Transformers: Stunticon Gestalt Team. #82: If, #22: Too Much
Title: Night Moves
Fandom: Transformers Generation One
Characters: Dead End, Wildrider, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Prompt: #82: If
Word Count: 517
Rating: G
Summary: Dead End's night is interrupted by his fellow Stuntibot once again irritating the Lamborghini twins.
Author's Notes: Repost of an old 31_days ficlet I did.
---
The dimmed lights that marked night-shift on the Ark unsettled him, like a bullet ricocheting off his tires.
Dead End sat on his berth and polished his feet. He couldn't think of anything better to do - he was fully charged already. He couldn't work up the effort to venture into the lounge for a late-night cup of energon. The softly-glowing plasma might soothe his unsettled relays, but meeting up with one of his fellow freedom-fighters always put him on edge. They irritated him, for no obvious reason, and sometimes he felt the urge to run them over. He could never quite work up the interest to do so, however.
He couldn't work up the interest to do much of anything, even to spend much time wondering on the distinct lack of any memories before a year ago. All of his gestaltmates had the same problem; only Motormaster had the balls to ask Ratchet about it. The medic had put him off with curses and the remonstrance not to take up space in the medbay unless he was injured. After that, Motormaster had just told them to put the lack of memories out of their heads. He'd done it in such a way that clearly meant the opposite to anyone who had linked up with him, of course.
Shouting came down the hall, followed by the sound of squeealing tires and a rapid transformation then someone pounding against the palm-sensors all along the hall. He studied his gleaming foot thoughtfully and put his polish away.
With a soft whoosh, his door opened and Wildrider tumbled in. "You didn't lock your door," he said incongrously.
Dead End just looked at his gestaltmate and then the two Lamborghinis standing outside his door. They were obviously just this side of a killing rage - whatever Wildrider had done to cause this, he probably deserved a beating. Unfortunately, the Stuntibots' force fields rather prevented anyone from administering one. It didn't stop some of the more volatile mechs from trying when Wildrider or Drag Strip got especially obnoxious.
Motormaster didn't mind people trying to kill his subordinates, but he had made it perfectly clear that fighting them in personal quarters was off-limits. He was still on punishment duty for 'explaining' that little tidbit to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The Lamborghinis, and everyone else in the ship, had gotten the message, though.
"Your powers of deduction amaze me," Dead End finally drawled. He stood up slowly and sauntered towards the door, shutting it in the faces of the two Autobots that irked him the most. Turning back to his gestaltmate, he sighed. "Breakdown always leaves his door unlocked." Why didn't you go there instead of coming to bother me?
"He had duties with Mirage all day." I didn't want to bother him 'cause he's all twitchy. Besides, he's curled up with Motormaster now. Wildrider turned on his radio and fiddled with the tuning till he found a rock station. "Sunstreaker goes on duty in six hours, and Sideswipe'll probably get distracted by then."
Dead End sighed again and sat back down on his recharge berth. A night spent with Wildrider. Feel his excitement.
End
-
Title: Collective Lust
Fandom: G1 Transformers
Characters: Bruticus, Menasor, Onslaught, Motormaster
Prompt: #22: Too Much
Word Count: 179
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruticus and Menasor wrassle.
---
The two mighty Decepticon gestalts grappled, Bruticus shoving the younger Menasor down into the earth. The car-based gestalt didn't seem to notice Bruticus's knee between his thighs, or the way he was practically riding it - he just fought furiously.
Bruticus laughed and wedged his knee to force Menasor's legs wider, enjoying this far too much. The other gestalt was strong and young and handsome, and if he thought too much about what he was doing, Bruticus would fall apart.
Menasor took that laugh as mockery, of course, and struggled all the harder, managing to wiggle one arm loose and immediately used it to crush Bruticus to him so he could try to break the other combiner's spine.
Not that he could without more leverage or his other arm free, but it made him feel better to try. Then Bruticus used his free hand to grab his aft-
And
it all
kind of
exploded.
"What was that all about?" Motormaster yelled, getting up in Onslaught's non-face.
The dark missile truck flicked his hands as if to get rid of some unwanted fluid. "I have not the slightest idea."
End
My Little Table
Fandom: Transformers Generation One
Characters: Dead End, Wildrider, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Prompt: #82: If
Word Count: 517
Rating: G
Summary: Dead End's night is interrupted by his fellow Stuntibot once again irritating the Lamborghini twins.
Author's Notes: Repost of an old 31_days ficlet I did.
---
The dimmed lights that marked night-shift on the Ark unsettled him, like a bullet ricocheting off his tires.
Dead End sat on his berth and polished his feet. He couldn't think of anything better to do - he was fully charged already. He couldn't work up the effort to venture into the lounge for a late-night cup of energon. The softly-glowing plasma might soothe his unsettled relays, but meeting up with one of his fellow freedom-fighters always put him on edge. They irritated him, for no obvious reason, and sometimes he felt the urge to run them over. He could never quite work up the interest to do so, however.
He couldn't work up the interest to do much of anything, even to spend much time wondering on the distinct lack of any memories before a year ago. All of his gestaltmates had the same problem; only Motormaster had the balls to ask Ratchet about it. The medic had put him off with curses and the remonstrance not to take up space in the medbay unless he was injured. After that, Motormaster had just told them to put the lack of memories out of their heads. He'd done it in such a way that clearly meant the opposite to anyone who had linked up with him, of course.
Shouting came down the hall, followed by the sound of squeealing tires and a rapid transformation then someone pounding against the palm-sensors all along the hall. He studied his gleaming foot thoughtfully and put his polish away.
With a soft whoosh, his door opened and Wildrider tumbled in. "You didn't lock your door," he said incongrously.
Dead End just looked at his gestaltmate and then the two Lamborghinis standing outside his door. They were obviously just this side of a killing rage - whatever Wildrider had done to cause this, he probably deserved a beating. Unfortunately, the Stuntibots' force fields rather prevented anyone from administering one. It didn't stop some of the more volatile mechs from trying when Wildrider or Drag Strip got especially obnoxious.
Motormaster didn't mind people trying to kill his subordinates, but he had made it perfectly clear that fighting them in personal quarters was off-limits. He was still on punishment duty for 'explaining' that little tidbit to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The Lamborghinis, and everyone else in the ship, had gotten the message, though.
"Your powers of deduction amaze me," Dead End finally drawled. He stood up slowly and sauntered towards the door, shutting it in the faces of the two Autobots that irked him the most. Turning back to his gestaltmate, he sighed. "Breakdown always leaves his door unlocked." Why didn't you go there instead of coming to bother me?
"He had duties with Mirage all day." I didn't want to bother him 'cause he's all twitchy. Besides, he's curled up with Motormaster now. Wildrider turned on his radio and fiddled with the tuning till he found a rock station. "Sunstreaker goes on duty in six hours, and Sideswipe'll probably get distracted by then."
Dead End sighed again and sat back down on his recharge berth. A night spent with Wildrider. Feel his excitement.
End
-
Title: Collective Lust
Fandom: G1 Transformers
Characters: Bruticus, Menasor, Onslaught, Motormaster
Prompt: #22: Too Much
Word Count: 179
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruticus and Menasor wrassle.
---
The two mighty Decepticon gestalts grappled, Bruticus shoving the younger Menasor down into the earth. The car-based gestalt didn't seem to notice Bruticus's knee between his thighs, or the way he was practically riding it - he just fought furiously.
Bruticus laughed and wedged his knee to force Menasor's legs wider, enjoying this far too much. The other gestalt was strong and young and handsome, and if he thought too much about what he was doing, Bruticus would fall apart.
Menasor took that laugh as mockery, of course, and struggled all the harder, managing to wiggle one arm loose and immediately used it to crush Bruticus to him so he could try to break the other combiner's spine.
Not that he could without more leverage or his other arm free, but it made him feel better to try. Then Bruticus used his free hand to grab his aft-
And
it all
kind of
exploded.
"What was that all about?" Motormaster yelled, getting up in Onslaught's non-face.
The dark missile truck flicked his hands as if to get rid of some unwanted fluid. "I have not the slightest idea."
End
My Little Table