wherein i give myself goosebumps.
Kam slpwlkngdreamer and I have been working, bit by bit, on her TF!AU, which is set post-movie. Some of you might have actually had me spazzing about plans and characters via AIM/YM, and I swear, I'll get the place and the information up and running, hopefully soon.
But in any case, I wrote fic to make me feel better, and it sort of has. I like the style I employed for this one, and if it gets a good response, I'm considering posting it on my dA account tonight. Hell, if Kam slpwlkngdreamer likes it, that'll be enough incentive, really.
So anyway, this fic is for my Bella!muse, who deserves all the love she can get considering just how much torture she puts herself through each and every day. I swear, if she were a real person, I'd give her lots and lots of hugs right now because really, everybody just craves to be loved. It's a basic human right, I think. But unfortunately, it's not something most people don't uphold very often.
Their Sci-Fi Love Story
Project: Kam's onceonthisearth, a TF Movie post-movie AU.
Characters: The cast of onceonthisearth, primary pairing Ultra Magnus [+] & Bella Rimini
Credits: Written in the aftermath of Serengeti Vignettes by autobotvierge and inspired by slpwlkngdreamer's "A Sci-Fi Love Story" (a lovely poem that I will beg her to post and share to you all soon) and Yiruma's "Moonlight" (a gorgeous piano piece that you can download here)
Notes: This is set well into the AU, wherein that/the rock(™) has fallen to Earth, thus turning all the TFs located at ground zero to turn human.
I don't know how to deal with men, she'd told him that one night, her eyes turned away as if she were too scared to look him in the face. He hadn't been sure at the time of where she planned to take their little one-sided conversation but he'd waited, patiently, listening from across the room. He hadn't spent as much time amongst the humans as the other autobots, and he would be the first to admit that he was always a little perplexed at how contrary they could be as creatures, happy one moment, unbearably sad the next and then neutral as if neither mattered very much.
He'd heard her laugh nervously, the shadows cutting across her face as her fingers tugged on the ends of the sweater whose sleeve cuffs fell over her knuckles. You weren't... you're not, a man, if we're to consider what you really are. At least not, she faltered, eyes lifting for the first time and then faltering once more as teeth chewed gently on the inside of the corner of her mouth. When did it get so complicated.
I didn't realize it was, he'd told her, speaking slowly as he rose from the couch that he'd been sitting in. Reaching out, he glimpsed the moonlight cutting across the back of a hand, flesh and bone, but his. For now.
The last few weeks had been a fair amount of strange, especially since he and Optimus and several others who had been housed in Doozy's Autoshop had woken one morning to find themselves a different kind of sensitive to the cold of the smooth cement floor, the world having grown several different degrees of large. They had been turned human by some unknown force, and being just that had been both frightening in the sense that if the Deceptecons decided to attack, they would be vulnerable, which also meant that their human friends would be even more so. Though on the other hand, it was an exhilirating experience; this opportunity to move and feel Earth as creatures similar to the ones that had been born on it.
They weren't always pleasant, of course, such as the discovery of what it felt to bleed, the knife having slipped and instinct to protect taking over that he had moved quickly to catch it, blade against his palm. He'd discovered though, that he preferred dealing with with bandaging a wound that stung like the brand of laser fire as opposed to having to try to make sense of all the abstract chemical reactions that prompted either bursts of feelings so intense in what Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee's charge, referred to as a 'natural high', or a pain he couldn't clearly identify in origin. Like whenever Bella would backtrack at the sight of him, evading every instance of them crossing paths.
She's just a little confused, thas'all. Doozy had told him once, when he'd offered to lend a hand in clearing a few things from the autoshop's storage room. Bella's got a lot of issues with the male half of the species, Ultra Magnus. I dunno the whole story, the mechanic had told him as he proceeded to disappear beneath the chassy of the newest car to come in for modifications. But according to Jin she'd had the misfortune to be with a man so obviously lacking in any decency, that she'd not only experienced pain on a physical level, but on the emotional level as well.
But we're friends. What does my turning human have anything to do with it? I'd never hurt her, I believe she knows that. I'd think that she should have been more worried about getting hurt if I were still in my original form.
The mechanic had slid out from under the car and had stood, the dark skin of his hands smudged with grease. You see that, Doozy had nodded off to the side, and when he'd turned, he glimpsed Bumblebee laughing along with Sam and Mikaela who were painting little things on the back of Caitlin's white shirt. The youngest of the group was unfazed by this bout of fun, her hand still steady as she drew out with paint, the mermaid that had been commissioned for someone's Toyota.
I see Sam, Mikaela and Caitlin with Bumblebee. He'd blinked, unable to grasp what Doozy was trying to tell him.
Not them, Magnus, the mechanic nudged his shoulder, them, nodding beyond the group of four, to where Mona and Jazz had their heads bent together, a single smile mirrored back between them as they worked on restoring the Chevy Impala that had been checked in not two days before.
Bella-girl's been alone too long, y'see. Doozy had continued, idly scratching the side of his head as if the action might help him explain the subject at hand. Honey's had a complicated life that's taught her not to expect the things that most people, at least, in my experience, want: parents who are married and happy, friends whose idea of fun isn't getting stoned and courting possibilities of OD-ing from too much of a so-called good thing, a significant other who gets that bruises don't mean love.
He tilted her face up, his hand hesitant to cup a chin hell-bent on hiding in the dark of her throat. She's scared, he heard Doozy's voice in his head. An' frankly, man, I don't blame her. Arcee's the only femme amongst all you boys and she's not really my thing, you know, so I don't have to deal with the complications that come with the possibility of falling inlove.
We're an immature, you might say, sort of species, Magnus. Doozy had sighed, leaning his large frame against the nearest post. Look through the history books and you'll see man's capability to wage wars for something as grand as setting up an empire to slaughtering people just because they're regarded as inferior. Color, race, hell even gender -- we've got enough drama over all of that. Blood's been spilled and lives destroyed all because as a people, we just have no idea of how to get along.
I'm scared, she smiled feebly, eyes darting off to the side as if to say let me run away despite her body being rooted to the spot, every fibre of her tense as his hand fell from her chin to her arms, the cotton of her shirt her armor against basic human contact, skin to skin. You make me scared. This makes me scared.
I'm sorry, he murmured back, leaning in and daring to press his lips to her forehead the way he'd seen Sam do to Mikaela. It was every bit as quietly thrilling as he'd speculated it would be.
You're human now, yes. Flesh and blood like me and everyone else here. Doozy had continued. And that, my friend, is something that she doesn't know how to deal with. After all, she's not Mona, who I swear t'God, has no apprehensions whatsoever about pursuing the one she wants, skin or steel. And she's not Caitlin, capable of just leaving things be and accepting them as they are when they're there.
His hands were tentative in cupping her face, both hands feeling the sudden rush of heat that bloomed across her cheeks as their mouths meeting for that very first time. When she inhaled, her own hands coming up to cup his own, he felt the world tilt as if Earth had been taken off it's axis and the sun was tumbling far and away.
Kiss me again, he heard her sigh, fingers curling in near-possesiveness upon the collar of the shirt he'd donned for the day, her body molding against his, a perfect fit. Kiss me.
She's just Bella. The frustrated romantic who'll be rabidly optimistic about everyone else's love life but so damned indifferent about her own. Doozy had shook his head again. Nevermind that I catch her sometimes, looking at you as if she's seeing the world for the first time, every hope reflected like the heart she's so hell-bent not to wear on her sleeve.
Doozy had shaken his head, and they'd moved off to the back of the shop, where he'd tossed a bottle of chilled water over. She looks at you like that, Doozy picked up where he left off, and then her logic sets in and she clams up all over again, thinking 'but he's an autobot, nevermind that he's not a robot per se, the world will never understand' and you can be sure her brain'll follow that all the way to all kinds of excuses. The most important one being that she doesn't know how long you'll have, and that girl, the mechanic had shaken his head yet again, she's a greedy one, not that I blame her. Wanting everything or nothing at all.
A sad look had crossed Doozy's face and in the window behind the mechanic, he'd caught sight of Jin's car pulling up and Bella waving from the front seat, the sunlight offering an illusion that her skin glowed like muted gold. And poor baby, the sigh had been heavy with the deep, caring concern of a friend. She's convinced herself she can live with nothing too.
They collided and caved into each other, bringing to his mind a brilliant memory of walking on the surface of some barren moon, watching in silence away from the other Wreckers as a distant star turned supernova before the dark came and all light burrowed deep. It had been a magnificent sight to see, a change so dramatic, a death so intense it was a gaping hole in the depths of space.
Bella, he pressed his face to the hollow of her shoulder, feeling so desperate to make sure that she was still there, with him, and not somewhere else. His eyes shut as her fingers threaded through his hair, the pads of her fingers massaging a trail over his scalp to fist in his hair so that he looked up to see her eyes, glazed and frightened. When he kissed her again, they fell and he held on tight, recalling that cocooned feeling of hurtling through space with no destination and every bit of faith that one day, home would be concrete all over again.
It's been months since then now and he's parked in neutral beside the quaint little mailbox that he knows was a gift from her father living miles away. He doesn't have the heart that beats any longer, his human shell having reverted to his original form weeks ago. And like the dream spoken of by poets of the present and of old, those short, blissful, last weeks in Bella's arms feel half-remembered.
Human memory, he has discovered, is nothing like sorting through files. They are less finite, captured in scent and sensation rather than clear pictures in his head. To Ultra Magnus, to recapture their love-making is to consciously feel the caress of noonday sunlight against the plating of his body, to remember her laughter the smell of arabica coffee, freshly brewed in a glass pot. To feel that elusive, undefinable feeling of love, is to acknowledge the hollow space in a far-removed part of his being. The part that knows now what it is to be aware of how much pressure to apply to ease a backache, or how deliberately withholding touch can be far more exhilarating than the constant contact of fingers.
Magnus, Ironhide's voice crackles through his radio, we've sent the twins to oversee the perimeter north of the beach. Radar has you not too far from there. Keep them out of trouble, will ya?
"Copy that," he responds, before driving away, the rush of wind over and around him a pale translation of a life he had briefly lived.
But in any case, I wrote fic to make me feel better, and it sort of has. I like the style I employed for this one, and if it gets a good response, I'm considering posting it on my dA account tonight. Hell, if Kam slpwlkngdreamer likes it, that'll be enough incentive, really.
So anyway, this fic is for my Bella!muse, who deserves all the love she can get considering just how much torture she puts herself through each and every day. I swear, if she were a real person, I'd give her lots and lots of hugs right now because really, everybody just craves to be loved. It's a basic human right, I think. But unfortunately, it's not something most people don't uphold very often.
Their Sci-Fi Love Story
Project: Kam's onceonthisearth, a TF Movie post-movie AU.
Characters: The cast of onceonthisearth, primary pairing Ultra Magnus [+] & Bella Rimini
Credits: Written in the aftermath of Serengeti Vignettes by autobotvierge and inspired by slpwlkngdreamer's "A Sci-Fi Love Story" (a lovely poem that I will beg her to post and share to you all soon) and Yiruma's "Moonlight" (a gorgeous piano piece that you can download here)
Notes: This is set well into the AU, wherein that/the rock(™) has fallen to Earth, thus turning all the TFs located at ground zero to turn human.
I don't know how to deal with men, she'd told him that one night, her eyes turned away as if she were too scared to look him in the face. He hadn't been sure at the time of where she planned to take their little one-sided conversation but he'd waited, patiently, listening from across the room. He hadn't spent as much time amongst the humans as the other autobots, and he would be the first to admit that he was always a little perplexed at how contrary they could be as creatures, happy one moment, unbearably sad the next and then neutral as if neither mattered very much.
He'd heard her laugh nervously, the shadows cutting across her face as her fingers tugged on the ends of the sweater whose sleeve cuffs fell over her knuckles. You weren't... you're not, a man, if we're to consider what you really are. At least not, she faltered, eyes lifting for the first time and then faltering once more as teeth chewed gently on the inside of the corner of her mouth. When did it get so complicated.
I didn't realize it was, he'd told her, speaking slowly as he rose from the couch that he'd been sitting in. Reaching out, he glimpsed the moonlight cutting across the back of a hand, flesh and bone, but his. For now.
The last few weeks had been a fair amount of strange, especially since he and Optimus and several others who had been housed in Doozy's Autoshop had woken one morning to find themselves a different kind of sensitive to the cold of the smooth cement floor, the world having grown several different degrees of large. They had been turned human by some unknown force, and being just that had been both frightening in the sense that if the Deceptecons decided to attack, they would be vulnerable, which also meant that their human friends would be even more so. Though on the other hand, it was an exhilirating experience; this opportunity to move and feel Earth as creatures similar to the ones that had been born on it.
They weren't always pleasant, of course, such as the discovery of what it felt to bleed, the knife having slipped and instinct to protect taking over that he had moved quickly to catch it, blade against his palm. He'd discovered though, that he preferred dealing with with bandaging a wound that stung like the brand of laser fire as opposed to having to try to make sense of all the abstract chemical reactions that prompted either bursts of feelings so intense in what Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee's charge, referred to as a 'natural high', or a pain he couldn't clearly identify in origin. Like whenever Bella would backtrack at the sight of him, evading every instance of them crossing paths.
She's just a little confused, thas'all. Doozy had told him once, when he'd offered to lend a hand in clearing a few things from the autoshop's storage room. Bella's got a lot of issues with the male half of the species, Ultra Magnus. I dunno the whole story, the mechanic had told him as he proceeded to disappear beneath the chassy of the newest car to come in for modifications. But according to Jin she'd had the misfortune to be with a man so obviously lacking in any decency, that she'd not only experienced pain on a physical level, but on the emotional level as well.
But we're friends. What does my turning human have anything to do with it? I'd never hurt her, I believe she knows that. I'd think that she should have been more worried about getting hurt if I were still in my original form.
The mechanic had slid out from under the car and had stood, the dark skin of his hands smudged with grease. You see that, Doozy had nodded off to the side, and when he'd turned, he glimpsed Bumblebee laughing along with Sam and Mikaela who were painting little things on the back of Caitlin's white shirt. The youngest of the group was unfazed by this bout of fun, her hand still steady as she drew out with paint, the mermaid that had been commissioned for someone's Toyota.
I see Sam, Mikaela and Caitlin with Bumblebee. He'd blinked, unable to grasp what Doozy was trying to tell him.
Not them, Magnus, the mechanic nudged his shoulder, them, nodding beyond the group of four, to where Mona and Jazz had their heads bent together, a single smile mirrored back between them as they worked on restoring the Chevy Impala that had been checked in not two days before.
Bella-girl's been alone too long, y'see. Doozy had continued, idly scratching the side of his head as if the action might help him explain the subject at hand. Honey's had a complicated life that's taught her not to expect the things that most people, at least, in my experience, want: parents who are married and happy, friends whose idea of fun isn't getting stoned and courting possibilities of OD-ing from too much of a so-called good thing, a significant other who gets that bruises don't mean love.
He tilted her face up, his hand hesitant to cup a chin hell-bent on hiding in the dark of her throat. She's scared, he heard Doozy's voice in his head. An' frankly, man, I don't blame her. Arcee's the only femme amongst all you boys and she's not really my thing, you know, so I don't have to deal with the complications that come with the possibility of falling inlove.
We're an immature, you might say, sort of species, Magnus. Doozy had sighed, leaning his large frame against the nearest post. Look through the history books and you'll see man's capability to wage wars for something as grand as setting up an empire to slaughtering people just because they're regarded as inferior. Color, race, hell even gender -- we've got enough drama over all of that. Blood's been spilled and lives destroyed all because as a people, we just have no idea of how to get along.
I'm scared, she smiled feebly, eyes darting off to the side as if to say let me run away despite her body being rooted to the spot, every fibre of her tense as his hand fell from her chin to her arms, the cotton of her shirt her armor against basic human contact, skin to skin. You make me scared. This makes me scared.
I'm sorry, he murmured back, leaning in and daring to press his lips to her forehead the way he'd seen Sam do to Mikaela. It was every bit as quietly thrilling as he'd speculated it would be.
You're human now, yes. Flesh and blood like me and everyone else here. Doozy had continued. And that, my friend, is something that she doesn't know how to deal with. After all, she's not Mona, who I swear t'God, has no apprehensions whatsoever about pursuing the one she wants, skin or steel. And she's not Caitlin, capable of just leaving things be and accepting them as they are when they're there.
His hands were tentative in cupping her face, both hands feeling the sudden rush of heat that bloomed across her cheeks as their mouths meeting for that very first time. When she inhaled, her own hands coming up to cup his own, he felt the world tilt as if Earth had been taken off it's axis and the sun was tumbling far and away.
Kiss me again, he heard her sigh, fingers curling in near-possesiveness upon the collar of the shirt he'd donned for the day, her body molding against his, a perfect fit. Kiss me.
She's just Bella. The frustrated romantic who'll be rabidly optimistic about everyone else's love life but so damned indifferent about her own. Doozy had shook his head again. Nevermind that I catch her sometimes, looking at you as if she's seeing the world for the first time, every hope reflected like the heart she's so hell-bent not to wear on her sleeve.
Doozy had shaken his head, and they'd moved off to the back of the shop, where he'd tossed a bottle of chilled water over. She looks at you like that, Doozy picked up where he left off, and then her logic sets in and she clams up all over again, thinking 'but he's an autobot, nevermind that he's not a robot per se, the world will never understand' and you can be sure her brain'll follow that all the way to all kinds of excuses. The most important one being that she doesn't know how long you'll have, and that girl, the mechanic had shaken his head yet again, she's a greedy one, not that I blame her. Wanting everything or nothing at all.
A sad look had crossed Doozy's face and in the window behind the mechanic, he'd caught sight of Jin's car pulling up and Bella waving from the front seat, the sunlight offering an illusion that her skin glowed like muted gold. And poor baby, the sigh had been heavy with the deep, caring concern of a friend. She's convinced herself she can live with nothing too.
They collided and caved into each other, bringing to his mind a brilliant memory of walking on the surface of some barren moon, watching in silence away from the other Wreckers as a distant star turned supernova before the dark came and all light burrowed deep. It had been a magnificent sight to see, a change so dramatic, a death so intense it was a gaping hole in the depths of space.
Bella, he pressed his face to the hollow of her shoulder, feeling so desperate to make sure that she was still there, with him, and not somewhere else. His eyes shut as her fingers threaded through his hair, the pads of her fingers massaging a trail over his scalp to fist in his hair so that he looked up to see her eyes, glazed and frightened. When he kissed her again, they fell and he held on tight, recalling that cocooned feeling of hurtling through space with no destination and every bit of faith that one day, home would be concrete all over again.
It's been months since then now and he's parked in neutral beside the quaint little mailbox that he knows was a gift from her father living miles away. He doesn't have the heart that beats any longer, his human shell having reverted to his original form weeks ago. And like the dream spoken of by poets of the present and of old, those short, blissful, last weeks in Bella's arms feel half-remembered.
Human memory, he has discovered, is nothing like sorting through files. They are less finite, captured in scent and sensation rather than clear pictures in his head. To Ultra Magnus, to recapture their love-making is to consciously feel the caress of noonday sunlight against the plating of his body, to remember her laughter the smell of arabica coffee, freshly brewed in a glass pot. To feel that elusive, undefinable feeling of love, is to acknowledge the hollow space in a far-removed part of his being. The part that knows now what it is to be aware of how much pressure to apply to ease a backache, or how deliberately withholding touch can be far more exhilarating than the constant contact of fingers.
Magnus, Ironhide's voice crackles through his radio, we've sent the twins to oversee the perimeter north of the beach. Radar has you not too far from there. Keep them out of trouble, will ya?
"Copy that," he responds, before driving away, the rush of wind over and around him a pale translation of a life he had briefly lived.