Dec. 5th, 2010 09:44 pm
Drabble dump
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Drabble #1:
Title: Prelude
Continuity: Beast Wars
Pairing: Megatron/Dinobot
Warning: Implied sexy funtimes.
Summary: Megatron requests Dinobot's company. Pre-series. Not as funny as the rest of these.
Written for Caia, for the
the_fic_trader.
________________
The first time Megatron invited Dinobot to his private residence, the question was not whether or not he ended up in Megatron's berth, but rather, how far he would be made to submit beforehand.
After all, the latter question had been answered the moment Dinobot accepted the invitation itself. In a sense, it had been answered even before that; while Dinobot had not been under Megatron's employ at that time, Megatron was a high-ranking Predacon with the power to make his life very miserable should Dinobot choose to reject him. A Maximal would have said Dinobot never had a choice at all -- that being made to pick between "homeless in the gutter" and "unwanted interface to appease superior" negated any true consent.
Dinobot himself believed that if he wanted more amiable options in life, he'd have to be strong enough to earn them.
Either way, he wasn't wholely without recourse. If Megatron was true Predacon, he would be wanting a fight. Dinobot arrived at his residence fully prepared to give him one.
"Ah, excellent timing," Megatron said by way of greeting. Spotlights dotted the interior of his residence, drawing attention to garish adornments and ridiculously opulent furnishings, and casting the rest in shadow. His optics glinted out of the dimness and he spoke to Dinobot as if welcoming an old friend. "I've just finishing preparing a drink. Come and sit, there's a musical piece I want to share with you. I think you will enjoy it, yes."
Dinobot faltered.
"I have not come here to listen to ... music," he said, furious and feeling played with.
"No?" Megatron said. The edge that Dinobot had expected at last entered his voice. "But I have. Would you tell me, in my own home, how I am to entertain my guests?"
Dinobot pulled in his anger. Conflict in prelude to interface was one thing. Fighting on this point would put him in the same position as refusing the invitation would have.
"No. Of course not," he said, with as much appeasement as he felt the situation warranted, "I would enjoy the chance to -- " He chewed unhappily on the word. "-- listen with you."
The threat smoothed out from Megatron's face plates as if it had never been. "That's the spirit, yes! Right this way."
He held out a hand to direct Dinobot to an intimate seating area with gel-packed cushions that gave alarmingly under Dinobot's weight.
For the next cycle, Megatron had him drink quality fuel, listen to two musical sets, and finally, watch a short recorded performance by a composer with a radically different style. Or least, Megatron said he had a radically different style. Megatron said a great many things over the course of the visit and absolutely none of them followed any script Dinobot was remotely familiar with.
Megatron did not challenge him. He did not provoke, or prod, or mock, or flaunt his not inconsiderable strength. He, in short, did not flirt in any real Predacon understanding of the word. Oh, glimpses appeared, flashes of warning and almost predatory interest, but nothing Dinobot could respond to properly.
Instead, Megatron discussed music. He brought up a baffling list of composers, referred to the works and varying popularity of several musicians, expressed scorn at the current "pop" sensations. Though to say that they discussed was an incorrect phrase. Dinobot knew nothing about music and had little to say in the occasional moments Megatron expected some sort of reaction from him.
"It's sound. Some sounds just happen to be more appeasing than others," Dinobot finally said out of boredom and frustration, "That is all."
"Oh no," Megatron said and his optics blazed even brighter in some secret excitement, "That is where you are wrong. Yes. Allow me to show you."
Megatron deposited him outside some time later, entirely untouched and processor churning with every emotion from confusion to anger to, of all things, disappointment. How ironic to go dreading an intimacy he didn't ask for, only to leave annoyed at it's failure to manifest.
The mystery plagued him for megacycles afterward. He didn't have the rank or position to be courted by someone of Megatron stature. The only value such a mech could get from him was physical -- whether pleasure or in service to. He could make no sense of it.
Thus, when the second invitation arrived, he accepted it with a feeling very much like anticipation. A feeling that only grew as that visit, and then the third, and finally the fourth went the same as the first one had. It was during the fifth that he reached out to Megatron in blatant invitation and Megatron laughed and laughed and muffled the sound against Dinobot's neck.
It would be a long, long time before Dinobot realized how thoroughly he'd lost.
END
_____________
Drabble #2:
Title:Cheap Whore Cheap Whore
Continuity: G1 Cartoon
Pairing(s): Hot Rod/Ultra Magnus, Hot Rod/Blurr
Warning: Hot Rod as a hooker, implied sex, questionable humor
Summary: See warning.
Comment thread drabble, originally posted here in response to
spacehussy's icon.
_________________
"So."
A heavy, awkward silence filled the room and Hot Rod rolled his optics. "We do this every other week, Magnus. Just leave the credit chit on the counter on your way out."
This only served to make the silence heavier. Hot Rod wondered if it would be crass to point out that really, he did have other things (and other 'bots) to do today. He held up one hand and made a show of flexing the joints and eying them critically.
"I thought perhaps we could..." Ultra Mangus trailed off and shifted uneasily. Not being a small 'bot, the motion rattled the entire berth. "Get something to drink. Together. Maybe talk about something that's not --"
"Yeah, yeah, that's sounds great," Hot Rod said quickly, "So uh, hows Elita doing? That was a real stand up of you, ya know. Looking after her like that after Optimus, well. Real admirable. Downright..." He spread his fingers wide and wiggled them, pleased that the soft whirring of gears wasn't marred by any grinding or squeaking. "...brotherly! Yeah, that's the word. Maybe we could invite her along? Bet she'd like that."
Ultra Magnus sat up abruptly. "So I leave it on the counter?"
"The usual fee," Hot Rod said smugly.
__________________
Letting things get too personal was only asking for trouble, so as a rule, Hot Rod avoided anything remotely 'date-like' when indulging his little side business. The only exception he made to this was Blurr and that was because it felt like cheating to charge for a full cycle when the speedster was usually done within the first five microns, embarrassed excuses and all. They ended up playing video games for the remaining time instead. Hot Rod figured that gracefully loosing one racing game after another wasn't all that different, in the long run.
END
______________
Drabble #3:
Title: Egg Tending
Continuity: G1 Cartoon
Pairing: Thundercracker/Skywarp
Warning: Seeker eggs.
Comment thread drabble, originally posted here in response to this sketch by
spacehussy
_______________
"Skywarp," Thundercracker said in the tight, strained way that meant he was about to do that 'I'm going to use my processor a lot and make everything way hard' thing of his, "What are you going to do with all these eggs?"
Do?
Skywarp stared at Thundercracker in confusion and when that got him no answers, he looked around the room itself. Well, he'd already built the nest -- which had turned out perfect, by the way, and it'd be nice if Thundercracker would notice considering Skywarp spent just megacycles searching through the ship and the other Decepticons' personal belongings for the right materials. He'd put the nest in the perfect place to be able to guard the door (which turned out to be where Thundercracker's desk used to be) and even had emergency heaters on hand, in case something happened to the ship's environmental controls.
Thundercracker was watching him expectantly.
"I'll... I'll sit here," he said and shuffled into his spot in the nest to demonstrate, "And make sure they stay warm. And - and shoot anyone who comes in to try and take them." What else did you do with eggs, anyway?
Thundercracker's expression shifted into the one that meant Skywarp was missing something really, really important.
Skywarp wracked his processor frantically. "Oh!" He perked up. "And you'll get me energon so I don't run out or have to leave the nest!"
Instead of rewarding Skywarp's cleverness, Thundercracker asked in a voice somehow even tighter than before, "And when they hatch?"
"...hatch?" Skywarp asked uncertainly.
"Yes, eggs do that. Then we'll having hatchlings. Lots of them. And when that happens, you'll ---?"
Slaggit, he hated when Thundercracker asked him trick questions like that.
He looked down at the eggs. Counted them. Looked around the room. Thought about it.
"--- get them their own rooms?"
END
______________
Aaaaand now back to other writting,
Title: Prelude
Continuity: Beast Wars
Pairing: Megatron/Dinobot
Warning: Implied sexy funtimes.
Summary: Megatron requests Dinobot's company. Pre-series. Not as funny as the rest of these.
Written for Caia, for the
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
________________
The first time Megatron invited Dinobot to his private residence, the question was not whether or not he ended up in Megatron's berth, but rather, how far he would be made to submit beforehand.
After all, the latter question had been answered the moment Dinobot accepted the invitation itself. In a sense, it had been answered even before that; while Dinobot had not been under Megatron's employ at that time, Megatron was a high-ranking Predacon with the power to make his life very miserable should Dinobot choose to reject him. A Maximal would have said Dinobot never had a choice at all -- that being made to pick between "homeless in the gutter" and "unwanted interface to appease superior" negated any true consent.
Dinobot himself believed that if he wanted more amiable options in life, he'd have to be strong enough to earn them.
Either way, he wasn't wholely without recourse. If Megatron was true Predacon, he would be wanting a fight. Dinobot arrived at his residence fully prepared to give him one.
"Ah, excellent timing," Megatron said by way of greeting. Spotlights dotted the interior of his residence, drawing attention to garish adornments and ridiculously opulent furnishings, and casting the rest in shadow. His optics glinted out of the dimness and he spoke to Dinobot as if welcoming an old friend. "I've just finishing preparing a drink. Come and sit, there's a musical piece I want to share with you. I think you will enjoy it, yes."
Dinobot faltered.
"I have not come here to listen to ... music," he said, furious and feeling played with.
"No?" Megatron said. The edge that Dinobot had expected at last entered his voice. "But I have. Would you tell me, in my own home, how I am to entertain my guests?"
Dinobot pulled in his anger. Conflict in prelude to interface was one thing. Fighting on this point would put him in the same position as refusing the invitation would have.
"No. Of course not," he said, with as much appeasement as he felt the situation warranted, "I would enjoy the chance to -- " He chewed unhappily on the word. "-- listen with you."
The threat smoothed out from Megatron's face plates as if it had never been. "That's the spirit, yes! Right this way."
He held out a hand to direct Dinobot to an intimate seating area with gel-packed cushions that gave alarmingly under Dinobot's weight.
For the next cycle, Megatron had him drink quality fuel, listen to two musical sets, and finally, watch a short recorded performance by a composer with a radically different style. Or least, Megatron said he had a radically different style. Megatron said a great many things over the course of the visit and absolutely none of them followed any script Dinobot was remotely familiar with.
Megatron did not challenge him. He did not provoke, or prod, or mock, or flaunt his not inconsiderable strength. He, in short, did not flirt in any real Predacon understanding of the word. Oh, glimpses appeared, flashes of warning and almost predatory interest, but nothing Dinobot could respond to properly.
Instead, Megatron discussed music. He brought up a baffling list of composers, referred to the works and varying popularity of several musicians, expressed scorn at the current "pop" sensations. Though to say that they discussed was an incorrect phrase. Dinobot knew nothing about music and had little to say in the occasional moments Megatron expected some sort of reaction from him.
"It's sound. Some sounds just happen to be more appeasing than others," Dinobot finally said out of boredom and frustration, "That is all."
"Oh no," Megatron said and his optics blazed even brighter in some secret excitement, "That is where you are wrong. Yes. Allow me to show you."
Megatron deposited him outside some time later, entirely untouched and processor churning with every emotion from confusion to anger to, of all things, disappointment. How ironic to go dreading an intimacy he didn't ask for, only to leave annoyed at it's failure to manifest.
The mystery plagued him for megacycles afterward. He didn't have the rank or position to be courted by someone of Megatron stature. The only value such a mech could get from him was physical -- whether pleasure or in service to. He could make no sense of it.
Thus, when the second invitation arrived, he accepted it with a feeling very much like anticipation. A feeling that only grew as that visit, and then the third, and finally the fourth went the same as the first one had. It was during the fifth that he reached out to Megatron in blatant invitation and Megatron laughed and laughed and muffled the sound against Dinobot's neck.
It would be a long, long time before Dinobot realized how thoroughly he'd lost.
END
_____________
Drabble #2:
Title:
Continuity: G1 Cartoon
Pairing(s): Hot Rod/Ultra Magnus, Hot Rod/Blurr
Warning: Hot Rod as a hooker, implied sex, questionable humor
Summary: See warning.
Comment thread drabble, originally posted here in response to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_________________
"So."
A heavy, awkward silence filled the room and Hot Rod rolled his optics. "We do this every other week, Magnus. Just leave the credit chit on the counter on your way out."
This only served to make the silence heavier. Hot Rod wondered if it would be crass to point out that really, he did have other things (and other 'bots) to do today. He held up one hand and made a show of flexing the joints and eying them critically.
"I thought perhaps we could..." Ultra Mangus trailed off and shifted uneasily. Not being a small 'bot, the motion rattled the entire berth. "Get something to drink. Together. Maybe talk about something that's not --"
"Yeah, yeah, that's sounds great," Hot Rod said quickly, "So uh, hows Elita doing? That was a real stand up of you, ya know. Looking after her like that after Optimus, well. Real admirable. Downright..." He spread his fingers wide and wiggled them, pleased that the soft whirring of gears wasn't marred by any grinding or squeaking. "...brotherly! Yeah, that's the word. Maybe we could invite her along? Bet she'd like that."
Ultra Magnus sat up abruptly. "So I leave it on the counter?"
"The usual fee," Hot Rod said smugly.
__________________
Letting things get too personal was only asking for trouble, so as a rule, Hot Rod avoided anything remotely 'date-like' when indulging his little side business. The only exception he made to this was Blurr and that was because it felt like cheating to charge for a full cycle when the speedster was usually done within the first five microns, embarrassed excuses and all. They ended up playing video games for the remaining time instead. Hot Rod figured that gracefully loosing one racing game after another wasn't all that different, in the long run.
END
______________
Drabble #3:
Title: Egg Tending
Continuity: G1 Cartoon
Pairing: Thundercracker/Skywarp
Warning: Seeker eggs.
Comment thread drabble, originally posted here in response to this sketch by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_______________
"Skywarp," Thundercracker said in the tight, strained way that meant he was about to do that 'I'm going to use my processor a lot and make everything way hard' thing of his, "What are you going to do with all these eggs?"
Do?
Skywarp stared at Thundercracker in confusion and when that got him no answers, he looked around the room itself. Well, he'd already built the nest -- which had turned out perfect, by the way, and it'd be nice if Thundercracker would notice considering Skywarp spent just megacycles searching through the ship and the other Decepticons' personal belongings for the right materials. He'd put the nest in the perfect place to be able to guard the door (which turned out to be where Thundercracker's desk used to be) and even had emergency heaters on hand, in case something happened to the ship's environmental controls.
Thundercracker was watching him expectantly.
"I'll... I'll sit here," he said and shuffled into his spot in the nest to demonstrate, "And make sure they stay warm. And - and shoot anyone who comes in to try and take them." What else did you do with eggs, anyway?
Thundercracker's expression shifted into the one that meant Skywarp was missing something really, really important.
Skywarp wracked his processor frantically. "Oh!" He perked up. "And you'll get me energon so I don't run out or have to leave the nest!"
Instead of rewarding Skywarp's cleverness, Thundercracker asked in a voice somehow even tighter than before, "And when they hatch?"
"...hatch?" Skywarp asked uncertainly.
"Yes, eggs do that. Then we'll having hatchlings. Lots of them. And when that happens, you'll ---?"
Slaggit, he hated when Thundercracker asked him trick questions like that.
He looked down at the eggs. Counted them. Looked around the room. Thought about it.
"--- get them their own rooms?"
END
______________
Aaaaand now back to other writting,
no subject
+dies some more from laughter+