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terresdebrumestories · 7 years

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Chapter 12/24: Out

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU SERIES: SEADLA Verse, version 2.0 RATING: Mature WORDCOUNT: 4 626 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Clint Barton. GENRE: Jail time sucks. TRIGGER WARNING(S): This chapter contains brief and non graphic suicidal thoughts (it’s really small, but it’s there) as well as iffy matters of consent regarding telepathy that aren’t really discussed. (Check the AO3 listing for a glimpse of what’s to come). SUMMARY: In which there is a rescue team.

DEDICATION(S): As always, to the first version’s readers, to the people who leave comments on the fic three years after its last update, and to 2012!me, who needed to write this fic a lot.

SEADLA ON TUMBLR: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Tony stares into the abrupt darkness with his heart hammering against his ribs until a green and gold flame, no bigger than a thumb, whispers to life. The light flickers over Loki’s face, makes his features handsome, childish and fearsome in turn, a thousand faces birthed and killed by a thousand tricks of lights.

It makes Tony’s head swim.

Loki, apparently unbothered, sends the flame hovering a little above his head and lights another one, then another and another, until several dozens of small fires float in the air around them, casting their light over Loki and deepening the pitch blackness around him.

“You look like the Boogeyman,” Tony blurts out through the wild rhythm of his breathing, twisting his fingers into his sheets, just to make sure the bed is still there.

The whole scene looks and feels a little like the Big Bang did, except there’s neither scientific wonder nor any sense of emotional closeness to keep Tony calm, and sweat starts prickling at his brow long before Loki shrugs and deadpans:

“Well I did do a bit of interim for him.”

Tony gapes, unable to tell whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, until his eyes catch on to a slightly-less-dark rectangle in the blackness behind Loki. He twists around a little, careful to keep his movements limited to the approximate area of the bed, until he catches sight of something moving in the rectangle, like black heavy fog trying to hide paler silhouettes. Tony thinks they look like trees, but they’re too pale to be real.

“Where are we?” He asks at last, struggling to tear his attention off the door and onto Loki.

“I suppose you could say we’re technically both in you cell. This is your mind. Well, a possible manifestation of it, at least.”

“A physical manifestation of—wait, I’m dreaming?”

“In technical terms,” Loki corrects with impossibly precise enunciation, “you are being Visited.”

“Oh right,” Tony retorts, switching from surprise to sarcasm almost before he has time to decide on it, “and you couldn’t ‘visit me’ before because…?”

“You didn’t pick up the knife.”

Tony’s face flushes red in less time than it takes to blink. What does the fucking knife even have to do with anything? And what the fuck does Loki mean, Tony didn’t pick it up? He spent literal days cutting into his arm with that stupid fucking thing, and Loki has the gall to blame him for not picking it up?

Worse, still! The bastard looks sad! Hurt, even! Like he’s the one who suffered instead of Tony! Oh, what a fucking joke, what a bastard—a week! A full week, at least, in custody, all but tortured into drinking, not knowing when he’d come out and that’s what—oh, what a fucking moron Tony was.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” he hisses, trying not to choke on his fury, “I guess I’m not smart enough for princely mind games, after all!”

“That’s not what I said,” Loki replies in a neutral tone, one eyebrow raising with so much elegance Tony wants to punch it open, “I’m simply saying—”

“You’re saying bull, is what you’re doing. I picked your damn knife up! For nothing! I’ve been calling you for help—”

“I’m actually fairly certain you were punishing yourself,” Loki replies, drawing his head back like an offended bird.”

“You told me there was a spell in it—that you’d know if I tried to use it on myself—why d’you think I went back to cutting? The aesthetics?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I didn’t actually get inside your head about a minute ago. I knew you were cutting, not why.”

“Oh, right, because that makes everything so much better!”

Tony is all but kneeling on the bed by now, body tense and boiling with the urge to start throwing punches. He’s not even picky about where: face, chest, legs, anywhere it’ll take so long as it gets Loki begging for forgiveness and the ugly mess of Tony’s memories out of his brain forever.

Loki doesn’t seem to care, if he even notices at all.

“It doesn’t,” he says with a slight shrug, “you had to call for me. I planted the knife as because I knew you were too stubborn to—”

“What? Too stubborn to die like you planned?”

Technically, there’s no wall to stop him here, no ground to slam into, which is probably the only reason why flying off and landing in an undignified heap doesn’t physically hurt. The gesture still reels him though, pulls his thoughts into a sharp sideway twist.

Fuck, he wishes it’d hurt though. Wishes it’d bleed like a proper wound so he could just stitch it up and be done with it instead of having to watch himself fester down into nothing. It’d be a bitch to go through but it’d be clean. Straightforward.

Simple.

God, he misses simple.

But it doesn’t hurt.

Loki’s face though, that gets something out of Tony, because he looks hurt. He looks like he’s hurt and betrayed, like Tony should commiserate with the poor widdle god of trickery and lies regret at sending a so-called friend flying. Like Tony should be craddling his cheek and say ‘it’s alright, you’re not really an asshole for trying to throw me into concrete, or whatever you thought would stop me mid-flight’.

Fuck that game. Tony’s most definitely not playing it.

“If I’d meant for you to die,” Loki hisses after a long, shivering pause, “All I had to do was leave you here. I could have killed you a dozen times as Lorna. Better still, I could have ignored your letter and let you do the bloody job for me, you pathetic coward!”

The lights around them burn brighter with each word, swelling with Loki’s venom and turning his hair from black to a bright copper, draws lines of runes onto his face. Tony watches the change proceed with sick fascination, blood humming in his veins as Loki’s ordinary black leather shifts into thick winter gear, his chin colors with a thick copper beard where the runes come and go like words on the wind.

It fills something primal in Tony, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t have access to, and there’s the beginning of a punch building up in his fist when Loki strides up to him, seizes him by the collar and hisses into his face:

“You’re a lucky coward, though, I do not intend to let you die. Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You will know when the time comes.”

Tony does punch then, as hard and fast as he can manage, satisfaction blooming into his chest when he hears Loki’s nose crack and spots blood dripping onto the elegant mustache. Fuck him. Fuck him and his mysticism, his arrogance, his every fucking thing! If he wants to think he’s above everyone, fine! But if he thinks Tony’s gonna lie down and take it in silence, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

His thing with Lorna might have worked wonder, but Tony is sure as hell not about to take another one of his lies, fuck him very much.

“Lorna was a lie, that much is true,” Loki says while he dabs elegant fingers under his nose, “but it wasn’t mine.”

He’s out of the door before Tony can try to punch him again.

{ooo}

Tony wakes up to a major kink in his neck and the taste of a hangover gone stale on his tongue. He lies on the bed like a a stringless puppet, crusty-eyed and sweaty, desperatly trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyeballs. At the edge of his memory, shouting and pain mix with green flames in the dark, and it’s all he can do to push them back in favor of Loki’s words.

Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You’ll know the moment when it comes.

Of course he had to be a fucking cryptic with that, too. What an asshole.

Tony still hopes, though. He thinks about the not-quite-dream all day long as he lies down, unable not to wish Loki said the truth. Unable not to feel like time has turned into especially thick syrup as he keeps his hands under the pillow, clutching Loki’s open knife just in case.

Somewhere around what’s probably the beginning of the afternoon, Clint comes back with more food. He doesn’t make a show of roughing tony up this time, which is definitely progress, but he does mouth ‘be ready’ when he leaves the tray. If nothing else, it probably means Clint is on Tonys side.

In times like these, it’s a thought worth clinging to.

{ooo}

As far as Tony can tell, it’s about four when the guards start screaming. Muffled shouts and the slap of flesh on flesh fill the air for a hot second, and then there’s a pregnant silence and the hiss of Tony’s cell door sliding open. Tony, who at this point is little more than a random collection of ill-kept hair and bloodshot eyes in hospital pajamas, watches a skinny silhouette in red and blue spandex stride into the room with confident step, pause into a full-bodied show of surprise, and exclaims:

“Dude, you look like crap!”

The boy sounds something like seventeen, maybe eighteen. Barely college age, at any rate. It doesn’t stop Tony from saying he’s been worse.

It’s both true and false. Afghanistan hurt more, physically speaking. He doesn’t remember feeling that empty while he was there, though, too busy trying to figure out how to get Yinsen and himself out to feel sorry about his life.

He wouldn’t go back there just to stop being depressed though, thank you very much.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asks, following the kid out into empty corridors with Loki’s swiss knife in hand, “Clint managed to get blueprint out?”

“Yeah, and then a little spider talked to me in a dream.”

A pause, and then:

“I mean, it was really more like the biggest tarantula the world has ever seen, but it’s not as funny an image.”

Tony’s too busy trying to walk in a straight line to care much, either way, but whatever rocks the kid’s world, really. How or why on Earth Anansi got involved, he has no idea. Same goes for Spiderman, actually, but neither of these questions feel pressing enough to distract him from the very real, very urgent need to get away from this place.

So he runs.

They reach a doorway that probably leads outside about fifteen minutes into Tony’s escape, four S.H.I.E.L.D agents standing in their way with old Nazi weapons at the ready, and Tony’s heart sinks.

No way he’ll get past them.

“Okay,” Spiderman says, twisting his head until the bones in his neck crack, “no offense but I think we’ll be better off if I handle that one on my own. You’re in no shape to fight, pop.”

Tony would quip back and say the kid is being a little generous about his suit-less abilities, but he doesn’t have the time. He’s barely started opening his mouth, and one guard is down already, dragged to the ground with a clever use of silky—and sticky—rope. Spiderman runs toward the next one, yells ‘crotch!’ and hit the man with exactly that part of his anatomy, catching one of the two women in the jaw with his foot as he twists the male guard around.

The second woman manages to get a grip on him and twist his arm behind his back, but before Tony gets to helping him, he’s jumped and twisted in such a way that he broke the woman’s nose with his knee and wriggled free of her headlock.

“Phew,” he says, voice rough from the chokehold, “thank heaven for super flexibility, right?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer before someone grabs his arm and forces him to start running. He barely realizes it’s Clint in time to avoid punching at him—and then it stops to matter, because he’s finally outside.

He was never a very outdoorsy person before but hell, he’s ready to get into full time camping right now, relishing the wind on his face more than he could have thought possible, so happy to be let out of that damned cave of a jail cell that he barely manages to hold himself upright.

“Stark!” Clint yells in his ear with the tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for a bit, “they’re trying to torture Banner into hulking, we gotta move out fast!”

“He’s not gonna do it!” Tony protests even as he picks up his pace to keep up with Clint, “Bruce—”

“I’m not wondering if he wants to hold it in,” Clint replies, guiding Tony away from where a gaggle of agents are fighting a man on a horse car, “I’m wondering if he’ll be able to! He’s never had to resist torture before, we don’t know how it’ll affect him!”

Tony, still half-drunk from sudden freedom, wishes he could protest. Bruce saved his life multiple times already—sometimes as Hulk, even!—but Clint as a point. This is brand new territory, and they’re probably better off getting to safety before they start pondering the nature of Bruce’s doppelganger and how it’s gonna react to pain.

Around them, the air screams with explosions and too many voices, multiple fights breaking on the ground and across the sky as Tony lets Clint and Spiderman drag him out into what may or may not be the desert of New Mexico. He thinks he makes out a voice that sounds like thunder in the chaos but, really, there’s no way to be entirely sure.

“We gotta come back for Bruce,” he manages between two steps, dodging Clint’s elbow when he shoots at an agent.

“We gotta get you to safety,” Clint says, eyes roaming the landscape around them for something, “if Banner’s smart he’ll let the other guy come out and get him out of Fury’s hands.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t see out back up!” Spiderman yells, “Where’s she?”

“Hell if I know! You seen a cat recently?”

Tony stumbles on the uneven ground, legs of cotton and shot vision combining to mess up with his balance, but he’s still got enough brain to despair at Clint’s words. A cat? they’re hanging their survival on a damn cat? God, they’re so lost—he’s just gonna die here and get this kid who asked for nothing down with him and then—

“Oh fuck!”

Tony twists on himself to follow Clint’s line of sight, trusting the guy to take them through a manageable path...and immediately regrets his decision.

Behind them, mounted onto some kind of vaguely horse-like mechanical monstrosity, the scarred man who visited Tony is flinging people out of his way like they’re annoying flies and not full grown adults. He’s yelling something Tony doesn’t understand but, more importantly, he’s catching up to them. Fast.

“Damn it all!” Clint shouts, “Bastet! Where the fuck are you!”

There’s a flash of grayish-pink flesh by Tony’s feet, a shape running toward the artificial horse as the scarred man prepares to shoot, and then he’s flung to the ground under the weight of a hairless lion with a snarl of hatred that shakes the air around Tony.

“The portal’s behind the rock,” the lion—lioness, judging by the voice—yells over the scarred man’s struggling body, “go!”

Tony is scrambling to turn around before Spiderman even manages to grab him—there’s a sharp pain in his guts as he runs, the exhaustion finally settling in, but he doesn’t let it stop him and keep going, passing a giant boulder at breakneck speed.

He doesn’t notice the hole until he’s already falling.

{ooo}

“Finally,” a deep, cheerful voice exclaims when Tony climbs back to consciousness, “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up!”

Trying to ignore the voice, Tony keeps his eyes closed and tries to list his injuries—there should be some, considering the day he’s had...whenever he got knocked out.

He doesn’t find anything.

Nothing hurts.

There’s no fire in his veins, no throbbing in his head, no itching and pulling around the reactor, no dull ache where he thought he’d pulled a muscle running, nothing at all.

He’s not sure what it says about him that the absence of pain is what makes him open his eyes and panic.

“Alright, alright, try to calm down,” the voice says when Tony bolts upright, “it took a while to patch you up, and probably even longer to negotiate your return with Hades, let’s not go and ruin all that good work.”

Tony turns, and stares at the woman he finds there. She’s about as tall as Thor, though her shoulders and hips are slightly narrower. Long, bleached-blond hair tumbles into a thick braid over her right shoulder, and when she walks closer to examine Tony it’s easy to spot the freckles on her golden cheeks.

“What the hell?” Tony exclaims when she inspects his wrists and there’s no trace of scarring there, “Where the fuck am I?”

“The exact answer is a little complicated,” the woman says with an apologetic smile, “so for the sake of simplicity we’ll just say it’s my infirmary, for now.”

“Right. And how long have I been in ‘your infirmary’?” Tony asks with his heart in his throat.

“A little under three days. You were awake for some of it, actually, but you kept trying to tear your glowing gadget out and re-open your wrists, so I sedated you. You should be able to get out tomorrow, depending on your state of mind...i the meantime, you can visit Anansi in the next room but going further would be a bad idea.”

Tony blinks, and takes his first proper look around the room.

White stone walls, too smooth to be natural but not enough to be a modern building, curve in as if to cover whatever is inside them. Blue light, rippling over the room like it had to get through water, mixing with the light of several candles to paint the atmosphere a golden kind of turquoise. It’s unusual and somewhere halfway between magical and spooky, but it’s also oddly soothing.

Secure, more than stifling. It’s a nice change of pace.

As for the furnitures, aside from the way they curve in to accommodate the walls, they look fairly infirmary-like. A spartan bedside table for each of the three narrow cots, a roll up tray with instruments waiting to be used, and a basket filled with whatever it is an infirmary needs to throw away. To the left, a closed door. To the right, a door left ajar, the low hum of conversation filtering through it—probably Anansi’s room, then. Tony should probably go and visit.

He doesn’t have it in him to do it, though.

He didn’t expect to wake up. didn’t even really want to, either. What does he have to come back to, these days? An empty house without Jarvis? A bunch of broken dreams? More problems than he can even begin to count? And that’s taking Loki out of the equation. Loki who, unless he’s even more of a jerk than he already showed, might come walking though that door at any moment.

Wonderful.

Honestly, tony wishes he could stop thinking about him. He’s going to have to, at some point, whether he likes it or not. Might even be a good idea to do so, in the long run. Right now though, nothing in his body hurts—not even the reactor—and his mind is just numb enough to keep him from a fall in complete despair.

It’s not ideal, but compared to the past few days it’s progress, and Tony is not going to ruin it with undue concern, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about Anansi’s health?”

It take tremendous effort to look at the woman again. Here eyes, almond shaped with a distinct fold at the corners, are so dark they’re almost black, but they’re warm too, and comforting. Well, there’s also a hint of reproach in there, but Tony doesn’t really have the energy to care about that.

“I assume he’ll be alright. He’s a God.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try and be a proper friend to him. Or, you know, a polite person.”

Tony tries to snort, but it comes our more like a huff of breath. Either way, it’s not the answer the woman was angling fro, because she crosses her arms over her chest with a more obviously disapproving stare. She’s wearing an apron over a purple wool tunic, more prepared for viking ships than the imperial court of China, but what does Tony know about mythology, after all? Just ‘cause nobody talks about godly emigration doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“Just because you’re out of it doesn’t mean you get to be an ass, Tony Stark.”

“And just ‘cause you know my name doesn’t mean you get to use it like you’re my mom,” Tony replies without much heat, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Only because you didn’t ask.”

The woman’s voice deepens with every sentence, like her annoyance at Tony can be measured in how many octaves she can drop. She still reaches for a bowl and holds it out to Tony, with a firm ‘eat something’ when he takes it in hand.

It’s something like gruel, bland-looking on the whole, though when Tony tries it he finds nuts, honey and dried fruits as well. He doesn’t have the capacity to enjoy it in full, that’s true, but at least it tastes of something.

There are worse thing to unenthusiastically munch on.

“My name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Tony doesn’t quite get why until Sigyn adds:

“You might know me as Loki’s wife.”

#MCU Fic #Tony Stark #Loki #SEADLA #Fanfiction #MCU

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prismsession · 8 years

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Hey-yo

Okie dokie lets do this *rolls up sleeves*

(im so late orz sry ayase is busy/lazy)

9) Ah yes, Forte’s mother. I actually have a headcanoned design that I can’t draw up right now but yea...

Her real name was Joanne - a strapping young lass and pirate prodigy who was secretly the mushiest pile of romantic goo ever. Of course, her entire crew knew this, and since their captain was too proud to admit that she wanted to settle down and have a family, they teamed up and kidnapped a Wellish lord for her (yeah, wasn’t really the most thought out plan). They couldn’t really just take him back (Jail? No thank you), and said lord didn’t have anyone who’d ransom him back (dude kinda lived a sad life) Lucky for Blackthorn’s crew, the two actually kinda hit if off so things kinda worked out??? They were married in a year and expecting a child after a few months.

After the pregnancy announcement dropped, Joanne took a break from pirating, bought a nice house, and settled down with her husband to raise their daughter. Her crew still went on pirating excursions, but often stopped by with new toys and dresses for her daughter who they’d decided to appoint their princess and spoil absolutely rotten. Joanne tried to stop them, but none of them were particularly good listeners.

She’s an independent lady who many would say was good at everything. Sailing, sword fighting, cooking, singing, even haggling at the market, you name it, the lady could get it done. In general, she was always cheerful, a bit of a prankster, and secret romantic. Because of her exploits, most people assumed she was this cold, ruthless bandit , but she loved her daughter and dopey husband as much as she loved the sea.

13) Count Arthur of Holt was an intellectual to the core. However, because of this rather “nontraditional” views on things such as gender roles, most people dismissed him as another eccentric.

Before his wife’s death/Fate’s birth he spent a lot of his time travelling for the crown as a diplomat. Between trips he worked tirelessly to better the lives of his people. Ask anyone in Holt and they would tell you that the late Count was a great man of magnanimous character.

After the death of his wife, he retired from diplomacy to focus on Holt and raising his daughter. He made a promise to his dying wife that he’d let their child grow up up into whatever she wanted. Because of that and his general policy that more knowledge is better, he let Fate study whatever she wanted, even if he had to search all of Wellin and bribe tutors to do something as “uncouth” as teach a lady how to defend herself.

(Fate still had to take basic “how to be a lady” lessons though, even if she hated them. Whether he liked it or not, these were necessary skills to surviving in society.)

He was a stern man and many people would initially think of him as aloof before getting to know him. Outside of his duties though, he would relax a lot more, even crack a couple of dry jokes. Very strict with his daughter, especially in regards to her studies, but would secretly dote on her every now and then. Fate was his pride and joy after all.

He died about in the winter, about a year before the Summit from illness. On his deathbed, he had his daughter promise him she’d stay true to herself no matter what. His last words: ”Thank you. It’s what your mother would have wanted too.”

19) Gonna talk about Elise and Clarmont since that’s the only one I’ve played extensively besides ElisexLisle and that is just going to be a pile of bittersweet angst that I’m not gonna deal with today… (tho tbh EliseClarmont isn’t much better “>u>)

So, in another world where Elise somehow decides to not listen to her head and just follow her heart (I actually had a fic about this planned for 7kpp week orz) she decides to not pursue Lisle and spend her week 3 date with Clarmont le gasp.

(MC backstory for those who don’t know… Elise’s only goal is to marry out of Corval into a position of power in a stable country. She’s doing this so she can use her newfound influence to move her mother and aunt out of Corval’s inner court into a comfortable, peaceful life. Obviously, Revaire is anything but stable and Queen of Wellin is pretty much the perfect scenario. She liked to both Lisle and Clarmont enough and was probably falling a little for both of them, but if it came down to pure attraction, Clarmont won out.)

Quite frankly, he makes her feel like she’s living in a fairy tale. The stolen glances, quiet flirtations, it’s enough make her forget everything else in the world, even all of the Summit’s stresses, existed.

Of course, she can’t spend every second of her time with him, and unfortunately, when they are apart she’s tearing herself up inside out of guilt. What’s going to happen to her mother and aunt now? She passed up on her best chance to save them so she could have this happiness for herself but… she didn’t deserve this… she shouldn’t be…

*ahem* yea elise is designated angst mc

22) You could say Dulche and her first husband were barely married. For starters, their marriage was always meant to be purely political. After their wedding, Dulche did almost anything she could to stay away from their estate, or at least make it so their schedules never matched up. Not to say that her husband was terrible, at least to her, but he was frankly, quite oblivious to the suffering of the common folk. (A supporter of the Gisette/Jarrod’s parents, well known at court, and in good graces with the royal family.)

Dulche’s husband treated her fairly well and gave free access to his large fortune, though from the way he bragged to his acquaintances, he really only saw her as another pretty prize he’d won. Actually, spoiling her by sending her on frequent vacations and showering her with expensive gifts was probably just another way for him to show off his wealth and status. Dulche didn’t really care though. If anything, it made her job a lot easier. All she had to do was smile and coo over how wonderful her husband to please him.

She didn’t really feel anything when he died. It may as well have been the passing of a total stranger. Obviously, she grieved (or at least, pretended to) as much as was deemed acceptable before moving on with her schemes.

#timelord-in-hogwarts #7kpp

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verdigrisprowl · 8 years

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Feb 15 Blurr’s Horror Stream - Children of the Corn

An Insecticon showed up. Prowl panicked and left. He forced himself to come back. He had to keep a hand on his neck the whole time to keep himself from panicking, but he successfully managed not to panic. He’s getting better at handling Insecticons.

It helped that the Insecticon talked like Ben Stein.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. Dart: [ Running late. Skids into the room and slams down a tray of treats. Phew. Not so late. ] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave shows up with only Frenzy in tow. Rumble stayed home and the others are busy working right now. He'll peer closely at Dart before taking his usual seat.* Dart: [ waves with a slight smile. ] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Wonders if that new mod made Blurr ill. Hmm.* Dart: [ u will find out because tonight is the reveal all night ] N O S: [ comes skidding in on a cart. He has a CART of snacks] Airachnid: [is just going to flick her glossa in and out and following the cart] Airachnid: [so much for sneaking in like normal] N O S: [ presents the cart ] Snacks for the guests! Airachnid: [happily helps herself, she didn't eat before coming here] Whirl: *trots in, looks around; he tilts his head at his new hosts questioningly, but doesn't say anything* Dart: [ waves at Whirl and Airachnid ] Airachnid: [gives a wave in response before climbing into the hammock] Whirl: *steps further in and just talks to Dart as if he DIDN'T threaten to burn him to death last week* What's the news? ANY news? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave tilts his helm in Whirl and Dart's direction. Listening again.* Dart: Uh, well... [ looks around ] We'll wait til everyone's settled, all right? Whirl: *arrows his optic, briefly considering throwing his weight around again, before he finally nods; turning away, he bobs his helm cordially at Airachnid* Airachnid: [waves at Whirl before getting more comfortable in the hammock] Whirl: *he does not sit down, but instead, begins pacing* N O S: ... You want something to drink or somethin'? Dart: (( lemme know when you guys are ready. )) Whirl: Nah. Whirl: ((I am!)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((gimme like 3 min plz)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((then i will be ready if others are)) Dart: (( mhm! )) N O S: If you say so. Prowl: *belated arrival. sits, dims optics, tunes out world until show starts* N O S: (( and we're back )) Whirl: ((i have, the black screen)) Dart: (( try it now )) Dart: (( It just reset itself again )) Whirl: ((lemme refresh)) N O S: ((mkay )) Whirl: ((THERE we go)) Dart: (anyway. y'all lemme know when you're ready again )) Whirl: ((i am!)) Airachnid: I am)) boomtank: ((ready! ItsyBitsySpyers: ((yup)) Dart: [ looking around at everyone. He hasn't really formally met anyone. ] Dart: [ But, he'll be friendly. For the moment ] Whirl: *has not stopped pacing* Dart: ... You okay? [frowns a little ] Airachnid: [may or may not be watching Whirl] Whirl: What do you THINK? Dart: (( ANYWAY. )) N O S: (( okay are people ready yet? )) Whirl: **yep!)) Airachnid: ye)) Dart: (( everyone else, too? )) Sideswipe: ((yep Dart: (( before my net crashes AGAIN )) Dart: (( anyway im starting ) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave cautiously taps the avatar. Thing's starting.* Whirl: *leans on the wall by the door and STARES at Dart* FakeProwl: *several seconds of silence; then optics flicker and brighten. small nod of thanks.* Dart: ... What? Dart: [ SIGH ] ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Corn children. ... Seeds?]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nods back.* Whirl: What do you mean, what, you idiot? How is he? Any better? Any WORSE? Dart: ... [sighs] Not better. Not worse. Dart: He's just the same. Whirl: *IT'S HIS TURN TO SIGH* Whirl: ((whops all caps)) Airachnid: [since Whirl is preoccupied with other things, she's just going to take up the whole hammock] Sideswipe: -he's here now- Whirl: Any words on your plans? N O S: ... Uh, we're gonna keep working? N O S: We can't stop just because he decided to take a head vacation. Airachnid: [that got violent quickly, she likes it] Whirl: Mmhmm. Whirl: Well. *pings his frequency over* Whirl: Comm me if anything changes, one way or the other. Sideswipe: ....that's an interesting start to a movie N O S: ... I guess. Dart: He means we will. Whirl: ((!! i didn;'t know Linda Hamilton was in this!)) Whirl: ((danny elfman is that u in the ost i hear)) Whirl: (OH NO, IT WAS NOT)) Whirl: You'd BETTER, because if I find out you held out on me, you'll regret it. Dart: We're not sure what to do, honestly. Dart: We should probably tell his friends, though. Whirl: Yeah. There's a few people back home. I'll let 'em know. Dart: (( oh come on internet.. )) Dart: I don't really know who his friends are. Dart: [ looking around ] Other than Drift and you. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i have audio and no video)) Airachnid: same)) Dart: (( I paused it. )) Sideswipe: ((black screeeeen Dart: (( fuckiing comcast. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((there we go)) Whirl: ((goddammit livestream pls)) Whirl: ((and/or internet)) Dart: [ maybe soundwave, but he's never mentioned soundwave. Ravage, yes ] Dart: [ But, he doesn't know what to say so. Shift. Sits down. ] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave will tell Ravage himself soon.* Whirl: All right. Well. *just sort of trails off* Dart: Axis figured out some things, though. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Also: a serenade. How lucky.* Whirl: I'm out. I'll check with you guys later. *he doesn't feel like sticking around with Blurr half-dead; he can't relax* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy waves Whirl goodbye* Dart: [ waves a servo ] Whirl: *bobs his helm to Frenzy, and then Airachnid* Airachnid: [oh is he leaving? she waves from the hammock] Whirl: *and then, he is gone* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Gruesome.]] Dart: [ chin hands. ] Whirl: ((ok, OC incoming, lemme post y'al a ref: Whirl: http://68.media.tumblr.com/54e294d05cac7a4a53a93276f14bafde/tumblr_newh7bf4Vr1qgwdbco1_r1_1280.png FakeProwl: ((is it paused rn?)) Dart: (( no )) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i don't think so)) FakeProwl: ((NOPE. I WAS JUST FROZEN)) Whirl: ((nah linda hamilton and A Dude are in a car)) Airachnid: A BUGGER??)) Dart: (( want me to pause? )) FakeProwl: ((no i restarted)) Whirl: ((A BIG BUGGER)) Airachnid: YE)) Whirl changed their nickname to Fiasco. Dart: (( okie )) FakeProwl: ((it's going now. a child is running in corn. how far behind am i)) FakeProwl: ((and now there's creepy laughter and a spider)) Dart: (( not that far )) Fiasco: ((CORN LOOMS MENACINGLY)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i'm behind you as a matter of fact)) FakeProwl: ((good enough)) Airachnid: I was about to say are you talking about Airachnid cause)) FakeProwl: ((the spider in question was just a wee bit smaller than airachnid)) FakeProwl: *prowl suddenly realizes he has absolutely no idea what's going on* Dart: [ glances at Frenzy ] Hey. Frenzy. [Waves a servo ] Can I ask you somethin'? FakeProwl: *a diner got massacred while a sick child doodled, and another child got attacked in the plants and then got hit by a car. that's it. he hasn't paid attention to anything else.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\SUP?\\ FakeProwl: *what the happ is fuckening* Fiasco: *there is a mech standing in your doorway. He's holding what looks to be a screen that was reconstituted into a data pad, and he is one-third again as tall as a average IDW mech* Airachnid: Oh just bury the body and keep going. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Prowl may ask for a recap if he needs one.* Sideswipe: ...I don't think humans do that Dart: [ tilts helm ] Did Blurr say anything while you guys were working on Thundertron's demise? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave glances at the newbie. Who...?* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\LOTSA STUFF WHAT AIN'T FIT FOR POLITE COMPANY.\\ N O S: [ glances at the door. Double takes. Draws out swivel pistols] Whoa whoa, whoa. Who's this clown? FakeProwl: *... he's gonna.* @Soundwave «I faded out. What happened between the diner massacre and the child getting killed in the plants?» Fiasco: *and when he speaks, his voice is an utterly monotone, lifeless drone. Imagine Ben Srtein, if he were a robot* Excuse me. Is this, in fact, the Emp--*looks up* Sideswipe: Or this one does? Maybe? Airachnid: [who is everyone looking at? she turns and.. oh] FakeProwl: ((insectistein)) Airachnid: [chirps at the newcomer] FakeProwl: ((... bensectistein)) Fiasco: *stares at the drawn pistols; his expression, which is one that is either weariness or boredom, does not changfe* Is this the Emperor. Dart: No, not like... not his usual talk. [ frowns ] I mean, did he do anything weird? Fiasco: ((WIN BENSECTSTEIN'S MONEY)) N O S: Yeah, who's askin'? Fiasco: I am N O S: Who's I? ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Little. Human pair celebrated birthday, began job location transfer. Human child attempted departure, stated dislike of environment. Two other children assisted, stayed behind. Fiasco: *looks at his "datapad" and then back up* Is this the movie room. N O S: Yeah... FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Has there been any explanation of the massacre?» Sideswipe: Yep Sideswipe: -points- Movie. There. Fiasco: *his antenna perk up a bit at the chirp and he glances her way, but his expression does not change* ... *looks back to NOS* Then I think I'm in the right place. I'm here to view the film. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Only explanation: Malachi, Isaac perhaps ringleaders. Whole town affected. Nothing else. Fiasco: Are you going to point your guns at me the whole time. N O S: ... Right. [ lets his pistols swivel back ] Not unless you give me reason. N O S: I'm NOS. [points ] That's Dart. We're in charge right now. FakeProwl: *hm. acknowledging ping.* Fiasco: NOS. Dart. *nods* Fiasco. Fiasco: *and now he will duck so he can get through this door and take a seat* ItsyBitsySpyers: *"Fiasco" has a file now.* Airachnid: [she'll watch him now, she hasn't met an Insecticon froma diffrent reality before] N O S: Fiasco... [ hums and just leans back against the wall ] Fiasco: I don't believe thirteen-thousand-hundred is a number. *abruptly looks to Airachnid* Who are you, and why have you made a sound at me. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Music, games, crayons, drawings forbidden. This, against Malachi, Isaac human rules. Dead child suggested unpleasant end if discovered. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Is this a new change, or some sort of cult that's been long established?» Airachnid: I'm Airachnid. I sometimes greet mecha like that. Fiasco: Hello, Airachnid. Airachnid: And, I like to see Insecticons, even if they aren't from my home reality. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Initial murders, three years ago. Nothing else known. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «The one in the pinstripes is Isaac?» Fiasco: *his antenna perk up again* Oh? That's not the typical reaction. *he sets his datapad in his lap, aand pauses, eyeing her over* Are you an insecticon? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Tiny nod.* FakeProwl: *there's a new voice. glances toward it?* N O S: What in the pit is an Insecticon? Airachnid: Part Insecticon. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HIM.\\ FakeProwl: *WHEN DID BOMBSHELL-- avatar spazzes and glitches.* N O S: I see that, obviously. But, what's the special name for? FakeProwl: *goodbye prowl is gone* Fiasco: *pauses and considers the question; he just sits there in silence for a few long moments* If I were to define it, I would say any and all mecha who have the potential to transform into a cyber-insect Fiasco: or retains cyber-insectoid characterstics. But I'm not an expert. N O S: Yeah, well, we've never seen one that looks like you. ItsyBitsySpyers: *What-- oh. Yes. Prowl's thing about Insecticons. He'll ping after to see if Prowl needs anything.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy finally remembers he got asked a question* Airachnid: [notices what happened with Prowl] Fiasco: *if he noticed, he gives no sign* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DON'T THINK SO? AFTER HE GOT THAT THING IN HE WAS LIKE. RUBBIN' HIS HELM 'N STUFF A WHOLE BUNCH.\\ FakeProwl: *pings back. the ping does not say anything. at least he's alive.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DUNNO 'BOUT NOTHIN' ELSE.\\ Fiasco: I am a unique specimen. *pause* In a manner of speaking. Fiasco: If we're talking in plain terms, I'm a failed science experiment, but "insecticon" has less syllables. Dart: He was getting a lot of migraines after that thing was installed. That's because his processor can't handle all these upgrades. FakeProwl: ((god i'm remembering cabin in the woods. what was the dude's name--the harbinger?)) Airachnid: I'm more along the lines of "a Allspark abnormality". Dart: [[ yeah ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave acknowledges. He trusts Prowl to message him if he needs something the Constructicons can't offer.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\SO MAYBE HE BUSTED HISSELF. I AIN'T LEARNED HEAD STUFF.\\ Dart: If he'd busted himself, he'd be offline at least. Dart: The upgrade probably didn't help, but he was picking himself apart before that. Dart: Ever since he came through the bridge in a hurry and threw that tantrum. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DUNNO 'BOUT NO TANTRUM.\\ ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HE BEEN PICKIN STUFF A LONG TIME THOUGH.\\ Dart: He came home one day and was furious... He almost broke the bridge. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\'N AIN'T NOBODY ASKED HIM HOW COME?\\ FakeProwl: @Soundwave «... Who's the Insecticon?» Fiasco: What is the name of this film? Airachnid: Children of the Corn. Airachnid: Whatever "corn" is. Fiasco: Hm. *fires up his datapad and starts typing carefully* Dart: We asked him. Well, I did. He didn't tell me. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Self-identification: failed science experiment. Designation: Fiasco. Unrecognized. Dart: Right after he came back and calmed down, he said for us to find a ship. So... we found a ship. Airachnid: I hate religous zealots. Fiasco: It's a large grain plant, apparently. FakeProwl: *well. fiasco isn't bombshell.* Fiasco: I believe it's--*points at the screen* the stalks behind them. *holds his datapad up and looks between the two, verifying his identification* Fiasco: I can confirm that that is, in fact, corn. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HE AIN'T SAID WHY A SHIP?\\ Airachnid: So it's a plant? [that would explain some things] Fiasco: *looks to her and nods* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HOW COME THERE'S SO MUCH?\\ FakeProwl: *hesitantly flickers back on. hello, prowl is back.* Dart: Pit, I don't know. Fiasco: *looks back to his datapad. Scolls. After a few moments he speaks in that same, dull monotone*Corns are grown in great abundance because they';re used for food. Dart: We went onto the ship and he went ... he just went to town. Killed everyone. Dart: It was fun, but... well, he seemed angry. Or something. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ping hello. Quietly moves his fingers until they're bumping Prowl's hand. Hold needed?* FakeProwl: *hold accepted* Fiasco: *does more typing, and falls quiet as he reads* FakeProwl: *warily looks around for fias-- there he is. prowl's gonna keep him in the corner of his optic.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Good. Laces their fingers tight and shifts his other arm as if he's getting comfortable. Mostly he's just putting it a little more in the way between them.* N O S: So, what are you researching? [breaks apart and reforms by Fiasco ] And how'd you get a hold of us? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\THAT'S A LOTTA FOOD FOR A LIL BUNCHA MINIMEATS.\\ N O S: Ugh, humans eat too much. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave glances at Dart.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[What will you do if you cannot bring him around?]] Airachnid: Because they are not efficent enough to get much energy out of the things they consume. Fiasco: *looks up* There was a broadcast, on the multiversal data-net. Dart: [ blinks and looks over at Soundwave ] We... we don't know. Fiasco: I've never seen a film before, so I figured I would do that. N O S: Well, we do this once a week. N O S: I mean, /we/ don't, but Blurr does. He's our Captain. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave's free hand taps his leg twice while he thinks. He nods. For now.* Fiasco: *silently looks around* Fiasco: Which one of you ius Blurr? Airachnid: He's not here. Dart: He's... out right now. FakeProwl: *tries to refocus on the movie. free hand slides up to cover the back of his neck* Fiasco: Oh. Dart: But, he should be back soon. Dart: We hope. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Hand. Unnecessary. Others will not touch in his presence. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «It helps.» Fiasco: At any rate, I think I am caught up. This is Burt and Vicky, and they are in Gatlin, correct? N O S: Yep. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Understood. Other needs? Fiasco: *nods and sets his datapad down again* ItsyBitsySpyers: *He doesn't want others to figure out Prowl's thing but... if Prowl knows and wants his hand there still, he won't argue.* Dart: [ looks at Soundwave, then Frenzy ] Are you sure he didn't tell you anything? FakeProwl: *he slouches forward so his elbow's on his knee. looks more like he's rubbing a crick in his neck than anything.* FakeProwl: *... that's what he's going for, at least.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «No needs now.» ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Nothing.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: \\SORRY.\\ Dart: [ frowns ] It's all right... Dart: [ rubs helm ] I just thought we could use some key words to snap him out of it. Fiasco: *tilts his head anc glances back Airachnid's way* You say you're part insecticon...? How did you manage to do that? Airachnid: I came out of the Allspark this way. Fiasco: "Allpsark"? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Catching up on the movie's a good distraction, right?* @Prowl: (txt): Murderous corn god cult confirmed. Corn deity guided initial murders. No human adults seen. ItsyBitsySpyers: Human assisting outsiders killed. Outsiders assigned death sentence. Airachnid: The Well of Allsparks, the source of all life on our Cybertron. Fiasco: Oh. Hmm. ...*pulls the datapad right up again* Airachnid: Our sparks rise from our planet's core and we eventually form our frames. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Perhaps if you knew what put him there to start with. If you do not... then he does not know.]] FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Is there evidence that the "corn deity" actual exists? Or do we only know of its whims through its prophet? Fiasco: *nods absently; for the first time his masked has something close to an expression: he squints as he reads* Dart: He didn't say anything... He just locked himself in his room after the movies that night. Airachnid: To be quite honest, no one really knows why mecha like myself are formed. Some say it's what happens when an Insecticon spark and a normal spark merge while rising in the Well. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Corn deity - [][][]He Who Walks Behind the Rows[][][] - known only through prophet, rapid cloud movement. Fiasco: *sets the datapad down again* I don't think we have one of those, where I'm from. That's interesting. N O S: We don't , either. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Records that bit Airachnid just said. He's never heard that. Fascinating* FakeProwl: *half-listening to the Insecticon's conversation. great, there's a universe where Insecticons occur naturally.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Of course they do.* FakeProwl: *sounds awful* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Room logs checked?]] Airachnid: [she's happy to inform] Dart: He never left his room after that night. Dart: And the history of the bridge only showed two destinations. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Negative. Voice logs.]] Fiasco: *holds his datapad with one primary hand and starts to type with his secondary limbs* Thank you for sharing that. Dart: His comm was disconnected. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Shakes helm. Damn it, Blurr.* Dart: [ frowns ] He didn't visit or call anyone. But, Roadbuster came over one night. Dart: That was it, though. That was before he really locked himself up. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Question Roadbuster.]] Dart: He didn't do anything. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[For what he heard.]] Dart: That Blurr was just feeling down. Dart: Sometimes he gets in these moods. I thought it was just one of his moods. Fiasco: ...do corns do that? ItsyBitsySpyers: @Fiasco: [[You are... a scientist? A historian?]] N O S: Do what, make fuel? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DUNNO. I NEVER BEEN IN CORNS.\\ Fiasco: *blinks and swivels his helm about, looking for the source of the comm* @Soundwave: I am just me, for now. Fiasco: ((THE C O R N B O W L )) FakeProwl: *he's looking this way. hand tightens on neck.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Tugs slightly closer. The Insecticon does not approach.* Airachnid: So it's a youngling cult that involve the corn plant? Fiasco: @Soundwave: What about you? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[It would seem so. They do not allow themselves to live past their youngling years.]] FakeProwl: *prowl knows. he still doesn't like those beady yellow optics on him* Airachnid: Then how do they repopulate? Fiasco: ((ofg that last kid)) ItsyBitsySpyers: [[They are younglings. Perhaps they have not thought that far ahead.]] N O S: Maybe they don't. N O S: Better for us, really. Humans shouldn't reproduce. Airachnid: That is true. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Fiasco: [[An observer. That is his only question for now.]] N O S: How stupid of a system, though. N O S: They kill them when they get older? But, then there's no point- sooner or later, no one will be alive. Airachnid: It is indeed foolish. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The eldest seemed content to perish. They may not care.]] Airachnid: They are most likely conditioned to think that way, doesn't make it any less foolish. Fiasco: *nods to Soundwave ad returns his attention to the screen, still typing, even as he speaks* I would guess they do not care if they all die; they believe that something is waiting for them in the corn. Fiasco: It's possible they don't think they die--or also, possible something IS waiting for them. Airachnid: Something is waiting for them: the buzzards. Fiasco: ... *immediately begins to look up the word "buzzard"* N O S: That runt is annoying Airachnid: He is indeed irksome. N O S: All of them are, honestly. Fiasco: *approximately two minutes after she makes the joke, he gives a little laugh* Airachnid: But, he is getting what he deserves. Airachnid: [preening] Airachnid: It's like listening to Starscream. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HA!\\ FakeProwl: *snorts* N O S: It's like listening to anyone. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Not everyone.]] Fiasco: I don't sound like that. FakeProwl: ((did it go black?)) Airachnid: yeah)) N O S: (( yep. LS dropped )) Sideswipe: ((yup Fiasco: ((DURN)) Fiasco: ((wait i hear a thing)) FakeProwl: ((i hear wind)) N O S: (( its paused now so. )) N O S: back for anyone? )) FakeProwl: ((clearly LS didn't drop, it's just nighttime 0u0)) FakeProwl: ((there it is!)) N O S: [[ mmm nope its still dropping ]] Airachnid: ye)) Fiasco: ((I see a paused screen!)) FakeProwl: ((same)) N O S: (( is it working?) Airachnid: same)) N O S: (( SIGH its not is it? ) Fiasco: ((sound is running, video is choppy, but that;s probably me)) FakeProwl: ((same here)) N O S: (( no it's LS. )) N O S: (( It's dropping. )) FakeProwl: ... Hm. So there IS something out there. N O S: (( LS come the fuuck on. )) Fiasco: *nods* Airachnid: Hmm, strange. N O S: omfg it won't stop dropping. ]] Fiasco: ((LIVESTREAM)) N O S: [[ dude tthere's only20 minutes left come on ]] Airachnid: LS you nugget work)) N O S: is it back for you guys? ] Airachnid: no)) N O S: (( refresh. )) FakeProwl: ((there it is)) Airachnid: I see it!)) Fiasco: ((I see it!)) N O S: ((... wow. ) Sideswipe: there it is)) N O S: (( I hit play and it starts dropping )) Airachnid: I... Fiasco: ...this is significantly less menacing than I think the filmmakers perhaps intended. *points* Airachnid: Well then. FakeProwl: *the hand that was on his neck is now over his mouth* FakeProwl: *it just—it took off. fwoosh. corn rocket.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HUH. THEY SAID THEY WAS TURNIN' THE CORN INTO FUEL.\\ ItsyBitsySpyers: \\GUESS THEY MUSTA FIGURED OUT HOW.\\ Fiasco: *another very little laugh* FakeProwl: ((oh so THAT'S why his voice was so high. so you could tell when it dropped.)) Airachnid: That certainly is... something. Sideswipe: -hasn't been paying attention- So...that was...? Fiasco: Again *points* I am not an expert on films, but that seems humorous rather than horrific. I do not feel particularly horrified, in this moment. Airachnid: It does seem silly. Airachnid: But it is indeed humorous. FakeProwl: *slides hand back to his neck* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Tiny squeeze.* FakeProwl: *squeezes back* FakeProwl: ((rude, tearing off that kid's clothes)) FakeProwl: ((tear your OWN clothes, lady)) FakeProwl: ((corn stalks: *gently whap*)) Fiasco: ((PFFF)) Airachnid: ...can plants move on their own like that? Fiasco: ...again. Airachnid: it is very silly but so f*cking funny)) FakeProwl: ... Perhaps they should get out of the field before setting it on fire? N O S: They're horrible at making explosives. Fiasco: That would be wise. Airachnid: Humans are not that bright... Fiasco: Especially given prior evidence that the corns can and will grab them, and retrain them. Fiasco: *restrain ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Perhaps He Who Walks Behind the Rows should have chosen a less flammable manifestation.]] Airachnid: Even human MONSTERS are dim. Sideswipe: -snorts- N O S: Not all of them are that dumb. N O S: humans just like to make themselves the heroes N O S: [ SNORT ] Whirl: F-for a moment I thought the music was for the corn stalk inside the vehicle. Fiasco: And it was going to get them. FakeProwl: ((whirl returns)) ItsyBitsySpyers: [[What a strange film.]] Fiasco: ((WHIRL BACK)) Sideswipe: -more snorting laughter- Airachnid: "Strange" is one way to describe it. Fiasco: I have very little basis for comparison, but I must agree. N O S: Well, that was weird. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Evil fue...]] Considers that. [[No. He supposes that part makes sense.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The rest is odd.]] Fiasco: Are all "horror" films this strange? *looks to NOS and Dart* N O S: No, some are really good. Dart: I'm afraid the Captain makes the best choices. Fiasco: You said your Captain was sick, didn't you? Dart: He's... ah. I mean, he's... - N O S: He's brain dead. [ huffs] How was that hard to say? Dart: [ B( ] Fiasco: Oh. My condolences. FakeProwl: *oh. good news.* Dart: He's gonna get better. Airachnid: [that was a very blunt delivery] N O S: Unfortunately. He'll come out of it. Fiasco: ...I wasn't aware brain deat was a condition one could recover from. N O S: It's a skill. He's a roach. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ugh. Roaches.* Fiasco: *antennae perk up* He's an Insecticon? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Shakes his helm slightly. For Primus' sake.* N O S: No, he's... well. He looks like a monster, if that helps. Fiasco: *considers this* Hm. It does not. FakeProwl: *... hand squeeze. no reason.* Dart: Maybe you can meet him next time. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh? Returns it. Almost imperceptible glance in Prowl's direction.* Fiasco: Perhaps. I don't know that I'll be able to come back anytime soon; it was convenient, for now. But I appreciate your implied invitation to return. N O S: He's all stitched up in the face. N O S: And he has sharp teeth. He's a weird one. Dart: Not that we're normal. FakeProwl: *except for the hand on his neck, looks pretty much neutral* Fiasco: My teeth, when I had them, were sharp; I don't see the point of flat teeth. N O S: You know, I bet I could look like a bug... ItsyBitsySpyers: *Doesn't know what's weird about sharp teeth, hmph.* Airachnid: [likewise] N O S: [ studying Fiasco ] N O S: Can't be that hard. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Avatar time in safer place wanted after business concluded? Should not attend site disturbed. Fiasco: *stares back with that same, flat, Permanently Bored expression* ItsyBitsySpyers: *He doesn't know how long Prowl has before the shift starts. If he has to go straight from this to more discomfort...* N O S: When we combine, we have four arms. Dart: Combining is not fun for me when it's with YOU. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I'll only have a few minutes.» ItsyBitsySpyers: *Quick thoughts. Many of them.* Fiasco: I have a minimum of six limbs, a maximum of eight, actually. Abnd... you're a comibiner? Fiasco: (COMIBINER) N O S: Not... naturally. N O S: Probably doesn't work like normal. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Dart: [[-Certify- brain module death. If any signs visible, contact.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Tugs Prowl's hand up. Come on. He'll give you those few minutes, at least.* Dart: @Soundwave: :: Uh, you mean comm you? Uhm, we'll try? :: Fiasco: *folds his hands on top of his datapad, which is in his lap* Allow me to assure you that I don't have a terribly firm preconceived notion for what is and isn't "normal." N O S: Well, good. [smirks and leans on the couch ] We don't like normal. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Dart: [[Correct. Frenzy and Ravage will find him if he is unavailable.]] Dart: @Soundwave: :: Uhm, all right. :: FakeProwl: *small nod* @Soundwave «I'll see you at the bar?» Airachnid: I never liked the word "normal" to be fair. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Affirmative. N O S: That's what Blurr's all about. Throwing aside what's normal and working with everything that isn't N O S: Normal is an ugly word. FakeProwl: *nod. flickers and disappears* Fiasco: I have no strong feelings regarding it, one way or the other. N O S: [ shrugs ] Good. Fiasco: But, it is good to know that, in case I come to visit again. Thank you for the interesting film. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Taps Frenzy, docks, and nods to the others. Excuses himself quietly.* N O S: Oh, sure. We aim to please. Airachnid: Oh do come by again sometime. Dart: For our Captain's sake. I'm sure he'd like you to come back. Sideswipe: ...Right. I gotta go now. But thanks for the film. Dart: [ wave ] Fiasco: *stands and nods to Airachnid* It was nice to meet you. There are very few of my kind left, so it's always... somewhat refreshing, to see another. Sideswipe: ((thanks for the stream, scooting off now Airachnid: [a smile and nod] Airachnid: Farewell. Dart: (( welcome! )) Fiasco: *bows at the waist to her, and then addresses the room* Goodbye. Fiasco: *and he is gone* Dart: [ waves] Airachnid: [she looks around before climbing out of the hammock] N O S: Well, let's shut down, yeah? We gotta go check on the carrot. Dart: ... [ embarrassed noise ] Don't call him that. Airachnid: I need to get going as well. Until next time. Dart: Goodbye! [ wave ] Airachnid: [nods before sneaking off]

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