Speedwrite Theme day "FIRSTS"
TITLE: How Odd
RATING: K
CHARACTER: OC's
SERIES: Any Verse
WARNING: An exercise in dialogue
PROMPT: 1 First Crush
"So, I was thinking " *Crash*
"TRUNCHEON! Are you alright?"
"I think so. What hit me?"
"... Weren't you paying attention?"
"I was looking about, I swear - I didn't run into anything. Primus, I feel like ... I don't know how I feel."
"Truncheon, you were run over by a cargo transport."
"Ah, so that's how I feel - Like I got run over by an out-of-control cargo transport."
"Glad you figured it out. Why aren't you crushed?"
"Superior metals and higher quality build?"
"Very funny, Truncheon. You really need to go see a medic."
"You see, Speedtrain, that is related to what I was thinking before that glancing blow. You should a code specialist. Your processors are under a lot of strain,, and it's lashing out, making you believe I was crushed by a cargo transport. Obviously that encounter would leave evidence - and I am clearly unmarked."
TITLE: Answered questions
RATING: K
CHARACTER: Original characters
SERIES: Any - post earth fall
WARNING: An exercise in dialogue.
PROMPT: 1 First kiss
"Hey, Steelrail?"
"I’m busy, Truculent."
"I have a question for you ... It's about one of those words that originated on earth."
"Fine. What is it?"
"What does Kay Eye Es Es mean?"
"Seriously? You're bugging me about an acronym?"
"Come on, Steelrail, just tell me. Please?"
Silence.
"If you explain it, I'll leave you alone to your busywork."
"One explanation and you'll be silent?"
"Promise."
"Fine. Kay Eye Es, Es, is shorthand for Keep It Simple, Stupid."
"Did you just call me stupid?"
"I'm not calling you stupid, that's what the second 'es' in Kiss stands for."
"Kiss - the word sounds exotic. I wonder if there's an action that goes along with it."
"Why don't you go harass one of the bots who spent time on earth? And while you're at it, ask them about the many other words that make no sense."
"Good idea, Steelrail! Thanks for all your help!"
"Good riddance to you too, Truculent."
TITLE: Impressions
RATING: K+
CHARACTER: Orion Pax,
SERIES: Any series - Pre War
SUMMARY: First contact means new beginnings which leads to lasting friendships.
PROMPT: 2 First Contact
Orion Pax loved it when his creators could show him around their work. It did not happen often: father stayed busy working as a secretary under Zeta Prime, the Prime's office was not suited for little ones. Mother worked hard as a factotum in the medical bays. Sometimes, Mother brought back interesting tales, of which chief Medic Reggae featured in often. Father never regaled his only son with stories from work - he just talked about interesting things he saw on his way.
Orion Pax didn't mind. He preferred real events to made-up stories anyway. But what was really special was when he could accompany father or mother to their jobs. Mostly, Orion found himself under the care and supervision of Sockeye and Tungsten (along with their horde of adult helpers), local caretakers who watched over the neighborhood younglings. They were okay, Orion decided, but keeping track of every eighty-seven youngling meant neither could give any one youngling the attention he or she needed. Orion got plenty of hugs and was talked to all the time at home, but the same wasn't true of everyone else.
This orn, Orion got a special treat. His mother, taking one look at the youngling center, decided Sockeye, Tungsten, and their support crew didn't need yet another youngling underfoot, no matter how well behaved that additional child was, and took Orion to her jobsite.
It failed to start out well.
"What is this?"
"This is my youngling, Orion. Orion this is Reggae."
Orion looked at the medic-boss. He liked the stories featuring her, but he didn't like her. He took an instant dislike.
"Strontium, there are youth sectors for a reason - drop that thing off, and don't ever come back to work with it."
Orion knew Reggae had insulted him somehow. He wanted to know why those words made mother so upset.
"Reggae, Orion won't be a bother - he's a very agreeable fellow and won't touch anything or ask pointless questions."
"Hmp." Reggae crossed her arms. She looked very intimidating in her sorrel and crimson armor. "The first instance I see or hear it, he's going to the youth sector, understand?"
"Yes, Reggae."
The head medic walked away, shouting out orders. Orion watched as every mech and femme jumped up instantly, and ran to do the bidding of this most disagreeable medic.
"Orion, I need you to listen to me."
Orion looked away from mother's boss to pay attention to her instructions. He listened intently: stay in the play-area set aside for younglings waiting to be seen by a pediatric. Do not go wandering behind closed doors or climb the chairs the adults were using.
Orion understood that Reggae didn't want him around, or have her staff bothered by him. He didn't know how climbing walls or asking the workers questions about their jobs and task was bothersome, but he knew he had to be on his best behavior. "Okay, mama."
"Thanks sweetspark. I'll bring you lunch when I can." Mother trotted off.
Orion watched mother until she disappeared behind the maze of shelving. He went over to the untouched tin and aluminum blocks and stacked them.
Well, he appeared to be staking the metal blocks. He thought he was building a replica of the building his father pointed out once, saying that was where he worked.
Truncheon and Truculent were playing with the marbles, ignoring the new arrival, until one of their glass orbs hit the wobbly block wall, sending the top two blocks crashing. Then the troublesome duo noticed the newest arrival was the only youngling that didn't have anyone watching him. Truculent gathered a handful of the scattered glass balls and tossed them at Orion's unfinished structure. When the marbles hit a block, it shifted and fell. When they hit Orion, he flinched.
"Hey, that hurts." Orion complained after Truncheon joined in the one sided battle."
"Yeah?" taunted truculent. "Who you gonna tattle to? Your mama? She ain't here." They had run out of marbles and began looking around for more stuff to throw.
A small silver hand landed on their indigo chassis. As one, the two bullies yelped. "Maybe his mother isn't here, but mine is."
Truncheon and truculent followed the arms to the mechling they were attached to. "We weren't bugging him, honest." They told the smaller kid."
"Uh hu." Said the oldest youngling in the play area, clearly not buying it. "Go play in the far corner and I won't tell my mom about you two picking on newcomers."
Truncheon scampered away, ignoring the titanium fitted pipes, which were more pretend building material Orion didn't recognize, as they crunched underfoot. Truculent followed, taking time to gather the loose balls within arms reach.
Orion shuttered his optics. The young mechling, almost too old to playing in the area reserved for the younglings not held in their caretaker's lap, remained injured. "Who you?" Orion asked, trying to figure out why the one white optic he could see flickered, while the other was hidden beneath a weird device that wrapped around the head.
"Name's Jazz. What's yours?"
"Orion." He shook the hand Jazz offered. "Why'd they run?" He wanted to ask about the optics, remembered his mom asked him not to pester the adults with questions. Jazz didn't look old enough to be an adult, but still.
Jazz grinned. "Everybot here knows my mom is Reggae."
Orion had only one thing to say. "Your mama's mean."
"We are going to be good friends."
TITLE: Determination
RATING: Teen
CHARACTER: Original character and Megatron
SERIES: Any/All (g1)
SUMMARY: Often, survival of the fittest goes to the more vicious - but not always.
PROMPT: 3 First blood
A gray mech struggled as several armed guards attempted to strap energon blades to his arms. He didn't know what kind of swords the weapons were - heavy claymores, curved cutlasses, sharp katanas - and it didn't really matter. He's been trapped underground with a small handful of others long enough to know what it meant when one of the prisoners had been pulled aside for bladed weapons to be attached: he'd been selected as the next contender in the gladiator duels.
"Hold him down mechs!" came the order.
The mech really hated that voice - he'd come to the conclusion the speaker never appeared in person to the cages, used audio pick-ups to transmit his words.
Miner 24601 roared and surged forward when pointed spikes where shoved in his back. He turned towards the newest tormenters, intending to sweep them down.
That distraction was long enough for the guards. Three pinned him own, while two more wrestled sheathed energon blades to his arms, securing the heavy weapons to his elbows.
The miner's eight remaining companions stayed away as they huddled in the nearest corner, hoping to avoid notice. Miner 24601 snarled in disgust. They were worthy of the title 'live target practice'. He refused to hide and let the gladiator run his own swords through him.
With one blade strapped and secured, the guards released that limb, reaching for the other.
Miner 24601 - a nameless entity to the guards - took opportunity of the temporary lapse and swept the blade towards the guards still pinning his legs and chassis down.
The three didn't scramble. They didn't need to. Until the start of the match, the blades were blunt clubs in the prisoner's hands. Still, the impact did jar them just a bit.
"I said Hold Him Down!" The unseen mech ordered again. "We can't tranq him and expect the crowds to enjoy the fight."
You mean one-sided slaughter, miner 24601 thought darkly. More guards rushed forward to subdue his unending struggles. He growled when the second energon blade was secured tighter than it needed to be.
As the guards on his legs pushed themselves to their feet, the miner swept his legs around, hoping to pull them down.
Only one was balanced enough by that last, desperate move to fall. The others either stepped over the struts, or let the kick slid off their armor.
"On your feet."
The grey mech ignored the order. He rolled on his side, trying to adjust to the unbalanced weights so crudely attached. The blades extended his reach too far and he shoved the ends into the stone floor.
"Get him up."
Helpful servos rudely grabbed his arms, pulling him up, creating gouges in the floor from where the tips had been unskillfully buried. The armed mech shook off the servos once he was up. A look around revealed trying to rush the nearest guards would only give the second circle (and third layer of still-arriving guards) more opportunities to fire their ranged weapons. He doubted those were set on 'disorient and delay'.
"Smart as well as a fighter - you might just survive your first bout." The speaker said.
The gray miner ignored the transmitted voice. He wanted to destroy that mech, for various reasons, but could do nothing about it while locked in the pits. Miner 24601 followed the guards, allowing them to lead him to what everyone assumed would be his doom.
After ten orns in the dark, dank pit where fresh gladiator fodder was stored, the bright, natural light of Cybertron brought pain to the mechs optics. He instinctive shuttered his optics, then opened them almost instantly. Allowing pain or need to dictate his reactions would doom him.
"Mechs and femmes, the latest challenger to SkyBoom has arrived - you are in for a treat of the ages!" The announcer's voice boomed over the sand-filled gladiator pit. The gray mech did his best to ignore the voice and the crowds.
He shook his arms, getting a better feel for the length and width of the bladed weapons. He noticed the guards stepping away, slinking into the shadows. The miner wondered why, then was distracted by the hum his energon weapons gave forth as they turned on. He walked forward, into the sunlight, as ready as he could be.
SkyBoom came into the death-ring, escorted by visibly armed guards. His brown optics caught sight of his chosen prey and he smiled.
His prey noticed SkyBooms weapons. The champion's blades were not simply strapped on. No, those swords were incorporated into the mech's arms. Champions and survivors of death matches were much more valuable than the temporary blades.
The grey mech and SkyBoom danced, their swords clashed, hissed and spat as they touched metal or lit energon blades. The two fighters did not trade blows, glancing or solid, for the live blades would tear deep into their amour, ripping holes in energon lines. Instead, they dodged or used their energon sword to slide the enemy strike away.
To the miner's shock, he was the first to draw energon - and it wasn't a simple cut that could be ignored either.
SkyBoom, the reigning champion was astonished too - but not enough to drop his guard. Skyboom battered the sword away before it could cut deeper. He thrust, nicked the miner in retaliation.
The cheering crowd loved the fact both champion and challenger had been injured. They cheered, their shots of glee, cry’s of 'finish him off' proved louder than the voice over the loudspeakers.
At least four more breems of dancing, dodging, slicing and fast arm whips through the air, before th heavier wound on SkyBoom slowed him noticeably.
The miner, also inured and leaking energon, ignored the cut, staying out of range of the faster mech's reach. His vents and engine heaved with the strain, beginning to struggle in an effort to maintain the furious speed.
When the energon loss grew severe enough - after obtaining and giving several more gouges in the superficial amour - SkyBoom stumbled.
Miner 24601 held back, suspecting a feint. When his opponent swept his fully integrated blades in a circle, at knee level, it would have mortally wounded the mech trying a sneak-attack. As it was, the gray miner had not jumped forward, saving himself from an injury that would assure SkyBoom another victory.
As it was, the desperate move left SkyBoom off balance, and Miner 24601 pressed his advantage.
Four breems later, energon stained the sands. One mech lay on the ground, his colors fading to gray. The other stood tall over his opponent, arms outstretched to receive the praise of the crowds.
"SkyBoom has fallen! Our challenger is the winner. Will he survive the next battle?" The announcer shouted to make himself be heard over the wall of noise.
RATING: K
CHARACTER: OC's
SERIES: Any Verse
WARNING: An exercise in dialogue
PROMPT: 1 First Crush
"So, I was thinking " *Crash*
"TRUNCHEON! Are you alright?"
"I think so. What hit me?"
"... Weren't you paying attention?"
"I was looking about, I swear - I didn't run into anything. Primus, I feel like ... I don't know how I feel."
"Truncheon, you were run over by a cargo transport."
"Ah, so that's how I feel - Like I got run over by an out-of-control cargo transport."
"Glad you figured it out. Why aren't you crushed?"
"Superior metals and higher quality build?"
"Very funny, Truncheon. You really need to go see a medic."
"You see, Speedtrain, that is related to what I was thinking before that glancing blow. You should a code specialist. Your processors are under a lot of strain,, and it's lashing out, making you believe I was crushed by a cargo transport. Obviously that encounter would leave evidence - and I am clearly unmarked."
TITLE: Answered questions
RATING: K
CHARACTER: Original characters
SERIES: Any - post earth fall
WARNING: An exercise in dialogue.
PROMPT: 1 First kiss
"Hey, Steelrail?"
"I’m busy, Truculent."
"I have a question for you ... It's about one of those words that originated on earth."
"Fine. What is it?"
"What does Kay Eye Es Es mean?"
"Seriously? You're bugging me about an acronym?"
"Come on, Steelrail, just tell me. Please?"
Silence.
"If you explain it, I'll leave you alone to your busywork."
"One explanation and you'll be silent?"
"Promise."
"Fine. Kay Eye Es, Es, is shorthand for Keep It Simple, Stupid."
"Did you just call me stupid?"
"I'm not calling you stupid, that's what the second 'es' in Kiss stands for."
"Kiss - the word sounds exotic. I wonder if there's an action that goes along with it."
"Why don't you go harass one of the bots who spent time on earth? And while you're at it, ask them about the many other words that make no sense."
"Good idea, Steelrail! Thanks for all your help!"
"Good riddance to you too, Truculent."
TITLE: Impressions
RATING: K+
CHARACTER: Orion Pax,
SERIES: Any series - Pre War
SUMMARY: First contact means new beginnings which leads to lasting friendships.
PROMPT: 2 First Contact
Orion Pax loved it when his creators could show him around their work. It did not happen often: father stayed busy working as a secretary under Zeta Prime, the Prime's office was not suited for little ones. Mother worked hard as a factotum in the medical bays. Sometimes, Mother brought back interesting tales, of which chief Medic Reggae featured in often. Father never regaled his only son with stories from work - he just talked about interesting things he saw on his way.
Orion Pax didn't mind. He preferred real events to made-up stories anyway. But what was really special was when he could accompany father or mother to their jobs. Mostly, Orion found himself under the care and supervision of Sockeye and Tungsten (along with their horde of adult helpers), local caretakers who watched over the neighborhood younglings. They were okay, Orion decided, but keeping track of every eighty-seven youngling meant neither could give any one youngling the attention he or she needed. Orion got plenty of hugs and was talked to all the time at home, but the same wasn't true of everyone else.
This orn, Orion got a special treat. His mother, taking one look at the youngling center, decided Sockeye, Tungsten, and their support crew didn't need yet another youngling underfoot, no matter how well behaved that additional child was, and took Orion to her jobsite.
It failed to start out well.
"What is this?"
"This is my youngling, Orion. Orion this is Reggae."
Orion looked at the medic-boss. He liked the stories featuring her, but he didn't like her. He took an instant dislike.
"Strontium, there are youth sectors for a reason - drop that thing off, and don't ever come back to work with it."
Orion knew Reggae had insulted him somehow. He wanted to know why those words made mother so upset.
"Reggae, Orion won't be a bother - he's a very agreeable fellow and won't touch anything or ask pointless questions."
"Hmp." Reggae crossed her arms. She looked very intimidating in her sorrel and crimson armor. "The first instance I see or hear it, he's going to the youth sector, understand?"
"Yes, Reggae."
The head medic walked away, shouting out orders. Orion watched as every mech and femme jumped up instantly, and ran to do the bidding of this most disagreeable medic.
"Orion, I need you to listen to me."
Orion looked away from mother's boss to pay attention to her instructions. He listened intently: stay in the play-area set aside for younglings waiting to be seen by a pediatric. Do not go wandering behind closed doors or climb the chairs the adults were using.
Orion understood that Reggae didn't want him around, or have her staff bothered by him. He didn't know how climbing walls or asking the workers questions about their jobs and task was bothersome, but he knew he had to be on his best behavior. "Okay, mama."
"Thanks sweetspark. I'll bring you lunch when I can." Mother trotted off.
Orion watched mother until she disappeared behind the maze of shelving. He went over to the untouched tin and aluminum blocks and stacked them.
Well, he appeared to be staking the metal blocks. He thought he was building a replica of the building his father pointed out once, saying that was where he worked.
Truncheon and Truculent were playing with the marbles, ignoring the new arrival, until one of their glass orbs hit the wobbly block wall, sending the top two blocks crashing. Then the troublesome duo noticed the newest arrival was the only youngling that didn't have anyone watching him. Truculent gathered a handful of the scattered glass balls and tossed them at Orion's unfinished structure. When the marbles hit a block, it shifted and fell. When they hit Orion, he flinched.
"Hey, that hurts." Orion complained after Truncheon joined in the one sided battle."
"Yeah?" taunted truculent. "Who you gonna tattle to? Your mama? She ain't here." They had run out of marbles and began looking around for more stuff to throw.
A small silver hand landed on their indigo chassis. As one, the two bullies yelped. "Maybe his mother isn't here, but mine is."
Truncheon and truculent followed the arms to the mechling they were attached to. "We weren't bugging him, honest." They told the smaller kid."
"Uh hu." Said the oldest youngling in the play area, clearly not buying it. "Go play in the far corner and I won't tell my mom about you two picking on newcomers."
Truncheon scampered away, ignoring the titanium fitted pipes, which were more pretend building material Orion didn't recognize, as they crunched underfoot. Truculent followed, taking time to gather the loose balls within arms reach.
Orion shuttered his optics. The young mechling, almost too old to playing in the area reserved for the younglings not held in their caretaker's lap, remained injured. "Who you?" Orion asked, trying to figure out why the one white optic he could see flickered, while the other was hidden beneath a weird device that wrapped around the head.
"Name's Jazz. What's yours?"
"Orion." He shook the hand Jazz offered. "Why'd they run?" He wanted to ask about the optics, remembered his mom asked him not to pester the adults with questions. Jazz didn't look old enough to be an adult, but still.
Jazz grinned. "Everybot here knows my mom is Reggae."
Orion had only one thing to say. "Your mama's mean."
"We are going to be good friends."
TITLE: Determination
RATING: Teen
CHARACTER: Original character and Megatron
SERIES: Any/All (g1)
SUMMARY: Often, survival of the fittest goes to the more vicious - but not always.
PROMPT: 3 First blood
A gray mech struggled as several armed guards attempted to strap energon blades to his arms. He didn't know what kind of swords the weapons were - heavy claymores, curved cutlasses, sharp katanas - and it didn't really matter. He's been trapped underground with a small handful of others long enough to know what it meant when one of the prisoners had been pulled aside for bladed weapons to be attached: he'd been selected as the next contender in the gladiator duels.
"Hold him down mechs!" came the order.
The mech really hated that voice - he'd come to the conclusion the speaker never appeared in person to the cages, used audio pick-ups to transmit his words.
Miner 24601 roared and surged forward when pointed spikes where shoved in his back. He turned towards the newest tormenters, intending to sweep them down.
That distraction was long enough for the guards. Three pinned him own, while two more wrestled sheathed energon blades to his arms, securing the heavy weapons to his elbows.
The miner's eight remaining companions stayed away as they huddled in the nearest corner, hoping to avoid notice. Miner 24601 snarled in disgust. They were worthy of the title 'live target practice'. He refused to hide and let the gladiator run his own swords through him.
With one blade strapped and secured, the guards released that limb, reaching for the other.
Miner 24601 - a nameless entity to the guards - took opportunity of the temporary lapse and swept the blade towards the guards still pinning his legs and chassis down.
The three didn't scramble. They didn't need to. Until the start of the match, the blades were blunt clubs in the prisoner's hands. Still, the impact did jar them just a bit.
"I said Hold Him Down!" The unseen mech ordered again. "We can't tranq him and expect the crowds to enjoy the fight."
You mean one-sided slaughter, miner 24601 thought darkly. More guards rushed forward to subdue his unending struggles. He growled when the second energon blade was secured tighter than it needed to be.
As the guards on his legs pushed themselves to their feet, the miner swept his legs around, hoping to pull them down.
Only one was balanced enough by that last, desperate move to fall. The others either stepped over the struts, or let the kick slid off their armor.
"On your feet."
The grey mech ignored the order. He rolled on his side, trying to adjust to the unbalanced weights so crudely attached. The blades extended his reach too far and he shoved the ends into the stone floor.
"Get him up."
Helpful servos rudely grabbed his arms, pulling him up, creating gouges in the floor from where the tips had been unskillfully buried. The armed mech shook off the servos once he was up. A look around revealed trying to rush the nearest guards would only give the second circle (and third layer of still-arriving guards) more opportunities to fire their ranged weapons. He doubted those were set on 'disorient and delay'.
"Smart as well as a fighter - you might just survive your first bout." The speaker said.
The gray miner ignored the transmitted voice. He wanted to destroy that mech, for various reasons, but could do nothing about it while locked in the pits. Miner 24601 followed the guards, allowing them to lead him to what everyone assumed would be his doom.
After ten orns in the dark, dank pit where fresh gladiator fodder was stored, the bright, natural light of Cybertron brought pain to the mechs optics. He instinctive shuttered his optics, then opened them almost instantly. Allowing pain or need to dictate his reactions would doom him.
"Mechs and femmes, the latest challenger to SkyBoom has arrived - you are in for a treat of the ages!" The announcer's voice boomed over the sand-filled gladiator pit. The gray mech did his best to ignore the voice and the crowds.
He shook his arms, getting a better feel for the length and width of the bladed weapons. He noticed the guards stepping away, slinking into the shadows. The miner wondered why, then was distracted by the hum his energon weapons gave forth as they turned on. He walked forward, into the sunlight, as ready as he could be.
SkyBoom came into the death-ring, escorted by visibly armed guards. His brown optics caught sight of his chosen prey and he smiled.
His prey noticed SkyBooms weapons. The champion's blades were not simply strapped on. No, those swords were incorporated into the mech's arms. Champions and survivors of death matches were much more valuable than the temporary blades.
The grey mech and SkyBoom danced, their swords clashed, hissed and spat as they touched metal or lit energon blades. The two fighters did not trade blows, glancing or solid, for the live blades would tear deep into their amour, ripping holes in energon lines. Instead, they dodged or used their energon sword to slide the enemy strike away.
To the miner's shock, he was the first to draw energon - and it wasn't a simple cut that could be ignored either.
SkyBoom, the reigning champion was astonished too - but not enough to drop his guard. Skyboom battered the sword away before it could cut deeper. He thrust, nicked the miner in retaliation.
The cheering crowd loved the fact both champion and challenger had been injured. They cheered, their shots of glee, cry’s of 'finish him off' proved louder than the voice over the loudspeakers.
At least four more breems of dancing, dodging, slicing and fast arm whips through the air, before th heavier wound on SkyBoom slowed him noticeably.
The miner, also inured and leaking energon, ignored the cut, staying out of range of the faster mech's reach. His vents and engine heaved with the strain, beginning to struggle in an effort to maintain the furious speed.
When the energon loss grew severe enough - after obtaining and giving several more gouges in the superficial amour - SkyBoom stumbled.
Miner 24601 held back, suspecting a feint. When his opponent swept his fully integrated blades in a circle, at knee level, it would have mortally wounded the mech trying a sneak-attack. As it was, the gray miner had not jumped forward, saving himself from an injury that would assure SkyBoom another victory.
As it was, the desperate move left SkyBoom off balance, and Miner 24601 pressed his advantage.
Four breems later, energon stained the sands. One mech lay on the ground, his colors fading to gray. The other stood tall over his opponent, arms outstretched to receive the praise of the crowds.
"SkyBoom has fallen! Our challenger is the winner. Will he survive the next battle?" The announcer shouted to make himself be heard over the wall of noise.