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About Deviant Artist Abi; WindchaserFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Happy? Anniversary!
After a day spent locked in battle with the most wilfully obtuse bunch of self-serving councillors on his side of the planet – and coming within a wing-width of feeding Waveguide all his carefully-drafted budget assessments – Starscream had been looking forwards to a quiet night to himself.
The building was already empty when he dragged his tired pedes over the threshold. Thundercracker had taken Celerity out to New Vos, to see their growing tribe of younger sparks. Skywarp had made plans to see some inane sports thing half a planet away with friends from work. And Skyfire had been asked back to Earth for some science project involving altogether too much mud to be healthy, which the red seeker had, ah, “politely” declined.
So things had all looked on-schedule for a pleasant, private evening of relaxation. Possibly spending a little quality time alone with all those lovely polishing tools in the washracks. (And the insulated step-stool the bikes we
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Literature
Take the Initiative
Offices weren’t precisely Skywarp’s natural habitat.
The way he worked could probably have been politely called “hands-on”, although most people recognised a euphemism when they saw one; he liked to be out there, collecting paint scrapings. If there was ever a question of “good cop, bad cop”? Skywarp was absolutely bad cop, absolutely all the time. It was a brave machine that chose to riot when he was on duty.
But, his ‘style’ (if you could call it that) tended to get results, too, and taming the unashamedly aggressive ex-’Con never seemed to be on the cards. His friends and colleagues just learned to live with the fallout. And the noise.
So being cooped up in an office with Thundercracker’s highly distracted deputy was starting to grate at his patience.
Superintendent Thundercracker had visitors – a bright, sweet-natured councillor from the next district over, and their acting chief constable. They were (ostensib
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Literature
Drug Dealing
Hardline hadn’t even been gone for a whole breem when the door to Forceps’ home clicked and admitted a familiar set of red wings.
Forceps set her journal down on the table, and watched her uninvited guest approach. “How long have you been lurking out there, waiting for Hack to leave?”
Starscream shrugged, in an artfully casual way, and tucked his wings in a little more neatly. “I do not lurk, thank you, doctor. Just a fortuitous coincidence.”
Her expression flattened. “Of course it was.”
“I find it very hurtful that you don’t believe me.” Not looking remotely upset, he fetched something out of his subspace. “But… I know the big lug doesn’t like me giving you these, so.” He dropped a small, surprisingly-heavy silver disc into her palm. “Convenient timing, really.”
She knew exactly what it was without having to devote many fractions of a second to studying it. “I
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Wing Mechanics by keaalu Wing Mechanics :iconkeaalu:keaalu 2 0
Mature content
Remember Me, chapter 6 :iconkeaalu:keaalu 0 0
Squeaky by keaalu Squeaky :iconkeaalu:keaalu 2 2
Literature
All Begins with 'P'
Some orns later, after being scrubbed so clean it had almost taken his own enamel off, Starscream would claim that he’d only done it to ensure Skywarp’s idea had been done proper justice. But everyone knew that was mostly to save face.
It all started after a particularly trying orn spent chasing escaped criminals around Rustig’s abandoned alleys.
Deixar Constabulary had a pretty good system for tagging the crims in their patch, but as with everything else, there were those who thought they were smarter than the law. Monitoring tags were only any good when they remained attached to the person they were meant to be monitoring. A tag that stopped moving could be attached to a recharging mech… or someone who’d taken it off altogether. The smartest glitches paid other machines to wear their tags for them.
Only half-jokingly, Skywarp had suggested that they should get him to teleport the tag onto the criminals, in the future – a quantum bond
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Literature
Different Kinds of Heat
The office looks weird, this time of the cycle.
Has it always been this dark?
It’s night, Pulse. Of course it’s dark. It’s the quiet that’s making it feel weird.

Working alone, late at night, in a poorly-lit office, was having a different benefit-disadvantage ratio to the one Pulsar had anticipated, and she wasn’t sure it was turning out to be as good an idea as she’d hoped.
Maybe I should turn a few lights on anyway.
Benefit? It was quiet, and private, and no-one was around to prod her about how she was feeling – which she considered too controversial a subject to really want to get into with anyone, right now.
Disadvantage? She had nothing to divert her attention from said feelings, so she spent more time staring off into space than actually, you know, working. And the quiet was starting to get to her.
Finally she realised that she’d been sitting staring at the same screen for almost a breem without actually parsing
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Literature
Unspoken
Like much of Cybertron, Iacon was still fairly derelict – most of the awe-inspiring buildings of the Golden Age lay in sad, quiet ruins, most blackened and broken by war. The little that remained had been thoroughly cannibalised for undamaged components.
…but – again – like much of Cybertron, Iacon’s residents were starting to pick up the pieces, and beginning to rebuild. The spindly towers of inanimate cranes dotted the horizon, and a scattering of mismatched lights twinkled from the windows of the buildings below.
Not this one, though. Skywarp had intentionally chosen a rickety-looking tower on the outskirts of the city-state, little more than a shell with most of its interior floors corroded away, the topmost platform reachable only by air.
Private. Quiet. Somewhere unreachable by other grounders, and far enough away that hopefully the rest of the family wouldn’t decide he was obviously up to no good and they ought to come looking for him. He was
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Literature
Aviation flu
It was obvious from the moment Pulsar came online, to find her Seeker venting excessively warm air and with pumps that seemed to be buzzing, that Skywarp wasn’t in particularly good health, that orn.
“Warp?” She pushed herself upright and leaned over his chassis, propping herself on one arm. “Is everything all right?” She waved a hand in front of his face, then gently patted his cheek. “Hey in there. Skywarp?”
His optics came online much more slowly than she was familiar with, and he stared murkily through her for several seconds before managing to focus. “…uuh?”
“How are you feeling?”
“…uuh.” He lifted a shaky hand and passed it over his face. His voice crackled with more clicky static than should have been normal for bootup distortions. “G’roff, Squeaks. Too hot in here.”
Pulsar hastily scrambled off his wing, so he could sit up – or at least attempt to. He swung o
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Mature content
Remember Me, chapter 5 :iconkeaalu:keaalu 0 0
Mature content
Remember Me, chapter 4 :iconkeaalu:keaalu 0 0
Mature content
Remember Me, chapter 3 :iconkeaalu:keaalu 0 12
Mature content
Remember Me, chapter 2 :iconkeaalu:keaalu 0 0
Literature
Remember Me, chapter 1
“I’m sure I could hit him from here.”
“We’re not meant to be shooting him, Dirge. We’re not meant to be drawing attention to ourselves yet. Or did you forget that part? Again?”
Sitting on a distant cliff right on the territorial limit of Vos, Ramjet had a headache coming on. He still didn’t understand precisely why Megatron had sent his trine back here, unless it was to get shot of the three of them for an orn or two. (Which Ramjet could understand; he’d have liked to be able to ditch his wingmates for a couple of orns, as well.) It wasn’t like this played into any of their specific skillsets. Spying on the former command trine was the whole reason mechs like Soundwave existed. They didn’t have a whole lot to show for their trip, so far.
And now he had to deal with a bored, argumentative Dirge. Sure, Ramjet loved his wingbros, but they really made his helm hurt sometimes – even more than flying into s
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Literature
Who'd ever have kids?
“…so I said, mechs? Barf. No way, Jose.”
Thundercracker swallowed an inappropriate snicker. “Footloose,” he scolded, with a fond smile. “You can’t say that. What about your brother?”
She didn’t even miss a beat. “Definitely not boinking him.” She elaborated with some feigned retching noises.
“You know that wasn’t what I meant, Scraplet.” He flicked her on one winglet and made her dance squeakily out of reach. “We’ll ban you from going to Earth if you keep coming back talking like that.”
She curled her lip, indignant. “What’s wrong with the way I talk?”
“Would you like a list?” He grinned at her outraged expression. “Go on, skedaddle. Go harass Auntie Sepp or something; she said she had some free time and didn’t mind helping you study this orn.”
Footloose pursed her lips and gave him a suspicious look, puffing out her
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deviantID

keaalu
Abi; Windchaser
Artist
United Kingdom
Ahh, we can have actual bios now.

I'll come back to this once I've had a think about what to actually put.
Look at this! OMG. 😍

My awesome friend Exie (who is totally NOT a brick) wrote a ficlet that follows on from the one I just posted, with the exception that hers is infinitely more adorable.

archiveofourown.org/works/1467…

Activity


After a day spent locked in battle with the most wilfully obtuse bunch of self-serving councillors on his side of the planet – and coming within a wing-width of feeding Waveguide all his carefully-drafted budget assessments – Starscream had been looking forwards to a quiet night to himself.

The building was already empty when he dragged his tired pedes over the threshold. Thundercracker had taken Celerity out to New Vos, to see their growing tribe of younger sparks. Skywarp had made plans to see some inane sports thing half a planet away with friends from work. And Skyfire had been asked back to Earth for some science project involving altogether too much mud to be healthy, which the red seeker had, ah, “politely” declined.

So things had all looked on-schedule for a pleasant, private evening of relaxation. Possibly spending a little quality time alone with all those lovely polishing tools in the washracks. (And the insulated step-stool the bikes were always raving about.)

…then Skywarp had come home early.

Apparently, the game had been called off because half of one team had come down with a virus – and the disappointed, slightly-cranky teleport had brought with him the packet of fulminating candies he’d been planning on taking to the match. It wasn’t the candies that were a problem, as much as the type of candies. In fuel terms, they were next to worthless, but folk liked them because they had a pleasant crunch.

The teleport was most definitely making the most of that part, and it was all making Starscream’s helm hurt. Skywarp had been throwing the confectionery into the air and trying to catch them in his mouth for most of the evening – without great success, if all the residue scattered across the floor was anything to go by.

Starscream had sat and watched his plans for a nice, quiet, relaxing evening trickle off down the drain. He sat and glared at the news, until he couldn’t stand the incessant noise any more. “Are you going to share those, or what?”

Skywarp looked at him, hesitating mid-crunch. “…I hadn’t been planning to?”

“Says the mech who’s already shared half the packet with the floor, and was probably going to pelt the opposing team with them anyway?”

Skywarp narrowed his optics and pouted, but finally relented and held out the packet. “Fine. But don’t eat all of ‘em,” he warned, with a little finger waggle. “I was gonna save a few for when the Squeakster comes home.”

Starscream carefully tipped a handful into his palm, and flicked the packet back at his wingmate. “Doesn’t she get tired of all the permutations on ‘squeak’ that you come up with?”

Skywarp gave him a brief suspicious look – presumably cross-referencing the meaning of ‘permutation’ – before wrinkling his nose. “Nah. It’s her name, isn’t it?”

“One of these days you’re going to find a variation on Squeak that she doesn’t like, and she’s going to slug you round the face for it.” Starscream wriggled more comfortably into his chair. “I only hope I’m here to get to see it.”

Skywarp offered a dismissive pfft. “What are you watching, anyway?”

“The news. It figures that you wouldn’t know what that is.”

Skywarp snorted. “I know what the news is, dude. I was expecting you to be watching it while you waited for something more interesting to come on.”

“No, I am in fact watching the news just because I want to watch the news? Some of us like to know what’s going on around the world before they blunder into it.”

“Get you, Winglord Grumpy. Who shoved a spanner up your exhaust?”

Starscream fixed him on a glare, although it didn’t have quite the same effect on Skywarp as it might have on one of the junior councillors. “I was looking forwards to a relaxing evening to myself,” he growled, frustrated. “Then you came home with slagging exploding candies and I haven’t had a breem’s peace since.”

Skywarp gave him a small, sly smile. “You could go see Skyfire. I know he’d love your, ah, help. Washing all that mud off.”

Starscream’s glare turned into a pout and he sacrificed one of his candies in favour of throwing it at his wingmate; it exploded like a whipcrack in the teleport’s audio vent and almost made him jump out of his chair. “Why don’t you go find someone else to harass, you obnoxious glitch.”

The dark seeker rubbed his helm and sulked, but finally went (blissfully) silent.

-----------

Pulsar finally crawled in at some ungodly time of the dark cycle, and flopped in Skywarp’s lap with her chassis-lights still lit.

“Hi?” Skywarp propped his thrusters against the low table, so she could relax a little more comfortably against his chassis. “You’re back late.”

She snorted. “Whatever would we do without your keen powers of observation.”

“And you’re dented.”

“Again with the skills. I have my lights on, too, in case you hadn’t seen them.” She proper herself just enough that her headlights shone straight into his optics; Skywarp snerk!ed and covered her chassis with both palms. The bike vented a subtle sigh and leaned into his hands. “I’m going to have to go to the paintshop again. I only went two orns ago!”

He smiled and flicked her aerials. “You’re only worried the staff are gonna think you’ve got pink optics for them, or something.”

“Huh.” Something finally clicked, and she gave him a long, suspicious look. “What are you doing at home, anyway? You’re not even meant to be here.”

Now who’s got the amazing powers of observation?”

She snorted softly, pressing into his hand as he skimmed his big fingers around the back of her helm and across her antennae. “Guilty as charged, especially if you keep doing that. What happened? Did it get cancelled?”

“Yeah. Sucks slag, right?” Skywarp grunted and shifted his wings into a more comfortable sprawl, continuing to draw little loopy fingertip doodles on the back of the bike’s helm and listening as her purr deepened. “Captain of the enemy team is purge-for-brains who didn’t keep his firewall up to date and passed it on to half his team. Match is postponed until… I don’t even know. Whenever the doctors sign ’em off as fit, I guess?” He squinted at her. “Are you even listening to me?”

Pulsar didn’t reply; still just purring gently. Sounded like she’d already slipped into idle. Not a great surprise, given her rash of new dents and paint flecks – obviously had a hard day.

He tried to lean down, so he could be closer to her audios. “I saved you some candies, but I figure you’re too tired for them, too, and I should just eat ‘em for you, right?”

She stirred, onlined her optics – although they were a muggy, dim shade of blue instead of her usual turquoise – and opened her mouth at him, like a small bird begging to be fed.

“Ugh! I’m not feeding you, femme, I mean Primus. What do you think I am?” But he posted one of the candies into her mouth anyway.

She snrk-ed softly. “Thank you. …I think? Because ow-!” Her voice skated briefly up the scale, and she had to cover her mouth with a palm to avoid egesting crumbs of explosive blue confectionery all over her seeker. “Those are properly zingy! Where in Pit did you get them from?”

Across the room, a semi-dormant Starscream muttered something about don’t people know what the fragging time is.

Skywarp shrugged. “Mighta swiped ‘em out of the evidence store.” He watched her dissolve in a fit of alarmed spluttering, and grinned. “Nah, seriously. There’s a new shop out on the main street. I figured I’d see if they were as good as folk were saying they were. Not bad, huh.”

It took her a moment to regain control of her vocaliser, and even then her words came out watery. “If you like feeling like your helm’s exploding, I guess? I think they’re designed for bigger machines than me.”

Skywarp picked a slightly smaller blue crystal out of the packet. “Want another?”

Pulsar actually recoiled a little. “Thank you, but no. I’d prefer my intake components stayed where they were installed.”

Skywarp snickered, and crunched on the candy. “Aw. I was hoping to see what other noises I could get you to make.”

“…don’t you use me as a way to aggravate your poor wingleader.”

“But you’re such a nice way to aggravate him, too.” He cupped his hand gently around her blinker and pinged at her antennae. “Especially when you use this…” His fingers drifted around towards her siren.

“…I feel a little used.” She purred and leaned into his hand, anyway, and lowered her voice; “How about you give me a better reason to visit the paintshop tomorrow.”

Now who’s the aggravating glitch?”

“What can I say. You rub off on me.”

He snickered softly and added his purr to hers – a deeper, throatier sound that made his chassis vibrate subtly. Pulsar made a funny noise against him, elbows buckling.  

On the opposite side of the room, Starscream sighed loudly enough to make the maple’s nearby leaves flutter, put up his hands in defeat, and retired to his private quarters.

-----------

The approaching dawn had begun to spread smudges of deep blue onto the horizon when Pulsar began to stir from the comfortable tangle of limbs and charging cables on the couch with Skywarp.

She managed to extract an arm, propped her chin in one palm, and for a while just listened to the subtle purr of his fans. For a former warmech, he looked surprisingly non-threatening, with his features slack in recharge – although at least part of that was probably down to the fact he wasn’t awake and being belligerent.

“…Warp?”

Her voice nudged Skywarp out of idle. “Uh?” He struggled to get his optics to reboot. “What.”

“It’s officially been 10 vorns, as of this morning.”

“Has it?” He thought about it for a few astroseconds. “…what has?”

She gave a little huff of amusement. “Since we crashed into each other’s lives.”

“Technically it’s been more like forty-seven vorns.” He pursed his lips and looked askance at her. “You’ve been timing it?”

She snorted. “Of course not.” But she’d answered so quickly, she knew she’d betrayed her own confidence, and hastily revised; “Okay, maybe a little. It’s a nice milestone. Hadn’t you even noticed it coming up on your chronometer?”

“I-… was I meant to?” He sounded wary, as though trying to gauge how big a faux pas this might have been.

“I guess maybe I assumed you would have?” She folded her arms under her chin. “Because some days, it feels like you’re the most brilliantly observant mech I’ve ever known. You spot things none of the rest of us notice.” She vented a little sigh of warm air. “But then equally, on other days, you’re the most wilfully, intentionally unobservant individual on our side of the district rift, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.” Seeing him grin, she thumped his chassis. “That’s not something you should be proud of.”

Skywarp blew out a dismissive raspberry. “What, I’m not allowed to feel proud of myself when someone calls me brilliant and observant instead of a brainless quantum browser?”

Pulsar glanced away. “…All right. Nice save.”

“Ten vorns, huh.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “I never thought I’d survive that long, out of the ’Cons.” He pondered on the thought for a moment. “Honestly, never figured I was gonna get out alive in the first place, so the extra vorns are a nice bonus.”

She propped her elbow against his chassis and rested her chin on her hand. “How did you think it’d end? Or don’t I want to know.”

He gazed up at the dwindling stars still visible through the crystal ceiling, thoughtfully. “I’unno, really. A glorious death on the battlefield, I guess? Didn’t figure I was much good for anything else.”

“Pff!”

“Seriously.” He shrugged awkwardly against the chair. “I was sparked for war, right? Maybe not civil war, but. You know. I’d not known anything else, so I suppose… it never occurred to me that I could be anything else?” He grimaced. “Didn’t help having a boss who always told you that you were an idiot, that you were only any good at following instructions – sometimes – and who’d punch you in the head or worse if you got on his bad side.”

Pulsar was silent for a beat. “…what makes him different to Starscream, who also calls you an idiot and punches you in the head if you get on his bad side?”

The grimace relaxed into a comfortable smile. “Yeah, but he doesn’t only call me an idiot – not all the time, anyway – and I’m not scared to punch back if I disagree with him.”

She felt oddly prickly, at the reminder of his old life.

“You’re not gonna get wibbly on me now, are you, femme?” Skywarp let her wriggle a little further up his chassis and tuck her head up under his chin. “It’s not like they tricked me into joining up. I signed up for it knowing what my prospects were, and… yeah, I guess I enjoyed it? Was nice to feel like I was doing something important, for a while.”

“And it’s not like you’d have objected greatly to the need to fight other machines, either.” Pulsar vented a little sigh. “Couldn’t comment on the rest. Until your trine showed up, I don’t think I did anything important.”

He made a little snrk noise. “Yeah, you’re such a martyr. Is self-pity programmed into all bikes, or just you?”

She made an aggravated noise and flattened a hand over his mouth, but he just licked her palm in response. “Should have expected a lack of sympathy from you,” she griped, ineffectually trying to wipe her hand dry against his chassis. “Glitch.”

He grinned and waited while she got comfortable again. “S’funny, isn’t it. One orn, you’re the most feared warrior to ever take to Cybertron’s airspace-”

Pulsar offered a snort! So he poked her in a ticklish spot. She almost lurched right out of his lap.

“The next, the whole world’s changed, war’s over, and you’re snuggling with a mortal enemy, in the house you share, in a district you never knew existed until you wound up there by accident one time, mulling over how long you’ve managed to stay together and not kill each other.” He closed his arms possessively around her, making her snicker against him. “I’m glad we crashed into each other. It’s kinda nice to have someone to do horrible things to, who’ll let you do horrible things to them because they actually like it. Weirdo.”

“…I still have no idea why I love you, you objectionable airhead.”

He pressed his cheek against the smooth top of her helm and purred. “…let’s call in sick, and sneak off somewhere exciting. What better way to celebrate ten vorns than to relive the glory days?”

“I’m not sure getting hooked on dangerous illegal drugs counts as glorious, but sneaking off work sounds like a very good idea.”
Happy? Anniversary!

Happy 10th Birthday, Blue Universe!

Warp and Pulse swap notes on how long they've been together and managed to not kill each other (intentionally or otherwise). So, Starscream still lives with a bunch of obnoxious glitches. (No sympathy. He brings it on himself.)

OK technically this is a month late, I started posting Screaming Blue in April 2008. But still, 10 years! *throws confetti*

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Look at this! OMG. 😍

My awesome friend Exie (who is totally NOT a brick) wrote a ficlet that follows on from the one I just posted, with the exception that hers is infinitely more adorable.

archiveofourown.org/works/1467…
Offices weren’t precisely Skywarp’s natural habitat.

The way he worked could probably have been politely called “hands-on”, although most people recognised a euphemism when they saw one; he liked to be out there, collecting paint scrapings. If there was ever a question of “good cop, bad cop”? Skywarp was absolutely bad cop, absolutely all the time. It was a brave machine that chose to riot when he was on duty.

But, his ‘style’ (if you could call it that) tended to get results, too, and taming the unashamedly aggressive ex-’Con never seemed to be on the cards. His friends and colleagues just learned to live with the fallout. And the noise.

So being cooped up in an office with Thundercracker’s highly distracted deputy was starting to grate at his patience.

Superintendent Thundercracker had visitors – a bright, sweet-natured councillor from the next district over, and their acting chief constable. They were (ostensibly) trying to hash out a deal of some sort – Deixar Constabulary would provide officers on secondment to Tysta’s overstretched police force, and in return Tysta would provide closer support to the neighbouring New Vos.

However, if the laughter coming from behind the door was anything to go by, at least a little high-grade was involved.

And Celerity had been watching his door for a good proportion of the meeting, with an odd, wistful expression on her broad features. (Not that Skywarp had started keeping a tally, or anything, after the fifth time she’d sighed and mumbled something to herself. He felt like throwing something at her.)

“Grounders,” Skywarp snorted, deliberately baiting for a response. “Never can handle their high-octane fuels.” He knew (from somewhat embarrassing experience) that she had very big tanks to go along with the very big frame, and she usually took cool pleasure in reminding him how she could drink him under the table.

She didn’t take the bait this time, though. Must be even more distracted than she looked.

When the femme vented a little sigh of warm air and looked wistfully over at Thundercracker’s door for what must have been the ninetieth time, Skywarp finally ran out of patience. “Lara.”

Celerity jumped a tiny bit and jerked around to look at him. “S-sky-what?”

“Will you just go talk to him, already?” The ex-Con glared at her from his corner and gestured at the closed door with a dramatic sweep of one whole arm. “Instead of keep puffing and sighing and being melodramatic about it?”

Her lips moved silently for a second before she managed to get a disjointed string of words out; “He but I mean in a meeting?”

“He’s not gonna be in a meeting all orn-” Skywarp covered his optics briefly with one hand, then rocked forwards to rest his elbows on the desk. “Okay, so. Bit of advice for you.” He forced a syrupy smile. “Guys like me and TC aren’t that good at noticing subtle hints. We’ve spent most of a lifetime fighting Autobots whose idea of ‘subtle’ was ‘shoot the fraggers out of the sky’. Right?”

She gave him a small, puzzled nod. “…right?”

So, if you wanna get us to notice something, you’ve gotta beat it into our heads with a mallet.” After a beat, he shrugged, and added; “some of us with a bigger mallet than others, granted. But all this, this…” He waved his hands aimlessly for a second. “Wistful looks behind his wings and super-subtle clues? Forget it. Either come out and say it, or fraggin’ quit it. You’re doing my helm in.”

Celerity’s brows came down in a hurt little glare and her lips parted as though to protest, but she evidently couldn’t think of a good retort because no words came out for several seconds. “I don’t think I asked you for an opinion,” she managed, at last.

The teleport spread his hands in mock despair. “No? You’re sitting there puffing and sighing, practically screaming notice me, and now you don’t want an opinion?” He leaned a little closer and gave Thundercracker’s door a meaningful glance. “Or is it just that my opinion isn’t good enough?”

Her expression darkened. Glitch, she mouthed at him.

Skywarp half-smirked and was thinking up a new extra-witty snipe when he noticed the femme straighten and fix her attention back on her workstation, apparently sensing movement towards the door some seconds before it finally clicked and hushed open. One advantage to the huge sensory bouton on the back of her head, the teleport figured, hastily trying to look equally busy.

“…and we’ll see about getting something hard-coded to that effect.” Thundercracker ushered his two visitors out into the office. “It’s good to have your support on this, gentlemechs; I know New Vos will appreciate it.”

“No no, the pleasure is ours, superintendent,” the councillor gushed, shaking hands for far longer than necessary. “We look forwards to finally getting crime in the district down to a manageable level. I really don’t know how we’ve survived this long without someone as competent as you providing us with a little support.”

Standing to one side and waiting quietly for his fellow delegate to finish talking, Tysta’s senior police officer grimaced and looked away, rattling his rotors very slightly in annoyance.

All three Deixar staff watched silently as the councillor wobbled his giggly way to the far door, clinging tighter to the chief constable’s arm than the helicopter looked particularly comfortable with. The officer shot Skywarp an odd look of mixed apology and embarrassment, before successfully navigating the pair of them out into the corridor and away.

Thundercracker waited until they were out of audio range before blowing a long sigh of exhaust through his pursed lips and casting his gaze to the heavens. He rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch his wings a little.

“Hard work, huh?”

Thundercracker turned and gave Skywarp a long, suspicious look, as if to ask why exactly he was lurking in the office.

“It’s been raining.” Skywarp answered the unspoken question. “I was waiting for Governor Giggles to finally clear out so I could drag you off for a proper drink. Figured you’d need it.” Then he shrugged. “Sounds like you might have survived okay without my help, though.”

The blue mech thought about it for a second or two. “You know what? I think it actually was a fairly productive meeting.” He hesitated, and added; “If not the most… conventional.”

“Yeah, we heard all the ‘unconventional’ through your door.”

Thundercracker put his hands up. “In my defence, it was his high grade. And he drank most of it.”

“If you ever need my help, you only have to holler, you know?”

“Unless you mean help drinking all that spare energon he brought with him, Warp, your ‘help’ almost invariably involves your fists, and this is the sort of delicate situation that really wouldn’t be aided by someone punching it.”

“You never know. Might help people keep focused?”

“Yeah, well. Guess I’ll let you know, on the off chance I some day need you and your violence in my office?”

Skywarp snickered, pleased with himself.

Thundercracker only got as far as his doorway. He stared in at the muddle of data-wafers and empty cubes for a few moments before letting his arms dangle with a sigh. “Actually, you know what? I am gonna take you up on that drink. Lemme just save what I was working on…” His words faded into indecipherable mutterings as he passed into his office.

“Sure; I ain’t going anywhere yet.” Skywarp rocked his chair comfortably back onto two legs against the wall. He gave Celerity a sly glance; she’d begun to rustle around and looked like she was gearing up to slip away while their attention was elsewhere.

Oh no you don’t.

“Celerity needed to talk to you,” he said, intentionally loudly.

“Oh?” Thundercracker peered back at her with a curious smile and arched brows. “You know my door’s always open, Lara.”

Her optics had already brightened to an alarmed cyan. She spluttered something incomprehensible and shook her head. “It’s nothing. It can wait.”

Skywarp kicked her under the table. “That’s not what you said to me a breem ago.”

“I did not-… I didn’t say anything of the sort! I-I said he was in a meeting.”

“And he was too busy to talk, right, I get that. Well, now he’s not, so what’s stopping you?” Skywarp turned on his best, most-practiced look of innocence, optics wide and guileless. “I’m only trying to help you, here.”

“Which I never asked-” Celerity’s flustered denials were just boxing her deeper into her corner. “That’s not the point! He’s busy and it’s not important.”

Thundercracker watched the exchange with an increasingly bemused smile. “Well, seeing as I’m ditching the office to go for a drink with Warp any time soon, how about we talk now? Take advantage of the fact we all now know you have something on your mind.”

The big femme just stood and stared at him with her mouth open for a second or two.

He gestured both hands at his open door, encouragingly.

“All right. I suppose-… I can… all right.” She covered her optics briefly with one hand and vented a little noise of frustration, before finally emerging from behind her desk. “All right.”

Behind Thundercracker’s wings, she gave Skywarp the blackest of glowers; he grinned back, totally unapologetic, wearing a huge innocent smile that made his nose crinkle, and wiggled the fingers of one hand in a wave.

Satisfied – for now, at least – Skywarp laced his fingers across his chassis and let his brain slip into idle, lulled into a pleasant light doze by the murmur of indistinct speech through the wall.

The sounds that re-emerged not even a full breem later didn’t quite have the light, carefree cadence he’d been sorta half-hoping half-anticipating. Not quite fully alert, but awake enough to be aware that something hadn’t quite followed his little mental plan, he onlined a single optic and watched a grim-faced Celerity appear in the doorway.

Thundercracker emerged from his office behind her, looking concerned and disappointed. “Well, um. Let me know if you need a reference?”

Skywarp sat straighter, inviting himself back into the conversation. “Hey, what?”

Celerity was already making for the door, arms stiff at her sides, not looking at him. Her lips were pursed and a frustrated frown dug deep furrows into her brow.

Thundercracker didn’t move to follow. “Celerity was just explaining to me that she was considering taking a post over on Quayside, to work closer with her twin. Obviously that wouldn’t be my preference, but.” He folded his arms and forced a disappointed smile. “Not my decision to make, I guess. I’m not going to force anyone to stay where they’re not comfortable.”

Skywarp was up on his thrusters surprisingly quickly for the lackadaisical slouch he’d adopted around the office. “Oh no you don’t.” He grabbed Celerity firmly by the arm, and ducked when she made an aggravated noise and swung a fist at his head. “Would you excuse us a moment, TC? Thanks.”

Before Thundercracker could voice a challenge, both the teleport and his unwilling passenger disappeared in a slap of collapsing air molecules.

0o0o0o0o0

Skywarp returned in less than half a breem, immediately making a reach for his wingmate’s arm.

Thundercracker backed off, just out of grabbing range. “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

“You’re gonna go talk to Lara because she is seriously upping the pressure in my helm right now.” Skywarp pursued him across the office.

Thundercracker put a desk between them. “We just did-?”

“No, I mean properly talk to her. Not... accept her stupid excuses at face value. She ain’t that good at lying. Will you stand still, already?”

Thundercracker put his hands up in defeat and allowed Skywarp to take his arm.

There was the immediate chill of displacement and the weird sensation of being in two places at once, then an astro-second of freefall before they landed with a thump on a rooftop out in the old industrial zone, close to the District Rift.

Right. So.” Skywarp stood just a little behind Thundercracker, as though to impress visually how he was going to back up his wingmate, and addressed Celerity; “If you want down, you’re gonna have to talk. So get talking.” And with one last aggressive finger-point for emphasis, he was gone.

Thundercracker quirked a brow at her. “I won’t pretend I have the first idea what this is all about. Have you two argued?”

“Not… precisely.” She shuffled her large feet against the dirty roof and vented a little sigh. “We’ve had a differing opinion on how to proceed with something.”

“And that’s involved us ending up on a roof… how, exactly?”

“I’m not sure. I imagine I can’t just claim I have something else to do and hide until you’re gone, if we’re up here.”

For several seconds, he just stared at her. “…why would you need to hide from me?”

She half-smiled, embarrassed, and shrugged, but still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Because some situations are easier dealt with by avoiding them.”

“That’s probably not the healthiest of mindsets.”

“Maybe not? But it’d worked for me for vorns. Probably would have continued working, as well, if it hadn’t annoyed Skywarp. Who shouldn’t even have been in the slagging office, but there we go.” She folded her arms and glared at her dusty pedes. “Some mechs just have a knack for being incorrigible fragheads, I suppose.

The rainclouds finally loosened their grip on their cargo. The drizzle was no longer as catastrophically acidic as it had once been, but it was still strong enough that both could feel it sizzling against their autorepair nanites.

“Come on.” Thundercracker held out his hands. “We can’t stay out in this. Let me fly you down. Whatever you wanted to talk to me about can’t be important enough to risk taking our lacquer off over.”

“Eh. Perhaps? Except Skywarp picked this roof, and this rainstorm, to force my hand. We don’t have the luxury of taking forever talking about it.” The big femme fidgeted her feet, awkwardly, and cast a suspicious glance into the sky, but couldn’t spot the black-winged target of her ire. “Besides. I know he’s watching, and if we don’t talk, he’s going to fly me straight back up here when your back is turned, so. I’d rather… get it out of the way, and get off the roof.”

The blue seeker smiled and spread his hands. “You have my undivided attention. Not that you should need such drastic measures to get it.”

She took a hesitant step closer. “I’m just not really sure how to explain. I've spent long enough avoiding the question that I neglected to think about what I'd do if anyone ever actually asked-..." She swallowed the rest of the statement. “Please don’t be offended.”

The space between them was less than an arm’s length. Her proximity forced him to look up to meet her gaze.

“Why would I be offended?” he asked.

She made some noises that didn’t seem to match any words Thundercracker was familiar with, then leaned down a tiny fraction closer, and brushed a kiss over his lips. Then stepped back, looking like she’d have appreciated it if the roof had opened to swallow her, staring fixedly at her feet.

For several seconds, he just stared at her. “Is-… that…” He waved his hands, but the words refused to be magicked up. “…what you wanted to… ‘talk’ about?”

“I think so.” Celerity’s lips curved up into a grimacing half-smile on just one side. She seemed to be focusing mostly on his knees, now. “Sorry to be a disappointment. I wish I had something more profound.”

For several seconds, both seemed stuck for a response. The intensifying drizzle slanted down in uncomfortable curtains, beading against their plating and creeping like cold fingers through joints in their armour.

Celerity finally looked up and shot him a bared-teeth sort of grin. “Can we get down now? I have enough trouble with paint-transfers, I don’t need acid-spots to polish out as well.”

Thundercracker gave himself a little shake out of his stupor, and opened his arms to her. “Come on, then.”

She froze, apparently only just recognising what getting back to the ground involved.

He gave her a friendly glare, gently reprimanding. “How else were you planning on getting down, Lara? We’ve flown together before, and you can hardly climb down the exterior of the building.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know, back then, either.” She stepped cautiously closer, and let him put his arms around her. “Pit. This feels so weird.” They were almost touching cheeks. Her voice had gone oddly thin. “May-maybe I should get some-someone else to give me a lift.”

“…Before you say it, you’re not that heavy. And I’m not going to drop you.” He stepped out over the edge of the building and fell for an instant, before the wind caught his wings and he soared back up into the rain-drenched sky, little vortices of drizzle curling in his wake.

She rebooted her vocaliser with a little khuff. “For the record, that’s not what I was worried about-!”

“Also for the record, I know. I think we ought to find somewhere private to talk. Agreed?”

She made a small glum noise before replying; “Good idea. I’d rather not have spectators.”

A conveniently derelict skyscraper on the Rustig side of the district rift loomed up in front of them. The decorative glass walls had long since been blown out and most of the bare concrete floors were saturated, except for a narrow access corridor close to the top, just deep enough for two machines to take shelter from the elements.

It wasn’t really big enough for either of them. Celerity settled awkwardly under the ledge, cross-legged, just out of the gusting rain. Thundercracker joined her after a second or two, slotting his wings in behind her.

For a breem or two, they just sat, watching the fine curtains of drizzle misting down over the district. The horizon had already vanished behind the soft grey clouds.

Neither seemed to really know what to say – or even if saying anything was the right thing to do.

It… probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

Thundercracker knew there’d been friendly jokes about it, but he’d assumed that was all it was. The big femme would smile politely, field going prickly, clearly embarrassed, but mostly would just wave it off.

There’d been plenty of signs that should have clued him in, if he’d been paying attention. When Siphon had launched his campaign of torture, Celerity hadn’t even hesitated to volunteer her help, going all the way to a whole different planet, one she’d never visited even once before, to help look for him. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever gone up against a genuine Decepticon in her life, either, but she’d still used her own shielding as a shelter when Dirge had fired on them.

But she was always ready with the justifications to avoid discussing it – she was big, she was physically strong, she had inbuilt protective forcefields. It was logical. She was just doing her job.

And after that, he’d been distracted, he told himself. Getting his trine back to full health had been a priority, then Skywarp had vanished, then he’d just… got so habituated to having her around, quietly making sure the work was getting done, the officers were happy, keeping reports filed and off his desk, that he stopped noticing it, really.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered, at last. There was a subtle hint of challenge in his voice.

She laced her fingers over her ankles, and shrugged. “I thought it’d probably go away.”

“…and how long have you been annoying Skywarp by sighing?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he could feel a little frisson of embarrassment shimmer up through her field. “Not long.”

“You sure?”

“Well he’s not been back for that long-”

Lara.”

“All right. I suppose I’ve had slightly… mostly?... pink optics since you helped us deal with the Blue problem, that time.”

Thundercracker was silent for several seconds. “That’s nearly forty vorns, Celerity.”

“Like I said.”

“…you’re defining that as not long?”

“Pff.” She wafted a hand, with an artfully casual manner. “Barely long enough to notice.”

He jabbed her carefully with a gentle elbow. “Stop that.”

She finally smiled at him, sadly. “It made sense. I like working with you. We’re a good team; all of us. We work well together. Why would I want to force a change in all of that, just so I could be selfish?”

“I don’t think that precisely counts as selfish?”

“…mm. Maybe not? But there’s got to be a rule somewhere about not having a romantic liaison with your direct superior. Risks conflict of interest, or something. Bad practice to work in the same office. Plus it would make life awkward for both of us. One of us would have to leave.” She shook her head. “Some things just don’t need thinking about.”

He vented a little huff of amusement. “I’m pretty sure unrequited pink optics are just as distracting.”

She sighed and glared out into the drizzle. “I’d got used to ignoring it.” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Fragging… Skywarp.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. You’ll upset Squeaky, if nothing else.”

She spluttered, straightening in alarm. “That wasn’t what I meant-!”

He laughed. “Relax, Lara. I’m teasing.” He bumped her with a wing. “It’s got to be better for you, now you’re not avoiding the subject.”

She managed to regain her composure, rebooting her vocaliser with a little khuff. “I suppose it’s a weight off my shoulders,” she admitted, at last. “There’s just a different sort of weight there, now.”

He watched her for several seconds, waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn’t seem inclined to volunteer the information.

“Joking aside, I guess this means I’m going to need that reference, after all.” She gave him a little elbow. “I’ll swap with Vecks. You’ll never notice the difference, and I can guarantee she won’t be interested in pursuing anything.”

“Hey! I… all right, I might not have noticed forty vorns of pink optics, but I’m not that unobservant.” He gave her an instant of intense scrutiny. “Your heads are different shapes, to start with.”

Celerity found a laugh. She sounded… almost relieved. “I’m glad you’re not upset.”

“I’m still not sure why you thought I would be. Am I really that feroci – actually don’t answer that.” He punctuated the sentence with a little finger-waggle. “I feel… somewhat blindsided, maybe. And confused. And… not completely sure where this is going to take us?” He drew in a long, cooling draught of damp air and stared out over their rain-slick home district. “But we’ll figure something out.” He covered her hand with his, and squeezed her fingers, lightly. “Something that doesn’t involve dismantling the office.”
Take the Initiative
Tired of watching Celerity allllways sighing at TC's office door, Skywarp takes the initiative and plays matchmaker. It doesn't go quite as planned, but it isn't a total disaster, either? (Blue AU)

Not sure precisely when this is set, other than "some time between Future Tense and Remember Me".

NB: Lara is a BIG girl – not quite as big as Hardline, but close (taller than new-model Seekers, definitely), and built rather like a brick outhouse. She's... not sure how much she likes being THAT BIG.
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You know the stories where the boy and his dragon must defeat a growing evil and save their village?

...yeah, this is nothing like that.


Jevics a’Sekilus – Jess – was a spur without many grand ambitions in life. A deckhand on a small interstellar cargo freighter, he was content to just do his job, and get paid, with no great responsibilities demanding his attention. His greatest pleasure in life was to explore the tourist nightlife at each world they came to, setting down no roots, making no lasting connections outside his shipmates.

That was until he – quite literally – collided with Speckle. Because the little white dragon is… well… actually, nobody’s entirely sure? Small, flightless, voiceless (and helpless?), Speckle just wants to find her way home... except she's still dazed from a very recent trauma, and horribly lost, in a world that doesn't speak her language, being chased by shadowy figures working for a powerful master who seem determined to stop her getting there.

Speckle is more powerful than she realises. But until she can find her confidence, and unlock the strength hidden inside her, she’s going to need help. Let’s just hope Jess has what it takes when he’s sucked into circumstances far larger than he’d ever dreamed of before.

----

Intro post:

I've started properly, seriously plotting this thing; something I rarely do, and it's probably why I never flipping finish anything. For this one, I have just over 7000 words of plot, a fairly defined suite of characters, and I think I'm happy enough with it to start actually writing...

I'm strongly considering asking for betas, if I ever get this thing written, which I've never done before, but WE SHALL SEE.
The Kitty Giraffe is developing. ¬_¬ We've moved off Cybertron and hooked up with a different cast, although Pulse (aka "Speckle"* - well, they don't speak her language and she doesn't speak theirs, they couldn't not have a name for her) is the same character. She's just a long looong way away from home, and trying to find her way back.  

This is a placeholder for my thoughts - I KNOW November is miiiilesss away but I might use this for NaNoWriMo, OR start sooner if I can pin the rest of the plot down.

keaalu.dreamwidth.org/460240.h…

* Yes I'm aware that basically we're calling her "Spot". That's sort of the point. It's getting slightly weird and gaslight-y at the moment. *halo*

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:iconjilldragon:
JillDragon Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2010  Hobbyist Photographer
Psst!
:iconkeaalu::iconsnowballleftplz:
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:iconbobtodd:
BobTodd Featured By Owner Dec 22, 2009
Yay I got my card! Wip willy woo!
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:iconoreobot:
Oreobot Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2009  Hobbyist
Thanks for the favorite of Thundercracker! :)
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:iconkeaalu:
keaalu Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2009
Welcome. :) He looks awesome. And one can never have too much TC.
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:iconoreobot:
Oreobot Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2009  Hobbyist
Thank you for the favorite of Thundercracker. :)
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:iconirism:
Irism Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2009
dude warped is soo CRAZY :iconpsychoplz:.......in a gud way :iconblushplz:

*off to make fanarts*
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:iconkeaalu:
keaalu Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2009
*lol* Thanks. ^_^ Glad you like it. :) (Now I MUST get that next chapter written...)
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:iconalectorfencer:
AlectorFencer Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
*knocks and steps inside* O;O

*gives you a cup of fresh herb tea - WITHOUT SUGAR!*

I hope that helps you being creative and gives you the strength and muse back that you need. ;D
How are you, by the way? :0
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:iconkeaalu:
keaalu Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2009
Whoops, late reply! :O

I'm OK - just tired out from work, as usual. ;) Yourself?
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:iconalectorfencer:
AlectorFencer Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
Don't worry. I reply late myself as you see. XD
Everything is great except me being in another spiral between having no inspiration and too much inspiration. XD
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