...More prompts?

[marysuofyay]

Muses. Still sleeping.

Prompts? Me likey prompts.

*grabby hands* Wooooords.

...I may write whole scenes, snippets, or just a sentence or two.

PROMPT ME, MAH BUDDIES.

*falls over*

Comments

[akisawana]

Ratchet and his horde of ill-behaved children. One of them got shot. The others are not dealing well.

[marysuofyay]

Honestly, the entire thing was nothing short of stupid.

Ratchet huffed in the medbay, glaring eyes focused completely on the task before him. He neither glanced up nor gave any kind of response to the whispers and hushed queries from around the room.

Oh, sure, now they're all remorseful. Now they regret what happened; but why did they have to huddle in his medbay to do it?!

Beneath his hands, an unconscious-from-a-slag-load-of-stasis-medication Swoop lay. Half his head was missing. Thankfully, not the most vital parts, or this would all be a much different situation.

From the back of the room, a worried mass of aerialbots sat and whispered amongst themselves. What he could hear made little sense; half the conversation, he wagered, was done in gestalt-bond. Did they even realize it? Probably not.

At various points around the room were the rest of the dinobots. Well behaved, for once. Grimlock, even, was stone cold quiet.

As well he should be. He was the one that accidentally shot Swoop in the face, after all. At close range. If

[akisawana]

oh poor babies!
Ratchet will fix it. Ratchet can fix ANYTHING!
thank you!

[marysuofyay]

((Sorry for the late reply: THINGS happened.))

The war had been going on for a very, very long time. It defied explanation, really; millions of years seemed ephemeral to humans, but to them?

It was just a 'damned long time'.

Which was why Prowl was so gobsmacked by how such a large number of the mechs serving the Autobot cause acted like such children.

Not that he would ever let it show. Oh, no; to let the 'troops' -- if they could even be called that -- know that their actions bothered him would just encourage more of it.

So, Prowl had suppressed the cringe as fresh paint seeped in to his joints. Instead, he simply looked up and gave a vicious glare at the paint trap someone had set there.

Which was how he ended up here."Again?" Red Alert shook his head as he entered the washracks. "Let me guess... The second left in wing A-9