I need a "Skywarp is Annoying" icon...
So I have this humanized TF "story" that's in my head. I've posted bits of it here in the journal. But it's not like I can really call it a story because...well, it isn't a story. At best, it's a series of vignettes. It has no plot. I have no idea how the TFs became humans other than "Goddidit." (Which I can live with, actually; it's no more far-fetched than some mechanisms I've seen. ;) ) It was supposed to be a journal-style thing, but I don't think that's going to work now. Whatever it is, it's just little flashes that have come to me...and, that, apparently, are going to continue to come to me. I have no idea why. They just do.
Anyway, the discussion about the last entry I made in this thing got me thinking about feminism and gender roles and such. Sometime after 2AM a few days ago, this apparently morphed into thinking about my human Skywarp (who is female because I want to torture him with...stuff. :) ). Then that went away and non-human Emo Skywarp took over for a bit before I forcefully beat him into a deep, dark corner of my brain. But human Skywarp didn't fully go away.
And, since I have to work on "Redemption" over the weekend because my deadline is closing in on me, I needed to exorcise Skywarp. So, to shut him up and make him go away for a while, I wrote some human Skywarp today while eating lunch. Whether or not it will make him go away remains to be seen, but either way, I figured I'd share a bit of what I wrote. There's more, but it needs cleanup. :) So, here's a bit of it. Just 'cuz.
"OW!" I yelped, flinching reflexively away from Thundercracker as he poked and prodded at my face with a bit of polishing cloth that he'd moistened with some of our limited water supply. "That hurts!" I indignantly informed him.
"Well," Thundercracker grumbled at me, completely without sympathy, "if you'd kept your mouth shut, you wouldn't have this problem, now would you?"
Not answering -- because he was right, and I knew it but didn't want to admit it -- I flinched away from him again and slapped my hand over the cheek that Thundercracker was so rudely poking. He sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes at me as I skittered away from him.
"Will you hold still, for Primus's sake?!" he demanded, doggedly following me as I retreated from him.
"No! It hurts!" I reiterated, glaring profusely at him and taking a step backward for every step toward me that he took, only peripherally noticing the blood that was seeping around and through my fingers and pitter-pattering in little red drops to the floor.
I thought retreat was a good strategy until I managed to back myself into a bulkhead. While I berated myself for that lack of foresight, Thundercracker grinned in victory. He used his bigger, heavier body to pin mine against the bulkhead, and then he none-too-gently wrenched my bloody hand away from my even bloodier face. Roughly grabbing hold of my jaw to keep my head still, he dabbed with ridiculous care at the cuts on my cheek and above my eye, both of which were apparently bleeding copiously. Gritting my teeth, trying to remember that he was trying to help me even if the helping hurt like hell, I did my best to keep as still as possible while Thundercracker tried to clean me up. I couldn't help a few squirms of discomfort and a few high-pitched, protesting noises of pain as he worked, but he just ignored them and strengthened his grip on me to bruising levels to compensate for my struggles. As he worked, he muttered something about uncooperative patients and having to clean out the wounds on my face or else they might end up infected.
"And you know about that how?" I asked irritably of him, even though speaking was somewhat difficult given the death grip he had on my jaw.
"Internet," TC answered me succinctly. He twisted to grab another piece of cloth, since the first was already rather soiled. Turning back to me to continue his ministrations, he added, "Figured that since we might be stuck like this for a while, it'd be best to be as prepared as possible."
"My hero," I muttered sarcastically. He must have heard me, since his face was no more than two inches from mine, but he pretended that he didn't. Instead, he just continued to torture me.
After a few interminable moments of fussing and dabbing and poking and wiping and clucking like a mother hen over me, Thundercracker stepped back from me at last, in order to admire his handiwork, as if I was a sculpture that he'd just finished or something. He looked quite proud of himself...for a moment. Then he scowled suddenly and deeply at me.
"What?" I asked self-consciously, raising a hand to gingerly poke at my throbbing lower lip, which seemed to be swelling more by the second. "Ow," I said again, the pain momentarily distracting me from my irritation with Thundercracker's scrutiny.
"That one's bleeding again!" Thundercracker indignantly complained, meanwhile, pointing accusingly at the cut above my right eye. "Primus, how much of that stuff do you have in there?" he demanded to know.
"How should I know?" I retorted. "You're the Internet expert!"
Sighing, Thundercracker approached me again and encouraged me to sit by the simple expedient of pushing insistently down on my shoulders. Obediently, I sat, sliding down against the bulkhead with a long and exasperated sigh. Thundercracker crouched down in front of me, regarding my face for a long, critical moment. I recognized the look; in our real bodies, Thundercracker and I often had occasion to do minor post-skirmish repairs to each other's body. He was giving me the same look now that he always gave me when he didn't know what to do next. Eventually, though, he sighed at me.
"Here," he said gently while rather insistently pressing the bloody cloth he'd used to clean my face into my hand.
I just looked at it stupidly. And then, with the hand that wasn't holding the cloth, I rubbed at my right eye, the one beneath the wound that was recalcitrantly bleeding, the one that was swollen half-way shut, wiping blood away from it. Sighing, Thundercracker guided the hand that was clutching the cloth up to the cut above my eye and held it there, pushing hard against the wound.
When I squealed with discomfort and tried to squirm away from him, he just held me still by using his other hand to pin my shoulder to the bulkhead behind me.
Tersely, brooking no argument, he commanded, "Hold it there. Push hard. That should stop the bleeding...eventually."
I glared at him out of my good eye, but did as I was told.
"It HURTS!" I informed him yet again.
An unsympathetic smile quirked one corner of Thundercracker's mouth.
"So you've said," he said. "So maybe next time you'll remember to keep your big mouth shut, huh?"
Then he got to his feet and headed toward the computer terminal, no doubt to consult the humans' Internet again to see what else he should do about my battered face.
"I hate you!" I called after him. "Starscream, too," I added, with a lot more venom, for good measure.
At that, Thundercracker stopped and turned to face me with a smile on his face. He folded his arms across his chest, regarding me with, I felt, way too much amusement.
"Well," he said, "if it makes you feel any better, Skywarp, I think Starscream broke his hand."
"Good," I snarled. "Lemme at him, and I'll break his other one for him so he has a matching set."
Thundercracker snickered.
"Big talk," he said with a patronizing smirk, "for such a scrawny little thing." And then he turned away from me again, resuming his journey to the computer terminal.
Wishing like hell that I had something to throw at him that would do more damage than a bloodied piece of polishing cloth, I ineffectually yelled, "Shut up!" at him instead. All that my outburst accomplished, though, was to further rip open my split lip. "OW!" I yelped again, slumping back against the wall in thoroughly annoyed defeat.
Anyway, the discussion about the last entry I made in this thing got me thinking about feminism and gender roles and such. Sometime after 2AM a few days ago, this apparently morphed into thinking about my human Skywarp (who is female because I want to torture him with...stuff. :) ). Then that went away and non-human Emo Skywarp took over for a bit before I forcefully beat him into a deep, dark corner of my brain. But human Skywarp didn't fully go away.
And, since I have to work on "Redemption" over the weekend because my deadline is closing in on me, I needed to exorcise Skywarp. So, to shut him up and make him go away for a while, I wrote some human Skywarp today while eating lunch. Whether or not it will make him go away remains to be seen, but either way, I figured I'd share a bit of what I wrote. There's more, but it needs cleanup. :) So, here's a bit of it. Just 'cuz.
"OW!" I yelped, flinching reflexively away from Thundercracker as he poked and prodded at my face with a bit of polishing cloth that he'd moistened with some of our limited water supply. "That hurts!" I indignantly informed him.
"Well," Thundercracker grumbled at me, completely without sympathy, "if you'd kept your mouth shut, you wouldn't have this problem, now would you?"
Not answering -- because he was right, and I knew it but didn't want to admit it -- I flinched away from him again and slapped my hand over the cheek that Thundercracker was so rudely poking. He sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes at me as I skittered away from him.
"Will you hold still, for Primus's sake?!" he demanded, doggedly following me as I retreated from him.
"No! It hurts!" I reiterated, glaring profusely at him and taking a step backward for every step toward me that he took, only peripherally noticing the blood that was seeping around and through my fingers and pitter-pattering in little red drops to the floor.
I thought retreat was a good strategy until I managed to back myself into a bulkhead. While I berated myself for that lack of foresight, Thundercracker grinned in victory. He used his bigger, heavier body to pin mine against the bulkhead, and then he none-too-gently wrenched my bloody hand away from my even bloodier face. Roughly grabbing hold of my jaw to keep my head still, he dabbed with ridiculous care at the cuts on my cheek and above my eye, both of which were apparently bleeding copiously. Gritting my teeth, trying to remember that he was trying to help me even if the helping hurt like hell, I did my best to keep as still as possible while Thundercracker tried to clean me up. I couldn't help a few squirms of discomfort and a few high-pitched, protesting noises of pain as he worked, but he just ignored them and strengthened his grip on me to bruising levels to compensate for my struggles. As he worked, he muttered something about uncooperative patients and having to clean out the wounds on my face or else they might end up infected.
"And you know about that how?" I asked irritably of him, even though speaking was somewhat difficult given the death grip he had on my jaw.
"Internet," TC answered me succinctly. He twisted to grab another piece of cloth, since the first was already rather soiled. Turning back to me to continue his ministrations, he added, "Figured that since we might be stuck like this for a while, it'd be best to be as prepared as possible."
"My hero," I muttered sarcastically. He must have heard me, since his face was no more than two inches from mine, but he pretended that he didn't. Instead, he just continued to torture me.
After a few interminable moments of fussing and dabbing and poking and wiping and clucking like a mother hen over me, Thundercracker stepped back from me at last, in order to admire his handiwork, as if I was a sculpture that he'd just finished or something. He looked quite proud of himself...for a moment. Then he scowled suddenly and deeply at me.
"What?" I asked self-consciously, raising a hand to gingerly poke at my throbbing lower lip, which seemed to be swelling more by the second. "Ow," I said again, the pain momentarily distracting me from my irritation with Thundercracker's scrutiny.
"That one's bleeding again!" Thundercracker indignantly complained, meanwhile, pointing accusingly at the cut above my right eye. "Primus, how much of that stuff do you have in there?" he demanded to know.
"How should I know?" I retorted. "You're the Internet expert!"
Sighing, Thundercracker approached me again and encouraged me to sit by the simple expedient of pushing insistently down on my shoulders. Obediently, I sat, sliding down against the bulkhead with a long and exasperated sigh. Thundercracker crouched down in front of me, regarding my face for a long, critical moment. I recognized the look; in our real bodies, Thundercracker and I often had occasion to do minor post-skirmish repairs to each other's body. He was giving me the same look now that he always gave me when he didn't know what to do next. Eventually, though, he sighed at me.
"Here," he said gently while rather insistently pressing the bloody cloth he'd used to clean my face into my hand.
I just looked at it stupidly. And then, with the hand that wasn't holding the cloth, I rubbed at my right eye, the one beneath the wound that was recalcitrantly bleeding, the one that was swollen half-way shut, wiping blood away from it. Sighing, Thundercracker guided the hand that was clutching the cloth up to the cut above my eye and held it there, pushing hard against the wound.
When I squealed with discomfort and tried to squirm away from him, he just held me still by using his other hand to pin my shoulder to the bulkhead behind me.
Tersely, brooking no argument, he commanded, "Hold it there. Push hard. That should stop the bleeding...eventually."
I glared at him out of my good eye, but did as I was told.
"It HURTS!" I informed him yet again.
An unsympathetic smile quirked one corner of Thundercracker's mouth.
"So you've said," he said. "So maybe next time you'll remember to keep your big mouth shut, huh?"
Then he got to his feet and headed toward the computer terminal, no doubt to consult the humans' Internet again to see what else he should do about my battered face.
"I hate you!" I called after him. "Starscream, too," I added, with a lot more venom, for good measure.
At that, Thundercracker stopped and turned to face me with a smile on his face. He folded his arms across his chest, regarding me with, I felt, way too much amusement.
"Well," he said, "if it makes you feel any better, Skywarp, I think Starscream broke his hand."
"Good," I snarled. "Lemme at him, and I'll break his other one for him so he has a matching set."
Thundercracker snickered.
"Big talk," he said with a patronizing smirk, "for such a scrawny little thing." And then he turned away from me again, resuming his journey to the computer terminal.
Wishing like hell that I had something to throw at him that would do more damage than a bloodied piece of polishing cloth, I ineffectually yelled, "Shut up!" at him instead. All that my outburst accomplished, though, was to further rip open my split lip. "OW!" I yelped again, slumping back against the wall in thoroughly annoyed defeat.