviour to). But before he could pursue the subject further, they reached the viewing platform (he suspected Hunter had stepped up their pace without him noticing) and Bluestreak descended on them.
Letting the matter drop for now, Ironhide shook his head at the gunner as the mech attempted to reassure himself that his friend was undamaged. Knowing how Prowl normally was, it was likely that Hunter would similarly refuse to go into further detail on this matter with him. Thankfully, unlike Prowl, there were ways of getting Hunter to open up, chief of which was named Skyfire. He’d be having a chat with the researcher later, he mused, before his train of thought was broken by someone drawling in his audio.
“Primus, that’s adorable.” Sideswipe had given up hiding his amusement. Ironhide, having turned to face him, looked back at what the mech was staring at and had to ask.
“What?”
The red twin gestured at the pair of Datsuns in front of them. “Look at that. Bluestreak’s in ‘mother-hen’ mode.”
“And you know this, how?”
“He flutters over us the same whenever we get stuck in the Med Bay. It’s so cute, I may purge my fuel tanks.” And indeed, the grey mech was fluttering his doorwings agitatedly, hovering over Hunter, who had been forcefully seated by him on the ground and was now looking up with carefully concealed mirth, though the mech didn’t notice. Ironhide cycled air exasperatedly at the fuss Bluestreak was making.
“Hunter didn’t do anything stupid. What’s the matter Sideswipe, jealous?”
“He went into the training room with you.” Sideswipe prodded slyly, not giving him an answer.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that ‘Hide.”
“Hmph. You realise you just admitted that you two do a slagging lot of stupid things.”
"And you admitted it was stupid of Hunter to go into that training room with you."
“Did not.”
“Did.”
The pair then proceeded to bicker mindlessly, distracting them from Bluestreak and a thoroughly fussed over Hunter.
“You’re alright?”
“Yes Bluestreak, I am unhurt.”
“Really? Ratchet can fix anything y’know, and he’ll grumble but he will, or if you don’t want to see him I can take a look at anything you need fixed ‘cos I know Prowl always tried to avoid Ratchet when he had ‘only minor injuries’ even though his definition of minor and Ratchet’s are really very different according to the CMO and the tantrums Ratchet throws over that can be very loud and long and informative as to new swear words that you really shouldn’t be learni-”
“Bluestreak, I’m fine. Really. Did you get some recharge after Sunstreaker towed you away from the Med Bay doors? You need it.”
“A little.” Successfully diverted from worrying over Hunter and trying to avoid discussion of his own issues, Bluestreak hovered a little more, then settled beside the black and white mech.
“… That was really cool though.” He admitted, and was rewarded by the thrilled little smile Hunter gave him.
Title: Hunter Green (Part 7)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
Jazz stared.
“You missed the start. They stood there looking at each other until ‘Hide lunged for Hunter, and then it looked like Hunter was just going to keep out of his range until ‘Hide hollered for him to ‘quit playing and use that damn battle computer of his already’.” Bumblebee seemed to be enjoying himself, watching the scene play out below them. Prowl’s job and usual tactics meant he rarely fought in close quarters, and the mech was intensely private about everything, including his personal training, so seeing this was a bit of rare treat.
“And Hunter, being the good little bot he is, obeyed. Now we’re waiting for Ironhide to yell at him to start fighting back.” Sideswipe chimed in, his twin shaking his head at the red Lamborghini's antics.
“Quit blocking and start hitting Hunter!”
“And there we go. ’Hide lasted a breem. You owe me a week with that new vid game I know you’ve got.” Bumblebee playfully swatted at Sideswipe’s annoying poking finger as he conceded his loss.
Down on the training floor, Ironhide shouted again, and Jazz had to snicker at his words.
“Oi, what the slag did the ‘Cons teach you? How to tickle a bot to death? Come on, I didn’t get Ratch’ to fix your sharp pointy things for you to go do arty little engravings with.”
Hunter had progressed to actively making contact with Ironhide, bringing what the other mechs watching finally noticed were claws into play. Yet, he did not seem to be doing any sort of damage. The sharp tips would glide harmlessly off the other mech’s armour, instead of digging into the metal.
“I’d rather not make Ratchet angry sir.”
“Frag Ratchet, I’m the one you need to worry about right now.” The red mech’s attacks grew stronger and more vicious, driving the black and white backwards to the wall. The mechs at the viewing area shifted, some in concern, and some to get a better look. At the last minute, Hunter dropped to the ground, balanced on his toes, doorwings flared wide and almost flat, then he darted below Ironhide’s arm and to one side.
His opponent realised the edge of a doorwing was aimed straight for an elbow joint, but was unable to avoid the blow in time. The curved swipe of the appendage dug a sharp tip into the gap of his plating, and he had to follow or risk having wires torn out. With his balance yanked out from under him, Ironhide went to one knee, and grinned at the mech poised in a predatory crouch on the other side of the room.
“Hah, haven’t had that pulled on me since Prowl finished his training.”
“Are we done yet?” The mech sounded resigned, as if he knew better.
“You barely scratched me youngling. What makes you think I’m done?”
“’Hide, have you taken a look at your paintjob?” Not surprisingly, Sunstreaker was one of the first to notice, and the mech looked up at their audience, puzzled, then inspected his paint as directed. As Ironhide took a closer examination of his armour, dozens of faint scratches a hair’s breadth deep into his paint, just showing the bare metal below, were revealed, tracing over vital points, areas where he knew his energon lines and important circuits lay near the surface. A proper gouging, like he knew those claws should be well capable of, over any of these scratches could have been trouble. Looking over at Hunter, the mech ducked his head and held out his hands, and Ironhide saw that the previously white claws were now flecked with red, the same shade as his paint.
“Sorry.”
Ironhide had to laugh. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Bluestreak! Y’gotta see this!” A crash at his door roused the mech out of the light recharge he’d fallen into.
“Whu-wa?”
“Primus Blue’, hurry up! I don’t want to miss any more than I already have!”
“Coming, coming. What’s going on?”
“Ironhide’s checking out Hunter’s moves in the training rooms, and frag if it isn’t the most entertaining thing I ever saw.”
“He WHAT?!”
“Blue’! Slow down, y’gonna kill someone at that speed!”
When the gunner reached the viewing platforms for the training rooms, he saw that a few mechs had already gathered in the area, optics trained on the mechs at the centre of the floor below. And Hunter… was not a pile of scrap. His surprised relief must have been obvious, because Sideswipe clapped him on the shoulder lightly and grinned.
“Blue’, the mech does have Prowl’s processors and programs, he’s not going to die on the training floor against Ironhide. Now against me or Sunstreaker, I make no promises.”
Out on the floor the rust red mech was talking, looking insufferably pleased with himself.
“Now we’ll see what you can do against multiple mechs.”
At Hunter’s groan he patted the mech on the helm. “It’s not so bad, I’ll even join you. And if you’d decided to get serious and actually dealt real damage to me or that drone, this’d be over by now.”
“No, it wouldn’t, because you’d still want to beat the slag out of a few holo-drones.” Inwardly, Ironhide knew he’d always cherish the sight of Prowl acting like a petulant youngling, no matter who was in control of the tactician’s chassis at the moment.
“Ah, but you’d only have to watch me beat the slag out of a few holo-drones, and not have to join in.”
As the mech heaved a defeated cycle of air, Ironhide smirked and started calling up more of the training holograms. Out of the corner of an optic, he saw the black and white sneak a trepid glance at where he knew the cameras were. So that’s why the mech had been holding back. He froze the holos, putting the simulation on hold.
“Don’t worry ‘bout how Red’s gonna take this.” Caught, Hunter turned back to him quickly. “The mech’s always wound up. We know Prowl can fight. We also know you can get into Prowl’s memories and data, and that implies that you could fight like him, battle computer and all. Learning that you can hold your own in combat’s not going to change anything.”
“Then, if you’re taking it that I’ll be using Prowl’s techniques, why do you wish to see how I fight? Presumably you know how your tactician behaves in battle.”
“The ‘Red Alert appeasing’ answer would be ‘cos I need to know what the ‘Cons taught you, what else you’re capable of in addition to what I know Prowl knows, in case by some chance you glitch and decide to kill everyone, so I can take you out before you manage to off me.” The matter of fact way this was said incited a quickly hidden half grin, and Ironhide grinned back before becoming serious again.
“The other answer is: What happens if you’re attacked by ‘Cons? They’re gonna be real fragged at you after that stunt on the battlefield. You have the data, but can you use what our tactician knows, and how well? Can you be counted on to keep yourself online, keep those with you from falling, and not get in our way?”
“You would count me as one of your fighters?”
“At the very least, I’d know if you needed protecting.”
“… You’re trying to insult me into showing off.”
“Is it working?”
“No.” The flat, dry answer was belied by the glint of humour in Hunter’s optics.
“Ah well. Was worth a shot.” A casual shrug, drawing out another quick smile, and a considering look at the holo-drones arrayed about them in an odd sort of tableau.
“But I admit, it does sound like a good idea for you to know, in the case I do ‘glitch and decide to kill everyone’. I’d prefer to keep the Ark’s crew alive. Besides, I don’t think Prowl would appreciate his life’s work being undone by me, or his servos getting rusty from disuse.” Ah, was there a little eagerness he’d heard? He’d been right, back when Ratchet had first unveiled Hunter’s blades. No harm in having pride in your abilities, and he’d guessed Hunter took especial pride in knowing how to use them because Prowl didn’t.
“Then you’ll not hold back now.”
The holos rushed them. Amongst the simulations Ironhide moved with a speed and agility that did not seem to tally with his age, striking and blocking with ease. He knew he’d have to adjust for the mech beside him, but was pleased to find he’d overestimated by how much.
Prowl knew his style, inside out, and was always where he was needed, to cover a gap or take on an opponent. And the tactician was always in time with him. Jazz had once commented that should the SIC ever loosen up, he’d be a wicked partner on the dance floor. And wouldn’t that be a sight Ironhide would pay good energon to see.
Hunter was not Prowl, but he was keeping up with him. The youngling would falter often, carrying out one set of moves, then switching quickly to another sequence as whatever familiarity he had with the first series faded and he was left bereft of the next step. The fluid grace of their tactician was still there, present in brief flashes when Hunter let servo memory take over and forgot he didn’t quite know what he was doing, and he had to admit the Decepticons seemed to have trained the youngling well, though the thought niggled at him in more ways than he could consider right then.
There. That was nothing he’d seen Prowl use before, and Hunter’s ease with it suggested that he’d learnt it as Hunter.
“Forget about Prowl’s stuff and just use what the ‘Cons taught you. S’what I really want to see, anyway.”
A silent nod was all he got from the mech, before Hunter’s blades slid into position and the mech began to use them in earnest, claws coming into play to tear into opponents, movements smooth and effortless. Yet beneath the force of the onslaught there was a control their SIC had also exhibited. Hunter stayed near, never more than an arm’s length away as they whittled the simulation down, and as the last drone fell to a shot from his laser cannon, Ironhide considered his partner’s tactics in their fight.
“Megatron wanted you close by his side in battle, I presume.”
“I believe that was the intended result of the instruction I received.”
“So he could play more head games with us. Fragger. Well. We’re done here.”
As they made their way off the training floor and up to the viewing platforms where a certain almost definitely concerned gunner would be waiting, Ironhide brought up another thing that had struck him as odd during the simulation.
“Hunter. You’ve had less than a year’s training, correct?”
“Technically, yes.” The blasé answer did not satisfy Ironhide, and he simply raised an optic ridge in the manner that had his trainees back on Cybertron spilling in seconds. Hunter held out a breem longer than most.
“Their teaching methods were most effective.”
Ironhide growled, not happy about having his theory proven correct. “Meaning you were chucked straight into live blades and weaponry.”
“Nothing to inspire getting things right straight off like getting sliced open or turned into… I think it’s called Swiss cheese?”
“Don’t be trying to make light of the subject, kid.”
“I had what you taught Prowl and whatever else he knew. I did alright for myself.” He was answered in the same sort of even neutrality Ironhide associated with Prowl in ‘on duty mode’ (which the tactician had not left since… frag, hundreds of vorns ago), a sign that Hunter was hiding behind suppression programs again (Prowl had really used them far too much. Ironhide cursed himself for only noticing when he had Hunter to compare the SIC’s behaviour to). But before he could pursue the subject further, they reached the viewing platform (he suspected Hunter had stepped up their pace without him noticing) and Bluestreak descended on them.
Letting the matter drop for now, Ironhide shook his head at the gunner as the mech attempted to reassure himself that his friend was undamaged. Knowing how Prowl normally was, it was likely that Hunter would similarly refuse to go into further detail on this matter with him. Thankfully, unlike Prowl, there were ways of getting Hunter to open up, chief of which was named Skyfire. He’d be having a chat with the researcher later, he mused, before his train of thought was broken by someone drawling in his audio.
“Primus, that’s adorable.” Sideswipe had given up hiding his amusement. Ironhide, having turned to face him, looked back at what the mech was staring at and had to ask.
“What?”
The red twin gestured at the pair of Datsuns in front of them. “Look at that. Bluestreak’s in ‘mother-hen’ mode.”
“And you know this, how?”
“He flutters over us the same whenever we get stuck in the Med Bay. It’s so cute, I may purge my fuel tanks.” And indeed, the grey mech was fluttering his doorwings agitatedly, hovering over Hunter, who had been forcefully seated by him on the ground and was now looking up with carefully concealed mirth, though the mech didn’t notice. Ironhide cycled air exasperatedly at the fuss Bluestreak was making.
“Hunter didn’t do anything stupid. What’s the matter Sideswipe, jealous?”
“He went into the training room with you.” Sideswipe prodded slyly, not giving him an answer.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that ‘Hide.”
“Hmph. You realise you just admitted that you two do a slagging lot of stupid things.”
"And you admitted it was stupid of Hunter to go into that training room with you."
“Did not.”
“Did.”
The pair then proceeded to bicker mindlessly, distracting them from Bluestreak and a thoroughly fussed over Hunter.
“You’re alright?”
“Yes Bluestreak, I am unhurt.”
“Really? Ratchet can fix anything y’know, and he’ll grumble but he will, or if you don’t want to see him I can take a look at anything you need fixed ‘cos I know Prowl always tried to avoid Ratchet when he had ‘only minor injuries’ even though his definition of minor and Ratchet’s are really very different according to the CMO and the tantrums Ratchet throws over that can be very loud and long and informative as to new swear words that you really shouldn’t be learni-”
“Bluestreak, I’m fine. Really. Did you get some recharge after Sunstreaker towed you away from the Med Bay doors? You need it.”
“A little.” Successfully diverted from worrying over Hunter and trying to avoid discussion of his own issues, Bluestreak hovered a little more, then settled beside the black and white mech.
“… That was really cool though.” He admitted, and was rewarded by the thrilled little smile Hunter gave him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:28 pm (UTC)YES! You need an icon ^^
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:49 pm (UTC)*ponders material for icons*
*has no idea where to even start*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 10:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 10:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 03:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:34 pm (UTC)Great addition to the fic. Are we going to be seeing him against the cons anytime soon? ;) Looking forward to it!
Also, Sideswipe's lines were quite amusing. :D (actually, all the dialogue was fun, even Ironhide's.)
I just want to snuggle Hunter.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:52 pm (UTC)The dialogue for this one was fun to write :D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 08:55 pm (UTC)...and i think that i really can't spell today.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 09:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 03:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 01:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 04:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 08:59 pm (UTC)Still loving this *rewards bunnies for keeping the story coming* :D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-26 06:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-26 12:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-26 06:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-26 11:04 pm (UTC)Great job!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-27 07:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-04 05:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-04 05:25 am (UTC)