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12 ficlets, 13 prompts and the 14th of October
PxJ Comm October '09 Challenge response.
The challenge's Prompts:
1. Darkness
The base’s corridors were pitch black, courtesy of Ravage and Buzzsaw, who’d paid them a visit a day ago. They’d been caught, but not before they managed to carry out a little sabotage amongst the Ark’s wiring, cutting the power off to most of the base. Key areas, such as the med bay and the command deck ran on a separate system, but the rest of the base was shrouded in darkness.
At least Cybertronians didn’t absolutely need the lights. Most of them came with built in ones of their own, after all. Sensors and scanners sufficed for those without a vehicular alt form, and they were familiar enough with their home that the glow of their optics was usually enough for them to find their way about the base.
Still, having to virtually feel their way to their destination was not a particularly enjoyable task. As such, most of the crew elected to spend their free time in the rec room while Wheeljack and Hoist worked on getting the power running again.
For these reasons, the rest of the Ark was practically deserted.
And again for these reason, Jazz was dragging a not entirely unwilling Prowl down those pitch black corridors with an anticipatory smirk on his face and a softly purring engine.
2. Black cat
“No.”
“Aw… C’mon! You’ll miss the party!”
“I said no, Jazz. I’m not going out looking like this!”
“Hey, you agreed to dress up for Halloween.”
“Because you and the others wouldn’t stop asking me about it! You. Painted. Me. Black!”
“And how else was I supposed to get you into a costume? Besides, you have to admit, you really match the spirit of things like this. Look, I even have a nice orange ribbon for your neck.”
“Get that away from me before I bite you.”
“Are you coming out? If not I’ll put it on you even if I have to drag you out from under there to do so. You know I will.”
A whine, and a sulky Steeljaw emerged from beneath Blaster’s berth. Jazz grinned, gesturing to the door. As they left, the cassettebot grumbled.
“I look like Ravage.”
3. Ghost
He subtly glared at the mech grinning at him across the room, safe by dint of his ongoing conversation with an oblivious Prowl. Around him, the crew admired his ‘look’, congratulating him on his ‘creativity’.
Beside him, Jazz snickered, knowing the truth behind his current see through state.
“Hey, look on the bright side. It is a good costume. And thanks to Halloween no one’s gonna think your techs on the fritz. At least, they won’t if you’d just crack a smile occasionally.”
A glower at the grinning Ops head had the mech laughing.
“Wheeljack will fix it once we’re done with the party. But really, ‘Raj. I thought you knew better than to let Hound overload you while you had your electro-disrupter running.”
4. Pumpkins
They were everywhere. Round and orange and pumpkiny, sitting in their pumpkin patch on their pumpkin vines being round and orange and pumpkiny.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were mocking him.
But at least these pumpkins weren’t carved like the ones at the Ark were. Those were really freaky. He was glad to be away from them.
Away from Jazz, who’d taken to carrying one around, cackling in an intimidating manner (that Jazz had also carved his own likeness onto the pumpkin didn’t help).
Away from Mirage, who found it entertaining to transport the orange lanterns around the Ark, loitering in the darkest corners (a more appropriate form of lighting, his aft). All whilst invisible, scaring the spark out of any bot unfortunate enough to come across him (or, the mysteriously ‘floating’ pumpkin).
Away from his gestalt mates, who thought it was funny to place a Jack-o’-lantern right next to his head when he recharged, so its macabre glowing grin was the first thing he saw when they roused him in the middle of the night (no, he had not screamed, he’d shouted).
He shivered (because it was night and it was cold). He couldn’t wait for Halloween to be over. Next to him, Bluestreak settled a little closer.
“Hey, Slingshot?”
“What?”
“Thanks. Prowl normally does this with me, but something came up tonight. So… I appreciate you agreeing to take his place when he asked.”
“You realise it’s just a comic strip, right?” He muttered, and the gunner shrugged.
“You never know, Slingshot. Besides, it’s the spirit of the thing.”
Slingshot grumbled, but pressed against the grey Datsun’s side any way (to share the heat).
“Whatever.”
5. Costumes
Bitty!mechs wanted costumes. Bitty!mechs got costumes. Ante found out how much of a pain it was to figure out costumes for bitty!mechs, and told them to take their white sheets and marker ghost faces and be happy with it. RR!Jazz is in the lead, pulling chaperone duty.
Jazz tries to get Prowl to take part, but Prowl's having none of it.
6. Crescent Moon
Jazz grinned at the Datsun standing under the decorations they’d put up in the rec room. Black and white doors flickered as Prowl looked up at the centrepiece of the whole affair, then turned to the saboteur (Primus, his mech was adorable when confused).
“Why is there a wheel on the wall of the rec room?”
“Mech, look past the rubber and see it for what it is.”
The tactician dutifully turned back to the object, and his doorwings twitched again.
“It’s… a wheel, Jazz. One of Prime’s, by the size of it. Partially painted white.”
The Porsche sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a crescent moon, Prowler.”
“… Whose idea was this?”
“Dunno, whoever found they’d run out of coloured paper to make a moon that big and decided they needed one anyway. It looks nice. Very three-dimensional.”
“What if Optimus needs his wheel back?”
Jazz shrugged, then started to pull the SIC out of the room. “Then I guess the big guy will find out what it’s like to drive on moonbeams. C’mon, you don’t want to be out of your quarters when the mechs start the trick or treating run.”
7. Orange
“No ribbon?”
“If you can get him to wear it without losing a finger, more power to you.”
Steeljaw hissed at Blaster as the orange mech chuckled. Jazz looked him over, then shook his head.
“Blaster, I know you’re already orange and all, but a pumpkin? You seriously dressed up as a pumpkin?”
The tapedeck grinned, jerking a thumb at the rest of his cassettes, all costumed and snickering at Steeljaw’s put upon expression.
“I got outvoted, and they wanted a Jack-o’-lantern big enough to leap out of. For ‘effect’.”
“Your lot are really into this holiday.” The Ops mech chuckled, and Blaster laughed out loud.
“Really into? The paint carries over to my alt form, so I look like a pumpkin if I transform. Obsessed is more like it.”
8. Trick
He’d been rushed off his pedes the whole day, fighting metaphorical fires (and a literal one when Wheeljack’s lab decided to be Wheeljack’s lab), covering absent mechs’ duties, going over twice the reports he normally had to (courtesy of another absent mech, the Prime being in the med bay after Wheeljack’s lab) and generally needing to be everywhere at all times.
So it was with much effort that Prowl held back the groan that wanted to escape when Smokescreen commed him, clearly reluctant, to tell him that he was needed in one of the storage areas to help sort out a shipping kerfuffle. Barely keeping himself from dragging his pedes, the SIC made his way to the location, walking through the door only to stop dead, staring at the very much different storage room.
He didn’t get to contemplate it for long, because Jazz had him tackled and on the berth that hadn’t been there the last time he’d checked before he could realise the Porsche was in the room as well.
“That was a dirty trick.”
“You complaining?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
9. Spider webs
He’d been patient, staying still so that Hound, Beachcomber and Groove could do all the observation they wanted, but he still had work, work that he needed more than the datapads in his immediate reach to do. Clearing his vocaliser, he startled the three mechs and they jumped, blinking at him sheepishly.
“Sorry, Prowl. It’s done; we’ll bring it outside now.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want us to help get rid of the… um…”
“I can do that on my own. I’m sure the spider would prefer to be in its natural habitat as soon as possible.”
“Right, we’ll just catch it and go then. Thanks.”
He nodded, and once they’d exited his office, flicked his doors sharply, dislodging the delicate web that had been crafted between them. Time to speak to Wheeljack about fumigating the Ark again.
10. Fog
Jazz came online a little confused, a whole lot content, and completely relaxed. Sorting through the fog of memory data that last night had been left him with one conclusion (okay, having Prowl’s warm frame recharging peacefully next to him, with his arm draped possessively over the Datsun’s chassis helped with the coming to that conclusion).
No matter what happened to land them here, it was entirely worth it.
11. Treat
Jazz wrapped himself around Prowl, nuzzling his audio before purring teasingly into it.
“Trick or treat.”
The tactician smiled, knowing that the saboteur would be able to hear it in his reply.
“I don’t know, have you been a good mech lately?”
“Prowler, you got the holiday wrong. Christmas is when good bots get presents. Halloween’s when you give them something nice to keep them from being naughty.” The visored mech laughed, hands beginning to wander over the other mech’s frame, though Prowl soon put a stop to that by catching hold of the Porsche’s fingers.
“Is that so?”
And by slipping out of the mech’s arms and pinning him against the nearest wall, murmuring in the exact manner he knew would drive his lover wild.
“And what if I want you to be naughty?”
Jazz’s visor gleamed as he pulled Prowl even closer, already beginning to arch his frame against the Datsun’s.
“Then it looks like we both get what we want tonight.”
12. Graveyard
It was as quiet as a graveyard in the Ark tonight. Most of the crew were in recharge (or in the med bay, knocked offline), and the rest were too focused on their duties to make much noise. Optimus usually didn’t like this time of the day, when the life drained out of the Autobot base, leaving it dull and silent, and tonight it was even more so. The Prime sighed, looking at the pile of reports he still had to read. Still, it was the best time to get the paperwork done.
Picking up the first datapad, he nearly dropped it when his door opened. His TIC slipped in, followed by his SIC, both smiling faintly at him before they took seats in front of his desk, each picking up a file from his stack of work. Jazz flipped on his radio, filling the office with the sound of something soft and cheerful, and Prowl shrugged at him before turning to the datapad in his hand.
Thus accompanied, Optimus got back to work. The Ark was still quiet, but it was of the bearable sort now.
13. Thirteen
It was strange, he thought. Neither of them strictly needed to breathe, but when Jazz did this… kissing thing, it always left him feeling unbalanced and fuzzy in the CPU (particularly if he was using words such as ‘fuzzy’ to describe anything about his person), like an organic would after being deprived of oxygen for a spell.
And Jazz seemed no better off, the Porsche panting heavily as he nipped at his lip plates, murmuring.
“How many was that?”
“What purpose does it serve to keep count?”
“Wanna see how many kisses it takes to get you to stop being so… Prowl about this.”
“If you consider that last gesture a kiss, then it would be thirteen.”
The Ops mech sighed, then smirked at him, expression going a shade past devious.
“Mmm. S’an unlucky number, I’d better give you another, just to be safe.”
The challenge's Prompts:
1. Darkness
The base’s corridors were pitch black, courtesy of Ravage and Buzzsaw, who’d paid them a visit a day ago. They’d been caught, but not before they managed to carry out a little sabotage amongst the Ark’s wiring, cutting the power off to most of the base. Key areas, such as the med bay and the command deck ran on a separate system, but the rest of the base was shrouded in darkness.
At least Cybertronians didn’t absolutely need the lights. Most of them came with built in ones of their own, after all. Sensors and scanners sufficed for those without a vehicular alt form, and they were familiar enough with their home that the glow of their optics was usually enough for them to find their way about the base.
Still, having to virtually feel their way to their destination was not a particularly enjoyable task. As such, most of the crew elected to spend their free time in the rec room while Wheeljack and Hoist worked on getting the power running again.
For these reasons, the rest of the Ark was practically deserted.
And again for these reason, Jazz was dragging a not entirely unwilling Prowl down those pitch black corridors with an anticipatory smirk on his face and a softly purring engine.
2. Black cat
“No.”
“Aw… C’mon! You’ll miss the party!”
“I said no, Jazz. I’m not going out looking like this!”
“Hey, you agreed to dress up for Halloween.”
“Because you and the others wouldn’t stop asking me about it! You. Painted. Me. Black!”
“And how else was I supposed to get you into a costume? Besides, you have to admit, you really match the spirit of things like this. Look, I even have a nice orange ribbon for your neck.”
“Get that away from me before I bite you.”
“Are you coming out? If not I’ll put it on you even if I have to drag you out from under there to do so. You know I will.”
A whine, and a sulky Steeljaw emerged from beneath Blaster’s berth. Jazz grinned, gesturing to the door. As they left, the cassettebot grumbled.
“I look like Ravage.”
3. Ghost
He subtly glared at the mech grinning at him across the room, safe by dint of his ongoing conversation with an oblivious Prowl. Around him, the crew admired his ‘look’, congratulating him on his ‘creativity’.
Beside him, Jazz snickered, knowing the truth behind his current see through state.
“Hey, look on the bright side. It is a good costume. And thanks to Halloween no one’s gonna think your techs on the fritz. At least, they won’t if you’d just crack a smile occasionally.”
A glower at the grinning Ops head had the mech laughing.
“Wheeljack will fix it once we’re done with the party. But really, ‘Raj. I thought you knew better than to let Hound overload you while you had your electro-disrupter running.”
4. Pumpkins
They were everywhere. Round and orange and pumpkiny, sitting in their pumpkin patch on their pumpkin vines being round and orange and pumpkiny.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were mocking him.
But at least these pumpkins weren’t carved like the ones at the Ark were. Those were really freaky. He was glad to be away from them.
Away from Jazz, who’d taken to carrying one around, cackling in an intimidating manner (that Jazz had also carved his own likeness onto the pumpkin didn’t help).
Away from Mirage, who found it entertaining to transport the orange lanterns around the Ark, loitering in the darkest corners (a more appropriate form of lighting, his aft). All whilst invisible, scaring the spark out of any bot unfortunate enough to come across him (or, the mysteriously ‘floating’ pumpkin).
Away from his gestalt mates, who thought it was funny to place a Jack-o’-lantern right next to his head when he recharged, so its macabre glowing grin was the first thing he saw when they roused him in the middle of the night (no, he had not screamed, he’d shouted).
He shivered (because it was night and it was cold). He couldn’t wait for Halloween to be over. Next to him, Bluestreak settled a little closer.
“Hey, Slingshot?”
“What?”
“Thanks. Prowl normally does this with me, but something came up tonight. So… I appreciate you agreeing to take his place when he asked.”
“You realise it’s just a comic strip, right?” He muttered, and the gunner shrugged.
“You never know, Slingshot. Besides, it’s the spirit of the thing.”
Slingshot grumbled, but pressed against the grey Datsun’s side any way (to share the heat).
“Whatever.”
5. Costumes
Bitty!mechs wanted costumes. Bitty!mechs got costumes. Ante found out how much of a pain it was to figure out costumes for bitty!mechs, and told them to take their white sheets and marker ghost faces and be happy with it. RR!Jazz is in the lead, pulling chaperone duty.
Jazz tries to get Prowl to take part, but Prowl's having none of it.
6. Crescent Moon
Jazz grinned at the Datsun standing under the decorations they’d put up in the rec room. Black and white doors flickered as Prowl looked up at the centrepiece of the whole affair, then turned to the saboteur (Primus, his mech was adorable when confused).
“Why is there a wheel on the wall of the rec room?”
“Mech, look past the rubber and see it for what it is.”
The tactician dutifully turned back to the object, and his doorwings twitched again.
“It’s… a wheel, Jazz. One of Prime’s, by the size of it. Partially painted white.”
The Porsche sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a crescent moon, Prowler.”
“… Whose idea was this?”
“Dunno, whoever found they’d run out of coloured paper to make a moon that big and decided they needed one anyway. It looks nice. Very three-dimensional.”
“What if Optimus needs his wheel back?”
Jazz shrugged, then started to pull the SIC out of the room. “Then I guess the big guy will find out what it’s like to drive on moonbeams. C’mon, you don’t want to be out of your quarters when the mechs start the trick or treating run.”
7. Orange
“No ribbon?”
“If you can get him to wear it without losing a finger, more power to you.”
Steeljaw hissed at Blaster as the orange mech chuckled. Jazz looked him over, then shook his head.
“Blaster, I know you’re already orange and all, but a pumpkin? You seriously dressed up as a pumpkin?”
The tapedeck grinned, jerking a thumb at the rest of his cassettes, all costumed and snickering at Steeljaw’s put upon expression.
“I got outvoted, and they wanted a Jack-o’-lantern big enough to leap out of. For ‘effect’.”
“Your lot are really into this holiday.” The Ops mech chuckled, and Blaster laughed out loud.
“Really into? The paint carries over to my alt form, so I look like a pumpkin if I transform. Obsessed is more like it.”
8. Trick
He’d been rushed off his pedes the whole day, fighting metaphorical fires (and a literal one when Wheeljack’s lab decided to be Wheeljack’s lab), covering absent mechs’ duties, going over twice the reports he normally had to (courtesy of another absent mech, the Prime being in the med bay after Wheeljack’s lab) and generally needing to be everywhere at all times.
So it was with much effort that Prowl held back the groan that wanted to escape when Smokescreen commed him, clearly reluctant, to tell him that he was needed in one of the storage areas to help sort out a shipping kerfuffle. Barely keeping himself from dragging his pedes, the SIC made his way to the location, walking through the door only to stop dead, staring at the very much different storage room.
He didn’t get to contemplate it for long, because Jazz had him tackled and on the berth that hadn’t been there the last time he’d checked before he could realise the Porsche was in the room as well.
“That was a dirty trick.”
“You complaining?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
9. Spider webs
He’d been patient, staying still so that Hound, Beachcomber and Groove could do all the observation they wanted, but he still had work, work that he needed more than the datapads in his immediate reach to do. Clearing his vocaliser, he startled the three mechs and they jumped, blinking at him sheepishly.
“Sorry, Prowl. It’s done; we’ll bring it outside now.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want us to help get rid of the… um…”
“I can do that on my own. I’m sure the spider would prefer to be in its natural habitat as soon as possible.”
“Right, we’ll just catch it and go then. Thanks.”
He nodded, and once they’d exited his office, flicked his doors sharply, dislodging the delicate web that had been crafted between them. Time to speak to Wheeljack about fumigating the Ark again.
10. Fog
Jazz came online a little confused, a whole lot content, and completely relaxed. Sorting through the fog of memory data that last night had been left him with one conclusion (okay, having Prowl’s warm frame recharging peacefully next to him, with his arm draped possessively over the Datsun’s chassis helped with the coming to that conclusion).
No matter what happened to land them here, it was entirely worth it.
11. Treat
Jazz wrapped himself around Prowl, nuzzling his audio before purring teasingly into it.
“Trick or treat.”
The tactician smiled, knowing that the saboteur would be able to hear it in his reply.
“I don’t know, have you been a good mech lately?”
“Prowler, you got the holiday wrong. Christmas is when good bots get presents. Halloween’s when you give them something nice to keep them from being naughty.” The visored mech laughed, hands beginning to wander over the other mech’s frame, though Prowl soon put a stop to that by catching hold of the Porsche’s fingers.
“Is that so?”
And by slipping out of the mech’s arms and pinning him against the nearest wall, murmuring in the exact manner he knew would drive his lover wild.
“And what if I want you to be naughty?”
Jazz’s visor gleamed as he pulled Prowl even closer, already beginning to arch his frame against the Datsun’s.
“Then it looks like we both get what we want tonight.”
12. Graveyard
It was as quiet as a graveyard in the Ark tonight. Most of the crew were in recharge (or in the med bay, knocked offline), and the rest were too focused on their duties to make much noise. Optimus usually didn’t like this time of the day, when the life drained out of the Autobot base, leaving it dull and silent, and tonight it was even more so. The Prime sighed, looking at the pile of reports he still had to read. Still, it was the best time to get the paperwork done.
Picking up the first datapad, he nearly dropped it when his door opened. His TIC slipped in, followed by his SIC, both smiling faintly at him before they took seats in front of his desk, each picking up a file from his stack of work. Jazz flipped on his radio, filling the office with the sound of something soft and cheerful, and Prowl shrugged at him before turning to the datapad in his hand.
Thus accompanied, Optimus got back to work. The Ark was still quiet, but it was of the bearable sort now.
13. Thirteen
It was strange, he thought. Neither of them strictly needed to breathe, but when Jazz did this… kissing thing, it always left him feeling unbalanced and fuzzy in the CPU (particularly if he was using words such as ‘fuzzy’ to describe anything about his person), like an organic would after being deprived of oxygen for a spell.
And Jazz seemed no better off, the Porsche panting heavily as he nipped at his lip plates, murmuring.
“How many was that?”
“What purpose does it serve to keep count?”
“Wanna see how many kisses it takes to get you to stop being so… Prowl about this.”
“If you consider that last gesture a kiss, then it would be thirteen.”
The Ops mech sighed, then smirked at him, expression going a shade past devious.
“Mmm. S’an unlucky number, I’d better give you another, just to be safe.”
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Nice work!
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Lovelovelove.
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(Anonymous) 2009-10-18 08:26 am (UTC)(link)-Jenn
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