Tell a story with a minimum of words.
Title: Minimum
Warning: Everything. Sentence prompts, stories I've never written, evoking an entire tale from your imagination using only a few sentences.
Rating: R
Continuity: IDW, G1, Brave Police: J-Decker. Cracked Pavement, Foundation, Gone Fishing.
Characters: Everyone.
Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.
Motivation (Prompt): Various Tumblr things.
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Pt. 1: Sentence - a story in 1-2 sentences.
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Subliminal
Attraction seeped under the doors of consciousness, fingers of lust stroking soft thoughts down the insides of his helm until his engine turned over at some deep-seated urge that never truly crossed his mind but was there, it was there. It lapped at the border where fantasy met reality, and although he didn't quite dare to dream, would never presume to approach first, Optimus Prime found his optics lingered on white wings, gentle hands, and everything he'd learned Skyfire to be.
Blood
If the Wreckers bled out, they bled out under Autobot Command's orders but for their own reasons, dripping internalized poison out of battle wounds that were never as painful as the ones they'd inflicted on themselves.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Words were Bluestreak's sanctuary, his babbling relief from the crush of memory like the buildings that had fallen on him, and it was no surprise how his desperate desire to escape the trap he was stuck in manifested in continually learning new languages to escape just a little further into.
Construction
Their purpose used to be to build, to repair, to create until war inverted their function in itself. Prowl struck to the spark of the Constructicons' very beings because underneath his cool, professional veneer he knew, he felt, he lived the rage that changed normal mechs into monsters - and he had no interest in redemption, for them or himself.
Swimmingly
Everything was going just swimmingly right up until the second Nautilator forgot himself and yelled for another drink. Suddenly Snap Trap had his head in a vice grip, the other Seacons were covering their backs as they retreated, and the baffled Prime was left staring in anger and confusion after them, standing abandoned in the middle of a neutral bar at the aft end of the galaxy.
Phrontistery
For all his loud laughter, dazzling smile, and bright optics, the office reflected nothing of a larger-than-life sales personae The Swindle his gestaltmates found sitting behind the desk spoke slow and thoughtful from the depths of whatever complicated, convoluted idea he had been pursuing before they interrupted.
Glam
Brandy wants to get hired at the hair salon, so she asks for practice models and you volunteer because, yeah, fuck it, it's a cheap way to tell if it's just your imagination. Maybe it should have ended there, but Tracks' lights blow super bright when you step to the curb in intricate cornrows that aren't your style and you realize this won't be the first time you get your hair done up fancy because it apparently cranks an alien car's starter. Shit. It wasn't your imagination.
Skittish
It was hard to catch them doing more than looking at each other, but the occasional glimpse could be seen here and there: one tender moment of a hand touching the side of a mask plus the tilt of optics smiling upward, seconds caught between formal office and a subordinate's respect. It added up into a relationship the rest of the Autobots were dying of curiosity over but afraid at the same time that they'd scare the two of them apart if even one gossipy question was dared.
Starscream
He will shriek defiance, and he will fight, and then he will submit, but he will never, ever die.
Indelible
The scuffs buffed away, the dents popped out, and Knock Out repainted and polished the marks of war away until only the rawest, ugliest scar remained, slashed across his spark like a scratch through paint, and in the exposed, vulnerable silver of his deepest metal reflected the yellow optic light of a remembered fondness.
Epitome
The surviving Cybertronians were the epitome of their race: the last, the greatest, the end-all, be-all of their kind, culmination and representation. That was reason enough for the Galactic Council to universally condemn them.
Nom
It was a little known fact that the way to the sparks of Special Operations in general was through their fuel tanks, if one could simply persuade them to trust that there was no poison, drug, or professional motive behind the gifted treats. (That was the trick of it, and the reason the fact remained known by so few people.)
Fly
After punishment, Starscream would frequently, frantically rocket off into the sky as if seeking the freedom of open air. His flight path inspired breathless admiration in his watchers, which explained why Megatron sometimes punished him even though he had, believe it or not, done nothing wrong.
Mourning
Starscream mourned Skyfire twice. The first mourning period stretched out for millennia, marked by funeral pyres fueled by the bodies of those he believed had prevented rescue or wronged the shuttle in absentia, yet his sorrow returned twice as heavy upon Skyfire's revival, and Starscream never quite finished grieving for what he'd lost on the ice that day.
Regret
Skyfire and Starscream shot each other in battle, regrets the power behind their hate-sharpened barbs. Anger thickened their throats and second thoughts tasted bitter on their tongues as they dodged and returned fired, old pain colder than the air rushing over their wings, and the silence in their wakes hurt more than any landed shots.
Transmission
A ghost haunted the spare parts bin, First Aid believed. When his exasperated teammates set out to prove him wrong, he found them sitting numbly in the repair bay as memory walked the dead through their minds as though Ratchet were still alive, and although they didn't believe in ghosts, they understood.
Cassettes
Soundwave adopted them as much as they adopted him, protectors and spies and reformatted frametypes folded up in his chest compartment. He took their pain as his own until it stopped, it stopped, it stopped, and one more Cassette dock gaped empty inside him.
Ramification
Okay, unintended ramification of inviting Jazz to his berth was discovering that such an invitation was evidently de facto permission to every single member of SpecOps. He'd woken up for the fifth morning in a row with four mechs tucked in beside him, three more on the floor, and he wasn't sure but he had a nagging suspicion that the division had some kind of rotation for who got what night and where.
Blackmail
Vortex threatened physical violence, but it was Swindle's casual, pointed back-corridor comments that brought Nautilator grudgingly stumping to the Combaticons' quarters at long last.
Creep
Nautilator had mixed feelings for where tonight was heading. On the one hand, Vortex was the creepiest creep this side of a horror movie, but on the other hand, the loyalty program made him absolute goo for someone who, say, just so happened to have Lord Megatron's exact vocal frequency.
Cuddle
With what Swindle had hanging over the lobster, they could have done anything to him without a peep of protest. He was bemused to discover what the three furtive Combaticons wanted most from him were slow strokes of his hands down their backs and warm comments from his magic vocalizer of, "You have pleased me, loyal soldier."
Leak
"I hear you have been undermining my authority," Megatron said in that dark, rasping voice Nautilator could mimic with minimal effort, and the lobster regretted (almost) everything.
Howlback
It wasn't accurate to say the Decepticons had no femmes left in their ranks, but it was accurate to say they were terrified of the few that survived, and traitors had the most to fear from this one.
Empty
Whatever else people said about the relationship between Starscream and Megatron, nobody was foolish enough to claim there was nothing there.
Birth
Prejudice started in strange moments that rarely could be pinned down and pointed at as a cause. Ratchet finally, guiltily, uncomfortably, and reluctantly came to the conclusion his particular prejudice was his belief that mechs constructed cold were never as good as those ignited, as if the tiny, personal Big Bang of a single person's universe beginning influenced every function thereafter.
Chewy
Sixshot was big enough to pick three of them up by the scruffs at the same time, and when he grew frustrated enough to do so, the Terrorcons held very, very still. There was nothing quite like being hoisted into the air in the mouth of a massive Phase Sixer to remind them that they could be both berserker Decepticon warriors and also small, chewy objects.
Extensive
He did his research through observation in person and reading of personnel files, twining disappointment through carefully chosen words until every reprimand Optimus Prime gave became a punishment worse than any beating Megatron ever inflicted.
Dare
"Dare you!" Cutthroat whispered, grinning with the sadistic confidence of somebody absolutely sure he'd won a bet, but Rippersnapper wouldn't accept losing even if it meant he had to march up to Sixshot in beast mode to lick their idol on the nose.
Mist
The problem with an invisibility mod was the occasional malfunction in the heat of interface. Any lover Mirage kept for more than a week got to witness the gradual fade of solid plating becoming see-thru as pleasure overwhelmed the noblemech.
Elderly
"This is the first time I've really felt old," someone mumbled as Ratchet flopped down on a seat opened for him in the common room, surrounded by similarly exhausted Autobots. The whole room stared in weary disbelief as the Dinobots stampeded by the door, still as energetic as ever.
Petition
"Dunno why you ever thought telling her to smile was your right," Kup said thoughtfully, not bothering to hide his smirk at the stupid young speedster Arcee had just run ragged around the training course. That'd teach Hot Rod the value of minding his manners and keeping his fool mouth shut.
Mischief
Rumble and Frenzy heard about Halloween first, this weird Earth practice of dressing up in ridiculous costumes and demanding treats under the threat of tricks if treats were not given, but the second year involved a lot more Decepticons in silly disguises cheerfully extorting propane tanks from neighborhoods up and down the Pacific coast.
Silence
Fulcrum didn't talk how Misfire did, constant and annoying, but observant mechs tended to notice he somehow ended up in the middle of loud situations with what could be considered intentional frequency, almost as if he was avoiding something he couldn't help but listen to when there was nothing else to hear.
Longing
For all that they were two factions supposedly out for each other's heads, it was telling that if asked, soldiers from both factions spoke wistfully of a future where the war was over.
Oops
Huh, so that's what happened when a mech hit on the wrong person at the wrong time, an instant mistake illustrated in explosives and surprised rejection. Wheeljack stomped grumpily out of his lab looking so pissed off not even Prowl dared order him to clean up the blackened mess and the forlorn, guilty mech standing in scorched embarrassment in the middle of things.
Serrated
His personality was solid but in pieces, jagged edges sharply jutting from a smooth, sleek base that could snap at the right angle but cut through anyone who tried. The Constructicons tried, they tried, Bombshell carved out notches in Prowl that were supposed to weaken him to fit them, but instead he sawed into the middle of their gestalt and stuck, somehow stronger once sliced deep inside them.
Thank you!
Gratitude was a gift without a receipt, intangible merchandise that could be cashed in for favors, a debt owed to him that Swindle fully intended to collect on.
Stranger-danger
Civil war destroyed relationships, turned strangers into allies, and made the person next door into a mortal enemy.
Veterinarian
Even when everything went to Hell, the humans sent in people to care for the nonsentient animals left behind in disaster areas, rescuing pets at risk of life and limb. The Autobots had no similar stories to tell from the fall of Iacon, the destruction of Praxus, or the devastation of Cybertron. (The Decepticons of Darkmount, however, could have told tales for days.)
Drowning
Falling in love drowned him deep and dark, all the light flippancy he'd been using to stay afloat not enough to counter just how far down this feeling took him. Ratchet frowned at his spark readouts as if something other than that strained, stressed look on the medic's face were to blame for the ache Jazz felt.
Sinkhole
Once he went down, his division developed their own private mission to get him out of his hole of his own making. Jazz found himself countering sabotage he never authorized and fighting spies within the network he'd put together, all while Special Ops did their best to sacrifice his chance at true love on the altar of war.
Synesthesia
Every word Starscream said had different meaning no matter how far into his intended audience Soundwave researched. It turned out to be a meaning in and of itself when Soundwave stood back to take in the wider picture painted by tone and sly looks tipped his way.
Inebriated
"I would like to reiterate that this is not my fault but I will gladly take the blame," Starscream announced when both factions finally tracked down their missing leaders in a valley just south of the border. The two of them sprawled in the desert sand with their solar panels deployed, absolutely cratered on Earth's abundant sunlight.
Duet
They were, for reasons no one could explain but everyone speculated, singing a bar song lewd enough to make Ratchet's lights go off, Prowl's sirens blip, and Soundwave blurt static.
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