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Hey, how's everyone doing out there? I'm hiding in the Protectobot cuddlepile, feel free to join me *patpats* Free hugs, Wheeljack's bringing cookies for both humans and robots, we've got some nature documentaries playing with David Attenborough narrating, Ratchet's warding off all dangers. Feel free to bring your favorite mechanism(s), Decepticons welcome! <3

This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/181216.html. Please comment wherever you wish.


( 43 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 29th, 2017 04:11 am (UTC)
Sounds like fun!
Jan. 30th, 2017 02:42 am (UTC)
It's very cozy! Should have brought more pillows though - robots are...very solid :D
Jan. 30th, 2017 03:31 am (UTC)
I HAVE MANY PILLOWS! And blankets! ::brings::
DAVID ATTENBOROUGH! ::crops watered, skin clear, years added to life::
::noms cookies::
::squiggles into the crook of Wheeljack's left knee::
Jan. 31st, 2017 12:24 am (UTC)
Yay pillows and blankets, lovely!!! *dives into*
I know, right? I watched David Attenborough once and it cured my dandruff!
Mmm, coookiesss. I have three boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Please help me eat them before I eat all three boxes myself, I beg of you! XD We have S'mores (which was a new flavor this year, but they're basically blond Oreos, was a little disappointed), Tagalongs, and Samoas. No Thin Mints, but I know a girl that could hook you up.

(no subject) - tainry - Jan. 31st, 2017 04:19 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - playswithworms - Feb. 4th, 2017 12:59 am (UTC) - Expand
Jan. 30th, 2017 03:32 am (UTC)
“When is Bumblebee coming back, again?” Barricade removed a hatchling pedal component from his mouth for the third time in five minutes.

“Not till Tuesday,” Blades said. Five days more of fourteen second-instar hatchlings shut inside the Retribution because of snow almost up to the top deck, and, more to the point, sub-freezing temperatures. Play-doh kept them occupied for only so long. Optimus was in Beijing, giving speeches, or they’d lobby to have him in for storytimes.

Gasket, Leeway, Pingback and Starshine were trying to climb on each other to reach the door controls. Barricade wasn’t sure if he should just watch, since it didn’t look like they were going to succeed in getting it open – they didn’t know the lock sequence anyway, did they? – or if there should be a distraction sooner rather than later when they figured out that what they were trying now didn’t work and they moved on to trying other things. He went over and leaned on the wall next to them. Now he could catch Starshine if he fell. Gasket and Pingback were disagreeing about who should be the very bottom and kept trying to put their pedal components on each other. Leeway was on their shoulders, and sometimes helms or faces, with his arms around Starshine’s hip gimbals, and the whole construction teetered alarmingly.

“Up?” said Starshine, talons reaching but fanning out over the wall several important centispans below the lock panel. “Out?”

“No, you can’t go out,” Barricade said. “It’s cold, remember? Winter.”

“Cows?” Leeway asked hopefully, around Starshine’s aft.

“You’d have to go outside to see the cows,” Thundercracker said from the blocks table. “It’s too cold.” The adults could carry them with engines revved hot enough to keep them warm for the short trip to the barn, the hatchlings clinging tightly, but Thundercracker knew, even after only a few months as a caretaker, that it was too risky. Second instar hatchlings wouldn’t stay latched. They were too active and inquisitive and someone would make a break for it and go bounding off on their own and the drifts were deep. And to be honest, Thundercracker didn’t want to go out in the freezing wind without a truly compelling reason.

“Hey, beeps,” called Beachcomber from the napping area, with its plethora of tough but smooshable bean bag chairs and pillows. “If you come on over here we can learn a new song, hey?”

Starshine jumped, Barricade caught him, and helped Leeway get down, then all four galloped over to Beachcomber, along with Fulcrum, who abandoned blocks in favor of singing. Barricade grinned. Thank Primus for Beachcomber.

“Snowsuits,” Sarah said. “That’s what they need. I’ll ask Mom to help, and maybe she can get some of her Dorcas society friends to pitch in, too.” Telling the ladies about fourteen orphans who needed winter clothes wouldn’t be, strictly speaking, a lie. Sarah was already building a pattern in her head, though, and the proportions were going to be…odd. Fourteen chimpanzee babies? Not completely plausible. Optimus still didn’t want the hatchlings on the news, and Sarah didn’t blame him one bit.

Perceptor blinked. “Snowsuits! Of course! Brilliant!” Hoist was also nodding, and had that slightly abstracted air that meant he was planning something. Sarah lofted a brow at him. If Hoist could sew… She liked the idea of the Dorcas ladies helping, but it didn’t sit entirely right that they’d have to lie about whom the effort would be for. They needed the suits ASAP, so they couldn’t just wait until it was deemed safe to introduce the hatchlings to humanity at large.

“The material will need to be light, flexible and insulating,” Perceptor said, leaning close to Hoist. “Durable enough to withstand talons and heavy wear.” He straightened slightly, blinking. “I’m afraid I keep thinking in terms of armor, and that is not…”

“No,” Hoist agreed.

“Snowsuits,” Sarah said, waving a hand at the air – the internet. “Do an image search. With hoods! Oh…and little pom-poms!” She might have actually squeed. Out loud. In front of the robots. Will must never know. “And Velcro. We’re going to need lots of Velcro.”

Jan. 31st, 2017 12:35 am (UTC)
Hee hee, Barricade's longing for Bumblebee to come save him from bored hatchlings, I love it!
Oh dear, niecelet is now tall enough to open doors - it's very alarming when they learn how to do that! Don't underestimate the lil' doobers, 'Cade. TC doesn't want to go digging for hatchies in snowdrifts - entirely understandable!
I love that Beachcomber calls them "beeps" - hee! <3

Hm, yes, Dorcas ladies what a delightful idea! But probably no good story you could tell them.
With pom poms! :DDDDDDDDD
Will must never know *sporfle*

*rolls around in delightitude*
Oh this is just the best thing ever :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
(no subject) - tainry - Jan. 31st, 2017 06:30 am (UTC) - Expand
Jan. 30th, 2017 08:28 am (UTC)
different ficlet, this one's done...
Couch. Thundercracker stared at it. A borrowed concept, out of place on a Decepticon vessel, though the dissonance didn’t bother him as much as it would have not long ago. It looked comfortable when First Aid or the others used it, but none of them had proper wings. He might as well try it out, though, and if it wasn’t suitable he just wouldn’t use it.

Huh. The seat was firm, but the back conformed to his shape remarkably well while providing support. He angled his wings up and down, wriggling his shoulders. Not bad. The only drawback was that the tarsal joint in his legs butted into the seat base. Extending his pedes a bit solved the problem. He scooched his aft a little more forward, letting his wings and shoulders sink into the cushions. The armrest on his right was perhaps of a height for frametypes somewhat differently proportioned, but he grabbed a pillow – another alien idea – from the other end of the couch and stuffed it under his elbow. There. Very nice, actually. He tipped his helm back and found it cradled at the right height. He could get used to this.

Coddling. Encouraged weakness and laziness. Starscream wouldn’t approve. Well. He had a few years yet before he had to worry about that. He shuttered his optics.

When he unshuttered them, close to an hour of local time later, Bravespark, Cade Jr., Birdy Boo, Noggin, Escape Velocity, Starshine, Gasket and Trajectory were cuddled up around his neck and chest, chirring softly in recharge. He could hear Barricade and Hoist bathing another set of hatchlings in the wash tubs on the other side of a partition.

He petted the hatchlings gingerly, not used to their fragility quite yet. He should get up and…do…something. Help, he thought, and not get caught lounging around but now he was trapped. (A traitorous part of his processor reminded him that hatchlings would cling automatically if he stood. Nope, he was definitely trapped.) Besides, it was stormy and cold outside – he could hear the wind and sleet blasting the hull – and nice and warm and relatively quiet inside. He was about to shutter his optics again when he heard the front airlock cycle open. Slag.

Aaaaaaaand it was Prowl. Fantastic. Prime’s chief Strategist and sometime military police head; and all-around sparkless fragger. Supposedly. Thundercracker had seen him when he’d learned that Jazz had been killed, though. Not sparkless.

Prowl seemed to be intent on something and about to walk past Thundercracker without comment, but he halted in mid-stride, turning – mostly at the waist – to take in the scene. Prowl scanned him lightly, and Thundercracker watched his expression evolve…softening, optic color deepening to match his spark spectrum, focus going wide, mouthplates relaxing, field whirling slow and enthralled, door wings wafting forward very slightly.

Grounder models should not be that attractive. Thundercracker caught and held Prowl’s gaze, relaxed, unchallenging, accompanied by the chirring of sleeping hatchlings. He let the color of his optics deepen, and the corner of his mouth quirked in a microscopic grin.

Prowl tossed his head minutely in a silent laugh, orbital shutters crinkling, his return smile bright enough to run a large space station, and then continued on his way.

Oof! thought Thundercracker. Oh slag. No. Nope. Time for recharge. Maybe all winter. That would be best, yes.
Jan. 31st, 2017 12:52 am (UTC)
Re: different ficlet, this one's done...
EEEEEEEEEEEE And another one!!!!!!!!!!!! I've been reading these in my email notifications over and over all day, I'll have you know. Best Day Ever!

Oooh ho ho, so Thundercracker's caught lounging on the couch with the babies by none other than the fearsome Prowl! He was so totally trapped though *nodnod* No way he could get up or move or anything, yep.

chirring while they sleep, awwww <3

Thundercracker had seen him when he’d learned that Jazz had been killed, though. Not sparkless. That's a scene I don't even want to imagine except that I kind of do. Prowwlll I'm sorryyyy ;_;

his return smile bright enough to run a large space station
Hee hee hee! Doomed, TC. Yer doomed. Just snuggle back into the couch and accept your fate *cackles*

RE: Re: different ficlet, this one's done... - tainry - Jan. 31st, 2017 06:48 am (UTC) - Expand
Jan. 31st, 2017 07:58 am (UTC)
“Please be careful.”

Jetfire lanced a scan through him; nothing like First Aid’s gentle medical scans, this was a harsh, actinic probe, meant for vast distances or peering into the depths of gas giants, almost knocking Barricade back a step. Jetfire loomed over him.

“I’ve been knocking around the universe since before the stars were born whose deaths created the metals that make up your body,” he said, grinning. This was – probably – an exaggeration.

“Not in that body you haven’t,” Barricade snapped, and Jetfire laughed.
Feb. 1st, 2017 02:37 am (UTC)
Mo-m, I'm, like, eighty gazillion millennia old, I'll be fine *eyeroll*


Oooh, love the deep-space scans!
And looming Jetfire, so he must be back to his previous size?
(no subject) - tainry - Feb. 1st, 2017 05:35 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - playswithworms - Feb. 2nd, 2017 02:10 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - tainry - Feb. 4th, 2017 09:59 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - playswithworms - Feb. 5th, 2017 02:40 am (UTC) - Expand
Jan. 31st, 2017 07:59 am (UTC)
another bit of the snow ficlet
“All your talons,” Barricade explained. “No, inside the mitten. Inside. Inside. Yes, like that. Now the other one.” The hatchlings were lined up – more or less – to be outfitted for their first excursion into the snow on purpose. For fun.

After some research, they’d settled on __ and __ layered for the snowsuits, these being used for humans’ cold-weather gear, rated for Antarctica. Sarah had sketched out the basic pattern, Hoist made suggestions, Sarah drew the finals, and Hoist cut great stacks of the pieces out with a cutting beam that looked suspiciously like a simple laser, although the fabric bore no scorched edges. Hoist had watched Sarah and Phyllis sew the first couple of suits and then set about concocting a way to do it as well, by hand rather than machine, though the difference in this case was debatable and complicated and led to discussions about sentience and life forces and souls and slavery that Sarah hadn’t been entirely prepared for and actually got rather heated once Perceptor butted in.

“No. Capes,” Thundercracker had muttered under his breath, from the sidelines. Bumblebee leaned on his knees and wheezed.

Sarah and Phyllis also knitted little caps and mittens, in a rainbow of variegated yarns. The long pointy tasseled hoods on the suits were adorable, but Sarah had always hated wearing hoods, so she wanted the hatchlings to have options. And indeed now some of the hatchlings were protesting, or whining or sulking. The adults were sympathetic – clothing was an alien concept for the most part (again debatable and complicated), but remained firm. If the hatchlings wanted to go outside in winter they had to wear snowsuits.

“Keep that on, please, my dear,” Perceptor entreated Gasket. “I know, it is strange. The hood goes, yes…watch Annabelle.” Annabelle was modelling her own new snowsuit to demonstrate the idea. “Let me tie it this time, and you can do it next. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Satisfactory!” Ducky caroled, bouncing up and down as Frenzy tried to get his pedes stuffed into the leggings.
Feb. 1st, 2017 02:45 am (UTC)
Re: another bit of the snow ficlet
*rolls about giggling*
Oh my golly I can just imagine this scene! From my experience trying to get niecelet into her winter things when she has definite IDEAS of how it should be done (or not done) the thought of trying to get fourteen beeps suited up is just hilarious, and so true to life: the wiggling, the not quite understanding where to put fingers in mittens, sulking, whining, negotiating, yep XD

No capes! *sporfle*

Oh dear, who knew sewing snowsuits could become so philosophically contentious, poor Sarah! XD

Frenzy trying to suit up a hatchie, omg - for once, he's being out-wiggled! :D

RE: Re: another bit of the snow ficlet - tainry - Feb. 1st, 2017 06:07 am (UTC) - Expand
RE: Re: another bit of the snow ficlet - tainry - Feb. 4th, 2017 07:16 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: another bit of the snow ficlet - playswithworms - Feb. 5th, 2017 02:57 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: another bit of the snow ficlet - rose0mary - Feb. 2nd, 2017 02:46 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: another bit of the snow ficlet - tainry - Feb. 2nd, 2017 02:55 am (UTC) - Expand
Feb. 6th, 2017 01:00 am (UTC)
Streetwise’s helm went up – staring into the steel beam framework of the upper floors of the abandoned car factory. The whine of a high-powered plasma rifle sounded loud in the sudden silence. Thundercracker followed his gaze to find the muzzle of that rifle, and a pair of steely blue optics, pointed directly at him.

“Prowl, don’t!” First Aid wrapped himself around Thundercracker’s helm and canopy. Prowl’s gun wound down several settings but remained pointed at the hinge of Thundercracker’s mandible. TC glowered at him between First Aid’s fingers.

“Explain,” Prowl said.

“The war’s over,” Hot Spot said quickly. “Megatron and Sentinel Prime are dead. There’s nothing to fight over, and very few of us left. Thundercracker came in response to Optimus’ transmission, just like – we’re guessing – you did. First Aid’s just gotten him repaired, please don’t shoot him.”

Hot Spot edged between First Aid and Prowl, at which point Prowl bent his elbow sharply and retracted his gun. Thundercracker glared around Hot Spot’s waist. How dare they think he needed protection from…! Prowl. Well. All right. They’d probably just saved his life.

“Optimus didn’t answer my ping,” Prowl said. He stepped off the beam where he’d been perched, landing lightly. First Aid climbed down off Thundercracker and approached.

“No. He’s in stasis, recovering. Sentinel…Sentinel damaged him fairly extensively in Chicago.” In more than one way, but some things were easier to repair than others.

“Chicago.” Prowl angled his helm slightly, trying out the alien word.

“Wait, don’t connect yet,” First Aid said, clasping Prowl’s arm. “There’s…”

“…we should…” Groove faltered.

“We’re so sorry, sir.” Streetwise took it in both hands. “Jazz was deactivated during the battle of Mission City.”

Thundercracker knew that look. He understood it. It was the look of a mech who had just been stabbed in the spark chamber. He’d worn it himself, a time or two, though the stark, mortal rawness of it was disconcerting on Prowl’s usually unperturbable face.

And then Prowl locked it down. Coiled it up and shoved it under something dreadful and heavy. First Aid didn’t let go, but leaned back a little, startled and worried. Hot Spot reached back for Thundercracker’s hand and held it tightly.

“He and the humans kept Megatron from the Allspark long enough for Optimus to arrive,” Streetwise continued. And then a lot of things had happened all at once, and a lot more had happened since that they also needed to tell him, but Prowl was already furiously assimilating the human internet, doing that thing he did that built a comprehensible whole out of billions of seemingly unconnected parts. The Protectobots watched, waited. Thundercracker stayed where he was. Prowl’s lip components flattened into a hard line.

“Prowl,” First Aid began. “It…isn’t good to bury—”

“Don’t,” Prowl whispered. First Aid recoiled slightly as if he’d been slapped. Thundercracker wanted to punch Prowl into the stratosphere. How dare he pretend he wasn’t hurt, that he didn’t need time to process everything and recover? They were all hurt, all suffering. No war’s ending came without cost, but they had nearly wiped themselves out, hurling their last remnants against a species that fought back with a fierce tenacity that was almost terrifying. None of the Cybertronian survivors were entirely whole, not even these youngsters.

“I must go to Prime,” Prowl said.

Streetwise nodded. He wanted to tell Prowl to be careful, but that felt…traitorous. Optimus would be glad to see him, Streetwise was fairly sure. Optimus had been glad to see them, after all, even if he had also been angry at their disobeying him. Prowl was smart, and canny, and he had known Optimus a long time. It would be all right.
Feb. 6th, 2017 03:17 am (UTC)
OMG this is...so beautiful and perfect *pets it and weeps*

I love how Prowl stands down, not gonna hurt the P-bots but he's going to keep a bead on any little piece of TC he can. Thundercracker glowering from between First Aid's fingers, hee!

And then Streetwise breaks the news and...gah! ;_;

He wanted to tell Prowl to be careful, but that felt…traitorous. Double gah!


(no subject) - tainry - Feb. 6th, 2017 06:37 am (UTC) - Expand
Feb. 8th, 2017 09:19 am (UTC)
first part of Midnight Kiss
The New Year’s party was in full swing – fizzy drinks, loud music, lots of friends, all the siblings, funny hats – when between one hip-wiggle and the next, Jazz slid senseless to the floor.

Twin paths opened between the youngster and Ratchet and First Aid, followed closely by Barricade.

“Ratch,” Jazz mumbled, optics blinking online as he was thoroughly scanned, “m’okay. Hey, Aid. Think I jus’ sorta…”

“Passed out,” Ratchet said. “Yes, we noticed. Hold still.” Jazz tried to sit up in First Aid’s arms, but fell back, optics dim, dark. First Aid stood and ran him to the medical nook.

They transferred Jazz to the main base once Ratchet determined it was safe to move him; First Aid, Barricade and Thundercracker going with, while Bumblebee, Hoist, Frenzy, Beachcomber and Perceptor stayed at the Retribution to reassure the hatchlings and younglings, and keep the now somewhat subdued party going. (Starscream took charge of the youngest clutch by introducing them to Simon Says.)

“I thought he was past this,” Ratchet sighed. “I thought his frame had finally grown large enough to properly house his spark.” Or something. The physical signs were all so vague, mimicking a dozen other syndromes that were themselves difficult to diagnose; but if Ratchet had been pinned in a corner and forced to define what he thought was wrong, it would have to be something handwavy about Jazz’s spark and the physical world needing to get reacquainted, and it not going entirely well.

“So did I,” First Aid said. Jazz seemed to be stable now, just strangely weary in a way the dancing earlier couldn’t explain. Most of the time he was a sturdy enough third instar, if small. It was easy to forget that he seemed to be reliving the vorn of intense care needed during his first embodiment. Sleepy optics blinked online, and First Aid smiled at him.

“Where’s Prowl?”

First Aid stroked his little helm. “He’s in Detroit with Optimus, dearspark, do you…?”

“I’ll get him,” Thundercracker said, wheeling from the room.

I've fiddled with the order again. I reckon the first two have Barricade's horde at second instar. Third (this one, Midnight Kiss) is third instar for both the horde and Galvie's clutch. Fourth (Feast) could be about the same time or a year or two later. Last one (Winter Solstice), with Jetfire, is clearly Galvie's clutch at sixth instar. ;D

And then I can start on the five for spring! ::sproings about::
Feb. 9th, 2017 01:33 am (UTC)
Re: first part of Midnight Kiss
Jazzlet! Lil' dude, what the what, oh noes! D: *snuggles him*

Starscream doing Simon Says, how perfect! XD

"Starscream says...stand on one pede!"
"Starscream says...jump up and down!"
"Now sit down!"
"Starscream didn't say!" :D

Prowl snuggles required, most definitely *nodnod*

Five for spring!! :DDDDDDDDD *sproings with*
RE: Re: first part of Midnight Kiss - tainry - Feb. 9th, 2017 08:06 am (UTC) - Expand
Feb. 9th, 2017 08:02 am (UTC)
Next part of 'Midnight Kiss' - I'm not sure about how Jazz is teasing Prowl here. Thoughts? u.u;


Prowl strode in, plating cold, smelling faintly of ozone from the high, fast flight clamped to Thundercracker’s dorsal hull. He went directly to Jazz’s side, sitting on the edge of the medical berth, leaning down to caress Jazz’s helm. “I’m here, bitlet.”

“Prowl?” Jazz grasped Prowl’s hand in both his talons, pressing it to his cheekplate.

“Mmhmm. Giving Ratchet a hard time again, are you?”

“S’my job,” Jazz murmured. “Can you stay?”

“I can, as a matter of fact.” Prowl did a large percentage of his work remotely anyway, and Red Alert had rescheduled a handful of other things already.

“Your hands are cold,” Jazz said, optics lighting brighter to match his grin. Prowl shifted his engine into a higher gear to get his circulation going more efficiently. Not revving, simply a steady hum. Third instar Jazz had no business trying to tease him with remembered intimacies from before.

“Sorry about that,” Prowl said, which was not the answer he had used to give. He tried to pull his hand away, but Jazz kept a firm grip, subsiding a little, optics dimming sleepily.

“Here, Prowl.” First Aid brought him a thin but warm quilt, made from scraps of hatchling snowsuits that had become too worn to hand down. Smiling, Prowl lay down on the berth, curling around Jazz’s small frame, and let First Aid tuck them in.
Feb. 9th, 2017 10:55 pm (UTC)
Cheeky Jazz is cheeky! From daycamp I maybe have a hyperactive "inappropriate interaction with minors" radar, but this pings me as fine, Prowl's firmly not playing, lol.

*inappropriately sniffs Prowl's plating mmm ozone*

Aw, snowsuit quilt! <33333333333
(no subject) - tainry - Feb. 10th, 2017 03:59 am (UTC) - Expand
( 43 comments — Leave a comment )


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