(no subject)
Finally got around to digging through my drafts for the WIP meme! Managed to find shareable results on three out of three suggested words this time too :D I don't think I have as many total as last time, nor as much variety, but such is life. All Transformers fanfic again because of course, haha.
[restrain]
“Am I to take it that we’re quite through throwing tantrums?” Megatron asked.
Despite the pointedly authoritative harmonics he employed, it was clear to someone who knew him as well as Tarantulas did that he was still feeling slighted. Tarantulas would have to tread carefully until he found the moment to get Black Widow somewhere private to speak. It was unfortunate that he’d already indicated Megatron as their leader in these early stages, when she was still imprinting, but it seemed that his template had something like the desired effect. She was much more open to his presence already than Megatron’s.
“That was just the disorientation of the reprogramming,” Tarantulas assured him, leading Black Widow forward by the claw to show her off. He could feel the hairs of his beast mode bristling with his pleasure when she slanted him a look in a clear bid for direction. “Even fresh out of her shell, our new comrade is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Indeed,” said Megatron, his gaze upon them considering.
“My apologies,” said Black Widow, helm bowing in supplication, “Master. I… did not know you.”
“Well,” said Megatron, still careful but so easily pleased by her deference, “let us not dwell upon the past but look instead ever forward. If I may…” He held out his hand again, less an offering than it was a demand.
Black Widow looked again at Tarantulas but she was loosing her grip on his claw in favor of Megatron’s hand even as she did so. She let him draw her towards him and look her over and didn’t even react when he frowned at what he saw.
“I was hoping for a bit more formidable of a warrior,” he said. He looked over the scorched earth where he’d dodged her blaster fire. “Still, I suppose there is more to battle prowess than size-- all that in time, of course.”
“Of course,” she echoed back, peering up at him. She offered a smile. “I look forward to serving you, my Lord Megatron.”
“That is what we like to hear,” Megatron said, his plumage fluffing up with his pleasure; it was all Tarantulas could do to restrain himself from scoffing. “Now, come along. We’ll get you acquainted with your new home, yes, and with your teammates.”
It seemed he was quite secure by then in his newest acquisition. He released her claw to lead her along by the shoulder, head held high as he strut like the oversized pigeon he was. He didn’t notice Black Widow dart a look back at Tarantulas. He didn’t notice Tarantulas nod, nor Black Widow nod back in acknowledgement before she turned her face forward.
Neither of them noticed the smirk that stole over her lips before she could smother it.
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A couple mechs looked a little longer at Trailbreaker than was strictly necessary and that made Sideswipe's engine rev in warning as he took long strides to put himself close to Trailbreaker's right side. Sunstreaker snorted at this display but nonetheless quickened his own pace to mirror Sideswipe on Trailbreaker's left. Trailbreaker looked over either shoulder, grinning at them both in turn, though his excitement overrode any concern he might have felt over it.
"We haven't even gotten you checked in yet and you're already being sized up and threatened," he said, as though it were the most exciting thing that had ever happened to them. "This is gonna be so great! Just wait until they see you guys out there-- oh." He laughed, mostly to himself, and spun to face them again with an impish glint to his visor. "Hey, I want you both to promise now-- don't hold it against me if I forget who I'm supposed to be cheering for."
Sideswipe made a sound of offense that was nearly sincere and reached to grab Trailbreaker by the arm and grapple him lightly. Trailbreaker only laughed and grappled back, the two of them stumbling along as they play-fought. Sunstreaker shook his head at them both and cast threatening glares at anyone who looked like they might have something to say about the silliness.
"As if you aren't used to cheering for us, you glitch," Sideswipe huffed through a smile. "If I hear another name out of your mouth, you bet I'm holding it against you!"
"It's not the same thing, though," Trailbreaker insisted through giggles. "I'm not used to cheering you on against people we all cheer for together."
"Practice, then!"
"You both need to settle down," Sunstreaker said, low enough that it didn't carry beyond their bubble. "And get a grip on yourself, Trailbreaker. How do you think it'll make us look if you're more excited to see everyone here than to see us here?"
"Aw, come on," said Trailbreaker as he let go of Sideswipe and brushed himself off, "you know I'm most excited for you guys. But the big names are part of being excited you're here, aren't they? I mean, just look at who you're going to be up against! You can make or break your careers in the ring with some of these people."
"Sunstreaker's right, though, Trails," said Sideswipe. He rolled his shoulders and looked coolly through the crowd, managing to look aloof without losing his usual veneer of shallow friendliness. "Don't forget, the way you act reflects on us. We're not big league fanbots anymore-- we're big league gladiators in our own right."
"Yeah... Yeah, you're ri--" he cut himself off with a garble blast of static and spat feedback when he attempted to restrain himself. His visor was bleeding light from the edges when he turned it on the twins' exasperated faces. He said, "Sorry, I know, but-- I think that was Treadbolt!"
Sunstreaker had hardly opened his mouth to retort before Sideswipe, with a feedback squeal of his own, was pressed right up against Trailbreaker and trying to look where he'd been looking, demanding, "What? Where!? Hand to Primus, Trailbreaker, you had better not be messing with me right now!"
"I'm not, I'm not, I swear she just went by a second ago--"
With a sound of abject disgust, Sunstreaker stalked past them both.
[release]
“Do I know you?” Whirl rumbled, plating rippling in an instinctive threat display. He flattened it down but tight when he caught the stranger’s greedy yellow optics following the movement.
“We could get to know each other,” the stranger suggested in what might in other circumstances have been a pleasant purr, sounding for all the known universe as though he thought it was a halfway decent line.
Nice to know that empurata fetishists still didn’t bother to put any effort in. Real nice.
In the time it took Whirl to dismiss all five comebacks that came to mind as being too likely to entice the creep, said creep had leaned forward to offer a credit chit to the barkeeper. Doing so pressed him up against Whirl’s side, openly courting a stab wound. It burned Whirl up something fierce to reign in the urge to oblige. The image of a dent the shape of his fist five times over beat into the creep’s face itched in his processor, but there was no imagining it without the smug grin he was wearing still in place.
That was probably definitely the worst thing about this type of weirdo-- they ruined even the sweet release of physical violence. Whirl could’ve sworn he felt filth crawling up his arms just from imagining beating down his wannabe-friend. Though the way the bartender sneered between them as he processed the payment sure made him an attractive target. Maybe Whirl could drag him out back somehow without giving the creep a show.
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Dinobot struggled to make sense of the audio and visual input as he was lifted half upright in someone's arms, his fritzing optics focusing in and out. He could just make out a familiar silhouette outlined by the setting sun-- and, there, past the screeching feedback plaguing his audial suite, he could hear the panicked squeaking, like a rat's. Rattrap-- he'd come for him, despite the way they'd parted. A rumble sounded from deep in Dinobot's chassis, as much beast as mech, and he found the strength within himself to slide an arm around those narrow shoulders and pull himself closer, face tilted at what he hoped was the right angle.
"What light... breaks..." he murmured.
The optics floating in the shadowy silhouette above dilated wide and that's when Dinobot's optical array finally clocked that they were orange instead of red.
He scrambled to release Packrat, humiliation sparking in his exposed wiring.
"Okay, wow-- first of all," said Packrat, who surprised Dinobot by not dropping him outright, "even that is so much more than I needed to know. Second of all," and here he giggled high and frightened, "that light is your frikkin' spark trying to break through what's left of your chassis."
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Ratchet and Flareup both opened their mouths to retort, only to find their words garbled around Elita One's fingers-- she'd darted up behind them and shoved each of her hands into either of their mouths, dragging them back against her chest as she did and spinning them all around and away from Whirl.
The moment he got over his shock, Ratchet set his feet and threw his weight so that they all went off kilter. Just because he couldn't take Elita in a straight fight didn't mean she could just pull him around at her whim if he didn't want to be pulled. He stopped short of biting the fingers in his mouth but he did press his teeth into the seams of her knuckles in warning. Flareup, not even thinking of biting, whined and wiggled in Elita's hold, her own mass and skill alike far below her leader's. Taking pity on her, Elita released her; she hesitated to release Ratchet as well but finally did after a warning scrape of her claws over his tongue.
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“I was-- if you’ll pardon the expression-- frozen out of so-called legitimate reporting,” Freezon finished in a blaze of emotion. “Autobot-sanctioned reporting, that is. And for what? Because I had the nerve to refuse to redefine myself after some incendiary young upstart decided he owned our badge? Because you Autobots all took him at his word that he did?" She laughed, a bitter huff through her vents. "So, the Autobots wouldn't have me, there were no neutrals anymore-- I had nowhere else to go, even when things got bad. Especially when things got bad.”
Arcee’s spark twisted on itself, rubbing raw her reluctance. She was about to suggest that they release Freezon when Spacewarp synthesized a cough.
“Could be I’ve got this mixed up-- never did read much of the news,” Spacewarp said, “but weren’t you actually arrested and blacklisted for framing political detractors for murders that you committed, so you could break the news about them?”
Freezon went very still, as if it was a shroud she could pull around herself to hide from the gaping, incredulous attention of Arcee, Lug and Anode. Her fans clicked on a low setting and she audibly reset her vocoder.
“Murder is an awfully loaded word,” she said at last, “don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I used it for a reason.”
[spin]
“Come on,” Chromia said over the sound of blaster fire, grabbing Arcee by the elbow and pulling her along.
The rest of the team scattered, taking up a formation that they must have practiced, shooting back at their attackers. Arcee couldn’t take her attention away from them and stumbled as Chromia pulled ever more insistently.
“Arcee!” she snapped, catching Arcee by the shoulder and making her look at her. There was an explosion somewhere very close and she pulled Arcee close and down, leaning over her. The aftershock was hardly past when she brought them both back up to their feet. “We need to get you out of here, now!”
“But,” Arcee sputtered even as she let herself be pulled along. She looked between her shuttle hidden in the distance and the squad of bots covering her escape. “The others, they--”
“The sooner we get you moving, the sooner I can get back to them,” Chromia barked. “Now get yourself into gear!”
So said, Chromia threw herself into her vehicle mode. It was, as ever, startling to see someone like her become something that looked so very old. Such a functional shape seemed hardly able to contain her personality and her passion.
Arcee flipped into her own vehicle mode and followed close on Chromia’s bumper. She could have gone around her, easily outpaced her-- and maybe that would’ve been better, she considered. The sooner Chromia saw the back end of her, as she said, the sooner her job here was done. But it felt too wrong to leave her behind when she was doing this as her part in covering Arcee’s escape.
Arcee wouldn’t have been too proud to admit if asked that fear played its part in her decision as well. She thought of zooming out on her own across the open stretch between them and her shuttle and felt her spark spin too fast.
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Flareup, at least, was easy to spot, her bright red and orange paint standing out against the charred battlefield. The young hothead had been scuffling with Rippersnapper when the ground went out from under both of their feet. Elita could see both of them scrambling, scrabbling at whatever solid mass they could get hold of. Not that anything seemed to be reliably solid anymore. Reality tore at its seams and beyond it was void. Flareup, dragging one leg, tried to get away from it but then there was another lurch, the world seeming to spin, and that void lay before her instead of behind.
“Chromia!” she shrieked as it came over her. Gone was what had seemed to be an endless enthusiasm, an unshakeable certainty. She cried out like someone already lost.
[restrain]
“Am I to take it that we’re quite through throwing tantrums?” Megatron asked.
Despite the pointedly authoritative harmonics he employed, it was clear to someone who knew him as well as Tarantulas did that he was still feeling slighted. Tarantulas would have to tread carefully until he found the moment to get Black Widow somewhere private to speak. It was unfortunate that he’d already indicated Megatron as their leader in these early stages, when she was still imprinting, but it seemed that his template had something like the desired effect. She was much more open to his presence already than Megatron’s.
“That was just the disorientation of the reprogramming,” Tarantulas assured him, leading Black Widow forward by the claw to show her off. He could feel the hairs of his beast mode bristling with his pleasure when she slanted him a look in a clear bid for direction. “Even fresh out of her shell, our new comrade is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Indeed,” said Megatron, his gaze upon them considering.
“My apologies,” said Black Widow, helm bowing in supplication, “Master. I… did not know you.”
“Well,” said Megatron, still careful but so easily pleased by her deference, “let us not dwell upon the past but look instead ever forward. If I may…” He held out his hand again, less an offering than it was a demand.
Black Widow looked again at Tarantulas but she was loosing her grip on his claw in favor of Megatron’s hand even as she did so. She let him draw her towards him and look her over and didn’t even react when he frowned at what he saw.
“I was hoping for a bit more formidable of a warrior,” he said. He looked over the scorched earth where he’d dodged her blaster fire. “Still, I suppose there is more to battle prowess than size-- all that in time, of course.”
“Of course,” she echoed back, peering up at him. She offered a smile. “I look forward to serving you, my Lord Megatron.”
“That is what we like to hear,” Megatron said, his plumage fluffing up with his pleasure; it was all Tarantulas could do to restrain himself from scoffing. “Now, come along. We’ll get you acquainted with your new home, yes, and with your teammates.”
It seemed he was quite secure by then in his newest acquisition. He released her claw to lead her along by the shoulder, head held high as he strut like the oversized pigeon he was. He didn’t notice Black Widow dart a look back at Tarantulas. He didn’t notice Tarantulas nod, nor Black Widow nod back in acknowledgement before she turned her face forward.
Neither of them noticed the smirk that stole over her lips before she could smother it.
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.
A couple mechs looked a little longer at Trailbreaker than was strictly necessary and that made Sideswipe's engine rev in warning as he took long strides to put himself close to Trailbreaker's right side. Sunstreaker snorted at this display but nonetheless quickened his own pace to mirror Sideswipe on Trailbreaker's left. Trailbreaker looked over either shoulder, grinning at them both in turn, though his excitement overrode any concern he might have felt over it.
"We haven't even gotten you checked in yet and you're already being sized up and threatened," he said, as though it were the most exciting thing that had ever happened to them. "This is gonna be so great! Just wait until they see you guys out there-- oh." He laughed, mostly to himself, and spun to face them again with an impish glint to his visor. "Hey, I want you both to promise now-- don't hold it against me if I forget who I'm supposed to be cheering for."
Sideswipe made a sound of offense that was nearly sincere and reached to grab Trailbreaker by the arm and grapple him lightly. Trailbreaker only laughed and grappled back, the two of them stumbling along as they play-fought. Sunstreaker shook his head at them both and cast threatening glares at anyone who looked like they might have something to say about the silliness.
"As if you aren't used to cheering for us, you glitch," Sideswipe huffed through a smile. "If I hear another name out of your mouth, you bet I'm holding it against you!"
"It's not the same thing, though," Trailbreaker insisted through giggles. "I'm not used to cheering you on against people we all cheer for together."
"Practice, then!"
"You both need to settle down," Sunstreaker said, low enough that it didn't carry beyond their bubble. "And get a grip on yourself, Trailbreaker. How do you think it'll make us look if you're more excited to see everyone here than to see us here?"
"Aw, come on," said Trailbreaker as he let go of Sideswipe and brushed himself off, "you know I'm most excited for you guys. But the big names are part of being excited you're here, aren't they? I mean, just look at who you're going to be up against! You can make or break your careers in the ring with some of these people."
"Sunstreaker's right, though, Trails," said Sideswipe. He rolled his shoulders and looked coolly through the crowd, managing to look aloof without losing his usual veneer of shallow friendliness. "Don't forget, the way you act reflects on us. We're not big league fanbots anymore-- we're big league gladiators in our own right."
"Yeah... Yeah, you're ri--" he cut himself off with a garble blast of static and spat feedback when he attempted to restrain himself. His visor was bleeding light from the edges when he turned it on the twins' exasperated faces. He said, "Sorry, I know, but-- I think that was Treadbolt!"
Sunstreaker had hardly opened his mouth to retort before Sideswipe, with a feedback squeal of his own, was pressed right up against Trailbreaker and trying to look where he'd been looking, demanding, "What? Where!? Hand to Primus, Trailbreaker, you had better not be messing with me right now!"
"I'm not, I'm not, I swear she just went by a second ago--"
With a sound of abject disgust, Sunstreaker stalked past them both.
[release]
“Do I know you?” Whirl rumbled, plating rippling in an instinctive threat display. He flattened it down but tight when he caught the stranger’s greedy yellow optics following the movement.
“We could get to know each other,” the stranger suggested in what might in other circumstances have been a pleasant purr, sounding for all the known universe as though he thought it was a halfway decent line.
Nice to know that empurata fetishists still didn’t bother to put any effort in. Real nice.
In the time it took Whirl to dismiss all five comebacks that came to mind as being too likely to entice the creep, said creep had leaned forward to offer a credit chit to the barkeeper. Doing so pressed him up against Whirl’s side, openly courting a stab wound. It burned Whirl up something fierce to reign in the urge to oblige. The image of a dent the shape of his fist five times over beat into the creep’s face itched in his processor, but there was no imagining it without the smug grin he was wearing still in place.
That was probably definitely the worst thing about this type of weirdo-- they ruined even the sweet release of physical violence. Whirl could’ve sworn he felt filth crawling up his arms just from imagining beating down his wannabe-friend. Though the way the bartender sneered between them as he processed the payment sure made him an attractive target. Maybe Whirl could drag him out back somehow without giving the creep a show.
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Dinobot struggled to make sense of the audio and visual input as he was lifted half upright in someone's arms, his fritzing optics focusing in and out. He could just make out a familiar silhouette outlined by the setting sun-- and, there, past the screeching feedback plaguing his audial suite, he could hear the panicked squeaking, like a rat's. Rattrap-- he'd come for him, despite the way they'd parted. A rumble sounded from deep in Dinobot's chassis, as much beast as mech, and he found the strength within himself to slide an arm around those narrow shoulders and pull himself closer, face tilted at what he hoped was the right angle.
"What light... breaks..." he murmured.
The optics floating in the shadowy silhouette above dilated wide and that's when Dinobot's optical array finally clocked that they were orange instead of red.
He scrambled to release Packrat, humiliation sparking in his exposed wiring.
"Okay, wow-- first of all," said Packrat, who surprised Dinobot by not dropping him outright, "even that is so much more than I needed to know. Second of all," and here he giggled high and frightened, "that light is your frikkin' spark trying to break through what's left of your chassis."
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Ratchet and Flareup both opened their mouths to retort, only to find their words garbled around Elita One's fingers-- she'd darted up behind them and shoved each of her hands into either of their mouths, dragging them back against her chest as she did and spinning them all around and away from Whirl.
The moment he got over his shock, Ratchet set his feet and threw his weight so that they all went off kilter. Just because he couldn't take Elita in a straight fight didn't mean she could just pull him around at her whim if he didn't want to be pulled. He stopped short of biting the fingers in his mouth but he did press his teeth into the seams of her knuckles in warning. Flareup, not even thinking of biting, whined and wiggled in Elita's hold, her own mass and skill alike far below her leader's. Taking pity on her, Elita released her; she hesitated to release Ratchet as well but finally did after a warning scrape of her claws over his tongue.
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.
.
“I was-- if you’ll pardon the expression-- frozen out of so-called legitimate reporting,” Freezon finished in a blaze of emotion. “Autobot-sanctioned reporting, that is. And for what? Because I had the nerve to refuse to redefine myself after some incendiary young upstart decided he owned our badge? Because you Autobots all took him at his word that he did?" She laughed, a bitter huff through her vents. "So, the Autobots wouldn't have me, there were no neutrals anymore-- I had nowhere else to go, even when things got bad. Especially when things got bad.”
Arcee’s spark twisted on itself, rubbing raw her reluctance. She was about to suggest that they release Freezon when Spacewarp synthesized a cough.
“Could be I’ve got this mixed up-- never did read much of the news,” Spacewarp said, “but weren’t you actually arrested and blacklisted for framing political detractors for murders that you committed, so you could break the news about them?”
Freezon went very still, as if it was a shroud she could pull around herself to hide from the gaping, incredulous attention of Arcee, Lug and Anode. Her fans clicked on a low setting and she audibly reset her vocoder.
“Murder is an awfully loaded word,” she said at last, “don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I used it for a reason.”
[spin]
“Come on,” Chromia said over the sound of blaster fire, grabbing Arcee by the elbow and pulling her along.
The rest of the team scattered, taking up a formation that they must have practiced, shooting back at their attackers. Arcee couldn’t take her attention away from them and stumbled as Chromia pulled ever more insistently.
“Arcee!” she snapped, catching Arcee by the shoulder and making her look at her. There was an explosion somewhere very close and she pulled Arcee close and down, leaning over her. The aftershock was hardly past when she brought them both back up to their feet. “We need to get you out of here, now!”
“But,” Arcee sputtered even as she let herself be pulled along. She looked between her shuttle hidden in the distance and the squad of bots covering her escape. “The others, they--”
“The sooner we get you moving, the sooner I can get back to them,” Chromia barked. “Now get yourself into gear!”
So said, Chromia threw herself into her vehicle mode. It was, as ever, startling to see someone like her become something that looked so very old. Such a functional shape seemed hardly able to contain her personality and her passion.
Arcee flipped into her own vehicle mode and followed close on Chromia’s bumper. She could have gone around her, easily outpaced her-- and maybe that would’ve been better, she considered. The sooner Chromia saw the back end of her, as she said, the sooner her job here was done. But it felt too wrong to leave her behind when she was doing this as her part in covering Arcee’s escape.
Arcee wouldn’t have been too proud to admit if asked that fear played its part in her decision as well. She thought of zooming out on her own across the open stretch between them and her shuttle and felt her spark spin too fast.
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Flareup, at least, was easy to spot, her bright red and orange paint standing out against the charred battlefield. The young hothead had been scuffling with Rippersnapper when the ground went out from under both of their feet. Elita could see both of them scrambling, scrabbling at whatever solid mass they could get hold of. Not that anything seemed to be reliably solid anymore. Reality tore at its seams and beyond it was void. Flareup, dragging one leg, tried to get away from it but then there was another lurch, the world seeming to spin, and that void lay before her instead of behind.
“Chromia!” she shrieked as it came over her. Gone was what had seemed to be an endless enthusiasm, an unshakeable certainty. She cried out like someone already lost.