Rebecca Hb. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beckyh2112) wrote2006-09-10 08:35 pm
beckyh2112) wrote2006-09-10 08:35 pm
Collection
The fics from my drabble meme a ways back.
Arabwel: [The Matrix] the Twins.
Two sat in one of the sitting rooms of the Chateau, a medical textbook open on his lap. He turned the page slowly, admiring the artistry and exactness of the diagram of the human lung. Such a very precise rendering.
The door to the room opened and his twin strode in. His hair dripped, and he wiped his hands on a white towel as he walked. Well, it used to be white, and when the laundrers got done with it, the towel would be white again.
He finished with the towel and tossed it onto one of the sidetables before sitting down across from his twin, crossing his legs neatly. He tilted his head inquiringly at Two's expectant face.
The other Wraith twin had carefully put his hand on his place and looked up as One came into the room. He did not comment until he had the other's full attention, then drawled, "You smell like a wet dog."
One flicked his hands at his twin, a few droplets of dirty water spattering on the other one's coat. "Cain pushed us into the swimming pool."
The second Wraith twin pointedly looked down at his coat as the droplets left ruddy trails and closed the book over his hand. "We trust you did something about that."
"Oh, yes. Did you know that werewolves can't drown?"
---
Sapphirebreeze: [G1 Transformers] Omega Supreme/Constructicons
Scrapper clasped hands with Hook, the two of them alone in the new workrooms Megatron had given them. Alone for once, and Primus, how they used to jump at chances like this. But with the gestalt connection so new and terrific in their minds, physical touching didn't feel so wonderful anymore.
Or maybe it was the way things had gone with Omega Supreme. Scrapper bowed his head slightly, squeezing Hook's hands. Their old friend... How many times had a good spot away from the others been inside Omega's rocket? Their old friend hadn't begrudged them that, and they had... enjoyed their changing relationship with him.
Hook brought Scrapper's hands to his mouth and blew softly on them. Scrapper's fingers and shovel twitched as sensation flared through his fingers like sparks. "This isn't right."
"Oh?"
"The walls aren't alive."
Hook rubbed his thumb against Scrapper's palm. "He's not lost to us, Scrapper. The Robosmasher got part of him; it will infect the rest. And then he will be a model Decepticon, a valuable soldier for Megatron."
"If the Autobots don't catch what it's doing first." Scrapper's shoulders slumped, and he shuffled nearer to Hook. "It wasn't supposed to be like that," he said plaintively. "He wasn't supposed to find Crystal City until we could explain it to him. I had chosen exactly what to say, too, to distract him from his own grief and remind him of ours."
Hook nodded and rubbed Scrapper's hands comfortingly. "We had hoped," he began, the simple lines uniquely theirs as Devastator was. "Perhaps, that it would be easier on us if we destroyed a part of ourselves instead of being forced to watch as someone else did it. It turns out there's no easy way to lose a part of your soul."
Scrapper shivered. "And we lost two parts, didn't we?"
---
CharlesRocketBoy: [ReBoot] Dot/Bob
"I don't think so. Glitch, golden beams of light!"
The encrustation of black widgets exploded into a fine dust.
Dot raised her eyebrows. "Golden beams of light?"
Bob shrugged, his still Web-degraded hair shifting over his shoulders. "It worked. I think that was the last of them, too."
Dot smiled and edged close to him, wrapping one arm around his waist. He jumped slightly, then smiled and leaned towards her-
A Vid-window popped up with a soft sound showing Phong's worried face. "Dot, we have detected two more infestations spreading out from Lost Angles."
"Right." Dot drew back from Bob, all-business again. "How are our supplies holding out?"
"They are running low, but our technical team is working to develop alternatives."
"Good. Bob and I are on our way." Dot closed the Vid-window, then let her shoulders slump as she sighed tiredly.
Bob gave her a gentle hug. "It'll be all right."
"I just want to know who activated Hex's old toys, so I can strangle him."
---
Devi: [Some perversion of G1 Transformers and TF2K5] Fusillade/Catechism/Steadfast
(Non-con warning.)
Steadfast erked as she got slammed up against the wall, Catechism's hands around her throat. The conehead smiled widely, her scarlet optics bright as sin. She twisted to the side as the purple jet struggled and jammed one of her gatling guns underneath Steadfast's chin. One of her legs slid against the purple Seeker's, wings making enticing sounds over the armor.
"Get off!" Steadfast snapped as she tried to force the lighter Seeker-jet off.
"That's the plan," Fusillade purred from behind Catechism, optics dim as embers. She tapped one of her swing-wings against her chest in a rhythm that called to Steadfast's Decepticon loyalties.
The rhythm of the war drums, Steadfast thought incongruously as she yanked one of her arms out from under Catechism, grunting slightly as the conehead punched through her cockpit glass.
Fusillade's hand flashed out, the wing spreading out into its fan of blades to rake her armor. "Now, now, Steadfast. If you're a good little Seeker and just, oh, lie back and think of Galvatron, it won't hurt anywhere near as much..."
"Like frag I will." Steadfast shot at Fusillade, anyway, ignoring the stinging gashes already on her arm. Then Catechism's hand closed around her pilot-array and squeezed, crushing vitally sensitive little bits mercilessly. Steadfast's vision turned off, and she bit her mouth to keep from shrieking. Slowly, brutally slowly, the other Seeker opened her hand until at last Steadfast's optics flickered on once more.
Fusillade fluttered her wing over the scorch-mark on her chest. "Attacking a superior officer, Steadfast? With your record? I'm shocked! Shocked, I say!" She reached out and stroked the blades lightly along the curve of Catechism's cone. "I think you need a little discipline, in fact, if that's how you're going to behave. And Catechism is just the one to give it to you."
-
[Pirates of the Caribbean 2] Tia Dalma/Elizabeth
Elizabeth's pulse fluttered as the black woman braided her hair. Tia Dalma was not gentle, but her hands were sure and deft as she worked, and she did not deliberately pull at Elizabeth's hair. Four thin braids framed her face already, and now the other woman pulled her remaining hair into three thick braids behind.
"Dere's winds in these braids, so don't you loosen dem before you need dem." Tia Dalma's fingers combed through her hair as she started work on the second braid.
The light flicker of fingernails over her scalp made Elizabeth wring her hands. She knelt on the dock, trying not to feel like a little girl again with her nurse. But her nurse had never smelt of spices and warm earth.
"You've got t'ree major winds and two minor ones," Tia Dalma continued. "De littlest ones have the breat' of life in dem. Don't you loosen either of them until you've found Jack, or he'll never be returnin' to these shores."
"How are you-?" Elizabeth ventured to ask, then hissed as sharp nails prickled over the back of her neck.
"Not all t'ings can be known."
-
[G1 Transformers] Skywarp/Thundercracker
(For extra fun, guess how much of Skywarp is still attached to Skywarp.)
"Don't go," Skywarp whimpered, fingers threading through Thundercracker's chest vents. The black jet lay on his back among the icy rocks on a forsaken mountainside far from base. On another planet, it was so far, he thought giddily. He couldn't feel anything below his waist, and his wingmate's touch had severed the pain from his wingtips.
Thundercracker hushed him, black hands skimming over his face. "I can't carry you, Skywarp, and Starscream can't get a lock on our transponders. If we're going to get out of this alive, we need him."
"I can fly..."
An unnameable expression flickered across the blue jet's face. "No, you- You'll hurt yourself more."
Skywarp curled his fingers into claws in the vents. "I won't be abandoned!" He hissed. "Megatron needs me!"
"Megatron doesn't need anyone." Thundercracker cupped his cheek, then leaned in close, mouth pressed to Skywarp's mouth. Waste heat bled through from the blue jet, forcing Skywarp to stifle a cry as it tickled his sensors.
"But I want you," Thundercracker husked as he broke away. "I will come back for you."
---
Heatherbeast: [Stargate SG-1] Jack/Thor
"I'm tired of these snakes on this ship- thing- whatchamacallit." O'Neill waved his hand in an endearingly unenlightening way.
"TARDIS." Thor perched on the device's control console, studying its systems. Already, he had managed to discover the purpose of some of them, though most still eluded his understanding.
"Right. Tardis." The human rolled his shoulders. "Great way to spend a fishing trip."
In fairness, they had not been able to leave Cheyenne Mountain to go on the fishing trip. Not after the blue police box dropped into the Stargate control room, practically on top of Walter.
"I am certain it would have been enjoyable, O'Neill," Thor soothed. A blinking dot appeared on a screen in the console, moving steadily through the TARDIS towards the control center. "I believe the vessel's pilot has woken up."
"Hnh." O'Neill swung his gun up. "I'm ready for him."
Thor blinked. "No."
"No?"
"Normal weapons do not work well against the users of a TARDIS." Not entirely true, but it was the simplest explanation he had time to give.
"Ah." O'Neill lowered his gun as the far door slid open.
---
Navigator's Ghost: [Transformers: Void] Rodimus Void/Jetstorm
(High-rating warning.)
Don't look. Don't look. Fireflight turned his head away from what he could hear, biting his lip. Don't see that violation of my brother fornicating with that mockery of a Prime.
He hung shackled to the wall, his back pressing uncomfortably against the metal. Cables from the wall explored and wormed their way through his jet parts and over his limbs, coiling and stroking and making him squirm helplessly. They were worse than the thrum in the walls and floor, the practically subliminal purring of Unicron as his creations fucked.
Don't listen, he mouthed to himself. Don't listen to Jetstorm's snarls or the Void's moans. Don't hear the scrape of metal over metal, don't hear Rodimus Void's urgings to Jetstorm. The harsh demands for more, the gasping for Jetstorm to *bite*, the mewling as cold hands flicked open the latches on his chest - don't hear any of that.
Fireflight bit his lip hard to stifle a cry as cables wormed their way into his cockpit. His optics flickered online for a few moments, and he despaired at the sight of Jetstorm on his back in mid-air, the sickly glow of the corrupted Matrix illuminating his face. The Void straddled the dark flier's chest, face a mask of ecstasy as Jetstorm moved his hands inside Rodimus's chest.
Don't look, don't look. Don't see, don't hear, don't feel. Fireflight whimpered and writhed as the cables coiled and rubbed against his armor, pressed blunt heads into the cracks of his armor, nuzzled over sensor clusters. Don't let him take me, too. Please!
---
Crowdog: [The Matrix] Agent Smith/Neo
"You think you deserve rest, Mr. Anderson?" The Agent stalked in a slow, deliberate circle. "Did you think dying was going to free you?"
Neo stood silently, gunmetal-scented air slithering over his skin and clothes. His breaths came slower than normal for a human, and sometimes he took a long, juddering breath as if to remind himself that he could still breathe.
"It's not that simple."
Cold fingers closed around the frame of his sunglasses. The Agent did not touch his skin, and Neo was surprised to find that he wished Smith had. Every sensation felt new and powerful now. "I don't think-"
Slowly, inexorably, his sunglasses were pulled off. The Agent made a surprised sound, barely a susurration of air, at the revealed burn scars. "What is it you don't think, Mr. Anderson?"
"I don't think I'm really him." He could see, in a way, watch the green code scroll by and define his new reality. "I think I'm just a memory."
"Hnh." The Agent folded Neo's sunglasses up and place them in his breast pocket. "Philosophy doesn't suit you," was all he said before turning on his heel and walking away.
"What am I?" Neo asked plaintively.
Agent Smith stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Alive, Mr. Anderson. You're alive."
---
Dark Puck: [Sailor Moon (anime)] Rubeus/Ami
Minako turned Ami's face to the right and looked at her eyeshadow critically. It was really too bright for Ami, and there was too much of it slathered on. She sucked on one corner of a tissue and used it to wipe off Ami's face. "Usagi-chan... Are you trying to make her look like a clown?"
"I thought it looked good," Usagi huffed, sitting on the futon with Rei. Makoto rooted through the blue-haired senshi's closet, trying to mix-and-match a cute outfit for her friend. Supposedly, the four of them were over at Ami's house to study for one of their upcoming exams, but when Minako had found out that Ami had a date... Well, the girls had gotten rather distracted.
"Oy, Ami, where are you and Urawa going?" Makoto stuck her head out of the closet to ask, holding up a rather demure blouse.
Minako yanked Ami's face back around as she tried to look at Makoto. "Eyes on me, Ami, or we'll never get this right."
"He's, um, I'mnotgoingwithUrawa-kun," Ami mumbled as Minako picked out a very pale blue from her eyeshadow selection.
"What was that?" Usagi asked, leaning forward and her eyes lighting up.
"Ano... One of the high-school boys offered to take me to Kaiou-san's violin concert tonight." She pursed her lips as Minako tried to get her to smile for the lipstick. "It isn't really a date..."
Rei snorted. "You're joking, right? A high-school boy going to a violin concert?"
"Takagi-san is a big fan of hers. He offered to give me a ride when I expressed an interest in going." Ami reluctantly smiled for Minako.
"Takagi-san, eh?" Makoto tossed the blouse onto Usagi's head, making her flail. "What's he look like?"
Ami blushed ever so slightly. "He's tall and has very red hair. I didn't really notice anything else."
"Huh, a gaijin. That reminds me of my old boyfriend..."
---
Lunatron: [G1 Transformers] Onslaught and Vortex
The scrape of a scalpel across his optic-band sent Onslaught from drowsing to full alertness in less than a nanosecond. That, and that alone, saved his new interrogator from a rather unpleasant demise at the hands of the Combaticons.
The missile-truck was rather chagrinned to find that Vortex had gotten a torturer's mode-lock on him without him being aware of it. The helicopter had not done anything else yet, but the specialized mode-lock made anything else rather unnecessary. Carefully tuned to a specific target, in this case himself, and they would also act as paralyzers as well as preventing transformation.
Onslaught had not realized Vortex had taken a few as they left the internment camp. He would remember that for next time. "I see you're awake. And you've met the others?"
Vortex chuckled and swirled the tip of the blade in a seemingly-random pattern. "You could say that, Ons."
He ignored the pet-name, as it was rather typical of the Decepticon. Giving him the reaction he desired would just encourage him. "I trust they obeyed my orders."
"Oh, yes, of course." The scalpel was pulled back, then the interrogator flicked his wrist and scarred Onslaught's mask. Sharp. "It's interesting. They treat me more like an outsider than an Autobot would."
Yes, he had considered that. Kinship ties were important to the Combaticons; they were all brothers, after all. But he had wanted an interrogator for their group, and he'd managed to find an extremely skilled one and win his loyalty. Somehow. He wasn't entirely certain of what it was Vortex seemed to want out of him, but he would do his best to provide it. In the meantime, however, he would need to provide a useful kinship tie for his brothers to Vortex. "We should be wed."
Vortex's optic-band flashed rapidly. "...Yes! Of course!" And the scalpel bit deep as the helicopter leaned down to nuzzle his throat.
Not precisely the reaction Onslaught had been expecting, but it would do. With Vortex, Operation Bruticus could proceed as planned, and the people of Cybertron could be goaded out of their current static, degenerate state. Perhaps blowing up an entire planet would have been excessive to someone else, but all was fair in love and war.
---
Seiberwing: [Pirates of the Caribbean 2] Davy Jones/Will Turner
The boy tasted like the water at the mouth of a river, salt and freshwater intermingled with fine-strained earth. He spoke with the intensity of a shark on a blood-trail when Davy guided the conversation to certain places - Jack Sparrow, for one, and the unnamed lady he was to wed. He blazed with a heat that made the crew press tight to him when they could, basking in it like igaunas in the sun.
Bootstrap was good at keeping most of them away, but he couldn't prevent the captain from whisking young Will off to his cabin. To talk, yes, and let the boy smoke from his pipe and keep his warmth strong. And for Will to sit still and keep talking as tentacles wound their way through his hair and curled tight around his skull.
But so long as he had the pipe, the boy seemed to find it easier to simply ignore that. He'd keep his gaze on the bowl of the pipe, inhale the not-tobacco scent deep in his lungs, and barely shudder as heavy tentacles slithered over his skin.
-
[ReBoot] Megabyte
Hexadecimal would not stop prattling. Megabyte could not particularly do much about this except grit his teeth and bear it while he tried to plot how to take out the Guardian. The same Guardian that his sister was rambling on about, come to that. Of course, it wasn't as if Mainframe had more than one Guardian-
"And you've simply got to get that harpy away from my Bob, brother dearest." Hexadecimal latched onto his arm, smiling sweetly. "I just know that without her around, he would fall all over himself into my arms."
Megabyte raised his eyebrow ridges. "What makes you think-?"
"Oh, Dot likes you!" Hexadecimal's smile switched to something more vicious. "And I know you like her, brother..."
Megabyte removed his arm from his sister's grasp. "Tell me, Hexadecimal," He asked coldly, "Is it better to be intelligent and know you are superior to everyone around you, or to be a fool and to have fewer headaches?"
Hexadecimal laughed at him.
-
[ReBoot] Hack/Slash
"No, no! That goes here!"
"No, it doesn't. See? It doesn't fit."
"That's because you're putting it in wrong! The other way!"
"This way?"
"No, the other other way!"
"Oh! Hey, it works!"
"Of course it works. What did I tell you?"
"You said you *thought* it might work."
"I did not! I did not! I did?"
"Yep."
"... Will you watch where you're flailing?"
"Huh?"
"Watch it, watch it, watch it-! Oh, now we're in for it."
---
Karma Aster: [Stargate SG-1/ReBoot] Sam Carter/Bob
Sam Carter smiled as she logged onto an instant messenger program on her otherwise unused laptop. She only had the thing so Daniel didn't have to call her or walk down to check if she wanted to hit the mess hall. Of course, she used it for that purpose more often than he did. He was more likely to gift her with late-night ramblings about myths and what they knew about the goa'uld as he put his thoughts in order for a report.
Apparently someone else on the internal network had discovered her handle, though. For the last few nights, she'd been holding long conversations with someone with the handle Guardian452.
He had some interesting ways of thinking, and she wished she could find out who he was so she oculd recommend his addition to an off-world team. He'd already said he'd never been through the Stargate, and that really seemed like a waste. He thought quick on his feet, and sometimes reminded her of a nicer, goofier version of the Colonel.
A beep sounded as a message popped up on her screen.
[Guardian452] Hey! Did I keep you waiting? We got caught up in a long Game today, and I only just got back from the diner.
Sam chuckled, and typed in her own response. "You know, if you actually worked instead of playing games, you'd get farther in life."
[Guardian452] Playing games is my job! Oh, yeah, Dot says hi.
[AFSamCarter] Your printer friend?
[Guardian452] Hey, hey, I explained this.
[AFSamCarter] I know. It was a waste of a perfectly good explanation.
[Guardian452] :-p
---
Dragoness Eclectic: [Transformers: Armada/Stargate SG-1] Starscream/Jack O'Neill
Colonel O'Neill sat in the cockpit of the alien spacejet, hands folded in his lap and eyes on the holographic displays wrapped onto the front of the canopy. The system they flew through was big and unusually empty; the goa'uld mothership was so many atoms of hydrogen right now. Which, according to Sam, made this system pretty crowded on a subatomic level. Or was that out in deep space?
"So... Can I fly you now?" Jack placed his hand against the pilot's yoke, not quite grasping it.
"No," Starscream rasped.
A light electric charge caused Jack to jerk his hand away. "Touchy. So, what's a jet like you doing in a place like this, anyway?"
There was a long silence, and the displays showed the maroonish jet preparing for a hyper-jump, all vector lines and starcharts whirling around each other until Starscream picked out the optimum route. "... Sam was worried about your part of the mission."
Jack tried to keep a silly grin off his face. "Huh."
"... It was a stupid plan. You should have called for me and let the Prometheus handle Thoth's swarm."
"Aw, Starscream, I didn't know you cared."
"You still can't fly me."
---
Dunmurderin: [Transformers: Armada] Starscream and Swindle
Starscream hunched over the bar, ignoring the people who had to duck around his main guns. A cube of energon sat squarely in front of him, and he stared down into the pink depths as if they could reveal the secrets of the universe. Swindle sat on the bartop near one of his elbows, the mini-con keeping up a steady beeping as he commented on the working girls and their customers.
Underneath his brooding, Starscream was grateful that he was the only person in the brothel who could understand the mini-con. The jet had honestly just come down here to drink in relative peace and perhaps get a look at the madame-
Swindle hopped down from the bar, transforming to race-car mode as he fell, and zipped off through the bar.
Starscream swivelled on the stool, nearly clocking a passerby with his guns. He'd already lost sight of Swindle in the crowd, unfortunately. He stood up and craned his neck, looking for the rustle of people that would signify mechs moving out of the way of the mini-con. Ah, there it was... Coming back towards him?
A few moments later, Swindle led a red car-femme over to Starscream. She was about half the jet's height and wore the blue symbol of a prostitute on her shoulder. Her optics were the curious sky-blue that spoke of Autobot-make, though she wore no symbol. "Your friend here seems to want something," she commented with a smile.
Starscream blinked and looked down at Swindle as the mini-con beeped at him. "... No! Put her back! I'm not paying for you to do that!"
Swindle warbled.
"... How did you-? No, I don't want to know. Fine, just be back in a few Earth-hours."
The racecar clapped his hands together and took the small femme by the hand, beeping happily.
Arabwel: [The Matrix] the Twins.
Two sat in one of the sitting rooms of the Chateau, a medical textbook open on his lap. He turned the page slowly, admiring the artistry and exactness of the diagram of the human lung. Such a very precise rendering.
The door to the room opened and his twin strode in. His hair dripped, and he wiped his hands on a white towel as he walked. Well, it used to be white, and when the laundrers got done with it, the towel would be white again.
He finished with the towel and tossed it onto one of the sidetables before sitting down across from his twin, crossing his legs neatly. He tilted his head inquiringly at Two's expectant face.
The other Wraith twin had carefully put his hand on his place and looked up as One came into the room. He did not comment until he had the other's full attention, then drawled, "You smell like a wet dog."
One flicked his hands at his twin, a few droplets of dirty water spattering on the other one's coat. "Cain pushed us into the swimming pool."
The second Wraith twin pointedly looked down at his coat as the droplets left ruddy trails and closed the book over his hand. "We trust you did something about that."
"Oh, yes. Did you know that werewolves can't drown?"
---
Sapphirebreeze: [G1 Transformers] Omega Supreme/Constructicons
Scrapper clasped hands with Hook, the two of them alone in the new workrooms Megatron had given them. Alone for once, and Primus, how they used to jump at chances like this. But with the gestalt connection so new and terrific in their minds, physical touching didn't feel so wonderful anymore.
Or maybe it was the way things had gone with Omega Supreme. Scrapper bowed his head slightly, squeezing Hook's hands. Their old friend... How many times had a good spot away from the others been inside Omega's rocket? Their old friend hadn't begrudged them that, and they had... enjoyed their changing relationship with him.
Hook brought Scrapper's hands to his mouth and blew softly on them. Scrapper's fingers and shovel twitched as sensation flared through his fingers like sparks. "This isn't right."
"Oh?"
"The walls aren't alive."
Hook rubbed his thumb against Scrapper's palm. "He's not lost to us, Scrapper. The Robosmasher got part of him; it will infect the rest. And then he will be a model Decepticon, a valuable soldier for Megatron."
"If the Autobots don't catch what it's doing first." Scrapper's shoulders slumped, and he shuffled nearer to Hook. "It wasn't supposed to be like that," he said plaintively. "He wasn't supposed to find Crystal City until we could explain it to him. I had chosen exactly what to say, too, to distract him from his own grief and remind him of ours."
Hook nodded and rubbed Scrapper's hands comfortingly. "We had hoped," he began, the simple lines uniquely theirs as Devastator was. "Perhaps, that it would be easier on us if we destroyed a part of ourselves instead of being forced to watch as someone else did it. It turns out there's no easy way to lose a part of your soul."
Scrapper shivered. "And we lost two parts, didn't we?"
---
CharlesRocketBoy: [ReBoot] Dot/Bob
"I don't think so. Glitch, golden beams of light!"
The encrustation of black widgets exploded into a fine dust.
Dot raised her eyebrows. "Golden beams of light?"
Bob shrugged, his still Web-degraded hair shifting over his shoulders. "It worked. I think that was the last of them, too."
Dot smiled and edged close to him, wrapping one arm around his waist. He jumped slightly, then smiled and leaned towards her-
A Vid-window popped up with a soft sound showing Phong's worried face. "Dot, we have detected two more infestations spreading out from Lost Angles."
"Right." Dot drew back from Bob, all-business again. "How are our supplies holding out?"
"They are running low, but our technical team is working to develop alternatives."
"Good. Bob and I are on our way." Dot closed the Vid-window, then let her shoulders slump as she sighed tiredly.
Bob gave her a gentle hug. "It'll be all right."
"I just want to know who activated Hex's old toys, so I can strangle him."
---
Devi: [Some perversion of G1 Transformers and TF2K5] Fusillade/Catechism/Steadfast
(Non-con warning.)
Steadfast erked as she got slammed up against the wall, Catechism's hands around her throat. The conehead smiled widely, her scarlet optics bright as sin. She twisted to the side as the purple jet struggled and jammed one of her gatling guns underneath Steadfast's chin. One of her legs slid against the purple Seeker's, wings making enticing sounds over the armor.
"Get off!" Steadfast snapped as she tried to force the lighter Seeker-jet off.
"That's the plan," Fusillade purred from behind Catechism, optics dim as embers. She tapped one of her swing-wings against her chest in a rhythm that called to Steadfast's Decepticon loyalties.
The rhythm of the war drums, Steadfast thought incongruously as she yanked one of her arms out from under Catechism, grunting slightly as the conehead punched through her cockpit glass.
Fusillade's hand flashed out, the wing spreading out into its fan of blades to rake her armor. "Now, now, Steadfast. If you're a good little Seeker and just, oh, lie back and think of Galvatron, it won't hurt anywhere near as much..."
"Like frag I will." Steadfast shot at Fusillade, anyway, ignoring the stinging gashes already on her arm. Then Catechism's hand closed around her pilot-array and squeezed, crushing vitally sensitive little bits mercilessly. Steadfast's vision turned off, and she bit her mouth to keep from shrieking. Slowly, brutally slowly, the other Seeker opened her hand until at last Steadfast's optics flickered on once more.
Fusillade fluttered her wing over the scorch-mark on her chest. "Attacking a superior officer, Steadfast? With your record? I'm shocked! Shocked, I say!" She reached out and stroked the blades lightly along the curve of Catechism's cone. "I think you need a little discipline, in fact, if that's how you're going to behave. And Catechism is just the one to give it to you."
-
[Pirates of the Caribbean 2] Tia Dalma/Elizabeth
Elizabeth's pulse fluttered as the black woman braided her hair. Tia Dalma was not gentle, but her hands were sure and deft as she worked, and she did not deliberately pull at Elizabeth's hair. Four thin braids framed her face already, and now the other woman pulled her remaining hair into three thick braids behind.
"Dere's winds in these braids, so don't you loosen dem before you need dem." Tia Dalma's fingers combed through her hair as she started work on the second braid.
The light flicker of fingernails over her scalp made Elizabeth wring her hands. She knelt on the dock, trying not to feel like a little girl again with her nurse. But her nurse had never smelt of spices and warm earth.
"You've got t'ree major winds and two minor ones," Tia Dalma continued. "De littlest ones have the breat' of life in dem. Don't you loosen either of them until you've found Jack, or he'll never be returnin' to these shores."
"How are you-?" Elizabeth ventured to ask, then hissed as sharp nails prickled over the back of her neck.
"Not all t'ings can be known."
-
[G1 Transformers] Skywarp/Thundercracker
(For extra fun, guess how much of Skywarp is still attached to Skywarp.)
"Don't go," Skywarp whimpered, fingers threading through Thundercracker's chest vents. The black jet lay on his back among the icy rocks on a forsaken mountainside far from base. On another planet, it was so far, he thought giddily. He couldn't feel anything below his waist, and his wingmate's touch had severed the pain from his wingtips.
Thundercracker hushed him, black hands skimming over his face. "I can't carry you, Skywarp, and Starscream can't get a lock on our transponders. If we're going to get out of this alive, we need him."
"I can fly..."
An unnameable expression flickered across the blue jet's face. "No, you- You'll hurt yourself more."
Skywarp curled his fingers into claws in the vents. "I won't be abandoned!" He hissed. "Megatron needs me!"
"Megatron doesn't need anyone." Thundercracker cupped his cheek, then leaned in close, mouth pressed to Skywarp's mouth. Waste heat bled through from the blue jet, forcing Skywarp to stifle a cry as it tickled his sensors.
"But I want you," Thundercracker husked as he broke away. "I will come back for you."
---
Heatherbeast: [Stargate SG-1] Jack/Thor
"I'm tired of these snakes on this ship- thing- whatchamacallit." O'Neill waved his hand in an endearingly unenlightening way.
"TARDIS." Thor perched on the device's control console, studying its systems. Already, he had managed to discover the purpose of some of them, though most still eluded his understanding.
"Right. Tardis." The human rolled his shoulders. "Great way to spend a fishing trip."
In fairness, they had not been able to leave Cheyenne Mountain to go on the fishing trip. Not after the blue police box dropped into the Stargate control room, practically on top of Walter.
"I am certain it would have been enjoyable, O'Neill," Thor soothed. A blinking dot appeared on a screen in the console, moving steadily through the TARDIS towards the control center. "I believe the vessel's pilot has woken up."
"Hnh." O'Neill swung his gun up. "I'm ready for him."
Thor blinked. "No."
"No?"
"Normal weapons do not work well against the users of a TARDIS." Not entirely true, but it was the simplest explanation he had time to give.
"Ah." O'Neill lowered his gun as the far door slid open.
---
Navigator's Ghost: [Transformers: Void] Rodimus Void/Jetstorm
(High-rating warning.)
Don't look. Don't look. Fireflight turned his head away from what he could hear, biting his lip. Don't see that violation of my brother fornicating with that mockery of a Prime.
He hung shackled to the wall, his back pressing uncomfortably against the metal. Cables from the wall explored and wormed their way through his jet parts and over his limbs, coiling and stroking and making him squirm helplessly. They were worse than the thrum in the walls and floor, the practically subliminal purring of Unicron as his creations fucked.
Don't listen, he mouthed to himself. Don't listen to Jetstorm's snarls or the Void's moans. Don't hear the scrape of metal over metal, don't hear Rodimus Void's urgings to Jetstorm. The harsh demands for more, the gasping for Jetstorm to *bite*, the mewling as cold hands flicked open the latches on his chest - don't hear any of that.
Fireflight bit his lip hard to stifle a cry as cables wormed their way into his cockpit. His optics flickered online for a few moments, and he despaired at the sight of Jetstorm on his back in mid-air, the sickly glow of the corrupted Matrix illuminating his face. The Void straddled the dark flier's chest, face a mask of ecstasy as Jetstorm moved his hands inside Rodimus's chest.
Don't look, don't look. Don't see, don't hear, don't feel. Fireflight whimpered and writhed as the cables coiled and rubbed against his armor, pressed blunt heads into the cracks of his armor, nuzzled over sensor clusters. Don't let him take me, too. Please!
---
Crowdog: [The Matrix] Agent Smith/Neo
"You think you deserve rest, Mr. Anderson?" The Agent stalked in a slow, deliberate circle. "Did you think dying was going to free you?"
Neo stood silently, gunmetal-scented air slithering over his skin and clothes. His breaths came slower than normal for a human, and sometimes he took a long, juddering breath as if to remind himself that he could still breathe.
"It's not that simple."
Cold fingers closed around the frame of his sunglasses. The Agent did not touch his skin, and Neo was surprised to find that he wished Smith had. Every sensation felt new and powerful now. "I don't think-"
Slowly, inexorably, his sunglasses were pulled off. The Agent made a surprised sound, barely a susurration of air, at the revealed burn scars. "What is it you don't think, Mr. Anderson?"
"I don't think I'm really him." He could see, in a way, watch the green code scroll by and define his new reality. "I think I'm just a memory."
"Hnh." The Agent folded Neo's sunglasses up and place them in his breast pocket. "Philosophy doesn't suit you," was all he said before turning on his heel and walking away.
"What am I?" Neo asked plaintively.
Agent Smith stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Alive, Mr. Anderson. You're alive."
---
Dark Puck: [Sailor Moon (anime)] Rubeus/Ami
Minako turned Ami's face to the right and looked at her eyeshadow critically. It was really too bright for Ami, and there was too much of it slathered on. She sucked on one corner of a tissue and used it to wipe off Ami's face. "Usagi-chan... Are you trying to make her look like a clown?"
"I thought it looked good," Usagi huffed, sitting on the futon with Rei. Makoto rooted through the blue-haired senshi's closet, trying to mix-and-match a cute outfit for her friend. Supposedly, the four of them were over at Ami's house to study for one of their upcoming exams, but when Minako had found out that Ami had a date... Well, the girls had gotten rather distracted.
"Oy, Ami, where are you and Urawa going?" Makoto stuck her head out of the closet to ask, holding up a rather demure blouse.
Minako yanked Ami's face back around as she tried to look at Makoto. "Eyes on me, Ami, or we'll never get this right."
"He's, um, I'mnotgoingwithUrawa-kun," Ami mumbled as Minako picked out a very pale blue from her eyeshadow selection.
"What was that?" Usagi asked, leaning forward and her eyes lighting up.
"Ano... One of the high-school boys offered to take me to Kaiou-san's violin concert tonight." She pursed her lips as Minako tried to get her to smile for the lipstick. "It isn't really a date..."
Rei snorted. "You're joking, right? A high-school boy going to a violin concert?"
"Takagi-san is a big fan of hers. He offered to give me a ride when I expressed an interest in going." Ami reluctantly smiled for Minako.
"Takagi-san, eh?" Makoto tossed the blouse onto Usagi's head, making her flail. "What's he look like?"
Ami blushed ever so slightly. "He's tall and has very red hair. I didn't really notice anything else."
"Huh, a gaijin. That reminds me of my old boyfriend..."
---
Lunatron: [G1 Transformers] Onslaught and Vortex
The scrape of a scalpel across his optic-band sent Onslaught from drowsing to full alertness in less than a nanosecond. That, and that alone, saved his new interrogator from a rather unpleasant demise at the hands of the Combaticons.
The missile-truck was rather chagrinned to find that Vortex had gotten a torturer's mode-lock on him without him being aware of it. The helicopter had not done anything else yet, but the specialized mode-lock made anything else rather unnecessary. Carefully tuned to a specific target, in this case himself, and they would also act as paralyzers as well as preventing transformation.
Onslaught had not realized Vortex had taken a few as they left the internment camp. He would remember that for next time. "I see you're awake. And you've met the others?"
Vortex chuckled and swirled the tip of the blade in a seemingly-random pattern. "You could say that, Ons."
He ignored the pet-name, as it was rather typical of the Decepticon. Giving him the reaction he desired would just encourage him. "I trust they obeyed my orders."
"Oh, yes, of course." The scalpel was pulled back, then the interrogator flicked his wrist and scarred Onslaught's mask. Sharp. "It's interesting. They treat me more like an outsider than an Autobot would."
Yes, he had considered that. Kinship ties were important to the Combaticons; they were all brothers, after all. But he had wanted an interrogator for their group, and he'd managed to find an extremely skilled one and win his loyalty. Somehow. He wasn't entirely certain of what it was Vortex seemed to want out of him, but he would do his best to provide it. In the meantime, however, he would need to provide a useful kinship tie for his brothers to Vortex. "We should be wed."
Vortex's optic-band flashed rapidly. "...Yes! Of course!" And the scalpel bit deep as the helicopter leaned down to nuzzle his throat.
Not precisely the reaction Onslaught had been expecting, but it would do. With Vortex, Operation Bruticus could proceed as planned, and the people of Cybertron could be goaded out of their current static, degenerate state. Perhaps blowing up an entire planet would have been excessive to someone else, but all was fair in love and war.
---
Seiberwing: [Pirates of the Caribbean 2] Davy Jones/Will Turner
The boy tasted like the water at the mouth of a river, salt and freshwater intermingled with fine-strained earth. He spoke with the intensity of a shark on a blood-trail when Davy guided the conversation to certain places - Jack Sparrow, for one, and the unnamed lady he was to wed. He blazed with a heat that made the crew press tight to him when they could, basking in it like igaunas in the sun.
Bootstrap was good at keeping most of them away, but he couldn't prevent the captain from whisking young Will off to his cabin. To talk, yes, and let the boy smoke from his pipe and keep his warmth strong. And for Will to sit still and keep talking as tentacles wound their way through his hair and curled tight around his skull.
But so long as he had the pipe, the boy seemed to find it easier to simply ignore that. He'd keep his gaze on the bowl of the pipe, inhale the not-tobacco scent deep in his lungs, and barely shudder as heavy tentacles slithered over his skin.
-
[ReBoot] Megabyte
Hexadecimal would not stop prattling. Megabyte could not particularly do much about this except grit his teeth and bear it while he tried to plot how to take out the Guardian. The same Guardian that his sister was rambling on about, come to that. Of course, it wasn't as if Mainframe had more than one Guardian-
"And you've simply got to get that harpy away from my Bob, brother dearest." Hexadecimal latched onto his arm, smiling sweetly. "I just know that without her around, he would fall all over himself into my arms."
Megabyte raised his eyebrow ridges. "What makes you think-?"
"Oh, Dot likes you!" Hexadecimal's smile switched to something more vicious. "And I know you like her, brother..."
Megabyte removed his arm from his sister's grasp. "Tell me, Hexadecimal," He asked coldly, "Is it better to be intelligent and know you are superior to everyone around you, or to be a fool and to have fewer headaches?"
Hexadecimal laughed at him.
-
[ReBoot] Hack/Slash
"No, no! That goes here!"
"No, it doesn't. See? It doesn't fit."
"That's because you're putting it in wrong! The other way!"
"This way?"
"No, the other other way!"
"Oh! Hey, it works!"
"Of course it works. What did I tell you?"
"You said you *thought* it might work."
"I did not! I did not! I did?"
"Yep."
"... Will you watch where you're flailing?"
"Huh?"
"Watch it, watch it, watch it-! Oh, now we're in for it."
---
Karma Aster: [Stargate SG-1/ReBoot] Sam Carter/Bob
Sam Carter smiled as she logged onto an instant messenger program on her otherwise unused laptop. She only had the thing so Daniel didn't have to call her or walk down to check if she wanted to hit the mess hall. Of course, she used it for that purpose more often than he did. He was more likely to gift her with late-night ramblings about myths and what they knew about the goa'uld as he put his thoughts in order for a report.
Apparently someone else on the internal network had discovered her handle, though. For the last few nights, she'd been holding long conversations with someone with the handle Guardian452.
He had some interesting ways of thinking, and she wished she could find out who he was so she oculd recommend his addition to an off-world team. He'd already said he'd never been through the Stargate, and that really seemed like a waste. He thought quick on his feet, and sometimes reminded her of a nicer, goofier version of the Colonel.
A beep sounded as a message popped up on her screen.
[Guardian452] Hey! Did I keep you waiting? We got caught up in a long Game today, and I only just got back from the diner.
Sam chuckled, and typed in her own response. "You know, if you actually worked instead of playing games, you'd get farther in life."
[Guardian452] Playing games is my job! Oh, yeah, Dot says hi.
[AFSamCarter] Your printer friend?
[Guardian452] Hey, hey, I explained this.
[AFSamCarter] I know. It was a waste of a perfectly good explanation.
[Guardian452] :-p
---
Dragoness Eclectic: [Transformers: Armada/Stargate SG-1] Starscream/Jack O'Neill
Colonel O'Neill sat in the cockpit of the alien spacejet, hands folded in his lap and eyes on the holographic displays wrapped onto the front of the canopy. The system they flew through was big and unusually empty; the goa'uld mothership was so many atoms of hydrogen right now. Which, according to Sam, made this system pretty crowded on a subatomic level. Or was that out in deep space?
"So... Can I fly you now?" Jack placed his hand against the pilot's yoke, not quite grasping it.
"No," Starscream rasped.
A light electric charge caused Jack to jerk his hand away. "Touchy. So, what's a jet like you doing in a place like this, anyway?"
There was a long silence, and the displays showed the maroonish jet preparing for a hyper-jump, all vector lines and starcharts whirling around each other until Starscream picked out the optimum route. "... Sam was worried about your part of the mission."
Jack tried to keep a silly grin off his face. "Huh."
"... It was a stupid plan. You should have called for me and let the Prometheus handle Thoth's swarm."
"Aw, Starscream, I didn't know you cared."
"You still can't fly me."
---
Dunmurderin: [Transformers: Armada] Starscream and Swindle
Starscream hunched over the bar, ignoring the people who had to duck around his main guns. A cube of energon sat squarely in front of him, and he stared down into the pink depths as if they could reveal the secrets of the universe. Swindle sat on the bartop near one of his elbows, the mini-con keeping up a steady beeping as he commented on the working girls and their customers.
Underneath his brooding, Starscream was grateful that he was the only person in the brothel who could understand the mini-con. The jet had honestly just come down here to drink in relative peace and perhaps get a look at the madame-
Swindle hopped down from the bar, transforming to race-car mode as he fell, and zipped off through the bar.
Starscream swivelled on the stool, nearly clocking a passerby with his guns. He'd already lost sight of Swindle in the crowd, unfortunately. He stood up and craned his neck, looking for the rustle of people that would signify mechs moving out of the way of the mini-con. Ah, there it was... Coming back towards him?
A few moments later, Swindle led a red car-femme over to Starscream. She was about half the jet's height and wore the blue symbol of a prostitute on her shoulder. Her optics were the curious sky-blue that spoke of Autobot-make, though she wore no symbol. "Your friend here seems to want something," she commented with a smile.
Starscream blinked and looked down at Swindle as the mini-con beeped at him. "... No! Put her back! I'm not paying for you to do that!"
Swindle warbled.
"... How did you-? No, I don't want to know. Fine, just be back in a few Earth-hours."
The racecar clapped his hands together and took the small femme by the hand, beeping happily.