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Meta. -- Tune in Next Time...Tune in Next Time, For Another Exciting Episode of...
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
Prime surveyed the glum faces of the other five bots surrounding the polished black table. Elita, Ironhide, Chromia, 'Spark, and Megatron all fiddled with their drinks in awkward silence. It was as if they expected the glowing cubes of fuel to reveal some hidden wisdom for the evening or explode.
Prime sighed. Once more, he'd failed to factor in the Megatron Effect. By this point, he was so settled in their bond of brotherhood, so used to having the big lug around, that he forgot that others did not feel the same way. It was the old difficulty of wanting all his friends to get along with one another an impossibility no matter where one hailed from in the universe.
He tried to be sensitive he understood his fellow Autobots' aversion to their ancient enemy as well as anyone. But sometimes he forgot. After all, it was several vorns now since the Ceasefire
Meta. -- Plug and ReplayPlug & Replay
Without much fuss or ceremony, Optimus returned home after nearly a full vorn spent off-planet. He'd been forging and strengthening the ties between Cybertron and the other known inhabited worlds in the galaxy. There'd been a rather poignant return to Earth, an ambassadorial visit to a skittish Nebulos, a fact-finding trip to Torkulon, and charitable missions to both Paradron and Char. He'd been embraced, shot at, applauded, and sworn at in fifty different languages. He'd been showered with gifts, favors, advances, and several clever, lethal gizmos that had been disguised as handy objects offered to him by the smiling politicians.
Now he was home, and there was only one thing that he wanted.
Elita met him on the landing pad, and he ran into her arms with the alacrity of a lost electron clicking into place around a charged atom.
Without a word, their fingers flew to connect every line and cable they could send out to each other. It was infodump, communion, and catha
Meta. -- Elita AloneElita Alone
I asked to have this job. I simply couldn't stand the clamor of a couple thousand bots who had no idea what to do with themselves. It's sad but true I've never gotten over those four million years of being on my own. I'm used to it. And truth be told, I like it. I don't need to fit my methods into anybody else's plans. I do the job I'm given as I see fit to complete it; and I guard my own skidplate, if things go to scrap as they so often do.
My spark has never really healed from the knife-wound of losing all those Autobots on Cybertron while Prime and Megatron were knocked offline on Earth. It is relief release not to have any other's life depending on my judgement.
Well, perhaps Prime's does. I know. I'll do my best to keep his bondmate safe, eh?
I'm sure he wishes we were still bolted together as we used to be. He does much better when I'm by his side. But after a few quartex of being fawned over by every passing mech, of being slavishly emulat
Meta. -- Bits and PiecesA/N: It's all too easy for this story to devolve into All-Megatron, All-The-Time. He is by far the most attention-grabbing bot.
But I am not so good with writing Prime. The guy is an enigma - he's so practiced at keepin' on keepin' on that he sometimes doesn't notice that he's broken. He is the centerpoint, Polaris, the one unchanging being in all this. So I forget about him sometimes - just as he does. I forget to address fundamental things like what it means that the Matrix of Leadership is no more.
Optimus Prime: he is a busy bot. Too busy to take time to heal. Too busy taking care of others to take care of his own self.
And this is why he needs Elita.
Bits & Pieces
He stands there, all majestic, ready and able to lead our people to greatness. And we all follow him unquestioning, because he is our Prime.
He's proven over and again that that he would die for any one of us. That he knows us, cares for us, will do what it takes t
Meta. 7: Calling HomeA/N: Was totally planning to write something else, but this came out instead. It is imperfect, but still I'm kinda partial to it. Megs still has many things to learn. Silly, precious mechs! I love them so...
A nearly empty cube of high-grade sloshed, half-forgotten in the Decepticon's dull black fingers. His shuffling foot caught on an ill-laid paving sheet, and he cursed as he flailed for balance. His warrior's poise was definitely lacking on this night. But other, less apparent things, were paining him much more acutely with their absence.
"Starscream!" He grumbled at the sky. "Where have you gone, you lube-sucking little dipstick? Don't pretend you can forget me!"
He stumbled to a stop, and let his head fall loosely back on its suspension. He gazed with bleary vision up into the clouds of stars. Somewhere out there, they said, there was a place where all sparks would return to the One Source from whence they'd come. All one. One Allspark. All t
The Weekly Drabble ProjectOver on the Comics in Disguise Forum, we had a weekly drabble project. At first, I didn't think I'd be writing things that were good enough to post elsewhere. But overall, they weren't too bad. And one was good enough to be given stand-alone story status (I love you, Halfback! *sniff*) So here you go: drabble-a-week.
Characters: Megatron, Cliffjumper
Must include the phrase, "Hiding under Cliffjumper"
A/N: I may never quite get over the shock of Cliff's death in the new TF: Prime series. But even so, this turned out much more whiny than I'd intended. (I'd wanted a more starry-eyed approach.) But I promised myself I wouldn't get too hung up on how these came out.
In His Shadow.
Read-Only File 2-00053/AF
He exploded onto the scene three years ago. I suppose I should have known even then that he was going to be my hero. But, well, you know how it is. It's hard to idolize someone who treats you like a bumbling protoform all the time. Maybe you understand a
Meta. 6: Caught 2.0A/N: Sorry if this squicks anyone; but it's the only thing that works when Megatron has one of his "Little Moments." (Trust me on this.) There's still no hanky-panky.
Personal Diary: 211-0005-Pax Cybertronia
I rushed into Megatron's quarters, grateful for the pass-code I had recently been given. "What is it?" I asked, frightened. "The alarms went off!"
"Get Prime," was all he said. I could barely hear the words.
"But- What's happening?" I almost shrieked.
He leveled that big black fusion cannon of his straight at my chest, and I huddled into a corner.
"Get. Prime," he snarled, "Before I kill you."
I should have run. To this day, I don't know why I didn't. For that matter, I don't know where I got the courage to send an unsolicited comm to one of the Commanders. Usually, I have to spend a few moments psyching myself up before I can do that. But from my little corner, I spoke into my comm-link. "Optimus Prime?" My clipped voice sounded strange in
Little Miss It“Do you enjoy her company?”
That, Avadaci concluded, had been the extent of his grandfather’s kindness. Thank the stars he had broken his neck after a failed attempt to ascend the castle staircase. Not that many were privy to this information. The official listing on the cause of death involved something along the lines of falling in battle after slaying at least a dozen demons, although this was treated with quite a bit of skepticism by the general populace. Yet, interestingly enough, a decent portion of the locals believed a tale about the cannibals of Unkhtom devouring him whole.
Not that Avadaci really cared how his grandfather had died. He was just glad he was dead. And if he was glad his grandfather had died, Avadaci wondered, why did he have to attend his funeral? In fact, the whole kingdom was glad his grandfather had died. Why did they have to attend the funeral?
“Oh Avad,” proclaimed his mother, “obv
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