AN: I haven't been very active with these flash fics in the past two months, but are the few that I managed to write :D
Flickers
Prompt: Star
Characters: Grimlock, Misfire
Universe: MTMTE
Word Count: 295
They flickered above him: little dots of white, blue, or red scattered across an inky backdrop. Some appeared bigger than the others, and they tempted him to reach out and grasp them from the air. What would they look like then, dwarfed within his massive hands and glowing so brightly?
He had tried many times to grab them. The brightest of them all would disappear within his clenching his fingers, and a surge of satisfaction would leave him tingling. However, when he opened his hand to get a glimpse of his treasure, it would be gone, swept back up into the pitch black he had snatched it from.
Anger would swell up in him, and he would stomp around the ship, ignoring the tiny bot with yellow optics that would flee from beneath his feet. Every time they were within his grasp, they would suddenly disappear! It didn't matter how hard he concentrated—how tight he squeezed his hands.
They were always just fleeting specks of light dancing before his eyes.
"Grimlock!"
A hit to the back of the head made the towering Dynobot grunt, and he slowly turned to stare at the purple mech hovering in front of his face. He barely reacted when Misfire leaned in to examine his face—didn't flinch at the "playful" slap to the face. He glanced back out the window and reached out to touch the glass.
Misfire snorted, and his feet thudded against the floor. "Are you staring at the stars again? Come on! Krok said you still have a breem in the corner for nearly squishing Fulcrum again."
Grimlock raked his fingers against the glass but eventually submitted to Misfire pushing him back in the direction of the corner he had abandoned for the twinkling images.
Bun Fun
Prompt: Double Meaning(s)
Characters: Bumblebee, Jazz
Universe: G1
Word Count: 221
"Hey Jazz! Have you heard the good news?"
The saboteur leaned back in his chair. He took a moment to admire how Bumblebee's usual jovial smile turned into a frown from this angle. "Naw. What's up?"
"Sparkplug said Carly had a bun in the oven. That's why she and Spike couldn't come to the base today."
"A bun?" Jazz flipped around and leaned his arms against the back of the chair. "I been noticing Carly eating a lot of those lately."
"You think it's one of those cinnamon ones? They smell the best."
"Maybe it's one of those honey ones. She's been carrying those around in her bag lately." Jazz tilted his head. "How come they couldn't make that here? We got all that stuff so they could do their human thing here."
Bumblebee's smile twitched. "I don't know. I hope they can get it out soon; Spike said he would go with to the drive-in to watch the horror movie marathon with me."
"Does it normally take two people to make a bun?"
"Beats me. Humans do weird things."
Jazz hummed and waved after Bumblebee. He twisted around to face Blaster, who had been sitting patiently across the table from him. "Wonder why Sparkplug didn't tell 'Bee about Carly being pregnant. He was telling everyone when he came in earlier."
I Needed That
Prompt: Basic Need(s)
Characters: Ratchet
Universe: Prime
Word Count: 491
The clang of a metal fist meeting the equally metal surface of a work table reverberated through the silent hab suite of Autobot Outpost Omega One. The white and orange mech released a litany of curses before snatching up the small tools he had been attempting to use on the damaged device before him. His curses morphed into a wordless shout when the delicate scanner fell apart in his hands.
This was the third time this week—the third time! Ratchet had never witnessed such…such…stupidity! How many times did it take Bulkhead to realize he couldn't mindlessly slam his fist against a counter commonly used to hold his devices? What did Arcee think she was doing when she took it upon herself to smash open a scanner just to change the batteries? Why did Bumblebee take his tools and attempt to weld together a replica of organic wildlife? And then leave them on the floor for Optimus to unknowingly step on?
A gush of hot air was expelled as Ratchet dropped his tools and the now worthless scanner to lean back in his chair. The medic was beginning to seriously contemplate a strike when it came to repairing things. If he didn't repair them, then nothing would be broken anymore—problem solved. No more seeing a month's worth of hard work crushed, battered, and broken; no more having to lecture the younger 'bots about responsibility; no more pretending to not hear the snickers to his honest disappointment. Let them try to get along without his expertise for a while; that would show them just how serious it was when he said he needed that!
A ping from his door sent him to grumbling; a second ping made him glare; and the third ping pulled him to his feet. Ratchet muttered under his breath as he stepped up to his door and sent a signal for the locked door to slide open. His glare was in full force to pin down whoever had disturbed him, and it hardened when there was no one standing before him. He growled and prepared to spin around on his heel and lock the door once more when he briefly glanced down.
Ratchet paused and stepped further into the doorway to glance up and down the hallway. His search proved fruitless, and he finally bent down to grab the cube of luminescent blue liquid and the data-pad sitting beside it. The sight of the Energon made Ratchet realize how long it had been since he last refueled, and he took a brief moment to turn on the data-pad and reveal the full eight seasons of the unsociable human doctor he had begun to take interest in thanks to June Darby.
He scrolled through the list of full episodes now at his disposal before flicking his finger to expose the other open file on the data-pad. He almost smirked at the message:
"We thought you might need this."
