Title: Painting Past a.k.a spectrumpheonix’s very late birthday present. I’m sorry!!!

Rating: PG… wait, G. No, PG. Definitely PG. …Slaggit, G.

Universe: G1

Author’s Note: Okay, my brain and the plot bunnies went spaz when I went to sit down and write this. Originally it was going to be very angsty and dark, but then they decided ‘Hey! Let’s make Sunny paint!’ I guess they thought Sunstreaker was angsty and dark enough on his own. XD Anywhoo, I apologise for how short it is spectrum. Happy very belated birthday! All my love!

The brush glided smoothly over the large canvas, leaving a trail of elegant colour in its wake. Firm fingertips and a steady hand guided its travel until, happy with what had been accomplished, lifted it off.

Sitting back slightly in his chair, Sunstreaker observed his work, taking it all in. He looked at it with a critical optic, trying to find fault in the piece, trying to see if it matched the image in his head. Relatively satisfied with what he saw, Sunstreaker gave a sharp nod, before searching for what colour he would need to use next.

After several attempts at trying to recreate the quality of work that he had been able to perform on Cybertron [or several furious attempts, in Sideswipe’s opinion, as they ended in objects being hurled around their quarters], Sunstreaker had been forced to acknowledge that the materials available on Earth just weren’t the same quality as on Cybertron. As a result, his pieces for the foreseeable future would be sub-par, and he would just have to learn to live with that.

Finding the colour he needed, Sunstreaker looked at his painting again, meticulously planning the next move in his processor before even considering setting brush to canvas. This perfectionist articulation would wax and wane with the yellow Lamborghini, much to the frustration of his twin. It would all depend on the mood Sunstreaker was in.

Sometimes inspiration would strike, and every stroke would seem to be free, energetic and already dictated for him. Other times an idea would come to him, and he would take his time in ensuring that everything was set and ordered, often staying up late into the night to finish the piece. 

Now would appear to be one of the latter times, and Sunstreaker allowed himself to be lost in the attractive allure of shapes and colours, letting the hours slip by without a second thought as deadly hands gave way to delicate life.

It was quite some time later when he felt the edge of weariness begin to creep upon him. Not from himself, but from Sideswipe. He could feel his twins presence growing in prominence in his mind as he returned from patrol, reaching a peak as the door to their quarters slid open to reveal a muddy and dirty red Lamborghini.

Sideswipe took one look at his golden brother perched on the edge of the chair and knew that tonight would be a very silent and lonely night for him. Giving a small sigh, he trudged exhaustedly to their wash racks, wanting nothing more than to at that moment be clean and fall into recharge on his berth.

What had meant to be a regular patrol had quickly evolved into something decidedly not, as a sudden storm had appeared and turned the ground Hound and Sideswipe had been travelling on into mud and large puddles of water. The green jeep had had a hay day, relishing in his interaction with Earth’s nature. Sideswipe however, had not. He didn’t have anything against nature, really. He just preferred when it didn’t get stuck in every servo and joint he had.

Letting the hot water run in rivulets over his powerful body, Sideswipe relished in the feel of dirt and small bits of stone coming unstuck and slipping from him. Through the bond he shared with Sunstreaker, he felt his brother’s focus and attention on his work; a content sort of pleasure and relaxation occupying his mind that few would have thought the yellow Lamborghini capable of experiencing.

Despite the boring evening that he knew lay ahead of him, Sideswipe was happy to leave his twin alone. Sunstreaker’s painting moods and peace that accompanied them had been few and far between lately, and there was no way that he was going to deny his brother something that made him happy and less volatile at the same time.

Turning the flow of water off, Sideswipe stepped out of the wash rack, feeling noticeably better. He was just thinking about grabbing some energon for his brother and himself when the golden Lamborghini leant back from his work.

“It’s finished.” Sunstreaker said. Sideswipe raised an optic ridge at that. Normally his perfectionist moods lasted longer. Not that he was complaining mind. His twin never let anyone see what he’d been working on until he’d finished it, and the red hellion was curious as to what his brother had created this time.

Positioning himself behind Sunstreaker at a careful distance away so as to have no chance of ruining his paint job, Sideswipe looked at the canvas and froze.

A swirl of shapes, lines and colours worked as one to create familiar and comforting forms; their painted presence bringing an immense yearning and desire to the forefront of Sideswipe’s spark that he wasn’t even aware he felt.

Looking at the canvas, Sideswipe felt the yearning grow, and couldn’t help but stand in awe at his twin’s incredible talent. Everything looked so real. Like he could just reach out and touch it. Touch what once was and had been.

In an impulsive move completely devoid of any malice or provocation, Sideswipe’s hand came to rest lightly on his brother’s shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered. Sunstreaker just nodded, a hand of his own reaching up to embrace its twin in a rare gesture of comfort and understanding.

Together, they stayed there, unmoving, merely looking at the art before their optics. Letting it drift their minds to simpler and better times. Letting it paint the way to past and home.

blind_foxx

Hush now, my sweet

Let angels take thee to thy rest

Know that I will love you

Even past the morn

Know that you’re safe

Evil demons will not harm

Sleep tight, stay strong,

Peace shall soon come

Be brave, my heart

Do not fear, the cold embrace

I’ll wait for you

Forever and a day

Sweetheart,

Wake your tender lips

Draw me into

Their endless abyss

Hold me close

Keep me tight

And we’ll make it

Through that darkest night

Title: Knowing Sacrifice

Universe: G1

Rating: PG

Warnings: Some TF cussing.

Pairings: None.

Author’s Note: Woo! My first TF fic! *bows to applause* Besides all the time I spent beating my head against the wall in trying to get the plot bunnies to co-operate [seriously. At first all I could think of were these really dark dramatic pieces that were very angsty. What does that say about me? O.O] I actually whipped this up pretty quickly, and had lots of fun doing it. So, please enjoy, go easy, and constructive criticism and reviews are very welcome.

When Sunstreaker entered his and Sideswipe’s quarters to find his twin scrummaging through his art supplies, two thoughts stood out foremost in his processor. The first was that if his brother dragged him into this in any way, he would beat him into numerous energon and coolant covered pieces. The second was that at least he’d get some piece and quiet in here for the next few orns.

“Heya Sunny!” Sunstreaker rolled his optics at the red Lamborghini’s cheerful greeting before walking to his berth and dropping onto it. He watched Sideswipe as he picked up various paint brushes and colours, only to put them back or place them next to him. After a moment, he said, “You do know what’s going to happen if you go through with this, don’t you?” Sideswipe looked up with a slag eating grin on his face.

“Sunny, when have I not been aware of the consequences?” he said. Sunstreaker snorted.

“True, but this one will really blow a few processors,”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Sideswipe replied gleefully.

“Ratchet will be livid,

“Yep,”

“Prowl will put you on extra shifts for who knows how long,”

“I can take it,” Sunstreaker eyed his brother warily through the corner of his optics and their bond. He was actually going to go through with this. As to why, the reason eluded him. Granted, though, Sunstreaker rarely understood anything his twin did.

Sideswipe stood up then with an armful of supplies clutched to his chassis. “Well,” he said “I’m off! Wish me luck?”

“No,” Sunstreaker said with an unamused glare.

“Oh come on, Sunny!” Sideswipe cried “My mechly respect is at stake here! You wouldn’t have me give that up would you?”

“Can’t lose what you never had,”

“Ouch. Cold bro,” Sideswipe grinned. “Besides,” he said, placing a hand solemnly on Sunstreaker’s shoulder “I’m doing this for us, remember that,” Sunstreaker slapped his brother’s hand away.

“You’ll ruin my finish, you glitch,” he snarled. Sideswipe just grinned.

“Ah, the narcissist I know and love. Welcome back!”

“Careful when you use big words like that. Your processor might freeze up from the effort,” Sideswipe just laughed.

“See you in a few days, Sunshine!”

“Don’t call me Sunshine,” Sunstreaker growled, but it went unheard as Sideswipe left with a friendly wave and the door slid closed behind him. Shaking his head, Sunstreaker laid down his berth, intending to get some recharge before all Pit broke loose.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Sideswipe crept slowly through the dark Ark, sticking to the shadows as he made his way through the numerous hallways, illuminated by a soft light at night. It was a relatively easy thing to do, seeing as most ‘bots were in recharge by now, but he was cautious, nonetheless. After all, you didn’t reach his pranking capabilities by being sloppy.

As Sideswipe reached his destination, he spared an astro-tick for a few quick, furtive glances down each hall. It wouldn’t do any good to be caught now.

Sending a short prayer to Primus, Sideswipe carefully typed in the code the mech had given him on the door’s number pad, hoping that it wouldn’t be rejected and that loud alarms would start sounding.

When the door slid open harmlessly, Sideswipe gave an inward cheer before stepping cautiously into the room. He had a few moments in which to take in the space with the hallway lights, before the door shut and he was left in the dark.

“Hello?” he whispered cautiously. This was the crucial part; if the other mech had failed, he was in some serious slag. Sideswipe listened carefully for a reply, but the only sound to be heard in the room was the soft cycle of systems in recharge.

Sideswipe reached for the wall, fumbling a bit as he tried to find the light switch. When it was located, Sideswipe programmed it to come on at a low, soft setting, before turning them on.

The room was illuminated with the barest shred of light, enough so that Sideswipe could see his target. Slowly, he increased the intensity of the lights, stopping every few moments to make sure his objective hadn’t woken. Eventually, the lights reached their highest setting, and when the mech still didn’t move, Sideswipe grinned.

Ah, the powers of drugged energon.

Taking a small step, Sideswipe advanced slowly to the other side of the room with a stealth that would have made Jazz proud. Ignoring the fact that each movement of his peds sounded incredibly loud in the dead silence [or deactivated, as Sideswipe thought grimly], he eventually reached his prize, and with a gentleness that few ‘bots would have believed possible, set Sunstreaker’s art supplies on the floor and lowered himself onto his knees.

Even though the mech was drugged, he wouldn’t put it past this particular ‘bot to wake up without warning.

A grin slowly made its way onto Sideswipe’s features as he took in the enormity of what he was about to do; a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sideswipe checked his internal chronometer as he rubbed his hands together with glee. Plenty of time, too.

Picking up a paint brush and choosing a colour, he set to work.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Sideswipe hummed happily to himself as entered the Rec Room, a confident swagger in his step, calling out ‘Good Morning’ pleasantly to ‘bots and basically being the social butterfly that his brother wasn’t.

He tried valiantly, but couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading as he saw some of his fellow crew members observe him warily. They knew an overly happy Sideswipe was one to avoid, less they come between him and whoever’s ire he’d managed to spark. The smirk grew wider as he actually saw a few ‘bots get up and leave the room.

Spotting Sunstreaker and Bumblebee talking quietly in a corner, Sideswipe quickly grabbed a morning ration of energon before grabbing a chair and making his way over to them.

“Morning Bumblebee! Sunflower,” The Volkswagen watched in amusement as Sideswipe skilfully dodged his brother’s attack, before popping back up with a wide smile. “I see someone got a good recharge last night,” he said with a chuckle. Sunstreaker glared at his twin.

“Why aren’t you in the brig yet?” he snapped.

“Brig? What brig?” Sideswipe asked innocently, taking a sip of his energon. The yellow Lamborghini growled low and menacing.

“You know exactly what I mean, you slagger,”

“Do I?” Sideswipe queried with wide optics. Sunstreaker was just about to give an angry retort when Prowl walked into the Rec Room, doorwings held rigid and high.

“Sideswipe,” the Second in Command ordered “My office. Now.” The volume of sound in the room dropped immediately, as all ‘bots optics turned to Sideswipe.

Grinning madly, the red twin stood from his seat before leaning against it, using one arm for support. “Why Prowl,” he began pleasantly “Fancy seeing you here. What can I help you with?” The Datsuns’ optics glowered at the Lamborghini as he took in the cocky stance, but was beaten to the punch by a far angrier, vengeful ‘bot.

“You know slagging well what you did you fragger!” Ratchet shouted, storming into the Rec Room and waving a wrench accusingly at him. “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to reboot Red Alert’s processor after that stunt you’ve just pulled?” A shocked expression appeared on Sideswipe’s face at the medic’s words.

“Red Alert glitched? Oh, how horrible. I hope he gets better soon,” Ratchet took a threatening step towards him but was restrained when Prowl placed a hand on his arm, holding him back.

Regarding him coolly, the tactician replied in an even voice, “We have reason to believe that last night you managed to break into Red Alert’s quarters and performed a practical joke on him. If you come with us, the matter can be resolved in just a few breems,”

“Not if I have anything to do about,” Ratchet muttered darkly. Prowl shot the medic a look as Sideswipe splayed a hand across his chassis, clearly affronted.

“Moi?” he asked incredulously “What would lead you to believe that I had anything to do with it? Frankly, I’m a little insulted,”

“Don’t even consider playing dumb now, you hellion,” Ratchet snarled “What did you think would happen when Red Alert woke up to find himself painted in Decepticon colours and sigil?! His logic centre went in a loop and his processor completely seized up on him. He could be stuck like this for days! Do you have any idea of the danger you just put him? Of the damage you could’ve caused?!” Sideswipe winced, almost like he’d been stuck by the medic’s words and bowed his head, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“Sideswipe, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Prowl asked calmly. Sideswipe looked up with a small, sheepish smile.

“I should make sure he doesn’t have any mirrors in his room next time?” he tried.

CLUNK!

Ratchet’s wrench knocked the red mech out with deadly accuracy before Prowl could stop him. Grumbling to himself and uttering obscenities under his vocaliser, Ratchet stomped over to Sideswipe and grabbed his ped. He was just about to drag him out of the room when he turned to Sunstreaker and said angrily “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“No I slagging well did not!” Sunstreaker snapped back vehemently. Grunting in acknowledgement, Ratchet tightened his hold on Sideswipe’s ped and proceeded to drag him out of the Rec Room.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Jazz nodded his head to a beat his internal radio was playing as he traversed the steps that led into the lower levels of the Ark. Giving a friendly grin to the mech on guard duty, he stepped into the brig’s hallway and waited as the door shut behind him.

Switching the music off, Jazz smiled to himself as he walked down the hall, steps echoing in the large metal space. Eventually, he came to a slow stop in front of the only cell that currently had its containment bars activated. Giving a low whistle of appreciation, the visored mech observed the prisoner’s predicament.

“Wow, Sides,” he said in his melodious voice, smile growing wider “Whose idea was this?” Sideswipe was currently hanging upside down, suspended by chains that attached his peds to the ceiling and kept him firmly in place. The visored mech struggled to stop himself from laughing out loud, clamping a hand over his mouth to restrain himself.

Hanging from the ceiling, Sideswipe gave a shrug as best he could, long arms dangling down. “Ratchet thought it might be a good new form of punishment. Prowl and Prime were only too willing for it.” he paused for a moment “He also said something about ‘Doing it for science’.”

Jazz couldn’t help it. Throwing his head back, the Porsche laughed long and hard and if he could’ve, he was sure he would’ve been crying in mirth.

The saboteur collapsed against a wall, leaning against it for support as his cooling fans struggled to dispel the heat. Sideswipe watched in amusement as Jazz gained control, observing everything from his inverted vantage point.

“Aw shucks, Siders. I didn’t think he’d get that mad with it,” Jazz said with an amused smile.

“Eh, not much I can do about it now anyway,” Sideswipe said, resigning himself to his fate “Anyway, what brings you down here?”

“Just thought I’d visit ma favourite prankster in th’ brig,” Jazz said, pushing himself off the wall. “An’ say thanks while I’m at it. Ya did a good job, Sideswipe. Red Alert will be forced outta his Security Room for the next few days, so th’ paranoid fragger will have to take a break. Ratch’ won’t be taking any risks after all th’ effort he’s about ta go through either, so mission accomplished,” Sideswipe smiled, allowing a flash of pride at his handiwork.

“Anytime, Jazz,” he said cheerfully “But… you’ll make sure I get that week off, right?” Jazz shook his head, chuckling deeply to himself.

“A deal’s a deal, my mech. Once you’re done with your punishments, I’ll make sure you an’ ya bro get some well needed hang time,” Sideswipe smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Jazz,” The special ops mech waved the appreciation away.

“It was you who did all th’ work Siders, an’ some fine work at that, even if th’ other officers don’t realise it yet. Anyway,” he said, starting his way back down the hall “I’ll be seein’ ya, Sideswipe.” And with a last friendly wave, the Porsche disappeared from sight.

Sideswipe listened as the door slid shut behind the Third in Command, sighing to himself as he was alone again.

Looking around, the frontline warrior searched for a distraction to keep him entertained. Ratchet has disabled both his internal radio and chronometer; meaning music and the simple task of keeping time were now gone from him.

Sideswipe was just about to resign himself to a boring punishment when realisation dawned like the rising sun, and an evil grin spread across his features. Ratchet could disable some forms of entertainment, but not all of them.

::Heya Sunny!:: Sideswipe called cheerfully through the bond with his brother.

::…Kill me now.::
 

The Key:

Jason felt a sickening, sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked at the girl standing before him. It was so obvious, he didn’t know why he hasn’t realised it before.

This girl, Amanda, she was the key. The key to it all. The key to everything.

She was the perfect explanation that eliminated every variable, filled every gap.

She was the answer for the things he had been feeling over the past few hours. The reason why he had felt this blatant, horrifying panic. Why terror and fear had been his constant companion over this short period time.

She was the reason why he had been drenched in cold sweat and set in a permanent state of agitation and nerves.

It was her. It was all because of her.

Body trembling, Jason stepped forward. His mouth felt dry. His tongue felt thick and swollen as he looked at her and tried to say something. Anything.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Amanda,” he said, voice wavering “Give it to me,”

Jason felt his resolve, his hope weaken as Amanda cocked her hip to the side, eyes glinting at him with dangerous amusement.

“Give what, Jason?” Her voice was innocent, no trace of any guilt or suspicion. Swallowing, he tried again.

“My keys, Amanda,” he said, his voice more forceful, stronger “Give me my keys.”

They stared at one another then, a showdown. A competition to see who would break first, who would crumble.

Suddenly, with a flourished sigh, Amanda dipped her long fingers into the purse at her side before drawing something out and throwing it high into the air.

Jason’s eyes locked on the object, tracking their movement, their fall from heaven, before catching his car eyes securely in his fist.

“You’re such a drag sometimes, Jason,” Amanda said dramatically, before walking away from him, her high-heeled footsteps echoing around the parking lot.

“Happy April Fool’s Day.” She called to him.

A Historical Voyage:

“The wind would tear at their flesh, trying to rip them to pieces. The sea would roar and break against their ship, trying to make them sink. The sun would beat down upon them to make their skin split and blister, but they would not falter. No, they would persevere, and it would be a voyage. A historical voyage for the ages, for the people to recount, for their praises to be sung, for-“

“That’s boring,”

“What?” Samantha’s head shot up from the book upon hearing the petulant intrusion. From her chair, she looked at her little sister lying in her bed, wrapped in her thick blankets.

“I said, it’s boring,”

“How can it be boring?” Samantha demanded, shocked. “It’s a heroic tale about a group of men, out to discover land, glory and love-“

“I know,” her little sister interrupted again, rolling her eyes like she couldn’t believe her big sister was continuing this “but it’s boring.” Samantha observed her sister for a moment, eyes narrowing. Rising from her chair, Samantha walked over to the other side of the room to browse through the bookcase.

“Demons and dragons?”

“No,”

“Knights and quests?”

“No,”

“Amazons and gods?”

“No!”

“Then what,” Samantha snapped, turning around “Do you suggest I read to you?” She watched as her little sister dove under her blankets, only to return a moment later, clutching a book in her hands. Samantha walked over to her and took the book that was  being offered to her. Sitting in the chair, Samantha’s heart sank as she read the title.

“Snigger and the Nut Beast?” she asked incredulously, looking at her sister. Upon seeing the vigorous nodding that threatened to make the little girl’s head fall off, she sighed and opened to the first page.

“Snigger was a very happy, very brave little squirrel…”

•  Managed to see Duplicity and The Shining: I loved Duplicity. It was smart, funny, fast, and the ending threw me for an absoloute curveball. It's been a long time since a movie has done that to me, and I absoloutely loved the feeling. The Shining on the other had was a frightening, terrifying film, but no less brilliant. I swear to Primus, Jack Nicholson's eyebrows should get an Oscar all to themselves.
• Read City of Glass: which is the third book in the Mortal Instruments trilogy by Cassandra Clare. The trilogy is absoloutely brilliant and is a fresh, exciting look about Vampires, Werewolves, Fairies, Warlocks and people called 'Shadowhunters'. I highly reccommened it.
• Season 3 of TFA: Ah, dear youtube, what would I do without you. Your loyal people allow subjects like me to watch episodes of aTV show that won't be in my country for months, and I gotta say, I'm lovin'  the new series. Prowl's new look is awesome, the twins are strange but growing on me, Sentinel Prime is an aft and I want Optimus Prime to beat him to the other side of the universe, but I am very very annoyed over Perceptor's voice. Stephen Hawkings? What were they thinking?!
• Staying up-to-date with TF2 news: not much to report, but more information on the bots has been released. Superherohype has some new images here: http://www.superherohype.com/news/transformersnews.php?id=8211 , and TransformersLive has the images as well as some info on the bots that was prvided by the writer's Kurtman and Orci and Director Michael Bay here: http://transformerslive.blogspot.com/2009/04/eight-constructicons-in-transformers-2.html
• Writers Group: so I entered the Wrtie4Fun comp with the story I posted because a, I couldn't think of anything else, and b, it made my teacher cry, and she's a tough nut so I thought it was a good sign. I'll be posting more of the stories soon, so let me know what you think.

spectrumpheonix

[Writers Group] The frog in the saucepan:

“The frog in the saucepan

Was quite a fellow

All green and yellow

And covered I oil.

But he did not mind

Let it be defined

That he was a very good

Sort of fellow.”

“James?” The young man looked up from his reading to see the speaker of his name, the one he was reading to.

“Yes?” He answered with a small, mischievous smirk. The woman, only slightly younger than him, gave a small glare in return before snuggling deeper under the duvet.

“Why did you read to me?”

“You don’t like my reading?” He asked, mocked affronted “I thought you said you loved my reading! Particularly since I have a “golden caramel honey” voice, if I recall,” the woman, his wife, Amelia, gave him a tired, weak smile.

“I do like your reading, James,” she muttered sleepily “I simply meant why did you read me such a childish one,” James shrugged as he put the book aside, and proceeded to become comfortable under the covers, moving to hold his love closely.

“Thought it might be funny,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to disrupt her journey into sleep. He didn’t mention, didn’t have to mention why they had to be distracted. They both knew.

To avoid the unspeakable; the sickness.

“Okay then,” the response was drowsy, languid, spoken with only the barest amount of energy needed “Next time I’ll laugh.” James held back a shudder as he felt Amelia drift off to sleep. Next time. The Future.

Would she still be alive then?

Forcing the dark, sinister thought aside, James clamped his eyes shut and tried to fall asleep.

He would not think that way. He mustn’t.

He couldn’t.

Write4Fun Comp:

               The black night swathed the room in darkness. Curtains billowed gently in the cool evening breeze.

In the room, on the bed, two figures lay. Their forms entangled; illuminated by the silver moonlight.

On the bed, he watched her sleeping face. Stark contrasts on her features from the shadows. Warm breath drifting over his skin, making it tingle in the most delightful way.

On the bed, he held her. Carefully, tenderly, only the way a lover could. Her sleeping form did not stir, only to move closer, to him.

He choked, a sob threatening to escape at the movement. He blinked to drive the tears away. He would not waste his time. Not now, not with her here, he begged.

It was some sick irony, he knew, that the tears vanished, his eyes dry. Some cruel punishment that he would be spared from this, but not from her.

On the bed, he looked at her again, eyes roaming over the delicate frame beneath the sheets. He drank it in, all of it, admiring every sensuous curve and flair that formed her body.

On the bed, he remembered every touch. Every caress and stroke, given and received. All the times he had seen her body. Watched it wither away as the sickness took hold. Watched her die before his eyes.

He bowed his head to her neck, nuzzling the smooth skin with light touches. Soaking in the lustrous sent that never left her; always drove him wild with desire.

A hand moved up, from her waist, along her arm, shoulder, taking its time until it came to rest on her chest, above her beating heart, the most precious rhythm in the universe.

He felt her body rise and fall with each breath, changing his own breathing to match hers. It provided comfort, however much, to know they were joined in this way.

Dipping his head, like so many times in the past, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Sweet, so sweet. Fruit dipped in the purest honey. He savoured this, her taste, her essence. Locked it away, so the memory would not be forgot.

On the bed, he froze. His fingers had detected the fault, the failure. Her heart had skipped a beat.

The tears came now, and he did not try to stop them.

On the bed, his lips travelled with the softest touch to her ear. His breathing hitched, his will faltered, but he forced himself, made himself say it.

“I love you.”

Small, painfully whispered words. How could they convey what he felt? After everything she had given him? She was his life, his love, the passion that burned through his veins. The reason to exist.

On the bed, her heart skipped again. Two beats. Then three.

He felt her body relax, whatever tension disappear from her frail frame. The tears flowed freely, they could not be stopped. Months of pain, fear, hurt and heart-ache cumulating in one, earth shattering moment.

On the bed, her heart stopped, the beat disappeared, and he knew he had gone with it.

The Spot:

“The Spot,”

“Yep,”

“Spot,”

“A-huh,”

“Spot. As in, small circle or fleck or point of something,"

“No, as in S.P.O.T.: Single Piloted Opposing Terrestrial."

“…what?”

“Sniper,” Amber warned. The tall young man turned to look down at his girlfriend.

“What?” He said innocently, like he hadn’t been just about to explode like a volatile chemical reaction. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Yes, you were,” Amber said firmly “Cypher has been kind enough to show us what he’s been working on for the past few months, and you will show him the courtesy he deserves. Not only because he outranks you, or because he’s been a friend of mine since I was brought to the base when I was three, or because his inventions have saved you more times than I or your brother would care to count, but because you were the one that asked,” she finished, poking him savagely in the chest.

Sniper looked at Amber’s expression and decided that it would be best if he didn’t push his luck any further. Besides, everyone knew she was as protective of Cypher as she was of her parents, and by protective, he meant ‘Won’t pause to beat you to a pulp if you so much as say one word against them’. Sniper thought the only reason he got the special treatment was because he was her boyfriend.

“Sorry, Cypher,” Amber said turning to the other man in the room. “Please, continue.” The blond man shrugged and smiled.

“No problem. Now,” Cypher turned to the small machine in the room. It was a silvery metallic vehicle, smooth, with a circular centre and two small protrusions sticking out from either side. Sniper thought it looked like a bubble with wings. “The Single Piloted Opposing Terrestrial is so called because it is exactly that,”

“Go figure,” Sniper whispered, before grunting as Amber elbowed him in the stomach. Hard.

“S.P.O.T,” Cypher continued obliviously “Is a small aerial vehicle that can be manned by one person. It has high manoeuvrability, two small laser turrets, a small defensive shield that can last up to one hour under heavy fire and is powered by two very efficient, very powerful J.E.T’s.”

“J.E.T’s?”

“Yes.”

“…I’m not even gonna ask.”

Bug

“Bug. Bug.” Poke. Poke.

“Bug, bug, bug!”Poke, poke, poke.

“Bug!” Poke.

“Bu-“

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I snapped, my eyes blazing as I whipped around to face my little brother. A brief flicker of fear passed over his face. Just as quickly, it was gone though, replaced with his stupid ”I’m an idiot” grin plastered on his face. Said grin grew wider as he took in the results of his handiwork, straightening just that little bit taller in pride.

“Nothing,” he chirped cheerfully. “Just trying to get your attention.” My hand tightened around my pencil, threatening to break it.

“For what?” I gritted out, barely holding onto my desire to chase and pummel him.

“I have to tell you something,” he replied happily. The little moron had the nerve to start rocking on his feet, humming in content as he saw surprise transform into fury. Taking a deep, shaky breath to maintain some semblance of control, I asked calmly, “What did you have to tell me?”

He stopped rocking and the grin disappeared. I blinked at the sudden change as I took in his solemn face. Maybe this was really serious. Signalling him to come forward, he walked up to me, and cupping a hand around my ear, whispered: “The cake is a lie.”

“OUT!” I screamed as I shot to my feet. “Get out, NOW!” He was already gone though, his merry laughter echoing down the hallway as he ran.

Sighing viciously, I rubbed the ridge of my nose in a vain attempt to relax myself.

Bug. I’d have to remember that.
 

The Explosion:

She nodded her head to the music, the sounds changing from smooth to excited as easily as her pen that flowed across the page. A smile graced her lips as she reached the end of her sentence, finishing the last letter with a flourish and small stab of the pen.

Upon checking the small diary that contained her list of work, she realised that her thoughts would not be required any more for the tedious, dull effort. With a happy laugh, she chucked the pen into her open pencil case, its contents spilled out across her desk. Her arms lifted above her head and fingers entwined, her posture straightening and several cracks emanating from the depths of her spine as she stretched her stiff bones.

Slumping exhaustedly in her chair, her head rested upon the top of the leather seat. Eyes closed and the happy smile growing wider, she enjoyed the lustrous sounds of the orchestra as they reached her ears, her mind caressing and flowing over the familiar notes as if they were a part of her very being. She felt heart quicken, could feel the blood flow faster as the sounds reached a crescendo, only to fade away without warning. The corner of her mouth twitched. She loved this part.

Unintentionally, her ears detected a staccato sound, her mind latching onto it without her permission. This wasn’t part of the song. It disappeared, only to reappear moments later, this time louder, more constant. This time, she could hear words.

A sense of morbid dread spread throughout her and her happy mood vanished, living her wistful and upset. The voices grew louder, rising and falling out of time with the music. She gritted her teeth in frustration. The voices reached a fever pitch, the words a conduit for the explosion of anger and hatred that was pulsing just outside her door.

Her eyes opened. Tugging her chair forwards so she’d be closer to her desk, she turned the dial on her computer, the music rising in volume with her gentle movement, blocking the noises and forming a wall of sound between her and the fury. Almost, but not quite.

Laying her head on her arms so her ears would be close to the speakers, she closed her eyes to the tears, letting her mind latch desperately onto the familiar notes, begging herself to disappear into their safety and comfort.  

The Supermarket:

The sounds of shops closing down and locking up for the night resound beneath me, echoing around the huge, open space of the building. Owners call to one another, bidding farewell and goodnight for the evening, before walking down the clean, abandoned hallways to their cars. They shout good-bye to the security guard, the man that will protect their good and livelihoods during the night. The man that will do the quick, efficient rounds of the interior before locking up and patrolling the exterior for the rest of his shift.

There is only one of him, but there only needs to be one of him.

Now his footsteps are the only sound that can be heard in the large space. His footsteps and my breathing, coming in short, ragged breaths of anticipation as I await the beginning of my time. The metallic air ducts suspended above the ground, attached to the roof give it an eerie, creepy feel.

The guard’s footsteps get louder, coming closer to my position, until he is directly beneath my air-duct. I can see him, the grated screen beneath my fingers cutting him into sections.

He whistles nonchalantly for a moment or two, turning his head from side-to-side as he gives the area one last, quick sweep. Then, he reaches for the collection of keys on his belt, sifting through them aimlessly. I lean closer to the grate.

Apparently finding the ones he wants, he removes them from the chain, placing them on the ground beneath his feet. The collection re-attatches itself to his belt, before with a new tune, he walks of, ready to start his outside guarding.

I wait until I hear the door lock, its dull thud reflecting the loud beats of my thrilling heart. Carefully, despite the fact that I am alone, I lift the grate and move it to the side. A long line of rope falls through the open space. I tug the anchor a few times; making sure it is secure, before slowly, ever so carefully, I shimmy down the rope.

When my feet touch the ground, a sense of pure relief and bliss washes through me. A grin plasters itself onto my face before I reach down to pick up the keys on the ground. I look at them carefully. As usual, there is the key to the supermarket. The other key is the one to the bookstore.

My grin widens. Our little secret.

Clutching the keys in my fist, I start to run through the mall to my two destinations. The night and the shopping centre. My playground. My home.