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New Poems!

The Problem With Walt Whitman

It’s like drowning in language;
To many words obscure the moment.
And then it is lost;
a reed among many at the rivers edge.

She Begged Him Not To Leave

She hid the suitcase,
And lost the one way
Ticket hidden in his coat pocket.
The taxi was also mysteriously
Called off.
And with no where else to go,
He stayed for one more night.

Maria Callus At 3am

That eternal moment which hangs in the air.
Casta Diva resonating through the walls.
I live for these small moments, when Maria Callus descends from Olympus
And her vibrato, which trembles through my nerves, reduces me to tears.
This is true beauty, as God meant it to be.


So after downloading and being inspired by so many other's and their fanmixes I've finally decided to try my hand at it and so here it is: RussiaXAmerica: Complicated Love
So I chose all these songs because I felt in someway the song represented an aspect of Ivan and Alfred's relationship




Sheldon/Penny Fic

I won't finish writing these today, and later on it is very possible that I will make this in to more then just a set of drabbles.

This was the last straw; she was going to swear off drinking for the rest of her natural life. Penny slid the silver DVD back into the slip cover and under her bed; where she could hopefully forget about it. Drinking and Penny just didn’t seem to mix; no matter how much or how little she seemed to drink she always woke up the next morning, with a hangover, lost memories, and a man.
Penny knew that she was gullible when drunk, hell she was pretty easy when she was sober too but honestly how drunk did she have to be to do something like this? Penny sighed as she stood up from the couch and stretched her tired limbs. She honestly had no idea how Sheldon had managed to talk her into a Klingon wedding Las Vegas style, but as apparent in the ‘wedding’ DVD she’d just found tucked away in her suitcase he had; and she had been more than willing to go through with it. Penny shook her head unable to keep the image of Sheldon slurring the klingon nuptials at the same time as he tried to correct her pronunciation of said vows. A giggle finally escaped her mouth as she remembered the outrageous costume of the ‘preacher’; it was like everything else that night ridiculous. Penny supposed she should have been more upset, Sheldon sure had been when they woke up together, but hey she wasn’t going to worry about it. It wasn’t as if a Klingon wedding was actually a valid one. Even in Las Vegas.

“Oh Dear God no,” Penny stared at the cheery pink positive sign willing it to turn into a blue negative. It had been a little over a month since her last period and she hadn’t thought much about it until Sheldon in his typical twerp fashion pointed out that her menstrual cycle had been notably less violent this month. She had been in the middle of deciding whether to respond verbally to him or just to bypass all the talk and get straight to the point with a swift kick between his legs when she realized that he was right. Her period had been less noticeable this month, in fact it hadn’t even come at all. One quick trip to the grocery store later and here she was in the restroom of Super Saver’s looking at the pink cross of hell. Penny threw the stick in the trash and kicked the can for good measure too. This just wasn’t fair! All those other times, with ALL those other guys and the one time her birth control had to fail was with…Sheldon. She could already hear his indignant, loud voice, calling for paternity tests, and complaining about her costing him the Noble Prize. Penny pinched the bridge of nose trying to will away the headache that was blooming in the back of her head; she wasn’t ready for this kind of shit. She didn’t want a kid right now, maybe later when she was married to a successful business man and living in a nice home in the suburbs with a once a week maid; Maybe then, but not now. Not when she was still so young, and unmarried, and poor. Penny glanced down at her deceivingly flat belly, where the spawn of Sheldon currently resided probably already plotting to take over the world, even in his fetal state. Getting rid of it just wasn’t a options for her, although she had gone with several girls back in Omaha to ‘take care of a problem’ she had always known that if it should happen to her she would keep it. Sheldon on the other hand…she didn’t know what his stance on unwanted pregnancies was but she could guess.
A thought suddenly occurred to her, she could avoid all the drama with Sheldon simply by not telling him he was the father. Although she knew with certainty that she had not slept with another man since their night in Vegas, he did not. He had even implied before that he thought she was promiscuous; who could call her out if she claimed the kid was just some guy form a drunken one night stand a while back ago. Penny picked up her purse finally ready to leave and allow other patrons to use the restroom once more. She needed to get home and think before she did anything else, she could tell that her whole world was about to shift and whether it was for bad or good, she just didn’t know.
“Leonard said you wanted to talk to me?” Penny paced nervously around the room picking up and setting down piles of clothes. Stephanie smiled from the doorway; Penny was not really cleaning up anything just moving it around.

“Stephanie, can you keep a secret?” Penny stopped pacing for a moment and just looked across the room at her. Stephanie shut the door, nervous now about the look Penny was giving her. ‘Please don’t let it be something to do with Leonard, please.’ She chanted silently to herself as she walked to Penny’s cluttered green couch and took a seat on some rumpled jeans.
“Yeah, I usually can.” Penny nodded but didn’t speak again for a few minutes. Stephanie was about to go crazy from worry when Penny suddenly sat down right next to her and started to cry.
“Oh Honey, is it a guy again?” Stephanie’s earlier worries vanished as the normally strong and happy girl nodded and continued to sob into a dingy looking bathrobe.
“What happened this time Penny, was it Kurt again?” Stephanie wrapped her arms around Penny’s shaking form trying her best to comfort the distraught girl. She really hoped that the root of this problem wasn’t Leonard now because of he had caused Penny this kind of distress she was going to have to kill him before breaking up with him.
“I’m pregnant.” Penny’s abrupt announcement fell like a brick, and sent Stephanie’s mind reeling with possibilities.
“Ok Penny, Honey, do you know whose baby it is?” Stephanie hesitantly asked praying to every God she had ever heard of that Penny would not say Leonard’s name.
Penny nodded miserably in Stephanie’s arms, “I can’t tell you unless you promise not to tell anyone though.”
Stephanie sighed, “You know Penny un-wed mothers don’t really face the kind of social stigma that they did once; I mean I’m not saying that it a good thing to go out and get pregnant I’m just saying that Me, Leonard, Rhaj, and even Howard, we’re all your friends and we’re not going to look down on you for having this baby. “
Stephanie shrugged a shoulder, “Yeah I know I left him out but I don’t really consider him human so…” Stephanie trailed off as Penny’s sobs began anew. Stephanie shook her head bewildered, what had she said to set the girl off again, they had just gotten back to the point of verbal again when—Stephanie’s jaw dropped in realization. “You don’t mean that…”
Penny enthusiastic sob confirmed it. Stephanie pulled the girl even closer to her, stroking her head and rocking slightly back and forth. What could she say? Penny had just confided to her that Sheldon, the Dr. Cooper, with zero social skills, and even less interest in people had knocked her up. Stephanie tried to not ignore the immense sense of relief that bubbled up inside her stomach at this revelation. She shouldn’t be relived, well she should, but that was not the point; she understood now why Penny had asked her to keep the paternity a secret.
As Penny’s sobs resided once again, Stephanie carefully brushed the hair from her puffy red face, “Don’t you worry Penny, I won’t tell a soul. Not even Leonard.”
“Stephanie?” Penny quietly whispered.
“Yeah Pen?” Stephanie looked expectantly down at Penny.
“I’m really scared.”
Stephanie’s heart almost broke at how lost a lonely Penny sounded, mentally she took back everything negative that she had ever thought about the pretty young girl. There was no reason for her to be jealous anymore, and in truth she had always known that there was never anything to really fear from the girl. She would make it up though, even if she had never actually done anything to her Stephanie still felt bad for ever being suspicious of her. “I promise you Penny, everything will be ok.”

Cause I don't think it's explict...

Category: Transformers/Beast Wars
Title: The Clocks Were Asleep
Rating: Fiction Rated: M
Summary: Optimus knows that while the war is lost; the battle still rages on.
Saropty ficlet.


 Their laughter in the next room sent a cold shudder through Bluestreak’s fuel pumps. He let out a low groan as he slowly eased himself over and off his tender door-wings. A throbbing ache had settled into his wing rotators; one that pulsed in time with the sharp pain in his neural processors. 

Bluestreak winced once more as another piercing bark of laughter assailed his audios. They were always in a good mood the morning after. Gingerly Bluestreak tried to stretch his dented arm plates with out whimpering. He wished he could say the same for himself.

Bluestreak let out a quiet hiss as he stood up and wobbled unsteadily on his pedes, the pain in his frame increasing a tenfold. He wished that he could say that this was a rare occurrence; that the brutal damage done to his exo-plating was unusual—but he wasn’t a lair.

Stupid maybe, Bluestreak winced as he carefully bent over to retrieve a piece of what looked suspiciously like his chevron—or what might be left of it. Yes, he would call himself stupid—that or hopelessly devoted. Any other mech would have left already, any other mech wouldn’t have put up with this—abuse—for as long as he had—was. He wasn’t just any mech though, he was Bluestreak, and out of all the other mechs abroad the Ark they had looked at him—had chosen him. It was an honor, really.

Warning codes flashed brightly before Bluestreak’s optics as he sat down again and pulled out his mini-welder; the one he had ‘liberated’ from Ratchet for such occasions. He really shouldn’t do his own repairs, but after all the warnings that Ratchet had given him the first week of this—relationship he’d just given up going to the grumpy med-bot.

Bluestreak’s digits trembled as he tried to mesh the thin outer metals back into each other without destroying the exposed wiring below. He really didn’t mind doing this every time, really he didn’t. It was just something he had to accept, like the sky being blue or Binacon being destroyed; it was something he had no power over.

Besides, in their own way they really did love him--Bluestreak was sure of it. They just had a funny way of showing it. Bluestreak knew better now, Sunstreaker’s snide and cutting comments weren’t said out of spite; they were said out of concern. Concern for what Bluestreak hadn’t fully understood yet, but he could still find the warmth behind the words—despite what others said.

Bluestreak sighed heavily as he began to patch his side panels back together. It was annoying, trying to convince all the other mechs that he was alright; that he had never been happier. He had never been happier; he was loved, and taken care of and cherished--

Bluestreak stared down at his digits in confusion, was that coolant fluid? Slowly he reached up and stiffly brushed away the moisture in his flickering optics. He had nothing to leak about; after all he had gotten everything he had ever wanted—right?

The Fight Against Writer's Block


Title: Sybil in Red

Author: Red Wasabi

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Notes: Wow, I feel so enthused right now! I'm back in the writer's chair! As of late I was stricken with a terrible case of writer's block, but now I'm starting to work my way through it. OK so this piece is an unusual piece I think, I was going for the mental illness slant. Particularly the split personalities realm. Did I make it? Sideswipe/Ratchet/mistake

Rated: Pg-13

We all have problems, some of us have just developed different ways of coping with them. Sideswipe POV.


Sideswipe felt like rolling his optics as he felt the couch sag heavily and his golden brother fell down next to him in an angry huff. Sideswipe momentarily looked away from his TV show to glance down at the pouting features of his golden twin. He didn’t need to have physic powers to know what was going on—Sunstreaker and Ratchet had obviously gotten into another fight.

I swear they spend more time fragged off at each other than not.’ Sideswipe sighed to himself as he began to lower the volume of his audios. He had weathered out some of their worst fights, and by now he was a pro—he practically had a script to read.

Enter angry Brother. Dramatic flop on couch. Loud huff. Open mouth and action--!’

Sideswipe, you’ll never believe what He has done now!” Sideswipe felt like smiling as Sunstreaker began. ‘Really? I won’t ever guess?’ Sideswipe nodded sympathetically at his twin as he turned the volume of his internal radio up.

What has he done now?” H asked in his by now perfected, ‘I really care about what’s going on with your love life’ voice.

Sunstreaker sighed grouchily, not noticing the complete lack of interest radiating form his twin. “Tonight we were supposed to have ‘us’ time, so I go to pick Ratch up at the bay, and what do I find?” Sunstreaker paused in his tirade and looked expectantly up at his red twin.

He’s looking at me and not talking, He can’t possibly b done already.’ Sideswipe checked his script. ‘Oh, he’s at the part where he’s complaining about Ratchet’s work. That explains it.’ Sideswipe schooled his face plates in to his well rehearsed, ‘concerned frown’, “What happened then?”

Sunstreaker rolled over to lie on his chassis with a cranky hmph, “He was too busy that’s what happened! He’s working on some project with ‘Wheeljack’ that’s too ‘important’to quit in the middle of!”

Sideswiped hummed agreeingly, ignoring most every other word that was leaving Sunstreaker’s vocalizer. It was almost time for him to exeunt stage right. ‘Wait for it, wait for it…

You know its things like this that make me re-think all of this…’ Sunstreaker whispered sadly to his brother. ‘That’s my cue.’

Sideswipe brushed his knuckles fondly against Sunstreaker’s helm, “It sounds like you’ve had it rough today Bro. How about I go to the rec. room, get a few cubes of low grade for us and we spend the rest of the shift here playing video games?” Sideswipe smiled as a petulant scowl covered Sunstreaker’s face plates. Sunny always acted like he didn’t want to be with him after one of their fights; but Sideswipe knew better then to believe those lying face plates.

Yeah, whatever.” Sunstreaker mumbled out turning over to bury his face in the back of their couch. Sideswipe nodded approvingly, now for his biggest part. Quietly Sideswipe stood up and stretched out his thick metal limbs before moving swiftly towards the door.

If Sunstreaker had cared to look up from the couch cushions at that moment he would have seen his red twin turn, not in the direction of the rec. room, but towards the medical bay. Sunstreaker however never looked up, and Sideswipe knew it; his brother was still in the dark about Sideswipe’s meddling ways.

Sideswipe let out his first audible sigh as he rapidly moved down the hallway, his goal in mind. He knew he shouldn’t really be interfering, but he couldn’t help. He had always acted as Sunstreaker’s mediator with the rest of the world. He had done it when they were first sparked, and Sunny refused to speak cybertronain. He’d done it when Sunstreaker had been interested in his first femme. He supposed that some mechs might be tired of cleaning up after another mech’s messes for the last fifty six vorns, but for him it was just the natural order of things. Sunny destroyed, and He followed in his wake cleaning, and patching things up as best as he could.

Sideswipe stared blankly at the med bay doors in front of him. From the other side of the door a wild growling noise could be heard, it was a noise that warned most mechs off. Told them that ‘here in lies a very fragged off medic, enter is you dare’, that noise didn’t bother Sideswipe any more though.

Sideswipe’s optics offlined as he concentrated on he almost musical pitches of Ratchet’s ranting. No, he wasn’t scared off by the angry medic, not any more then his brother scared him when he was sin one of his moods. The sound that came from behind these doors was one of familiarity—and comfort.

It’s now or never.’ Sideswipe thought as he onlined his optics and placed his digits nervously against the cool frame of the door. “Excuse me, Ratchet?” He called out imploringly from the other side of the door.

Sideswipe winced as a loud crash sounded from the med. bay and the thundering pede steps of Ratchet came stomping up to the locked door. “What is it Sideswipe?” Ratchet growled against the door.

Sideswipe shook his head, how did he get stuck with this job again? “We need to talk Ratchet.” He answered calmly; this dance was familiar to him.

Sideswipe waited patiently as Ratchet’s heavy, angry pede steps moved away from the door. ‘Three, two, one,’ the door in front of Sideswipe unlocked with a quiet click. Sideswipe resisted the urge to smirk as he walked into the tense med. bay. ‘They told me I would be shooting slagging Deepticons when I joined up, and what I doing? I’m a fragging ‘feelings’ janitor.’ Sideswipe took a cautious glance around at the disassembled bay around him; sometimes he wasn’t even sure why he kept on fixing things between these two. It always broke apart again, despite all of his best efforts to keep both his Brother and Ratchet happy with each other. It just felt so futile sometimes; the strained wheeze of Ratchet’s air compressors drew Sideswipe’s attention back to the current predicament. ‘Well I guess it’s time for me to ‘clean up’ again.


Wow, with that paint job you look just like Sunstreaker!” Sideswipe brittlely smiled at yet another mech who had seen fit to tell him how much he looked like his brother tonight. Sideswipe looked down at the temporary gold paint that he had bought just for this occasion.

Normally he wasn’t into the local customs but this one seemed to call out to him; a night of pretending to be someone—thing, that you’re not, what could be more fun? It was even better since, after a few cubes of high grade, he had managed to convince Sunstreaker to come to the party painted red—like he had been.

Sideswipe stared across the room at his now red twin, with the way he and Ratchet were leaning into one another whispering Sideswipe knew that he had once again managed to smooth things over again between the two.

Sideswipe smiled fondly at the flirting couple as he sipped from his cube. There was nothing he liked better then to see his twin happy; it was one of his driving motivations in life. He did everything for Sunstreaker, including fixing his mistakes.

Sideswipe smiled goofily at the couple as he picked up his sixth cube in an hour. He had never had what Sunstreaker had, not in all of their vorns; but that was ok. He only needed Sunstreaker. He didn’t need any other mech, and so far no other mech had ever needed him. They had always wanted Sunstreaker before Sideswipe; it was just the way things were.

Sideswipe nearly jumped when a mech sat down next to him with a loud thump. Blearily he tried to focus his optics on the silver mech next to him. “Has anyone told you, you look just like your brother tonight?” A familiar voice joked cheerily at him.

Sideswipe blinked dazedly attempting to register the voice, “Yeah, just about every mech in here has told me that tonight.” He replied with a laugh. “Who knew that the only difference between us two was a paintjob!”

The mech next to him began to laugh drunkenly, “Yeah you know I’m surprised Ratchet can even tell you two apart, you’re practically the same!” The mech fell on to the floor, and began laughing wildly at his own joke; he didn’t notice that Sideswipe was no longer laughing along with him.

Sideswipe picked up his eighth cube and quickly began to down it. Was it true, the only difference between his brother and he was a paintjob?

Sideswipe looked down at his own golden arm, carefully studying the golden contours of his frame. It was Sunstreaker’s frame, it wasn’t his. Sideswipe looked across the room at his red twin who looked like he was in the middle of a heated debate with Ratchet. For a moment Sideswipe was confused, why was he across the room, arguing with Ratchet? He didn’t want to argue it was in his nature to heal, not hurt!

Sideswipe jumped when the argument finally reached its peak both Ratchet and his red twin storming out of opposite doors of the rec. room. ‘What happened? It was going so good…

Sideswipe,” Sideswipe spilled some of his cube as a voice form behind startled him. Slowly he turned around to look up at the imposing black and white figure of Prowl. “You’d better go after them Sideswipe. You seem to be the only one to be able to solve their fights.” Sideswipe dumbly nodded his head as he tried to stand up with out swaying.

Sideswipe, that was right; he was Sideswipe. Sideswipe fought the uncomfortable urge to look down and examine his paint job, of course it wasn’t red. They had switched colors for the night, he was still Sideswipe--he was just gold now. Sideswipe rubbed digits slowly across his back neural processors. ‘Why do they hurt so much?

Sunstreaker?” Sideswipe turned ungainly towards the voice.

Who’s there?” He called out unsure. Sideswipe blinked hazily in surprise as the familiar white and red frame of Ratchet stepped out of the shadows.

You so drunk you don’t remember your own lover now Sunny?” Ratchet slurred out, as he leaned heavily on the door frame of the vacant storage room.

Sideswipe shuddered at Ratchet’s tone, ignoring the painful pressure growing in his processors. “Am I your lover?” He questioned softly, more to himself then to the lustful medic behind him.

Ratchet’s arm snaked out faster then Sideswipe was able to see and latched tightly on to his arm pulling him in to the darkened storage space. “Of course you’re my lover Sunstreaker.”

A flurry of confused algorithms began to flash violently in Sideswipe’s optics as Ratchet tipped his head to the side and began running his hot glossa in and out of his face plates. Sideswipe cried out in pain and pleasure as Ratchet’s glossa dug into a sensitive seam, and the pain in his neural net finally exploded.

Then it was gone and everything made such perfect sense that Sideswipe would have liked to have stopped and told Ratchet except that he was too busy to listen at the moment. Sideswipe took a long gulp of air into his compressor as Ratchet’s digits roved purposefully across his plating. Sideswipe’s optics focused eerily on his golden frame, they had the same frame, the same spark; but it wasn’t until now that he realized he was Sunstreaker.

They were the same; the mech in the recreation room even admitted it. They had never been different; they had only thought that they were. Sideswipe looked longingly up at the sensual mech above him, he could never have this mech as Sideswipe—but if he were Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe smiled cockily up at Ratchet, “I wanna be on top.”


Sideswipe woke up slowly, the heavy drinking form the night before still weighing on his thought processors. ‘Why does my bed feel so weird?’ He thought mystified at the hand that seemed to be underneath his back panels. ‘Did Sideswipe fell asleep in my berth?’ Suddenly a shot of terror ran through Sideswipe’s systems as he on lined his optics, and took a look at the scene around him.

What did I do last night?’ He wondered in shock as he stared down at the recharging form of Ratchet next to him. ‘What have I done…’ The night’s memories came back in flashes, the torrid moments, the passionate calls. Sideswipe’s face plates widened in horror as he recalled the extent betrayal he had commit against his brother.

No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have—‘ He thought numbly as he unconsciously scrambled to the door and crawled feebly out of the storage space. Sideswipe sat in front o the door clutching his knees up to his chassis, he couldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t have done that. He—a soothing voice in his neural processors interrupted his panicking mental rant. ‘Of course you didn’t do anything. Sunstreaker did.’ Slowly Sideswipe wiped away the fuel that had leaked onto his face plates. ‘Sunstreaker did that? Not me?

Sunstreaker was with Ratchet last night,’ the voice assured him. Sideswipe nodded slowly. He could feel his frame relax, with this new knowledge, regardless of it’s source. ‘Who are you?’ He asked curiously. Sideswipe felt as wave of tiredness hit him as the voice laughed heartily at his confusion. ‘Why I’m Sideswipe you silly sparkling. Now go to the wash racks and get cleaned up.’ It gently commanded.

Sideswipe stood up, the tension that had been in his frame when he awoke this morning completely gone. He was right, he need to go and get washed up, and then he would go lay down in his proper berth. When he woke up everything would be ok again, because Sideswipe always took care of everything.

AN: ^^ So didja like it? Are ya gonna review?( cause reviews are like fuel for meh!)

The Secret Life of a Golden Lamborghini pt4



Title: The Secret Life of a Golden Lamborghini pt4

Author: Red Wasabi

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Notes: Hahaha maybe I should call it a not so golden Lamborghini now! This chapter is from Mikaela's and Ian's POV. Poor, poor Mikaela. I was going to post this yesterday, but FF. Net is being so mean!

Rated: G


Mikaela shifted uncomfortable in her seat as the greasy smell of fast food slowly permeated the entire Camero. Her eyes darted nervously over at her boyfriend in the drivers seat, ‘Please don’t let Sam notice…’she silently begged.

Sam’s nose twitched slightly, taking in the familiar scent. His mouth opened, ‘Please don’t ask; please don’t ask!’ Mikaela’s eyes closed tightly as if to ward off the impending question. Her grip on her warm, fast food filled purse tightened.

Hey Mika--“Sam began.

NO!” she yelled loudly, as she sat trembling from adrenaline in the passenger’s seat. Sam blinked curiously at her with a bemused smile on his face.

Um, I was just going to ask if you wanted to catch a bite to eat on our way back into town, but if you feel that strongly about it we don’t’ have to go…” he trailed off.

Mikaela’s shoulder sagged absently; Thank goodness he didn’t ask. With as casual a look that she could muster Mikaela looked over to her confused boyfriend who sat in the driver’s seat but never actually drove.

Sorry about yelling Sam. I was kind of half asleep. I’d actually really like to go out to eat later on.”

Sam flashed a lopsided grin at her, he was sure glad that it was the sleep that had made her yell and not something that he did.

Alright later on we’ll do something.” He said cheerily as he turned his eyes back to the long deserted road in front of them. A noticeably less strained silence descended upon them after that.


Mikaela’s eyes stayed trained on the distant military buildings still about a mile away. How had she let things get so complicated? She’d only meant to offer the traditional condolences and offer of help to Sunstreaker. Not become his partner in crime.

A major crime nonetheless,’ She ruefully thought.

All she had wanted to do was to make the ‘bot feel better. She’d have known that something was up when he sent Bee to get her before he had even seen his twin Brother, Sideswipe. After-all she had only met him a few months ago, but had taken to his fickle vain mannerisms almost instantly. At first she had been flattered, thinking that he had wanted to see her first before everyone else. Boy what a mark she had been.

First he had started crying, or at least something that was equivalent to it she figured. And then he had started to ramble on in a scary hobo-like way about how since he was no longer beautiful he had lost his will to live, ect; And she, being the tender hearted fool that she was had bought his lines,. Hook, line, and sinker.

In the midst of her trying to cheer him up he had manged to extract several blood oaths from her. Including but not limited to: the naming rights to her first born, a year's supply some some imported brand of car wax, and her assistance with anything he needed. That last one it turned out, was the one that was probably going to send her to jail; she just hadn't known it then.

Bee smoothly pulled up in front of the gray nondescript buildings, Sam and Mikaela slid out in to the dusty dry desert heat as he transformed.

Mikaela glanced nervously towards the set of warehouses where the living evidence of her guilt was currently being held hostage. “Hey guys, I gotta go to the little girls room, so I'll catch up with you later, 'kay?” she called over her shoulder as she started walking quickly towards the latrines.

Sam nodded understandingly, “Come on Bee, lets get inside before I melt. Mikaela knows where we'll be.”

Bee chirped merrily in agreement, and then wondered if he should tell Mikaela that she was actually walking away from the latrine area. Sam's insistent voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he started to follow him into the building. No, he wouldn't say anything. Humans often got very touchy when he mentioned their bodily functions, it was probably best if he let her find out on her own.


The red earthy dust stung Mikaela's eyes as she strode towards warehouse number fifteen. She had thought that help him meant things like getting his rations for him, or giving him a wash. How wrong she had been. Mikaela shook her head darkly in the bright sunlight. The very minute he had extracted that last promise from her his 'tears' had instantly dried up; and before she even had time to protest she was being shown one of the black unmarked government cars that had been left at the base when it had been closed down.

She should have said no right then and there; but silly her, when he had just asked her to deliver a small undistinguished looking box to some car place she hadn't thought anything of it. Even when he insisted that she wear one of the left behind by the old army, she had gone along with convinced that she was helping Sunstreaker feel less suicidal.

The next thing she knew she was dragging a passed out and heavy, woman into her car. It turned out that, that small little box had been some sort of gas weapon, and the minute the woman had opened it she passed out cold. Sunstreaker, the giant devil, must have known that Mikaela morals wouldn't allow her to leave the woman passed out and unable to fend for herself. What if she threw up and then died choking on it?!

Mikaela's hand glided lightly over the gray ribbed metal frame of the warehouse where the woman, whose name turned out to be Ian was currently being kept hostage. Sunstreaker had counted on her taking Ian once she passed out, and had been waiting for her at the gateway to intercept the woman. He had easily gotten Mikaela's silence by promising not to tell Sam about her latest criminal transgression.

Mikaela punch the key code into the pad next to the door.

“Hello, Ian?” she called out in to the darkness. Sunstreaker had promised her that the woman would be taken care of, and set free once she was done repairing his body; but that hadn't stopped any of the guilt she felt over being his accomplice.

'And who knows,' she thought grimly,' maybe the jury will go easy on me when she tells them that I brought her McDonald's.'


Ian woke up with a start, someone was calling her name. Groggily she sat up on her small cot and wiped her eyes. Days upon days of no natural light she was wreaking havoc with her biological clock. She didn't even have a watch!

“Hey Ian, you ok?” she heard the female voice call out for her again.

'Ah, it must be Mikaela.' Ian thought sleepily as she stood up and stretched.

“Yeah I'm over here!” She called out as she made her way to the light switch box. She only ever had two people visit her here, Mr.Sun and Mikaela, and she wasn't allowed to leave the warehouse where she was currently working. About two days ago she had finally come to the conclusion that this was probably not a military run facility like everyone had been told. The extreme lack of schedule, and uniforms had been the first thing to tip her off.

Suddenly the lights flashed on temporarily blinding both the people inside. Mikaela stood across the room, blinking rapidly at Ina trying to adjust to the sudden light.

“It takes some getting used to at first, but when you've been here for long enough it doesn't bother you as much.” Ian called over to her.

Mikaela's face fell, and Ian wondered if that was the wrong thing to say to the young girl.

“Once again I am so sorry about all of this...” Mikaela began. Ian smiled and shook her head, not a day went by that the girl hadn't apologized to her or brought her some kind of greasy food stuffs. That had been the second thing to tip her off that this was probably a private job. The military generally as a rule didn't have often times sobbing girls in civilians clothing bringing fast food to it's prisoner's. It was like a unwritten rule or something.

Ian waved her hand carelessly at Mikaela, “What have a I told you? It's really no big deal, you know. I've been held hostage in far worse conditions before. And besides, it's not as if you're gonna keep me here right? I get to go when I'm finished with this beauty!”

Mikaela slowly nodded her head,”Yeah I guess you're right...”

Ian smile broadly at the girl, she really wasn't that bad, a little excitable, but still she had known worse people. “You interested in seeing my progress? I'm sure Mr.Sun would like to know.”

Mikaela smiled wanly, Ian was such an understanding woman. “Yeah I'd really like that. You'll be getting done soon right, you been here for a week now...”

Ian nodded absently as she moved over to the mostly formed car. It was in far better condition now then when she had first came here, but it still had a little ways to go. She had beaten all of the dent sin the frame, and finished extensive re-wring through out the entire car. At first she had been slightly perturbed with the amount of re-wiring that had to be done. Some of the wiring in fact was just below the surface of the car's outer frame. She had never seen that kind of electrical job done in a car before, it was just plain funny.

Ian's hands stroked the once more sleek, but still blemished outer frame of the Lamborghini, it had taken forever to sand down, and smooth out all of the fire damaged metal. She had wanted to give up plenty of times, but every time she had faltered something odd would happen.

The car would seem to shift slightly towards her like a dog begging for attention, and she'd just get a feeling from it. She knew that it was kind of crazy to think that the car was communicating with her, but she couldn't help but suspect it.

“Wow, you've done an amazing job!” Mikaela said in awe as she inspected Sunstreaker. His body was a world away from what it had been a mere week ago. “When are you going to add the paint?”

Ian's pressed her palms flat on the side of the car, “Do you know if Mr.Sun was really attached to his old paint job?”

Ian smiled warmly at Mikaela as her eyes widened in realization, she tried to ignore what felt like a slight tremor travel through the car's frame. 'The car did not just shudder at you Ian. That was your imagination.'

“What were you thinking of?” Mikaela asked as an evil grin began to form on her face.

“Oh I was thinking of going for red, with gold lighten stripes up the side” she answered with a smile. She quickly looked down at the car next to her. 'Ok that time it definitely moved.'

Ian was distracted from her thoughts when she heard loud laughter. Mikaela stood across the car howling hysterically, Ian weakly smiled at her in confusion. Did the girl just snap? Was she going to be killed with one of her wrenches now?

“Oh I think Mr.Sun is going to like the new paint job just fine.” Mikaela wheezed out between giggles. A new paint job would serve that damn extortionist right.


AN: Next chapter Sunny's new paint job! ^o^ And, “You did what to get yourself yourself a new frame?!” Ratchet discovers Ian.

A Crack/Challenge fanfiction

  Title: In a Vicious Light

Author: Red Wasabi
Rated: PG
Summary/Notes: This was written in response to a challenge issused by Nri's wonderful, wonderful, crack pairing generator. The prompt was Ironhide/Bonecrusher/violence.

The raw sound of metal crunching up against metal was like exquisite music to Bonecrusher’s audio receptors; whether it be his own or his enemies. He knew that’s why he had been chosen to interrogate their new Autobot prisoner. The other Decepticons, the disgusting cowards that they were, had been terrified by this particular prisoner.

It had been a well known secret that this particular Autobot was unlike the others. This Autobot was viscous, violent, and unforgiving; all traits that the Autobots were not known for having. It had been rumored, that this particular bot had actually been sparked a Decepticon, but because of some long forgotten offense to Primus by Megatron, had been placed in the body of the opposing army.

Bonecrusher however, had not been intimidated by these fearful claims. He had not feared this bot who had taken down so many other Decepticons before him; indeed he had been certain that there had never been another bot sparked like him before. He might have even gone so far as too call himself hopeful, that maybe here, here was a bot who would be able to withstand his terrible lust for slaughter.

As Bonecrusher slowly eased himself up from the floor of the holding cells he surveyed his masterpiece with sick pride. The bot glared up at him, defiance radiating through his single working optic. Bonecrusher was sure that if the bot's vocal possessor had still been functional he would have been spitting the foulest curses at him as well. He watched with morbid fascination as the brutally damaged bot try to stand, and fight him, though he lacked most of his right pede, and all of his left. A creeping sense of sadistic pride welled up in his chaise. Yes this was what he had been searching for on all those battles fields, in all those pained whimpers, and sparking wires of the dying—his dying.

With a deliberately languid step, Bonecrusher made his lazily made his way to the door of the cell block.

See you tomorrow, Ironhide.”

Writer's Block: In The Money

If you won $100 this afternoon, what would you do with it?

I'd go out and buy the books on my purchase list, that I so far haven't had enough money to buy yet, then I'd go out to dinner. If anything was left I'd reserve my rooms for my umpcoming San Fran trip!