Boredom alert! Come play with me!
Sep. 8th, 2011 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keelywolfeI'm bored. Why is everything so boring today? Work has been indescribably busy, kids started school and all the mess that goes with that, and last night was the first night in a week I had more than 5 hours of sleep, so naturally I slept too much and now I am still tired. Ooh, but I just realized that the ten anniversary of my Livejournal is this month. Holy cow, where does the time go?
But I am still bored.
So let's play a game or do a meme or something! Entertain me! Let's do one of those meme's where you post a short section from 5 stories. Don't care if your actively working on them or not, just give me a funny or angsty or smutty little tidbit to give me joy! Give me fragments from the stories you've abandoned, give me your next big hit! Any fandom, any pairing, just hit it!
To be fair, I'll play too:
1. Optimus/Ratchet
Ratchet felt his own anger blossom to life and as always, it quickly overrode his sense, "Would you rather I'd left them for dead?" he snapped out. "I would so hate to inconvenience you!"
"You—" Optimus turned away, a visible tremor running through him. He drew in a long draft of cool air, vented it back out. "Ratchet," he said tightly, "I am aware that our current attachment to each other is disturbing to you. Be that as it may, I would like to think I am allowed to feel something other than simply inconvenienced when I find you injured."
His anger cooled quickly at that and Ratchet smiled, a little. "Point taken."
To his surprised, Optimus quickly turned to the window, gazing outside with intense scrutiny. After a moment, curiosity got the best of him and Ratchet finally asked, "What are you looking at?"
"I was expecting a meteor shower or perhaps a rain of frogs," Optimus answered promptly. "You agreed with me so quickly, the only logical conclusion was a possible apocalypse."
"Oh, very amusing," Ratchet scowled. "Don't get used to it."
Optimus straightened. "I shall flag it in my memory files," he promised.
2. Wyatt/Glitch (Tin Man)
It was still perception, his eyes trying to fit Glitch into what they had seen before. Murder, perhaps, a convict. Criminal.
It was only later that he realized he should have known. He'd seen his fair share of headcases before, too many, and no punishment could change the raw materials it began with. Cruel humans rendered stupid stayed cruel, no sweet innocence in their dull piggish eyes.
It was a testament to how brilliant Glitch must have been before. Forgetful but not stupid, not completely, synapses coming to the severed ends of a lost mind having to find new paths. Memories jumbled, a puzzle with broken pieces but sometimes they still fit, sometimes.
Flicker.
Perception. His eyes dulled for just a moment. Glitch blinked up at Wyatt, his mouth forming a small sound, "Oh." Then Glitch tipped his head up and kissed him.
Soft, cool mouth, almost chaste against his own until Glitch parted his lips, let his tongue press into Wyatt's. A little passive but not rejecting and he let it end on its own.Something he was perfectly capable of doing, Caine admitted wryly. A little forgetful but hardly stupid. Not a child, no, not at all, just a little--
"Lost," Wyatt murmured, his lips brushing Glitch's.
3. Clark and Bruce talking. Clark/Lex
"How can I go back to him and...just pretend everything is fine, that I'm the husband he's had for years and…how can I do that?" Clark burst out.
"I'm not sure you have a choice," Bruce said thoughtfully. He rested his chin on one gloved hand. Minus any judicious use of x-ray vision, his eyes were shielded; not that it mattered. Bruce never showed any true emotions in his eyes, anyway.
"What?" Clark sputtered. "You want me to...what happens when I leave here and go back to my universe?"
"We don't know if this even is an alternate universe and if that's the case, your world is not something we can send you back to." Bruce said bluntly. "From what you've described, a being of almost infinite power has created a place for you to learn some sort of lesson. You told me that Mxyztplk (the name rolled off Bruce's tongue in a way that Clark could only envy) sent you here to teach you something. Resisting the learning isn't going to help you. If you do, there's a chance you could be stuck here for years."
"So what you're saying is--
Bruce turned back to his monitors, effectively dismissing him. "Go home and apologize to your husband."
"But I can't just--" Clark gestured frantically, trying to indicate without saying the myriad of things that he couldn't possibly do to Lex
"I doubt you'll have to concern yourself with it tonight or possibly for the next week. There's a fair chance you'll be sleeping on the sofa."
Clark stared. Had Bruce just made a joke? Suddenly, this universe seemed a great deal more disturbing.
4. Zuko/Sokka (Avatar)
"Why do they keep it up with me, anyway?"
"Hmm, let me see," Zuko paused in his writing. "You're young, strong, attractive, and a war hero. I can certainly see how that wouldn't seem appealing. Frankly, Sokka, the question should be why wouldn't someone want you."
Sokka ignored the little frisson of heat those words sent through him. "I don't care! I just want you to make them stop it!"
Let me see if I understand," Zuko said slowly. "You want me to use my power and position to make people stop hitting on you."
"Yes!"
Long silence and Sokka blew out an impatient breath. How difficult could this be?
"All right," Zuko said finally. Finally! "I'll see what I can do."
5. Sam/Bumblebee with a side order of Optimus
"You find Optimus's optical transmission attractive?"
It took Sam half a minute to even process that, and when he did, he almost swallowed his gum. "No! Why do you--"
Bumblebee paused long enough to glance at him. "Sam, I regulate your systems constantly. When you first saw Optimus this morning, your heart rate soared and your pheromone level increased exponentially." He propped his chin on his hand thoughtfully. "And according to your heart rate at the moment, you totally just lied to me."
Okay, of course he would have a boyfriend who also acted as a walking lie detector.
He let out a breath slowly. How to explain this one with Bumblebee sitting there all innocent, wide green eyes, waiting for his answer. It was possible that the standard 'humans are weird' ploy might work. "Look, it doesn't mean anything--"
"If you find him appealing, you should ask him to join us sometime." Calmly, like he was suggesting having a new paint job done over the weekend.
That time he did swallow his gum, gagging a little before he managed, "You...that is so not funny."
Bumblebee glanced back down to his book. "I wasn't trying to be funny. He may be interested. I don't believe Optimus has attempted to mate with any of the terrestrial entities on this planet."
Sam was fairly sure if Bumblebee kept talking, his eardrums were going to rupture. "Was that even English? The only other language I know is the Spanish I learned in school and that barely lets me find the bathroom."
Bumblebee actually set the book aside, lips pursed as he considered. "He hasn't gotten it on with any of the dudes around here so he might let you hit it," he translated.
C'mon, let me see a few of yours, just a snack? If you do, post it in the comments so I can see!
But I am still bored.
So let's play a game or do a meme or something! Entertain me! Let's do one of those meme's where you post a short section from 5 stories. Don't care if your actively working on them or not, just give me a funny or angsty or smutty little tidbit to give me joy! Give me fragments from the stories you've abandoned, give me your next big hit! Any fandom, any pairing, just hit it!
To be fair, I'll play too:
1. Optimus/Ratchet
Ratchet felt his own anger blossom to life and as always, it quickly overrode his sense, "Would you rather I'd left them for dead?" he snapped out. "I would so hate to inconvenience you!"
"You—" Optimus turned away, a visible tremor running through him. He drew in a long draft of cool air, vented it back out. "Ratchet," he said tightly, "I am aware that our current attachment to each other is disturbing to you. Be that as it may, I would like to think I am allowed to feel something other than simply inconvenienced when I find you injured."
His anger cooled quickly at that and Ratchet smiled, a little. "Point taken."
To his surprised, Optimus quickly turned to the window, gazing outside with intense scrutiny. After a moment, curiosity got the best of him and Ratchet finally asked, "What are you looking at?"
"I was expecting a meteor shower or perhaps a rain of frogs," Optimus answered promptly. "You agreed with me so quickly, the only logical conclusion was a possible apocalypse."
"Oh, very amusing," Ratchet scowled. "Don't get used to it."
Optimus straightened. "I shall flag it in my memory files," he promised.
2. Wyatt/Glitch (Tin Man)
It was still perception, his eyes trying to fit Glitch into what they had seen before. Murder, perhaps, a convict. Criminal.
It was only later that he realized he should have known. He'd seen his fair share of headcases before, too many, and no punishment could change the raw materials it began with. Cruel humans rendered stupid stayed cruel, no sweet innocence in their dull piggish eyes.
It was a testament to how brilliant Glitch must have been before. Forgetful but not stupid, not completely, synapses coming to the severed ends of a lost mind having to find new paths. Memories jumbled, a puzzle with broken pieces but sometimes they still fit, sometimes.
Flicker.
Perception. His eyes dulled for just a moment. Glitch blinked up at Wyatt, his mouth forming a small sound, "Oh." Then Glitch tipped his head up and kissed him.
Soft, cool mouth, almost chaste against his own until Glitch parted his lips, let his tongue press into Wyatt's. A little passive but not rejecting and he let it end on its own.Something he was perfectly capable of doing, Caine admitted wryly. A little forgetful but hardly stupid. Not a child, no, not at all, just a little--
"Lost," Wyatt murmured, his lips brushing Glitch's.
3. Clark and Bruce talking. Clark/Lex
"How can I go back to him and...just pretend everything is fine, that I'm the husband he's had for years and…how can I do that?" Clark burst out.
"I'm not sure you have a choice," Bruce said thoughtfully. He rested his chin on one gloved hand. Minus any judicious use of x-ray vision, his eyes were shielded; not that it mattered. Bruce never showed any true emotions in his eyes, anyway.
"What?" Clark sputtered. "You want me to...what happens when I leave here and go back to my universe?"
"We don't know if this even is an alternate universe and if that's the case, your world is not something we can send you back to." Bruce said bluntly. "From what you've described, a being of almost infinite power has created a place for you to learn some sort of lesson. You told me that Mxyztplk (the name rolled off Bruce's tongue in a way that Clark could only envy) sent you here to teach you something. Resisting the learning isn't going to help you. If you do, there's a chance you could be stuck here for years."
"So what you're saying is--
Bruce turned back to his monitors, effectively dismissing him. "Go home and apologize to your husband."
"But I can't just--" Clark gestured frantically, trying to indicate without saying the myriad of things that he couldn't possibly do to Lex
"I doubt you'll have to concern yourself with it tonight or possibly for the next week. There's a fair chance you'll be sleeping on the sofa."
Clark stared. Had Bruce just made a joke? Suddenly, this universe seemed a great deal more disturbing.
4. Zuko/Sokka (Avatar)
"Why do they keep it up with me, anyway?"
"Hmm, let me see," Zuko paused in his writing. "You're young, strong, attractive, and a war hero. I can certainly see how that wouldn't seem appealing. Frankly, Sokka, the question should be why wouldn't someone want you."
Sokka ignored the little frisson of heat those words sent through him. "I don't care! I just want you to make them stop it!"
Let me see if I understand," Zuko said slowly. "You want me to use my power and position to make people stop hitting on you."
"Yes!"
Long silence and Sokka blew out an impatient breath. How difficult could this be?
"All right," Zuko said finally. Finally! "I'll see what I can do."
5. Sam/Bumblebee with a side order of Optimus
"You find Optimus's optical transmission attractive?"
It took Sam half a minute to even process that, and when he did, he almost swallowed his gum. "No! Why do you--"
Bumblebee paused long enough to glance at him. "Sam, I regulate your systems constantly. When you first saw Optimus this morning, your heart rate soared and your pheromone level increased exponentially." He propped his chin on his hand thoughtfully. "And according to your heart rate at the moment, you totally just lied to me."
Okay, of course he would have a boyfriend who also acted as a walking lie detector.
He let out a breath slowly. How to explain this one with Bumblebee sitting there all innocent, wide green eyes, waiting for his answer. It was possible that the standard 'humans are weird' ploy might work. "Look, it doesn't mean anything--"
"If you find him appealing, you should ask him to join us sometime." Calmly, like he was suggesting having a new paint job done over the weekend.
That time he did swallow his gum, gagging a little before he managed, "You...that is so not funny."
Bumblebee glanced back down to his book. "I wasn't trying to be funny. He may be interested. I don't believe Optimus has attempted to mate with any of the terrestrial entities on this planet."
Sam was fairly sure if Bumblebee kept talking, his eardrums were going to rupture. "Was that even English? The only other language I know is the Spanish I learned in school and that barely lets me find the bathroom."
Bumblebee actually set the book aside, lips pursed as he considered. "He hasn't gotten it on with any of the dudes around here so he might let you hit it," he translated.
C'mon, let me see a few of yours, just a snack? If you do, post it in the comments so I can see!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Sharing the love
Date: 2011-09-08 09:19 pm (UTC)1 g1 - Optimus/Bee
It took Optimus a moment to steel himself. With optics off he set his fear aside. He had been created to serve his people, to give them what they needed.
He pulled on every possible power in his procesor, engadged commanding subroutines, and some of his battlefield macros, vocalizer turned into lowest setting, strength to half...
Optimus leaned forward, hand once again taking Bee's face and making him stare into his own optics.
"Who am i?" simple question to start with.
"Optimus Prime."
"Yes, in here I'm your Prime, and you will remember it or be punished, is that understood?"
"Yes, my Prime"
2 g1 - Jazz/??
The mech had been waiting for him casualy propped on the doorframe.
“Missed me so much you couldn’t wait till tomorow?
“Your dirty mouth? ALWAYS.” Jazz didn’t wait for reply as he pushed the mech to the nearest wall and mashed their lip-plates together. “Can properly frag you now.”
“First you need me to submitt to you, Sir. Instead I’ll frag you” The mech snarled but the anger in his voice had the playfull note that always made Jazz growl.
He pushed his lover to the berth and not caring about his comfort gathered his wrist up his head and grinded their pelvic platings together both armors sparking.
“No chance, too long since i could Frag you. You mind?” Jazz Purred but the question even if sounding half seriously was a constant in any casual frag he could have indulged in.
“Not really.”
3 G1 - Optimus/everyone
Jazz looked up at the distraction. What he had seen made him reset his visor, twice...
//Prowler?//
//Yes, Jazz? Though I'd apreciate you not inter...//
//Shut up for once and look up from your precious data-pad.// After a really short pause he added //And try not to glitch too hard, please.//
Jazz noticed instantly when Prowl looked up from his documents because of the heavy smell of burned circuits...
Great...//Prowl?//
//I'm... I think I am fine... merely baffled// His voice was weak and staticky... but he was talking which was good... //unless it's a new type of glitch that makes me see naked Prime...//
//We have to tell him// “Prime, you...” Jazz groaned as Prowl elbowed him
//Don’t you dare... what if.... He’s PRIME!// Jazz rolled his optics... Prowl looked and sounded terrified of the idea that they could even mention it.
“...you should wear your... mask open more often.”
4 TFP - Ratchet/Optimus
Ratchet let his field free to flow and sing with every emotion he felt, his hands mapped Optimus’s frame. From the delicious neck cables that pinched made him arch with lips open and vocalizer glitching loudly. Or the strong red arms that quivered helplessly when he dug his fingers under their armor and caressed its underside. Or the hands that when kissed caused the whole body to squirm under him.
Oh how he enjoyed the young mech coming apart at his hands. The quiet, shy noises, the body so responsive to every caress, every flicker of field.
He leaned forward and kissed Optimus’ hip, the young Prime shying away from the touch, closing his legs instinctively.
Ratchet’s field flared with arousal, unbidden, so innocent, so deliciously pure.
5 TFP - Wheeljack, Bulkhead
They cut through the swarms of Cons. Bulkhead yelling and Wheeljack silent in his dance of destruction. Bulkhead couldn’t help but watch when he caught sight of a high jump with ‘Jack. landing on some ‘Con's face.
The Eradicons swarmed around, but one spin with his sword outstretched prooved to be enough for the other fighter.
Bulkhead pushed forward, blaster heated with constant firing. There it was, the armory drone, ‘Cons were coming back to it constantly.
“I can see it!”
“Good, try to look for ours!” Wheeljack cut one of the holo’s head with precise movement.
Bulkhead slowed down his movements, still fighting, killing off the ‘Cons, but slower, deliberately looking for someone beside the Eradicons.
“Can't see him.”
“Hope we didn't kill him already, let me... Slagging con...” Well pointed shot to the head got rid of another ‘Con that attacked Wheeljack.
ETA: Posted one fragment twice :D
Re: Sharing the love
Date: 2011-09-08 09:32 pm (UTC)Oooooh, love! Particularly #4, I have a bit of a kink for a nice, innocent first time and a huuuge kink for the innocent one to be Optimus.
I don't think I need to say much about my delight that it's Ratchet with him. ;)
I hope to see a complete version of that one sometime. Happiness!
Re: Sharing the love
Date: 2011-09-09 02:54 am (UTC)Re: Sharing the love
Date: 2011-09-09 03:32 am (UTC)Re: Sharing the love
Date: 2011-09-09 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:36 pm (UTC)"Glory to the empire," The jet said. First Aid smiled, delighted.
"Yes, just like that," He replied. "How do you feel? Happy? I hope you feel happy. I re-wrote that section of code twelve times."
The Decepticon- former Decepticon- twisted his head. "Optimus Prime is our leader." He said.
"Yes, but are you happy about that?" First Aid persisted. "I want you to be happy. I'm happy." He laughed brightly.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:59 pm (UTC)It was a shame, really, that everyone couldn't all get along. But the Prime's forces had captured all but the most recalcitrant of the rebellious Decepticons, and with re-education and reprogramming, even they would be able to be productive citizens of the Autobot Empire.
The flier in front of him had been one of those, First Aid mused. Recalcitrant, that is. It'd taken all of his brothers to manhandle the jet onto the operating berth and jam the sedative datacard into one of his ports. But First Aid could fix all that.
"Don't worry," He patted the wing nearest him. "When you online again, you'll be much, much happier."
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:42 pm (UTC)These are almost all gift-fics, by the way, so this is a super sneak preview. Shhhh.
1. Celena/Gaddes (Escaflowne)
just after discussing Celena's propensity of lying to conceal; Gaddes teaches her a shell-flip (shell game)
"May I try?" She went around to the other side of the table. Gaddes rolled the marble under a glass.
They bent their heads together, Gaddes moving her hands just so, and Celena keeping the rhythm steady. Light caught on the glasses as they spun around the table. A few low laughs, and a few dropped marbles, and Celena began to learn the feel of it, the simple glide of deception.
"Alright, now here's the tricky part," said Gaddes softly. "Look up at me. No, don't stop. Keep on turning 'em."
She raised her eyes, and met his steady gaze. A small smile touched his lips.
Gaddes murmured, "The flip's about distraction. So if you're the one movin' the marble around, you can't get distracted. By anything."
Celena could feel a warm flush over her face. Nevertheless she kept her hands moving.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
"You gotta keep the mark occupied," Gaddes said. "Now, start talkin'."
"About what?" said Celena.
Gaddes's smile widened. "Tell me what you learned today."
"You're awful," Celena whispered. But her hands moved as though they had a mind of their own, and she stared into his eyes and answered.
2. Jet/Faye (Cowboy Bebop)
The hallway rotates, throwing their faces into illumination every few seconds. She's so wet it's almost embarrassing; but she's got to admit Jet knows what he's doing. Not one piece of clothing off and–
No clothes coming off? What's the hold up? What's taking so long? And then it dawns on her that Jet is holding back, like he's really this bull in a highbrow pawn shop and that's just a sausage in his pants. If her hands weren't pinned, she'd slap her forehead.
He pulls away just that much, and says with an effort, "If you wanna say no, you'd better–"
Faye finally wriggles free and slaps him on the shoulder.
"Of course I do, you idiot! Oh... fuck–"
3. Pirates of the Caribbean
She is securing the rigging as the cockeyed lights of Tortuga fall away. She pulls tight. Her tunic smells of dry powder and rum. Though her throat goes dry, she knows the course ahead is preferable to birthing a child in a pig sty.
Romantic as that sounds.
Oh, the sway of the sea can lull a heart to its song, that she knows. But with Calypso's whims unleashed on wind and tide, their precious treasure will not be safe on the open ocean.
Nor will their child.
Later, she thinks: a moment of weakness is inevitable. The chest is cradled under her arm, becoming warm at her side. She imagines the flutter of hearts, sounding so close together and yet so far. The sea rocks her hammock, and she falls asleep, wrapped in dreams.
4. Neopets
The voice continued to rumble, like thunder. "Begone, commoner! Your aid is no longer required. I will deliver him to the ground."
Instinctively Hanso grabbed for a handhold, and got a fistful of mane. "Not too quickly to the ground, I hope."
"Well, Thief Hanso. That Eyrie thinks you're a knight."
Mane. That meant... Uni. He looked normal, but the blue coat seemed to waver, and that scent was unforgettable. "Nightsteed?"
"I am not painted Halloween, if that is what you are implying." So that was the smell: the faint ash-choked mist of a very, very old curse.
5. multiples, Iron Man
"Tony. You did check her qualifications?"
"–and you know what they say about a booty that don't stop, of course, of course I memorized her qualifications. Extensively." There's a pause, and Pepper knows he's opening his arms, disarming, every bit a cad except for that tell-tale softening around his mouth. "She is good. Really, really good. It's been, what, six months, and I don't know how I ever–"
Pepper has a fresh drink, the actual development estimates, and her composure. "Eleven months," she corrects. Her heels click across the floor.
"–without her. Yes. That long? That short? Fuselage modifications, yeah, gonna be July. I'd do it in my garage but we'd never get it out, oh, Pepper, make a note that we need a retractable roof."
no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 02:10 am (UTC)"Kirk. Jenna is looking forward to interviewing you."
Kirk squinted a little and said cautiously, "Jenna?"
"The show host."
Kirk squirmed in his chair a little. "That wouldn't be Jenna Lane, by any chance?"
"Yes. I take it you've heard of her?"
Uhura snorted, then quickly turned it into a delicate cough.
Kirk ignored her shenanigans in favor of glaring at the Admiral.
"Something of the sort," he snapped. "Listen, that bitch- 'scuse me, that chick is as nutty as a fruitcake."
Komack raised his eyebrows again. "Not if it's my Great Aunt Mildred's fruitcake. No nuts in that cake."
"I'm sorry sir, but I hold my standards to Doctor McCoy's Great Grandmother Hattie's fruitcake, and I have to say her fruitcake has more nuts than even I know what to do with."
Komack blinked. Kirk blinked back, realized what he'd just said, and jumped back to the topic at hand.
2. K/S, more or less; drabble, nothing else to this, seems kinda complete as is:
"You suck."
"Excuse me?"
"I hate you."
"That is a lie."
"You-"
"Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of explaining the cause of your ire instead of insulting me."
"Fine. How come we can both run the same fucking obstacle course and you end up looking like you did when you started while I look like I just got my ass wiped by a pack of Klingons?"
"Because you did?"
"I did not!"
"How would you describe what they did?"
"I- that- they- you suck!"
(part 2 - LJ length fail!)
Date: 2011-09-09 02:11 am (UTC)Kirk tumbled hard against the row of filing cabinets, instant headache, backache, buttache, and probably lots more tomorrow, but dragged himself to his feet. By the time he could get his eyes to focus, Uhura had the shotgun leveled at Nero, who was still rolling around on the floor and clutching his crotch. Kirk jerked at the light touch on his arm before his brain processed that as long as Nero was in front of him, the touch was most likely safe. He leaned against the wall and eyed Chekov.
"Don't sneak up on me like that. I don't wanna hurt you."
Chekov nodded, eyes wide but unafraid. "I von't, Mr. Kirk."
"Pavel. Call me Jim."
"Yes, sir. I vill do zhat."
Kirk waved a dismissing hand at the kid, knowing it was a losing battle.
There was the noise of another hovercar pulling up; Gaila. "Oh, no," Kirk groaned. He straightened and pushed off the wall and got a little dizzy. And nauseous. He grabbed the desk and lowered his butt to the edge. "Chekov, take the gun. Uhura, stop Gaila. And Chekov, don't you dare let Gaila have the gun if she makes it this far."
Chekov nodded, and Uhura ran for the door, tossing the shotgun to Chekov as she ran. They could already hear Gaila shouting in Orion as she slammed her door and stomped up the four steps. Uhura met her at the open doorway and responded in kind and like that they were heading back outside.
Kirk transferred his attention back to Nero, whose groans had mutated into a low mutter that was no doubt heaping curses on every one of their heads plus the next twenty generations of their offspring. "Nero. Shut up."
"Fuck you, human."
"You wish. Get out of my trailer. And if you ever come back here again, I will chop your worthless ass into little bits and mix you into my foundation concrete, you got it?"
Nero muttered some more and groaned his way to his feet. Holding the gun with amazingly steady hands, Chekov moved until he was standing between Kirk's legs, his back flush against Kirk's chest, his aim following Nero. Kirk watched Nero closely as he walked out, then lowered his forehead to Chekov's shoulder and hissed out a pained breath.
Outside, Nero's howl of outrage had him lifting his head again, too fast. "Oops," he muttered, and tilted backwards onto the desk.
***
Spock turned the hovercar onto the dirt road that lead to the job trailer, barely avoiding the wrecked black hovercar that nearly plowed into them head on before swerving at the last minute.
Pike turned in the passenger seat, looking out the back window. "Was that Nero?"
"Yes."
Pike turned back around. "Shit. What do you think Gaila used to put that much damage on his car?"
"I would presume she used her ankle knife to create the scratches along the sides, and a sledgehammer for the remainder of the damage."
"Well, if he's still alive then no one's seriously hurt. Still, wouldn't hurt to step on it."
"Yes, sir."
Spock dialed up the speed and they traversed the 1.4 miles to the job trailer in under a minute.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 03:23 am (UTC)3 - Flaily Clark is fun. ;D
4 - ROFFLE! Oh, Sokka.
5 - Freaking Sam out is So Much Fun!!!
1 - G1
“Aha! Thought I’d find you still in here, Tracks.”
“It was a long race,” Tracks said. “A long soak feels good. How are Wheeljack and the others?”
“Ratchet’s still pounding the dents out, but he says they’ll be fine in a few days.” Bumblebee waded into the hot oil until he was up to his neck. It felt wonderful.
“I’m glad.”
They soaked in companionable silence for a while, both of them fending off recharge. Something niggled at Bee’s processor, though.
“Why do you pretend to be so vain and shallow?”
“What makes you think I’m pretending?” Tracks asked amiably, his denta very white in his dark face. “There are few things more important than personal hygiene.”
“I believed that act at first.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Till I got to know you better. You’re smart, and you really care about people, not just about what they think of your finish.” Speaking of, Bee could see a grubby spot on Tracks’ helm. He waded over and cupping oil in his hand, rubbed it away. Tracks rolled toward him abruptly and put his arms around him, holding Bee tight against his chest plates.
"You scared me half to deactivation,” Tracks whispered. “My laser core flickered while you were falling."
"Good thing those cedars were there," Bee laughed, returning the hug. Tracks, Bee knew, was much lighter built than he looked; he would have been badly damaged by that same fall. "You're warm." For a moment Bee worried that something was wrong with Tracks, that he’d been damaged in the battle with Devastator and hadn’t told Ratchet. He tilted his head up to meet Tracks’ optics. Tracks moved his head down, his lip components almost touching Bee’s.
Oh. He was that kind of warm. Bee grinned.
2 - Bayverse
Now! cried Vector Prime, appearing suddenly behind Jazz and Prowl, curling his arms around their waists and drawing them tight against his body. By your love we forge the impossible! All three opened their chests – spark chambers, optics, mouths open wide and Prowl sang a vast chord across the gamma frequencies of love and the door held open for just long enough for a last, unshakeable link to snap into place between them and the twins beyond. The gate closed with a silent shock everyone felt.
“It’s still there,” Cerebros said. “I can still feel it, the Allspark!”
Everyone turned to Vector Prime, who held the slack bodies of Jazz and Prowl, their helms resting on his shoulders beneath his chin, his engines purring, labored, vapor wisping from all three of their now-closed chests, but sated, satisfied; and as Vector looked up at the assembled robots he beamed with such love the shock of the closing gate was erased.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 03:24 am (UTC)De Chazal picked up a liqueur glass, swirling it idly. “What’s his name?”
23 closed his eyes. Might as well dive in. “Michael.” He picked up his wineglass again. “He’s… I… I mean, 6 taught me, when we were young. We were all made to go both ways, I just thought it was natural. But I’ve always dated women. I never thought about it, not since the Cataclysm and the Youth Drug… And then Michael… I remembered, and he seemed to need something… No, to be honest, I was just cold that night and he… didn’t protest. I didn’t mean for it to continue. Well, I mean, we could both use the release, you know, just blowing off steam – the job’s kind of stressful sometimes, out in the Wasteland, with Recs shooting at us half the time…”
“You’re both in one of the HL units, then?”
“Yes. HL-1.”
“Ah. Is it a matter of officer versus enlisted?”
“No, he’s a Lieutenant. But…I’m a Lieutenant Colonel. My god, I never thought of that. What if he’s just…obeying orders…?”
“Probably not, if that issue has never occurred to you. You are friends, too, yes? I understand the camaraderie among the HL units exists regardless of rank.”
“That’s true, but…”
“Are you disturbed to find yourself attracted to a man after so long taking only female company?”
“It’s not just that.” 23 fidgeted with his wine glass and nearly dropped it. This was the part that might strain even de Chazal’s famous tolerance. “He’s half-Recessive.”
De Chazal’s arch eyebrows rose only slightly. “Ah, the very tall, blond young man with the interesting face? I’ve seen him. Magnificent. Insanely sexy.” He sipped his liqueur and smiled, catlike.
23’s jaw dropped.
“You’re blushing, my boy; how charming. Ah, forbidden love – makes me feel young again.”
“You… I…” No way am I telling him about Michael’s body temperature. “Eurgh…No, I’m…I mean, the point is, if we’re found out, if we…continue, for me it just means the end of my career, probably. But for him…I don’t know what they’ll do to him.”
4 - Thundercats
We stripped each other of armor and cloth. Baring his teeth, he was strong enough to undo my belt. His coat was old-clan vivid, starkly countershaded, his belly and face white, white, meeting the fire orange and soot-black stripes in neat lines I tracked with my hands. I'd noticed at every stream and river fording he ducked down, immersing himself deep and in no hurry to shake off the wet coming out. His mother's son.
I knelt and took my prince onto my lap; his fur yet soft, but the body beneath it hard, war-made. Flame-in-the-night, I'd called his mother - Claudus had been a generous friend and king, and he liked to watch. "Flame-in-the-night," I called Tygra, into the velvety fur of his throat. Hot, slick, our stalks stirred between us, rising from their sheaths, nodes coming up on his already. Our mouths coupled, tongues as hot and wet as the parts of us below. His hips moved restless, needy so I held like a rock for him, my arms enough for his back, his smaller hand between us, keeping our stalks together as he moved; and all right, old cat, I admitted to myself, it's been a long time. He was a cocky youngster, his own scent full in his nostrils, but he was fine and lithe in my arms, against my chest and belly and thighs.
I turned him, set him on his knees. His eyes flashed once; the girls in the scratch houses wouldn't have done this, not with him. There was enough fluid in my sheath to make the passage smooth and easy. Neither of us made a sound, though I clenched my teeth to hold back a moan. His mouth opened wide but no roar came, only hinted at in the lines of his jaw and throat, a tremor running through his body, becoming a purr as I seated myself properly and began to move. His purr was bigger than his body; I felt it root and marrow, commanding my own purr from my chest. His father's son.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 03:24 am (UTC)Cold worked its way between every line of him, every bit, making every process and subprocess run faster. He felt the change in energy state, felt the wavelength of his circuits run pale. He waited to derezz, waited for the Sea of Simulation to unmake him, to do with him as it did to everything that fell into it. To sublime him as quantum foam on its surface.
He fell a long time in the cold and dark. No one knew what happened this deep, maybe not even Flynn. The pressure forced the pain of reversion/revision into a hard, bright core in his center. He couldn’t move, lost consciousness of everything but the pain. He fell for so long he forgot he had ever been in a state other than falling.
The bottom was rippled with possibility silt. Except for the pain, everything was dark and heavy. This static half-consciousness was as much as he deserved. Megacycles might pass and he would lie here, unable to derezz, unable to rise, unable to scream as the pain intensified.
Light came in a gradual way, like the dawn he had heard described but had never seen. Small things around him glowed. Larger things above him swayed as if dancing to a very slow music he couldn’t hear. He felt different, but could neither qualify the difference nor remember what pervious condition he was comparing his current state to. I am a new thing, he thought. A new…program.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 05:51 pm (UTC)DeathraceEuropa 2000, the pairing struck me as quite interesting. Particularly the notion that there's more to Tracks than he lets on, really. ;Dno subject
Date: 2011-09-09 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 07:31 am (UTC)And the Tracks/Bee is looking to be part of my first foray into sticky! 8D
If only I wrote faster aaaaaaaaa! XD
So much length fail...
Date: 2011-09-09 07:08 am (UTC)but here is what my writing partner and I have been working on. Mostly bits an pieces of the chapters I'm working on. I rarely write things in order.
1. Jazz/Prowl
“Shhhh....” Jazz admonished, glaring at the rest of the occupants in the room. “I’m not here. Don’t tell Prowl I’m here.” Jazz felt exhausted in truth. He had been running for three human hours. When he got a hold of whoever spiked the energon he was going to string them up. He didn’t know why anyone would think it would be funny to spike the energon supply with high-grade. Jazz didn’t find it funny at all. Prowler certainly didn’t need to drink High-grade. There was a reason he had only had it twice in all the vorns he and Jazz had been together, after all. Each time he had he ended up sparking.
Ratchet frowned, finding Jazz’s behavior more than a little peculiar. Although, it became all too clear when Prowl came into the room. He had known enough Praxians in his time to know that look. Prowl was stalking. No, sauntering would be a better word. His pedes were hitting the floor in a deliberately provocative way that Ratchet had seen in human females during that television show that Sam had had on not that long ago. Victoria Secret’s Angel Collection, if his processor was recalling it correctly. Pede to the floor, deliberate hip sway. Opposite pede to the floor, opposite deliberate hip sway. Prowl’s optics swept the room, a coy smirk on his lips. There was quite a bit of power in that much sensuality and Ratchet felt nothing but bad for the mech who found themselves on the receiving end.
He took a step back, “Hide, William, please...step away from the television. It would be safer over here.”
Will frowned, not liking Ratchet’s tone, but he obeyed after a moment’s thought, easing away from Jazz’s hiding place.
“Oh, Jazz, darling. I know you are in here. Come out, come out where-ever you are.” Prowl said in a sing-song tone.
Jazz shivered at the sound of Prowl’s voice, his fans kicking on high.
“Found you.” Prowl suddenly growled, his voice losing all its playfulness.
2. Optimus/Ratchet. Sunstreaker.
“You should calm down,” Optimus said, “I do not think becoming upset will help you with matters.”
“Can’t you just sedated them?” Sunstreaker asked in a pleading tone. “Or throw them both in the brig and let them ‘face each other until they come out of this?”
“I thought you said you wanted a sparkling,” Ratchet sneered. He’d had an audial full from both Prowl and Jazz about “keeping those slagging twins in check” because their precious Bluestreak wasn’t old enough for sparklings. A little bit funny to hear, all things considered, and it had taken his considerable self control not to point that out..
“Face. Face. Face.” Ariella giggled, quite pleased with herself.
“Oh look, she learned a new word,” Optimus muttered darkly. “Thank you, Sunstreaker.”
“I did. But not like this.” Sunny looked up as someone began to pound on the door. The first set of fists was joined by a second. And, judging by the sounds, a few kicks were being thrown in for good measure.
His back was to Ratchet and suddenly he felt a prick in one of the lines in his neck, and then it burned for a moment. “Sedatives it is.”
“I didn’t mean me,” Sunny mumbled as Ratchet propelled him through the door, opening it only long enough to push Sunstreaker outside and into the waiting arms of his mates.
“Thank you, ‘genitor.”
“Yes, our sincere thanks, Ratchet.”
“You’re welcome, boys. Have fun and stay clear of Jazz and Prowl. Praxians in heat tend to be territorial and react badly to other heated Praxians.” The door shut with a click and Ratchet looked clearly amused.
“Ratchet.” Optimus began.
“What? You said all sparks were precious, didn’t you? We are a dying race, we all need to have sparks? Didn’t you say that?” Ratchet was the picture of owl eyed innocence.
Re: So much length fail. And Sign-in fail as well. :3
Date: 2011-09-09 02:09 pm (UTC)“Out of the question.” Optimus rumbled.
Megatron’s optics narrowed dangerously as he watched the two traitorous seekers bristle and move to stand in front of their trine leader, blocking him from view. After a moment Bumblebee stood in front of the seekers, crouching in a protective stance and bristling himself. He reached back to touch Starscream for a moment, a reassuring gesture that was not at all lost on Megatron, and then turn back to his uncle. He stared up at him for a few kliks, the control room silent except for the sounds of Prowl and Jazz still crashing around, and then made a very rude human gesture with his right fist.
4. Jazz/Prowl
The apartment was small as those things go. One berth to share between them. They had indulged in a decent sized one at least. Jazz informed him the place was a small little dump and he didn’t know how Prowl had talked him into it. Prowl only chuckled, it was close to the war academy and the art district so the twins would be close at hand. Did they really need more? Jazz pointed out they could have better. He wasn’t rich but he had more than enough credits for that in his trust. Prowl had always wondered how Jazz had been able to afford the buy the little presents he often found in his rooms. Presents and the upgrades Jazz had helped him procure. He had come to learn that none of it had been cheap as credits went. Jazz had just shrugged, his family was not amazingly wealthy, but they did very well. That had been the end of their credit discussions, Jazz preferring not to talk of such things as long as all the bills were getting paid.
5. Alexis/Skywarp...oddly enough.
“Are you in the army?” She finally asked, clearly dazed, her fingers wound in the chain.
“You could say that.”
He kissed her again, smiling. “Alexis, what else do they call you?”
She gave him a puzzled look, “Oh, you mean my last name.” He laughed, “Black, actually, Alexis Black.”
His lips curled into an amused smile, “Oh, that is perfect.”
Her brows rose, “It is? I always thought it a bit...dull.”
Re: So much length fail. And Sign-in fail as well. :3
Date: 2011-09-09 02:16 pm (UTC)Re: So much length fail. And Sign-in fail as well. :3
Date: 2011-09-09 02:34 pm (UTC)Re: So much length fail. And Sign-in fail as well. :3
Date: 2011-09-09 03:58 pm (UTC)Re: So much length fail. And Sign-in fail as well. :3
Date: 2011-09-09 04:21 pm (UTC)On an entirely different note. I totally adore Ratchet.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 06:43 pm (UTC)...is original work okay too? Or really unusual pairings? In that case, I do have stuff to post, but otherwise, aah...
*blushes some more*
no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 03:30 pm (UTC)”Stop squirming!”
A low hiss follows the sharp voice, and Starscream nods in the dark, wings perked high and proud. The hunter obeys, which is much to the Air Commander’s likings, and remains still even as a sharp claw caresses the opening of the silvery cannon mounted against his helm.
In the dark, where no mech can see him, the hunter shudders and moans, a deep rumble in his chest.
”...you like my canon, don’t ya?”, he accuses his mate, having a hard time sitting still. He feels every little touch and as the ’Con continues his teasing, the bounty hunter feels his self control slip. The Seeker sneers, optics hungry, heated, and makes himself at home on his lap, very much like a king on his thrown.
”I like to torment you”, the Seeker replies with a cruel smile and Devcon bites back an oath as the claw reaches deeper. ”Don’t you dare to numb your sensors”, he adds and moves closer, a predatory grin in place.
2. RP-verse. Universe!Devcon/TFA Starscream
A brightly burning nova against the freezing void; when we meet in the middle, we rip the tissue of the verse, shredding it along with any unwritten law there ever was.
Starscream is having fun, weaving loops around several towers, playing a risky game of tag with spaceships taking off, as I amuse myself with a hundred different calculations on how to bring him down. He lowers himself a bit more and makes yet another crazy dive, this time moving over to the clottered area behind the port. He slows down and starts scanning the place - that’s when he suddenly stills and I recognize the change in him; the Seeker has found something to play with. Primus have mercy on it’s spark.
I move with him, still winged since I might have to make a jump to if he suddenly decides to stalk the sky again. Not a beat later, he transforms to rootmode and hovers, helm tilted, arms in position. Brigtly coloured frame poised, the very picture of crown-prince demanding the world to bow before him; something has caught his interest and he’ll have it now, thank you very much.
Oh, but I love him, and so does my hunter programming.
And, there he sets out to take what he wants, moving like a sleek cat, balancing on ship-wrecks and spare parts. All perfect lines and swift, sharp optics. He cut through the debris just as easily as he bedazzles the inhabitants of the spaceport.
3. Crisis Core/FFVII
"Oh, great! So, does that include this insane exploration the local cuisine, too? I mean – why all this food, Sephiroth? Man, this would feed a squadron… And, do you even eat this stuff? It’s all sugar!", he added with a faint sigh.
"So, I’ve noticed", the First Class grumbled as he ate the only fruit available. Zack yawned again, irritated over the lack of sleep as well as the fact that neither of them were hung up on sweetened food. He needed more coffee and some real food. Another yawn escaped him.
"Well, why didn’t you wake Cloud instead of me?", he suddenly demanded. "I mean, just look at this! You are clearly lost and are in need his sensible expertise in the field, don’t you think? Why not let him show you what is edible instead of changing your diet to fruits-only? I’ve heard that he likes all things sweet anyway, so he could probably teach you a few things about your taste-buds", he added with a sour tone.
He probably deserved the intimidating glare Sephiroth shot at him. Too bad he’d lost his sensibilities regarding that along with his sleep. Instead of running for his life (which any god-fearing, sensible human would have done by then) he returned the look with gusto as he sipped the now, cold coffee.
"It never occured to me that I under any circumstances, would be in need of his… expertise", the General said after a while, the words somewhat strangled and hurried, as if there was something about them that made the SOLDIER uncomfortable. A tiny grape found it’s way to Sephiroth’s mouth, shutting it up before it gave away something else.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 03:47 pm (UTC)Zack run as if Hell was chasing him.
In a way, he mused, it actually was. Or, perhaps he was the one running after it. Either way, he needed to find Sephiroth before anyone else did.
Fleeing...
Sephiroth was fleeing; his delicate features a scarred landscape filled of fright, his breath caught in his chest, his hands curled fists, his hair flowing behind him as he ran faster than a normal human could follow with an un-enhanced sight. His heart was beating hard, it hurt, but he couldn’t stop.
He needed to know, to understand.
Zack Fair watched his superior with with calculating eyes as the sun set behind them, deeply in the Nibel Mt. The Hero of Wutai has shivering, his skin white as plaster and unhealthy chalky. What made Zack uncomfortable, though, was the vacant stare the older mans eyes held.
”Sephiroth…? Hey, Seph - where are you going?”
The General showed no indication of hearing his question, so the SOLDIER simply nudged his friend in the side and took a step to the right, barely escaping the First’s sword. At his shout, Sephiroth shuddered and gave him a glance from beneath the vail of silver that hidd his delicate features.
”Hey”, he tried again. ”Seph… you don’t have to listen to feather-boy, you do know that, don’t you? Come on, talk to me, buddy. We can’t have you falling apart.”
”Zack? Would you call me a monster?”
5. Original work
The street is empty save for the dirty, yellow car in the middle of it. It’s broken, must have been crashed into another car, but as with most places that at some point have been squatted, the rest of the street is cleared. Nothing can hide in the open.
Spreading before her is a lane, seemingly safe. The street before the young woman is empty save for a car, smashed into a house. The windows of what once was a home are dark, crushed and stained. Here and there, the glass is still intact and the darkness beyond, eeire and hungry.
The woman doesn’t stop to wonder if the deep shadows are hiding the enemy or perhaps is squatted by equally aggressive allies. Both however, might mean wounds that will get infected. Such a thing would slow her down, possibly kill her.
She keeps running, since one can’t hide in plain view. For now, the only thing she can do, is to keep moving, hurrying across a dead lawn. Nothing moves as she runs over the remains of scattered humans. White bones, clad with rotting cloths, gleam in the bleak, afternoon sun.
After a while she stops running, not quite breathless but wary. There’s a broken fence five metres away and after a peak over it, she climbs over to the other side and crouches, waiting for the obligatory ten heartbeats.
Stillness, deep and soothing, only broken by the sound of a river is all she can hear. She nods to herself and drinks from her bottle, carefully cleaning it and putting it back, straddling it to her waist.
Nothing moves as she jogs between buildings and empty houses. The trick is to run and never slow down. She learned it the hard way, losing loved ones and allies to the enemy. Yet, she loves it. Moving, running, flying across the streets makes her feel alive.
As she puts distance between herself and those broken winders, she tries to remember the name of her current haunt. It once was a wealthy town, yet there’s nothing beyond dead cars and equally dead humans… and the enemy.
The world, as her parents knew it is dead. And, humanity along with it. Those bands of humans still alive are almosts as dangerous as the enemy. They gang upon the weaker, use them as bait. Sometimes as food. She has never stopped long enough for either to catch her, but today she’ll say her prayers and hope that what ever gods is out there, will listen.
It’s time to find food again
no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 06:33 am (UTC)I'm also a sucker for bandwagons/memes like these *baaaaa*
--
1. G1 AU - Optimus/Starscream
"Open your chest," he all but ordered me. Nervousness crept its way back into my systems, but I reluctantly did as I was told. I was not so cowardly as to back down now just because I was nervous. I wasn't some skittish femme afraid of trying anything new.
At my silent command, my cockpit split vertically down the middle and slid open with little protest from the rarely used gears. Opening it that way instead of its usual upward sway from my nosecone was the best way to get that deeply inside my systems; all of the annoying instruments and other cosmetic innards of my alt mode were moved aside as well to hide in specially made cavities in my chassis. The left side didn't have the room it used to, so part of it ended up jutting out of my torn side, but I ignored that and instead, at his prompting, proceeded to take down all of my other defenses.
With each panel I moved aside, I grew more and more nervous, feeling bare in a way I had not felt since a time before I had acquired my very first alt mode. Thick, armored plates and clamps parted or moved at my command. After the fourth, I knew I was completely exposed. I couldn't see it myself, but I knew my spark chamber was bare now - I could feel the stagnant air of the cavern touch it, and I didn't like it one micron. The protective plates spasmed as I debated closing them again and just forgetting this whole idea.
"Just relax." His voice was little more than a murmur as he tried to calm me, and his left hand resumed tracing up and down my back while his right moved around from my back and trailed down from my shoulder and along the edge of my retracted cockpit.
2. G1-ish AU - Jazz and Orion Pax, pretty much gen
Jazz lifted his head when he heard approaching steps and frowned upon seeing one of the other investigators approaching, a glowing set of cuffs in hand to take Orion to the station. There was no sense in arguing - Jazz only worked as an investigator part-time and only held the rank he did because of his performance record during the war. He could get the full story out of Orion at the station.
The soft voice of the mech sitting next to him jarred him, and Jazz quickly turned his attention back to Orion who had not looked up from his hands. He started to ask Orion to repeat himself when the weak, shocky voice filled his audios again.
"I didn't do it."
Frowning, Jazz gently rested his claws on Orion's shoulder as he replied, "I know 'ya didn't. And I'm gonna find out who did."
3. G1 - Complete and total gen crack
Thundercracker stopped every few trees and lifted his snout high into the air to let the wind carry their surroundings' scents to him in the hopes that it would tell him of the location of their other comrades the way it had led him and Skywarp to the Constructicons and Reflector, and after nearly two breems of weaving in and out of the trees, he was rewarded with a scent he did not recognize yet still seemed familiar, and following it led them to a small clearing just large enough for Long Haul to fit without scraping his massive antlers against the trees.
In the center of the clearing lay a black stag like Skywarp, but his uniform black was broken by blaze of white on his throat, and his white antlers bore eight points each to Skywarp's six and Thundercracker's own seven, and that alone was enough to tell Thundercracker that he was in the presence of one higher ranking than himself. Under the black stag's watchful gaze were two fawns smaller than Reflector head butting one another, one a deep, rust red and the other ashen grey. Tucked against the stag's side was a black bobcat, and perched on his antlers were two ravens and a sleeping bat hiding in its own wings.
There was no need to identify Soundwave.
--
Darn you, character limit!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 06:34 am (UTC)Earth was an amazing place.
Whistles and chirps and other lilting notes filled the air with a symphony unlike anything ever heard on Cybertron. It was halting and random with little rhythm and seemed to come from all directions at once with varying pitch and intensity, but somehow, it still sounded...musical.
Frenzy found himself trying to imitate the noises, listening intently to the different trills and whistles and working his vocal processor to copy them. There were so many different kinds of noises - trills, chirps, whistles, and cries - at so many different pitches, registers, and rhythms and coming from so many different directions, it quickly became too difficult to focus on all of them, so Frenzy picked out one and concentrated on it, noting the melody. It took a few tries, but he managed to discern the rhythm and soon imitated the sound almost perfectly with his vocal processor.
It had been far, far too long since he last heard music, much less made it, and while the noises were not true music in the sense he was accustomed to, it was close enough to relax his weary processors and make him forget entirely that he was supposed to be surveying and patrolling the ground while Laserbeak and Buzzsaw scouted the air.
5. Pre-war G1 - Would be Hound-focused if I can get back on it
The walls shook slightly with the steady theme of music. It rumbled throbbed through the walls, across the floor, and into each mech who sat or stood throughout the building. The vibration caused ripples in the many cubes of energon scattered among the crowd whether it was held, resting on a table, counter, or arm of a chair, or if it was simply discarded on the floor. Some mostly empty, discarded cubes had been turned over either by the vibration of music or by the careless feet of oblivious mechs, and they left behind small, rippling puddles on the floor to be trodden and splashed by each mech who walked through them.
There were few tables or seating areas, and those which did line the walls were mostly unused. The main reason anyone came to here was for the music. The musicians were rarely repeated for more than a few orns at a time, and the music they provided was always upbeat to send a charge through every mech's wiring. Many patrons found themselves moving of their own volition, hips swaying to the music, feet following the beat. It was not unusual for a solitary mech to find himself with an unanticipated partner, nor was it unusual for a mech to find himself pulled from his seat at a table by a stranger who did not want to dance alone.
Near the back, just to the right of the stage, the bar stayed busy with constant orders for different grades of energon from the lowest grade still approved for consumption - nearly black in color but known for its thick texture and spicy taste - to the m ost expensive, highest quality - borderline white and refreshingly cool. Few patrons stayed near the bar once they had their refreshments, returning only once they had either consumed their purchase or lost it somewhere in the constantly shifting throng of mechs.
--
*zips back to her corner*
no subject
Date: 2011-09-11 05:24 am (UTC)Let's see...
1. Ironhide/Optimus/Ratchet OT3
Ironhide huffed a low rumble of laughter. "Sounds like someone's ready for the next round," he drawled, fingers dipping underneath Optimus' exoplates to slide across the sensor net and deeper, brushing the endomass beneath.
Optimus' voice was still static heavy, crackling. "I -- ah!" The deep tone sank impossibly lower into a growl before spiraling up again as Ratchet slid his fingers back home into the other mech's soaked valve, steady strokes activating sensor nodes with an expert touch. Shaking, Prime pushed into the touch, his field swelling hot with incipient charge. ::Please...:: The word was ragged, even over the com, underscored with desperation and saturated through with layer upon layer of frantic need. ::Pleasepleaseplease...::
"Pit," Ironhide breathed heavily, biting back a groan. "I was joking."
2. Ratchet with a side of Optimus
Overload came in a weak, bitter swell that left his sensors aching with a dull discontent but his systems didn’t care and Ratchet gasped, choking on static through the surge. It was only a belated nanoklik later that he realized the external sound hadn’t been his own and had been coupled with the hiss of the door. It was a particular type of self loathing masochism that prompted him to raise his head and meet the startled optics of their Prime where the larger mech stood, frozen, in the open door of the medbay.
Neither of them did anything for a beat until Ratchet straightened with a sharp, angry ventilation and reached for a rag to wipe the lubricant from his fingers. Prime’s optics followed the movement with a sort of horrified fascination that made Ratchet scowl. “That,” he announced, “was exactly what it looked like, so you can stop gaping like a stunned glitchmouse and let the slagging door close.”
3. Unquiet officer meetings on the Ark
Jazz shrugged. "There's a lot of worry about Ratchet. Wonderin' what's gonna happen in Medbay if he's down."
"It's a valid concern," Red Alert sighed, flicking a data pad on to scroll through it. "We're going to have to pull from the Science division to supplement the medical staff and Hoist is going to need to be promoted to Chief Medical Officer..."
Ironhide's fist met the tabletop with a harsh, plate vibrating clang. "Acting," he ground out, meeting Red Alert's startled optics with his own glare. "Ah'm pretty sure you meant acting CMO, Red, 'less you're already votin' to strip a mech in crisis of his rank and stasis lock 'im..."
Red Alert's back struts went stiff, the Security Director's mouth pressed thin in irritation. "That remains to be seen. I only meant..."
“’Remains ta be seen’ my aft!” Ironhide snarled.
(stupid comment limits...)
no subject
Date: 2011-09-11 05:28 am (UTC)It hadn't, Drift had sighed to himself at the time, been one of his finer moments, but there were far worse things than being unexpectedly grabbed by a mass of prehensile organic tendrils and dangled upside down until he could jerk his sword free and hack himself loose. The only thing that had really suffered had been his dignity, and the laughter of the others was surprisingly comfortable, a joke shared in the re-telling with nothing of the sharp barbs that the Decepticon humor he was used to had had.
The fact that they had soundly trounced a 'Con offensive on the third moon of the Omicron system's lone gas giant the cycle after had raised everyone's spirits considerably, and the good mood had lasted nearly a decacycle. No one had thought to connect the two events.
No one thought about it the second time, either, with the tentacled trees of Pyrsis (no one had even known they were prehensile; Perceptor had been fascinated and had confiscated the resulting organic samples) and the surprise encounter two cycles afterwards with the Decepticon light war cruiser class ship, which had become an ex-Decepticon former cruiser. Kup had broken out the high grade after that one.
Or the third time, with the aggressive and apparently ferrovorous anemones of the unfortunately mostly water world of Yjinth, where they had had to touch down to make repairs to the ship's engine. That had involved both Drift and Springer, though Drift had been grabbed first, and an extensive amount of solvent cleansing afterwards to rinse the mineral heavy ocean water out of their systems. Springer had complained about water logged weaponry for cycles afterwards.
Torchwood - Tosh with Pete's world Torchwood
Some alarm in the machines that are monitoring her must have gone off somewhere because a doctor comes in shortly after that. He is tall and lanky, with a weathered face and a gentle if distracted smile, and he is not Owen. He pats her hand where it lays on pristine white hospital sheeting and assures her that she will be alright and the 'situation' is under control.
Tosh doesn't believe a word of it. Especially not because there is a tastefully embossed T made of interlocking hexagons on the plastic badge that is pinned to the pocket of his scrubs, underscored with an equally tasteful scripted L1, and Torchwood London is gone, gone, GONE.
There are no windows. There is only the one door. She is hurt but has no idea how badly, the sensation and her reflexes numbed by drugs. She is unarmed and has no idea where she is (or why she isn't dead).
She wonders why she ever thought dying would be the end. Torchwood, she thinks, transcends death, and once you belong to it you can't ever leave.
No windows, no doors, no weapons, unknown status, and a Torchwood that can't exist. Tosh puts on her very best harmless smile, the one that says 'geek' and 'innocent' and 'Japanese highschool girl', and asks to speak to Jack.
... And that's just the wip folder on my iPad. ^_^ which is, incidentally, harder to use to post to lj then you'd expect. x_x