literature

Drabbles

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

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-Peace Talks
Soundwave/Tracks


It was a moment of peace. Just a moment. Surreal in everything that it was. Decepticons and Autobots, at a stand-still, no shooting, no fighting -allies, one would say. Against a greater foe of course. Shockwave. If Optimus was here among them, perhaps he would have been able to compile a remark on how four million stellar cycles of war and hate and the massacre of each other had finally come to a pause.... because the immoral scientist on Megatron's side had flipped his lid and was sending their entire world into oblivion.

Starting with a Necrotitan.

Now Ratchet was fixing up 'bots, left, right and center -including Megatron- and the rest of them were.... Well, to put it mildly, they were partying.

Swerve's bar (the only one currently not destroyed in the wake of Shockwave's diabolical “prophecy” and Necrotitan) was jam-packed to the point that some 'bots' fans whined from the lack of space between frames. Of course, a packed bar was nothing to check your visual settings at. No, quite contrary, the thing causing both a bit of a laugh and a heavy need for a drink was the fact that Swerve's lil' franchise was filled with both Autobots and Decepticons -mingling. And singing. Most off tune, one might add.

If you could forget the stellar cycles of horrific war between their two factions, the sight of so many different frames and faces together in one place filled a spark with great camaraderie.... and if you could not, a few good rounds of drinks and a tone-deaf jaunty could easily remedy that for you.

Scoping the bar quickly, Tracks took his drink and meandered out into the hallways to survey the rest of the ship, thought destroyed for cycles. He was met with more Decepticons and Autobots within close proximity of the bar, having a jolly good time, and passed by a few more somber characters who were well away from the company of any of their comrades; keeping to themselves as they mourned anew in preferred silence and ritual.

Understanding how they felt, but currently not in that mood himself, the Autobot moved on, passing from level to level as he thought deeply about everything else that had brought them to this very cycle, on this very orn. Slowing down, Tracks peered into the ship's medbay where he could see Ratchet now working on the outsider Arcee, alongside a Decepticon medic Flatline, who thankfully wasn't doing any serious repair work because his optics kept tracking over to the grumpy 'bot adjacent to him. Megatron could almost be seen in a connecting room, hooked up to machines, with a splash of yellow just out of sight. No doubt Bumblebee.

While Bumblebee and Megatron hashed things out, Tracks supposed, moving on, perhaps the issue of retaining this calmness would resolve itself this very evening among the others. Where they would waste time and words on arguments and politics, everyone else would be focusing on much more simpler methods....

Stopping at the corner, where a long shadow filled the hall, Tracks smiled; turning his helm slightly to welcome the new-comer with a sensual smile. “What took you so long?,” he asked softly, finishing his drink.

Strong, blue servos grasped his elbow, pulling him against the other's frame; red visor glowing as an arm was wrapped around his waist surely. “Was monitoring Megatron's condition until he had stabilized suitably. Now he is not in need of my attention.”

“But I am,” Tracks added, smirking as he planted a teasing kiss to the white battle mask. “Let's find ourselves a room before the rest of your wanna-be friends get frisky with some Autobots.”

Following Soundwave's lead, the corvette couldn't help but to chuckle just a little. While Megatron and Bumblebee would waste time on so many deals and splitting of regions and the like, all in the name of peace, they would never realize that the easiest solution to all their problems was merely to let their two factions unite....

With drinking and fragging.

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-Infatuation
Constructicons/Prowl


Backed against a wall, his fingers itched to grab a gun and shoot and kill.

“Get away from me.”

But his group of unwanted fans did not retreat. They didn't attack either. Just stood there, patiently, quietly, venting low and fawning, no doubt. Circuits crawled with a certain chill as the datsun attempted to remain visibly unperturbed by the five mechs crowding in close.

“I said leave me alone.”

“But Prowl,” Long Haul started, taking the first inch forward. “We're your friends remember?”

“You were magnificent,” Bonecrusher added.

“Really showed them,” Mixmaster agreed.

Scavenger cupped his servos in adoration. “That Chrome-Clown stood no chance against you! And Magnus- Oh, the look on Magnus' face if he'd stuck long enough for you to cream him...” The mech trailed off with a shivering vent that nearly all the others mimicked.

Prowl tried not to sneer in disgust.

“What my less intelligent comrades are trying to say,” Hook spoke up, stepping forward this time. His smile was suave, seductive... and completely full of ill-intent, “Is that watching you in action is even more thrilling than watching a second-rate memory and we find ourselves at a certain.... dilemma.... You can feel it, can't you?

Doorwings stiffened uneasily.

“Come Prowl,” Hook whispered, taking another step forward. The others copied him, crowding closer. “You are part of Devastator- we are linked. Surely you can feel it.”

“Don't even-” Prowl's denta clenched tight, automatically reaching for his gun even as he attempted to hail somebody on the comm. Low laughter came from the constructicons just before they pounced- and a mere astrosecond after the Autobot realized that there was no signal to connect with.

Nobody to hear his cry for help.

Alone...

Just like Magnus had said.

He wanted to be angry, to scream and rage and a rising urge to murder someone overcame him but he was pinned down, surrounded. Fingers dipped inside, pried back plating, cords connected; everything was a blur of emotions and heat and touch. By the time it ended, Prowl could barely think to be angry, let alone even stand. He inched himself up into a sitting position, helm clouded with the haze of overload after overload and the smell of wasted fluids and a hint of burnt wiring permeating the atmosphere around him.

A quick study showed that he had been cleaned... except around the areas of his exposed spark chamber and port panels. There was a distinct show of respect and understanding, leaving them untouched after the fact. Unfortunately those areas then were left scratched and smudged and speckled with transfluids, leaving Prowl utterly disgusted.

He'd say he was raped but both him and those Decepticons knew there would be hardly any truth in it.

For though he did not consent to it, access to his memories had allowed them to do everything right. To please him even as they took their share, passing him back and forth, taking turns. Adoration, they had for him, supposedly. Attraction to whatever they saw within his processor and memories. And respect, it seemed to, for what else would leave them feeling obliged to clean and polish their marks off of the Autobot; standing a good distance away, keeping guard, allowing Prowl the privacy to recuperate and clean the last of the mess from his more intimate areas.

Oh, how Prowl hated them.

And yet, when it came time later, at the mere mention of merging into Devastator, the datsun readily agreed. He did not protest even for an astrosecond.

The constructicons grinned secretly to each other in triumph.

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-Fake
Overlord/Trepan


He was distracting himself. Barely, weakly.... Datapads were hardly enough to pull someone away from their thoughts completely, especially when such thoughts loomed like the towering figure who frequently returned to this room. Air cycling through his vents shakily, Trepan set the datapads down entirely. They had nothing to offer him as reprieve anyways and he could already hear the faint approach of pedesteps.

The sound grew louder as his guest drew up to the outside of the door, until finally the lock turned and the creaking of hinges heralded the mech's entry.

Even knowing this, Trepan did not bother to move. Standing stock still before his miniscule desk, staring blankly at the pile of datapads; screens lit with notes of Mnemosurgery and physiology of the Cybertronian processor, feeling both weary and anxious at the same time.

“Trepan....,” the Decepticon said quietly from behind him, “What ever are you doing?”

The tone was casual, the hint of a tease. It was meant to make him feel more at ease. Relaxed. The voice of a friend or even a lover. A short, bitter laugh began to bubble in the mech's vocalizer but it fizzled out to nothing before it even reached his glossa. There was no security or casualness to this monster, but he played it well. Oh, how he played it well and Trepan had quite easily forgotten many a time. The memory of touch and heat, adrenaline and pleasure jumped to the forefront of his processor. A sickening combination that left him both dizzy with the rush and disgusted at his own self.

“....thinking,” the Mnemosurgeon slowly replied. He still did not bother to turn his gaze away from the datapads.

“Thinking, my lil' doctor?” Soft, warm vents cycled near his audio. “Anything that I may be able to resolve for you?”

'No,', Trepan thought cynically, 'Not that you'd care. Not really. You never did.'

Clearing his vocalizer, the smaller mech slid the datapads together, neatly piling them in place. “No, it's nothing. We have other things to get to anyways, Overlord.” He glanced back momentarily, smiling easily at his partner.

The Decepticon hummed quietly, lifting a servo as Trepan turned back to the pile of datapads; searching one out and gently sliding it free from the others. Gently he stroked down the
Mnemosurgeon's helm, first with one large finger, then, as he moved to continue his stroking down the other's spinal struts and back, the entirety of his servo. Circuits tensed momentarily before relaxing, soothed by the familiar touch... and for that, Trepan was most scared.

“That's not so. Tell me, my precious doctor, what plagues you?,” Overlord softly pressed. His stroking did not stop, nor his facade of the concerned lover. It was a lie. A good one. It had manipulated him into this sense of security, made him compliant to all of the pyschopath's demands though torture would have probably done the job just as easily.

Obviously Overlord did not restrict himself just to the dismemberment of Cybertronians.

Knowing all this, he still could not refrain from answering, feeling safe and warm beneath the large palm. “....I'm afraid....,” Trepan began, the chill of reality sinking in as the words slowly made their way out, “I'm afraid that we're halfway through our lessons. Today, we review.... Tomorrow, we begin your lessons on interfacing upon others.”

The servo on the crown of his helm paused for just the fraction of an astrosecond and ice filled Trepan's lines. He was just a tool.... and tools were only worth playing with as long as they were useful.

“That's no matter,” Overlord soothed gently, breaking Trepan from his thoughts as he returned to his petting. “Put your processor to rest, my precious doctor. Come- lessons can wait. I have something else in mind at the moment.”

The Mnemosurgeon could feel as Overlord leaned closer, aware of the smile that stretched those lips -charming, dangerous, vicious- but ignored it all as the heavy servo slid down to his waist. Already he could feel his valve begin to ripple and slick, spark pulse picking up in time.

Sliding an arm back to stroke at the other mech with thin fingers, he tried not to think about his shaky allegiances and the horrific fate that awaited him soon. Today could very well be the last time he cycled atmosphere even.....

And yet he couldn't bring himself to care. After all, the moment he left the Institute, snatched up in the Phase Sixer's clutches, Trepan already knew he was dead.

This pleasure was shallow but at least it was his.
Reading the recent series of Transformers comics always gets some plot bunnies nibbling and here are just some of them that came about during the last few issues of Dark Cybertron.

OverlordxTrepan slash now shipped thanks to the wonderful :iconkoch43: whose comics can make even me want to ship Overlord with someone.
© 2014 - 2024 SincerelyYours-CMD
Comments4
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ReptileGirl06's avatar
These are really good... They really make you think & are deep... Great job! :D