Anxiety, Chapter 5. In which they are reunited.
The busy city at the center of the Enkian capital was almost completely ruined.
While not directly causing death to any civilians, eyewitnesses stated that the alien robots that had mysteriously arrived on their planet had destroyed several buildings and monuments, the debris injuring and killing hundreds. They had last been seen, much to everyone's relief, leaving the planet – no doubt to return to wherever they had come from. But grief and sorrow was rife amongst the Enkians, as most had never seen such destruction in their long lives.
No-one knew why those robots had landed on the planet, or how they had been able to do so in the first place. All the Enkians knew that the Peacemaker, the name given to the large shield that hovered over their planet, honing in on and incapacitating anyone and anything that drifted too close,
would have prevented anyone from getting in. Some were beginning to question whether the scientists in charge of the machine were capable of operating it correctly and whether they did in fact need a military service. Others were too concerned with their own wellbeing to ponder such cynical thoughts.
The scientists, however, had realised. The horrible truth was that they were incompetent. Having been so excited about having captured a live, rare specimen, no one had taken any notice of the fact that he had slammed himself roughly into the Peacemaker's control panel, disabling it. And as for why they were here, it was obvious. They were his loyal comrades, the one the Decepticon had talked about when he was cornered.
They scurried about what had once been their haven, full of knowledge and data about the strange things they had encountered. But it was gone now, most of it charred and inaccessible. But most importantly to them at that moment, the console that controlled the Peacemaker has been completely destroyed. It was marked now by a hole that had been melted around the edges, no doubt the result of a high-energy beam being at it. The scientists stared at it as despair began to set in. But of course, there was one solution left...
Somewhere else in the capital, Foll sat at his workbench, head buried in his hands.
---
Without a doubt, the successful locating and rescuing of Cyclonus had given the Decepticon a considerable boost in morale. Everyone was much more jovial and lively than they had previously been, but Cyclonus remained quiet, having barely said two words since they had left Enk. Scourge noticed this and fell back to fly beside him, meaning to have a quick word. “Are you alright?”
Cyclonus smirked slightly. “It's not like you to ask that kind of thing.”
“I'm just concerned. Concerned for a friend.” Scourge shrugged, as though his words were the most casual in the galaxy. Yet deep inside he had meant this sincerely, and was relieved when something flashed in Cyclonus's optics. Somehow, he knew that this meant he was truly grateful.
“Lord Galvatron!” Someone exclaimed, and the group stopped, assembling themselves around Cyclonus as though they were presenting him. Cyclonus saluted as Galvatron stood before him, accompanied by the Constructicons. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words to use to greet the leader with, but was cut short by a crude bark.
“You FOOL! You thought you could take your time!?”
Cyclonus winced, expecting a painful blow. Yet it never came, and he could suddenly see something about Galvatron's manner that he would never expect anyone else to. It wasn't like Galvatron to pass up the opportunity to inflict a violent blow upon his troops, let alone meet up with one who had gone missing for a few cycles upon his rescue. He himself could scarcely believe it, but there was only one logical conclusion he was able to draw from this: Galvatron had missed him. And there was something about this that made Cyclonus indescribably happy, that made the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. He had meant for it to be a very quick smile, one that no-one else would be able to catch, but Galvatron certainly did, for he shouted: “What are you grinning about?!”
“N-nothing of course, Lord Galvatron!”
“Laughing at the inconvenience you put me through?!”
Galvatron looks as though he's about to bust a gear, thought Scourge, but was relieved at the reunion between the two. He knew it was something that everyone would welcome, something that would mean an improvement in Galvatron's mood, no matter how slight. But then at that moment, he saw something approaching them at a high speed. Adjusting his optics, he realised what it was.
“Autobot troops!” He shouted, immediately scrambling to draw his blaster.
“What?! How did they know of our position?” Galvatron fired a few shots into the advancing convoy, before giving a yell and charging into them headfirst. The remainder of the Decepticons glanced at each other for a moment, the same thought passing through all of them: He's slaggin' crazy. They turned to Cyclonus, seeking guidance from someone with sanity hardcoded into him.
Perhaps he was still somewhat shaken from his experience with the Enkians, but there was something odd about the way his comrades looked at him, as though his absence had made them appreciate him so much more. So when he raised his arm, pointing them towards their enemies, he felt proud, mighty, and most of all, like he could do anything. “Decepticons, charge!”
And as they did so, rushing forward, weapons and fists at ready, Scourge eyed his fellow Lieutenant as he jetted by, as though trying to say Yeah... I'm really glad you're back.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Anxiety: Chapter 5, a Transformers fic
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Pit Stop, a Silent Hill: Homecoming fanfic
Title: Pit Stop
Summary: It's just payment.
Rating: M
Pairing: Travis/Alex
Warnings: Slash, kind of but not really graphic porn.
Disclaimer: Silent Hill is not mine because I am a complete and utter pansy.
---
BUT FIRST, A NOTE.
Today I received a review from la-raton, in which I was informed that fanart had been drawn based on that one fanfic I wrote about Alex and Travis and, um, payment for his truck drive to Shepherd's Glen.
I really, really like it, especially since it's not SPARKLY KAWAII MOEMOE ANIMU bullshit. Again, thank you la-raton!
----
Maybe he should have known that he wouldn't be able to rely on the kindness of strangers alone. Or maybe he had been taking it for granted, especially after something as horrible as war.
He had walked for about half an hour before deciding it would be far easier to flag down the truck that was pulling past. The driver, kind enough, allowed him to hop in.
A few words of good nature were exchanged, such as, “Where are you going? You a soldier? How long have you been away from home?” Alex answered them all, and thought that he rather liked this driver with his gruff laugh and coarse hands.
It was a good three or four hours later, when Travis had stopped the truck at a small diner that those hands were wrapped firmly around his hips. It's just payment, Alex thought, yet he was perfectly willing as the trucker gave a throaty murmur of, “You've got a pretty mouth, boy,” his breath reeking of something alcoholic.
Those hands weren't so unpleasant either, as they snaked past briefs to fondle that thing – that thing Alex hadn't touched or even thought about for a long time, because it sure as hell wasn't as important as preserving one's own life.
Well, that's what he would think in any situation, except for this one.
And as though to remind him that: “Easy soldier, I'm no fairytale princess” - Travis pulled Alex's pants down in one swift movement, leaving bare skin and sensitive organs exposed to the cold, ready to swell at his discretion.
Maybe this was a common occurrence for the trucker, or maybe he was just constantly counting his lucky stars, because the older man suddenly pulled out a tiny foil packet and a bottle of lube. “Relax, kid, and keep your eyes on the prize.”
Somehow, this made Alex inclined to focus his eyesight on his own reflection on the hood of the truck, barely visible thanks to the poor lighting of this desolate place. Then he was pushed roughly and he could feel something inside him, something that didn't feel bad, but still felt weird. It rubbed against his insides insistently.
Travis made no attempt to silence himself, instead grunting “Yeah” every few thrusts, which were deep and fast and -
Kinda like a gun... a pump-action, or a recoil, or
And he suddenly felt that weird something twitch, like that of a gun firing.
Then there was Travis, lying heavily against him, somewhat crushing his ribs, pulling out and tossing the condom somewhere.
“Pit stop's over, soldier. Get your gear on and let's move.”
END
A/N: But you shouldn't drink and drive!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Monday Morning, a Professor Layton fic
Title: Monday Morning Monday morning, good weather.
Luke's trip to the bakery for breakfast was uneventful but full of familiar faces. Well, the only thing he felt a tad guilty for was running away from that old lady who always pinched his cheeks. He knew that if the Professor ever found out, he would berate him but really, he couldn't stand those wrinkly fingers at all.
He was gleeful nonetheless, for it was a holiday. Munching on a chocolate croissant he skipped up to the door of the home he shared with the Professor. He stopped dead, however, when he heard an odd banging sound. The Professor's in trouble! was his first thought, and he was ready to charge in and (try to, at least) fight off the assailant. But then he heard a low moan, one of... enjoyment.
The situation was getting curiouser.
Luke tiptoed as quietly as he could around to the back, crawling under the kitchen window. Those noises were getting louder, and he could make out a: “You're doing really well, Layton.” How strange...
The noises seemed to be coming from the Professor's office and Luke continued crawling until he made it to the window looking in. Standing up on tiptoe, he peered in, a most bizarre sight reaching his innocent eyes.
Firstly, he wondered why the Professor wasn't wearing any pants at all, and why Inspector Chelmey was in the room too, standing so close behind in. After all, he couldn't think of any sort of game where two people had to bang their hips and buttocks into each other. Was it a rule of the game to see who could do it faster? Because if it was, judging by Chelmey's energetic performance he would have won.
Suddenly, Luke realised. He remembered a biology book he had read once in the library – something about 'reproduction'. Or rather, 'sex'. B-but Chelmey isn't a woman, and neither is the Professor... so why are they doing this?
A sudden shout caused him to almost jump in fright, but he gritted his teeth. Instead he kept watching as Chelmey took something out of the Professor's and zipped up his pants. “You really are the best, Layton,” Chelmey laughed, turning on his heel and leaving the room. A few seconds later, Luke heard the front door open and close again. Then he heard the Professor sigh softly, staggering out of the room while carrying his pants.
Luke ran quickly back to the front door, debating what to do. I suppose it would be better to pretend I never saw that, he reasoned, entering the house and chirping, “Professor, I've brought breakfast!”
“Ah, thank you, my boy.” Layton appeared, face still slightly flushed. “Let's eat, shall we?”
“Yes!” He watched as the Professor tipped the bag full of assorted pastries onto a plate, but could see the uneasiness in his eyes.
The Professor knew Luke knew.
But neither of them really understood what the events of Monday morning had meant.
END
Summary: Luke sees something strange.
Rating: M
Pairing: Chelmey/Layton
Warnings: Slash, porn.
Disclaimer: Level-5's.
