An Amateur Author’s [Derailed] Account
Title: An Amateur Author’s [Derailed] Account
Author: chai16
Characters: Skywarp and… *sigh* myself
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I’m crazy
Synopsis: Apparently my Muse not only has terrible timing but a mischievous disposition.
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You got me, got me, got me good
You thought you had me on your hook
Wish I could erase the time that you took
That you took from me
“Now is that any way to be spending your time?”
I really tried to stay still and focused on my work. But it's so hard not to jump at least a little when that slick metallic voice filtered through my apartment. Nevertheless, I continued to read over my text book. Acting as though the only thing I could hear was the sound of my internal voice struggling to pronounce medical jargon. Turned out I wasn't fooling anyone.
“Ignore me all you want, squish. Won't make me warp outta here any faster.”
Sighing, I leaned over further so even my peripheral vision was filled with lab values and anatomy diagrams. “I'm busy tonight, Skywarp,” I grumbled into the highlighted pages.
“And here I was under the impression that you humans considered this solar cycle to be some semblance of a ‘date night.’ Did you finally downgrade from your sparkmate to that primitive datapad you’ve been so enamored with lately?”
“No, I didn't dump my boyfriend for a textbook.” Though looking from the worn pages of the book to the missed calls on my cellphone, I could see how someone might think that. Pushing away from the overly cluttered desk I turned to face the window. Two glowing red eyes shined back at me. “I don’t have the time or patience to deal with you right now.”
“Oh really?” The seekers optics intensified as they bore into my apartment, casting the white walls in an eerie sheen of red. “Then why are you even typing this quirky little jumble of psychological exhaust in the first place? Especially when you could be giving me an actual scene.”
“Hey, no fourth-wall breaking on my watch. That’s Deadpool’s gig and I'm not even gonna attempt to write him in a fanfic. Besides, making a youtube video implying that Cable and him had a bromance was bad enough.
The giant alien robot let out a vented huff but didn’t press the issue further. Thinking I succeeded in getting him off my case, I turned back to my notes. But now the squiggles seemed to make even less sense. Shrugging my shoulders, I looked over my apartment for something productive to numb my brain with while it recuperated. The room was on the messy side lately, but not totally unbearable to behold. The TV my roommate usually left on as background noise was off and the radio too low to tell whether it was playing country or rap. On the wall, a poster of Megan Fox gazed back at me and for a moment I chose to lose myself somewhere in her cleavage.
“Oh yeah, that's real productive. You're a testament to organic races all over the verse.”
Looking back towards the window, my view of the outside world was blocked by a metal plated sneer. “Like you’re any better?”
His chrome lips bent into a full out grin before saying, “I don't see humans mastering interstellar travel any time soon.”
Thoroughly aggravated, I shot back, “and you know what I don’t see? Transformers being real any time soon.”
At that the Decepticon’s armor plating seemed to bristle slightly but he otherwise maintained that carefree demeanor. “Huh, I wonder what that says about your current mental state.”
“Look,” I said in exasperation. “If any of you guys are gonna interrupt my real work can it be Soundwave instead? I actually need him to help me tie up that first chapter of my Grease Monkeys sequel.”
“But I'm not even in that story,” Skywarp protested. “Why would I help you with it?”
“Cause it’s the only thing I have going right now that people might actually read. You know, besides my college friends.” Narrowing my eyes I added, “and I don’t expect your help with anything. Now leave me alone.”
“Oh come on! Why won't you just write something with me in it?”
“Gee, I dunno. Maybe cause the last time I let you anywhere near a story, you raped me!”
“Technically Spoiler isn’t you; just a character based off you with much more obnoxious programming. Which is something that shouldn’t even be possible to construct in the first place,” he remarked teasingly. “And she didn’t think it was me at the time. That makes it willing, even if it was under false pretense. So I don’t think you could accurate say that I-”
“Would you just switch off already?!” Thoroughly frustrated, I stormed over to the window and glared out at him.
It was the G1 version of Skywarp, in all his boxy shaped glory. He had the same basic frame as Starscream but completely different coloring and disposition. His predominantly black armor had purple highlights along the wings which were molded after an F-15 Eagle. The purple also accented his metal hands and feet that were comprised of the jets thrusters. The effect shone beautifully against the backdrop of a sunset which would probably cause Michel Bay to cream himself. Currently Skywarp still wore that slag ingesting grin while his optics looked down at me with a playful twinkle.
“Look, we can’t talk about that story anyway. I promised a friend of mine whose gonna be a nun that I wouldn’t post it,” I said while leaning against the window frame.
“You brought it up,” he pointed out.
“Yeah? And now I’m saying to drop it.”
The seeker leaded down closer to my level and said with the transformer equivalent of a wink, “like I dropped Spoiler?”
Before Skywarp could derive anymore pleasure from my mortified expression, I abruptly turned my back on him. The Designation: Spoiler spinoff happened after I tried writing from Skywarp’s perspective. That was my first mistake and I’m not sure who exactly to blame for the second. Technically it was my imagination, and I’m the one who physically typed it up. But I still have a hard time believing the concept was completely mine. Especially with how surprised I was by the ending when my traitorous fingers brought me to it. But then the defense, ‘it was the voice of an 80’s carton character in my head’ probably didn’t hold up too much.
“Hey, don’t shut down on me already. I just got here.” As he spoke I felt a large digit poke me in the back teasingly.
Stepping away from the contact I turned around to face him. “I know. That’s the problem.”
His purple hand wilted slightly before shifting just enough so he could still see me through the window. “Is it really my fault that you don’t have the discipline to concentrate, let alone prioritize efficiently?”
I was about to shoot back a reply. It was going to be all sorts of witty and entertaining. A one-liner that might even make it into a future story when I had the time to write one. But then I let his words sink in. The more I continued to play his game, the more I was losing. And I abhor losing, especially if I can help it.
Shifting my weight haughtily I said, “Alright, we’re done.”
“Done?” The cocky smile didn’t let up, but his optic guards narrowed slightly.
“Exactly. Now I’m gonna go study for my exam. And maybe, just maybe if you’re good, I’ll think about writing you in something.”
“You just did.”
Leaning back I gaped at my computer screen and the three full pages of text on it. The clock was also much further ahead then it should have been considering the limited about of time I had left to actually study and then sleep in. Somewhere in the back of my mind, hysterical laughter that had a metallic ring to it echoed triumphantly. “Flippen’ abstract, fourth-wall breaking, bullshitty cop-out,” I cursed under my breath.
Insane in vain
Who do you think you are
I'm still standing
I'm still breathing
Don't hang your shit on me
Insane in vain
This time you've gone too far
Who do you think you are