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capeandcowllogs2008-12-30 07:12 pm
screechybot.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2008-12-30 07:12 pm
Entry tags:
We have some sort of x-mas backtracking going on here. -complete-
WHO: Waspinator ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chewtoyoffate , Terrorsaur screechybot
WHERE: M.A.C, top floor, and getting flown out the window
WHEN: Somewhere in between December 21 to 24th?? Near Christmas.
WARNINGS: Soretardedfluffy and gay.
SUMMARY: IT'S IMPORTANT TO NOTE THAT THIS WAS C&C!FANFIC WRITTEN BY ZERO. Then she wanted it canon and told me to post it because she's busy having a life and enjoying Florida, and I'm not. Clearly. Waspinator and Terrorsaur debate the merits of filthy human holidays and their sparkly lights. Also: Jamming Stations!
FORMAT: Fanfic?? 8 /
"I hate this."
Waspinator’s wings made a high pitched humming noise as they fought to keep him in the air. He paid little notice to his companion’s surly mutterings as he flit back and forth, hanging decorations on any part of the apartment that would hold them. Unfortunately, none of the human inhabitants of the complex had bothered to tell him that electronic singing Santas did not, traditionally, rest atop refrigerators.
If Terrorsaur felt ignored, he either didn’t show it or was just used to it. “I hate this… This event of theirs. ‘Krissmess’.” He shook his head from side to side, causing his new, organic hair to fall in his face. Irritated, he pulled back the curtain of scarlet and tucked it behind ‘those ridiculous audio inputs’.
“Terrorbot juzt doezn’t like to see squishiez to be happy.” Waspinator made contented buzzing noises to himself as he hovered near the bathroom door, draping garlands over the lintel.
Terrorsaur just snorted in response. “Of course I don’t! It’s their damn fault the Decepticons lost. Their fault Megatron dragged us out to that backwater planet he thought was Earth. And if it weren’t for that – or if I’d been leader…” He took a pause in his hissing monologue for breath, something he still wasn’t used to needing. “If it weren’t for those stinking organics, I wouldn’t have fallen into the magma and I’d still be online.”
He stood suddenly from the uncomfortable plastic chair and strode over to where Waspinator hung in the air, now near the windows. He reached up and grabbed a handful of cloth, hauling down on the other Predacon’s pants. The green haired young man whined as he was pulled down to Terrorsaur’s eye level, which left his feet a few inches off the ground.
“Then I wouldn’t be here!” Terrorsaur screeched. “I wouldn’t be stuck in this awful organic body, playing soldier for the only mech more irritating to take orders from than Megatron himself! I’d still be able to fly, and I wouldn’t be the only Pred unlucky enough to have to room with you!”
Waspinator responded by clocking him with a snowglobe.
“Beakbot should shut up now.” The slight young man dropped the remaining decorations in his hands and made an odd buzzing noise of effort as he pulled the window open. Before his companion could complain, Waspinator grabbed his upper arms and lifted him off the floor, tilting almost horizontal to fit the both of them out the window.
Twenty-five floors up was nothing to sneeze at, especially now that they couldn’t be put back together in the CR chambers. All his experience as a flier was overridden by his new body’s instincts, making Terrorsaur panic and squirm in the other man’s grasp. Waspinator just cocked an antenna and held tighter. “Stupid! Hold still! If Wazpinator dropz, beakbot will just be dark spot on pavement.” Terrorsaur kept hyperventilating, his breath steaming in the winter air.
He pulled up vertically, righting the two of them and shifting Terrorsaur so that the red-head was facing away from him. “See the lightz all the squishiez make?” He buzzed cheerfully. “Waz nice when Wazpinator got here, but now there are more! And more colourz, too. Iz almozt like Cybertron, but not so buzy airzpace. Wazpinator can fly on hiz own, not worry about flying smack into other helicopterz.”
Terrorsaur snarled, digging his (perfectly manicured) nails into the forearms locked around his torso. “And I’m sure you ran into your share of buildings, you brain-addled insect!”
His reply was to be hoisted up farther, leaving Waspinator’s head buried between his neck and shoulder. “Wazpinator likez shiny lightz. Wazpinator wishez he could make more and build jamming stationz, but Wazpinator could not find right partz in human city.
“You actually looked for jamming station parts? There aren’t any Maximal signals to jam!”
“Sparkliez are so pretty. Terrorbot needz to learn that squishy humanz make some nice thingz. World iz not so bad.”
Terrorsaur was starting to shake visibly from the cold, and assumed that Waspinator was only unaffected because he was too stupid to feel a chill. “Can we go home now?” He chattered.
“See?” Waspinator hummed. “Terrorbot iz even starting to think of big building houzeplace az home.”
“Shut up, or I’ll graft those ornaments onto your face.”
“Well, Wazpinator doez mizz mandiblez.”
chewtoyoffate , Terrorsaur screechybot WHERE: M.A.C, top floor, and getting flown out the window
WHEN: Somewhere in between December 21 to 24th?? Near Christmas.
WARNINGS: So
SUMMARY: IT'S IMPORTANT TO NOTE THAT THIS WAS C&C!FANFIC WRITTEN BY ZERO. Then she wanted it canon and told me to post it because she's busy having a life and enjoying Florida, and I'm not. Clearly. Waspinator and Terrorsaur debate the merits of filthy human holidays and their sparkly lights. Also: Jamming Stations!
FORMAT: Fanfic?? 8 /
"I hate this."
Waspinator’s wings made a high pitched humming noise as they fought to keep him in the air. He paid little notice to his companion’s surly mutterings as he flit back and forth, hanging decorations on any part of the apartment that would hold them. Unfortunately, none of the human inhabitants of the complex had bothered to tell him that electronic singing Santas did not, traditionally, rest atop refrigerators.
If Terrorsaur felt ignored, he either didn’t show it or was just used to it. “I hate this… This event of theirs. ‘Krissmess’.” He shook his head from side to side, causing his new, organic hair to fall in his face. Irritated, he pulled back the curtain of scarlet and tucked it behind ‘those ridiculous audio inputs’.
“Terrorbot juzt doezn’t like to see squishiez to be happy.” Waspinator made contented buzzing noises to himself as he hovered near the bathroom door, draping garlands over the lintel.
Terrorsaur just snorted in response. “Of course I don’t! It’s their damn fault the Decepticons lost. Their fault Megatron dragged us out to that backwater planet he thought was Earth. And if it weren’t for that – or if I’d been leader…” He took a pause in his hissing monologue for breath, something he still wasn’t used to needing. “If it weren’t for those stinking organics, I wouldn’t have fallen into the magma and I’d still be online.”
He stood suddenly from the uncomfortable plastic chair and strode over to where Waspinator hung in the air, now near the windows. He reached up and grabbed a handful of cloth, hauling down on the other Predacon’s pants. The green haired young man whined as he was pulled down to Terrorsaur’s eye level, which left his feet a few inches off the ground.
“Then I wouldn’t be here!” Terrorsaur screeched. “I wouldn’t be stuck in this awful organic body, playing soldier for the only mech more irritating to take orders from than Megatron himself! I’d still be able to fly, and I wouldn’t be the only Pred unlucky enough to have to room with you!”
Waspinator responded by clocking him with a snowglobe.
“Beakbot should shut up now.” The slight young man dropped the remaining decorations in his hands and made an odd buzzing noise of effort as he pulled the window open. Before his companion could complain, Waspinator grabbed his upper arms and lifted him off the floor, tilting almost horizontal to fit the both of them out the window.
Twenty-five floors up was nothing to sneeze at, especially now that they couldn’t be put back together in the CR chambers. All his experience as a flier was overridden by his new body’s instincts, making Terrorsaur panic and squirm in the other man’s grasp. Waspinator just cocked an antenna and held tighter. “Stupid! Hold still! If Wazpinator dropz, beakbot will just be dark spot on pavement.” Terrorsaur kept hyperventilating, his breath steaming in the winter air.
He pulled up vertically, righting the two of them and shifting Terrorsaur so that the red-head was facing away from him. “See the lightz all the squishiez make?” He buzzed cheerfully. “Waz nice when Wazpinator got here, but now there are more! And more colourz, too. Iz almozt like Cybertron, but not so buzy airzpace. Wazpinator can fly on hiz own, not worry about flying smack into other helicopterz.”
Terrorsaur snarled, digging his (perfectly manicured) nails into the forearms locked around his torso. “And I’m sure you ran into your share of buildings, you brain-addled insect!”
His reply was to be hoisted up farther, leaving Waspinator’s head buried between his neck and shoulder. “Wazpinator likez shiny lightz. Wazpinator wishez he could make more and build jamming stationz, but Wazpinator could not find right partz in human city.
“You actually looked for jamming station parts? There aren’t any Maximal signals to jam!”
“Sparkliez are so pretty. Terrorbot needz to learn that squishy humanz make some nice thingz. World iz not so bad.”
Terrorsaur was starting to shake visibly from the cold, and assumed that Waspinator was only unaffected because he was too stupid to feel a chill. “Can we go home now?” He chattered.
“See?” Waspinator hummed. “Terrorbot iz even starting to think of big building houzeplace az home.”
“Shut up, or I’ll graft those ornaments onto your face.”
“Well, Wazpinator doez mizz mandiblez.”