raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2019-10-08 10:05 pm
raisedbymoogles) wrote2019-10-08 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
Beast Wars to the tune of Steven Universe
Because I wanted some more content on my PF, because I wanted to see if writing some silly nonsense would awaken some writing mojo for the projects I'm struggling to complete, and because the world always needs more Beast Wars. Prompts from here.
1. “I am made of love and it’s stronger than you.”
She wasn't stupid. The world was loud and confusing and hurt sometimes and she knew she was broken, she didn't function correctly either inside or out, but she understood the furtive glances they threw her way and how cautiously the big green one moved around her, like she was unexploded ordinance. She didn't think she'd find a home among these People any more than she'd found one among those other People. If it wasn't for Wings she'd want to leave to go find Tank.
She still wanted to go find Tank. She loved Tank. Tank hadn't talked around-over-through her like she was stupid. But she loved Wings too, and Wings was here. It hurt and it wasn't fair. Why couldn't Tank and Wings be People together with her?
She came to understand, slowly, that these People and those People hated each other, but not why. Perhaps if she were not broken she would understand. She didn't like that thought, so she let it slip away into the chaos-between-thoughts - she shouldn't have, because when she remembered again that Tank was those People and Wings was these People they were already about to hurt each other.
Transmutate knew it would hurt, flinging herself between them. But she was already hurt, loving them hurt, living hurt. It would be worth it, when they saw they were the same.
2. “When you live for someone, you’re prepared to die.”
The Well of All Sparks knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.
It - they - pressed in on him, an unheard roar of pressure, but Rhinox was used to pushing through distraction and forged ahead, deeper into the cauldron of light where their kind were received and reforged. Optimus, he called, flinging tendrils of sparklight/emotion down into the Well, hoping one at least would catch his friend.
His lifelines were shattered immediately, swept into nothing by a roar of denial by those forces that enforced the boundary between the living and the dead. No, he would not be allowed to take away a spark given to their keeping; no, he would not be permitted to dim the holy light of the Well.
Then take me instead! he roared back.
It was impossible to say something you didn’t genuinely mean, here in the Well - lying and obfuscation required circuitry. The Well’s guardian winds paused, consernated; their roar ebbed, and in the new quiet Rhinox heard a new voice.
That’s not necessary, old friend. And a kind, familiar presence like a warm hand on his shoulder shoved him back out of the Well.
(yes, I know the afterlife is called the Matrix in BW, I don’t care, that bit was always confusing)
3. “I hadn’t planned on finding you quite so entertaining.”
Among his ragged band of misfits and criminals Dinobot stood out - a true believer, burning bright with the rage that only came with a lifetime of slights. Megatron had thought at first he’d be easy to recruit, with all his caring and his anger right out there and just begging to be manipulated. But the first time Megatron had approached him, Dinobot had laughed in his face.
“There’s a thousand petty tyrants in this stinking city who think they’ll be the ones to overthrow Maximal rule. Tell me, Megatron, what do you have to offer that’s different from any of them?”
Not much, Megatron had to admit. At the time his assets numbered one loyal dullard and one flier with brain module damage, a few minor educational certifications and his top-tier intellect. He’d have to work harder to impress the warrior.
So he did: amassed weapons and intel and followers, developed his rhetorical style, sharpened his wit against the whetstone of Dinobot’s contempt. Their arguments turned into banter, banter became plotting. Slowly, the path that would lead them to glory took shape before their optics.
Now, seated in the captain’s chair of their stolen vessel, blasting their way free of Cybertron’s feeble defenses, Megatron spared a moment to grin at his gunner. Dinobot, hands tightening on the control yoke, grinned fiercely back.
1. “I am made of love and it’s stronger than you.”
She wasn't stupid. The world was loud and confusing and hurt sometimes and she knew she was broken, she didn't function correctly either inside or out, but she understood the furtive glances they threw her way and how cautiously the big green one moved around her, like she was unexploded ordinance. She didn't think she'd find a home among these People any more than she'd found one among those other People. If it wasn't for Wings she'd want to leave to go find Tank.
She still wanted to go find Tank. She loved Tank. Tank hadn't talked around-over-through her like she was stupid. But she loved Wings too, and Wings was here. It hurt and it wasn't fair. Why couldn't Tank and Wings be People together with her?
She came to understand, slowly, that these People and those People hated each other, but not why. Perhaps if she were not broken she would understand. She didn't like that thought, so she let it slip away into the chaos-between-thoughts - she shouldn't have, because when she remembered again that Tank was those People and Wings was these People they were already about to hurt each other.
Transmutate knew it would hurt, flinging herself between them. But she was already hurt, loving them hurt, living hurt. It would be worth it, when they saw they were the same.
2. “When you live for someone, you’re prepared to die.”
The Well of All Sparks knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.
It - they - pressed in on him, an unheard roar of pressure, but Rhinox was used to pushing through distraction and forged ahead, deeper into the cauldron of light where their kind were received and reforged. Optimus, he called, flinging tendrils of sparklight/emotion down into the Well, hoping one at least would catch his friend.
His lifelines were shattered immediately, swept into nothing by a roar of denial by those forces that enforced the boundary between the living and the dead. No, he would not be allowed to take away a spark given to their keeping; no, he would not be permitted to dim the holy light of the Well.
Then take me instead! he roared back.
It was impossible to say something you didn’t genuinely mean, here in the Well - lying and obfuscation required circuitry. The Well’s guardian winds paused, consernated; their roar ebbed, and in the new quiet Rhinox heard a new voice.
That’s not necessary, old friend. And a kind, familiar presence like a warm hand on his shoulder shoved him back out of the Well.
(yes, I know the afterlife is called the Matrix in BW, I don’t care, that bit was always confusing)
3. “I hadn’t planned on finding you quite so entertaining.”
Among his ragged band of misfits and criminals Dinobot stood out - a true believer, burning bright with the rage that only came with a lifetime of slights. Megatron had thought at first he’d be easy to recruit, with all his caring and his anger right out there and just begging to be manipulated. But the first time Megatron had approached him, Dinobot had laughed in his face.
“There’s a thousand petty tyrants in this stinking city who think they’ll be the ones to overthrow Maximal rule. Tell me, Megatron, what do you have to offer that’s different from any of them?”
Not much, Megatron had to admit. At the time his assets numbered one loyal dullard and one flier with brain module damage, a few minor educational certifications and his top-tier intellect. He’d have to work harder to impress the warrior.
So he did: amassed weapons and intel and followers, developed his rhetorical style, sharpened his wit against the whetstone of Dinobot’s contempt. Their arguments turned into banter, banter became plotting. Slowly, the path that would lead them to glory took shape before their optics.
Now, seated in the captain’s chair of their stolen vessel, blasting their way free of Cybertron’s feeble defenses, Megatron spared a moment to grin at his gunner. Dinobot, hands tightening on the control yoke, grinned fiercely back.