Twisted Tales: Shorty and the Beast (Pt 13)
Title: Twisted Tales: Shorty and the Beast (Part 13 - An object of revulsion and derision)
Rating: G
Verse: G1ish?
Character: Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker, Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: AU. Crack.
Summary: Once-upon-a-times and might-have-beens paint a story most fair. A beauty stalks a tower in a guise most foul, and only one bot has optics to see past the grisly exterior.
Part 1 Part 6 Part 11
Part 2 Part 7 Part 12
Part 3 Part 8
Part 4 Part 9
Part 5 Part 10
The Beast was…short. He was about half Cliffjumper’s size and stood upright on two legs. In fact, his entire body was eerily similar to that of a Transformer, save for that instead of good solid metal, he appeared to be entirely organic, covered in a soft-looking pale peach skin. Some form of yellow filamentous organic stuff seemed to grow out of the top and back of his head, lankly framing his face, ending in a jagged cut that just brushed his shoulders. He wore what appeared to be two very dirty gold-colored cleaning cloths, one draped over his thin, bony-looking shoulders to fall down his back, and the other tied closely around his hips.
But what was perhaps the most startling was the brightness of his eyes - a blue that looked more at home in a pair of optics than the irises of organic eyes. They glowed in the dim light and did not seem to fit the small, pale face at all. The effect was almost unsettling.
“Had a good look yet?” the little organic sneered.
“I didn’t know organics could talk,” Cliffjumper said, still off kilter.
The organic snorted air through his intakes - through his nose, Cliffjumper thought irrelevantly. “I didn’t know minibots were capable of processing at any speed.” The organic folded his arms and smirked up at him. “Guess I was right; they can’t.”
Can’t blast him, Cliffjumper reminded himself, barely holding on to his temper. He’s small and squishy and I might kill him. “If it’s the size that matters, I guess you’re only running on half speed,” Cliffjumper retorted. On the table, Jazz covered his tiny faceplate with an equally tiny palm, and Prowl visibly twitched.
“And yet, I’m not the one who goes barreling into homes uninvited and unwanted,” the organic said triumphantly. “This is my house: so get out.”
“I had an invitation.” Cliffjumper said, deadpan, and held out the note.
Smile sliding from his face, the organic stalked forward and snatched the note with both hands. Up close, the organic was even more…organic-like, for lack of a better descriptor. Cliffjumper could see the tiny imperfections in the pale skin and small thin blue lines that seemed to run beneath the surface. The organic didn’t seem to notice Cliffjumper’s curiosity; instead focusing on the absurdly large piece of paper that was nearly half his size. Didn’t know organics could read, either, Cliffjumper thought, as the organic seemed to do exactly that, the irises of his eyes rapidly following the lines of text. By the time he was finished, he was scowling, his lips twisted downwards and his bright eyes narrowed.
“Jazz,” the organic growled. He took a threatening step towards the table.
Jazz shifted backwards, his hands up defensively. Beside him, Prowl stood calm, seemingly unconcerned with his tablemate’s plight. “Aw, c’mon, Sunny,” Jazz started, smiling winningly.
“Don’t call me that!”
“His brother has attained the position of your bodyguard, Master,” Prowl explained serenely. “Jazz and I felt that such a hire would be beneficial.”
“He’s what?” Cliffjumper and the organic demanded simultaneously.
Rating: G
Verse: G1ish?
Character: Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker, Prowl, Jazz
Warnings: AU. Crack.
Summary: Once-upon-a-times and might-have-beens paint a story most fair. A beauty stalks a tower in a guise most foul, and only one bot has optics to see past the grisly exterior.
Part 1 Part 6 Part 11
Part 2 Part 7 Part 12
Part 3 Part 8
Part 4 Part 9
Part 5 Part 10
The Beast was…short. He was about half Cliffjumper’s size and stood upright on two legs. In fact, his entire body was eerily similar to that of a Transformer, save for that instead of good solid metal, he appeared to be entirely organic, covered in a soft-looking pale peach skin. Some form of yellow filamentous organic stuff seemed to grow out of the top and back of his head, lankly framing his face, ending in a jagged cut that just brushed his shoulders. He wore what appeared to be two very dirty gold-colored cleaning cloths, one draped over his thin, bony-looking shoulders to fall down his back, and the other tied closely around his hips.
But what was perhaps the most startling was the brightness of his eyes - a blue that looked more at home in a pair of optics than the irises of organic eyes. They glowed in the dim light and did not seem to fit the small, pale face at all. The effect was almost unsettling.
“Had a good look yet?” the little organic sneered.
“I didn’t know organics could talk,” Cliffjumper said, still off kilter.
The organic snorted air through his intakes - through his nose, Cliffjumper thought irrelevantly. “I didn’t know minibots were capable of processing at any speed.” The organic folded his arms and smirked up at him. “Guess I was right; they can’t.”
Can’t blast him, Cliffjumper reminded himself, barely holding on to his temper. He’s small and squishy and I might kill him. “If it’s the size that matters, I guess you’re only running on half speed,” Cliffjumper retorted. On the table, Jazz covered his tiny faceplate with an equally tiny palm, and Prowl visibly twitched.
“And yet, I’m not the one who goes barreling into homes uninvited and unwanted,” the organic said triumphantly. “This is my house: so get out.”
“I had an invitation.” Cliffjumper said, deadpan, and held out the note.
Smile sliding from his face, the organic stalked forward and snatched the note with both hands. Up close, the organic was even more…organic-like, for lack of a better descriptor. Cliffjumper could see the tiny imperfections in the pale skin and small thin blue lines that seemed to run beneath the surface. The organic didn’t seem to notice Cliffjumper’s curiosity; instead focusing on the absurdly large piece of paper that was nearly half his size. Didn’t know organics could read, either, Cliffjumper thought, as the organic seemed to do exactly that, the irises of his eyes rapidly following the lines of text. By the time he was finished, he was scowling, his lips twisted downwards and his bright eyes narrowed.
“Jazz,” the organic growled. He took a threatening step towards the table.
Jazz shifted backwards, his hands up defensively. Beside him, Prowl stood calm, seemingly unconcerned with his tablemate’s plight. “Aw, c’mon, Sunny,” Jazz started, smiling winningly.
“Don’t call me that!”
“His brother has attained the position of your bodyguard, Master,” Prowl explained serenely. “Jazz and I felt that such a hire would be beneficial.”
“He’s what?” Cliffjumper and the organic demanded simultaneously.