crux_fleet | (no subject)

Awwww, what a sweet thing to say. Can she catch him when he swoons from the radiation?

"You ever have fun?" That was supposed to come out all snarky but there's a weird wobble in the words that's kind of like confused sympathy and she looks a little startled. "I mean ya know, just, not worried about winning, maybe?"

No that sounds just as asinine. Flashpoint, shut it.

She shrugs at him and that's about as long as her vow of silence lasts. "What, you mean you're keeping score on that too, huh? Better not get yourself into trouble, I might pull ahead in the rankings."

Flashpoint's mouth has nothing on this thing though, though the red-hot curse that comes out hers at that shriek is pretty impressive. Well, a mouth might be near a brain so she's just gonna punch there first and hopes for a satisfying squish. After mildly proving Deadlock right as she dodges--mostly anyway--the flailing knotacles.

There's no way that can be a compliment, she must be hearing things.

Sure, she can not only catch him when he swoons, she can be his radiation shielding.

"The frag's that got to do with anything?" Look at him. He's all about fun. Just not with something that looks like a flailing gelatin dessert. "Winning matters!"

Especially right now.

That might be a satisfying squish, but it's also kind of gross, spewing yellow and green goop around her fist. But it's not out of tricks yet, trying to loop one of its knotacles around one of her ankles and pull. Hey, why should Deadlock get all the tentacle attention?

See, she's a real friend like that! Or...something in that area. The definitions of such things are sketchy in her understanding.

"You're like...obsessed with winning though. Don't it take the fun out of things sometimes? When it's, ya know, not life and death type stuff." Which, well, this might be a life and death situation for Deadlock's ego, and Flashpoint's too is she isn't careful.

Which...she is not, really.

"Awwww, nasty!" Someday Flashpoint will get over her hateship with goop. Someday being never. Just like the day she learns stoicism. She's off balance from her swing, without the space to get proper footing, so down she goes as the knotacle sweeps an ankle. "F-frag!" Sorry Deadlock, she's probably landing half on you and half on the overzealous tentafriend. It's a grappling move, really!

"You thinking maybe we should lose this one?" Because if so, Deadlock is going to ardently disagree. At high volume.

And now the both of them are slimed with tentagoop. He'd offer a rinse off but his shower is probably a bit betentacled right now, too.

And the fall probably would have been rougher if the goop hadn't made her slippery, so she hits him and sort of sliiiiides down him while knocking him over. Great job, being all gross AND clumsy, Flashpoint. He's gonna have to do something violent to recuperate his mechliness.

Violent like this--throwing one hand along the floor, firing the pistol at the creature's schlorpy mass.

"Not right now!" SCOFF. Deadlock, always with the instant gratification.

And though she wouldn't turn down a rinse off (and maybe magical things would happen in the shower like it did last time??) but now is not the time for washrack shenanigans. Not until the whole area is entirely detentacled.

And mechs really shouldn't make a squeegee noise when slipping off each other. What is wrong with this universe?! Don't mind more curses muffled against your belly plating Deadlock, she's just trying to get her bearings. Other than a face full of your plating.

The gunfire kicks the gears back into place and though she doesn't exactly evade the resulting squelch as the shot lands or roll entirely off Deadlock, she does plant the blade of her arm firmly on the ground and kicks out with her foot in an arc, trapping part of what she hopes is the main mass--and maybe a head?--between her knees.

"Be really nice if you had those swords right now!" Because some slicing and dicing could be super handy in this situation.

Oh, no, his gratification has been totally delayed this whole night, starting with the, uh, sudden appearance of the thing interrupting...Deadlock Special Private Maintenance Time.

And yeah, that's his abdominal plating, and you can kiss it, but maybe later.

"The frag you talking about?" He's a guns mech. Swords are for....people who don't have guns?

There should be a law or something against interrupting Special Private Maintenance Time. No wonder Deadlock's extra cranky. Flashpoint could help with fixing that later, if he needs a hand. or two.

Later can't come fast enough if you ask Flashpoint, and it has a lot to do with there being way too much DNW wiggly, goopey things in this equation.

"Oh right, you aren't--" Wow Flashpoint, shutup with your outside voice will you? Because Spoilers. "ANYWAY, can you unload some rounds into this thing while I hold it still? I dare you not to shoot my foot off in the process." Because hanging onto this thing between her thighs is not the most pleasant sensation, regardless of what some pop culture says.

Yeah, well, tentacle face (no, seriously, is that its face?) had no respect for the law. Or for a mech's privacy.

Or dignity.

Still, he's not the one playing bucking bronco with a rainbow of tentacles. It's pretty sad when that's the BEST thing he can say about today.

"Whatever." Clearly she got hit in the head again or something. "Please. Have some fraggin' faith." You insult him, Flashpoint. His aim is way better than that. You should just be glad he....kind of tolerates you enough not to want to shoot her.

What are the exact prerequisites for a face anyway? Flashpoint would rather not spend too much time inspecting this thing to make sure it meets the requirements. And hey, have they found eyes yet? Because maybe tentacle face didn't witness any of Deadlock's special maintinence time?

And come on Deadlock, the day is still young. There's plenty of time for it to get worse!

Or better, maybe. If he's lucky.

Luck and Deadlock's good sense--because Flashpoint never doubted his aim--shine on her though as he hits the thing square in the goey mass. He must of tagged something important judging by the pain screeching. And just to make herself useful, Flashpoint's squeezing as hard as she can with knees and thighs, maybe something equally important will rupture and she'll feel like she's done equal justice here.

Yeah he's not really into big scientific discussions of what constitutes a face. In the case of Tentacles over here, Deadlock's just gonna vote for the area of maximum ugly.

Which doesn't really narrow it down by much.

And however bad Deadlock's day is, at least, unlike her, he's not gonna have to spend the next hour in the washracks trying to hose out tentagoo from his thigh armor. He'd laugh if he didn't hate the fraggin thing so much.

Besides, hating might throw off his aim. And he's throwing everything he's got at this thing. And when one gun runs out of charge, he's just gonna throw that, too.

Maximum ugly is a good enough qualifier in Flashpoint's mind. That'll be her aim the next time to needs to punch something: make it uglier or make it dead, preferably the latter.

And with less gooey splash damage please.

Yeah she's not looking forward to that cleaning session, a good cleanser dip or steam cleaning sounds pretty nice right about now. As it is the scrubbing's gonna take forever and she might have to strip down to do it right. Look at what she goes through just for you, Deadlock!

There's some bravery right there, in tossing his gun away. Because what if he hits dead on it gets lost in that tentamess? Have fun finding it again. Still, all they got seems to do the trick here, or at least all the screeching followed by thrashing and flopping and then stillness seems to say 'dead'. Flashpoint's of a mind to tear a few tentacles off just to be sure though. Assuming she can even stand up in this mess.

If he was the apologizing sort, he would probably consider apologizing for the splash damage. Right now, though, he's just fixated on the whole 'kill the tentacles' mission.

He can toss one gun because guess what? He has TWO guns. Oh yeah. Didn't see that coming, did you?

Neither did tentacle face. Deadlock holds the bore of his spare gun aimed at the mass of now quivering, limp grossitude as she does...what even... "..the frag are you doing?"

That is a good thing to fixate on and she's following course. Apologies or whatever can come later.

Hopefully he'll still have two guns after this is over. The one he tossed might need cleaning as badly as her lower half does. Well...most of her now actually.

"What? I'm taking out my frustrations. You gonna deny me that? Or offer an alternative target?" It's therapy Deadlock, come on!

Yeah he didn't think of the cleaning thing till...uh...too late. Still, he's going to console himself that the SPLUP it made when it made contact was totally worth it.

"The frag you got to be frustrated about? It busted into my berth."

Uh, yeah, don't get a mental picture of that.

It's always too late, especially when it comes to clean-up consequences in Flashpoint's experience. That's one thing they have in common. ~~That they admit.~~

Flashpoint just stares at him blankly for a moment, goo dripping off of her, the shutters over her optics clicking. "Your berth?" she says finally, like she's processing that mental image in about 5 different directions, half of them prompting the scheduling of a processor scrub later. "Wow I guess it really wanted to party..." Or something. Yikes?

Frag. How is it that she's covered in rainbow alien tentacle goop and he's somehow the one feeling all embarrassed?

WHAT SORCERY IS THIS.

He's just going to try to melt her face off with a scowl. Or his face. Right now, he's not picky. "Yeah, well no one gets to party with me like that." NO ONE, you hear? Least of all annoying Autobots.

Because Flashpoint's had five million years of practice putting on her Deal With It glasses. And that's in regards to other people's shoddy opinions too. Don't like her rainbow tentacle goop fashion statement? Get a mop and some polish or get out.

Yeah that scowl is doing unfortunately bad things and it's not to Flashpoint's face. "No one? You mean partying in general or in your berth with more limbs than is legal?" Does she sound obnoxious enough to hide her disappointment? Sounds like Flashpoint's not getting invited to any parties any time soon either.

Well, in this case, her 'Deal With It' glasses are gonna run lenses first into Deadlock's 'NOPE' face. He refuses to deal with it, and you can't make him. Nyah.

What...the...?

"I mean...why are you even thinking like that right now!?" Fraggin' weirdo.

Hey, he broke 'em, he's bought 'em. Though it's true her Deal With It glasses aren't indestructible as he'll soon find out. (she just has a lot of different pairs of them)

"You're the one who started it and mentioned your berth!" Angry huffing would sound angrier if it didn't bubble with goop, oops. "And would you get off me!?" Nevermind that Flashpoint's the one mostly on top. Paragon of maturity right here. And her stomping off in a rejected, huffy fit would come off so much better if standing in all this slippery goop were easier. Instead it's angrier, huffier flailing that rivals playtime on a slip-n-slide.

More likely he'll steal her spare supply and sell them on the black market.

There is a market for those things, right?

"You asked how this whole thing started! What was I gonna do, lie?" Yeah, well, maybe in retrospect he should have tried that and spared himself a shred of dignity.

"And you get off me! I've been pawed enough by gross smelling scrap tonight." Because sorry, you smell like rainbow tentagoop. It's not a perfume he'd recommend.

If there is Flashpoint would sell them herself because it's not like she's rolling credits. (In her dreams maybe...)

"Ugly truths." They can agree on that one anyway. "Gonna have to de-con that bed now probably." Because who knows what kind of weird cooties this things had. Which...they both...probably have copious amount of now. And UGH, did it even splash into her mouth? GROSS!

"Fine!" She pushes off him in the most mature way possible, hand to face first, trying to roll away instead of get up. That's a slippery endeavor too, though it seems to be slightly more effective than her first attempts. "I'll just take my gross smelliness home!" And leave him to clean up the mess.

Damn. Well, it was a thought. One day, he'll get the better end of this relationship.

One day!

"Gonna have to burn it." Because, yeah, no way he's ever sleeping there again.

"Hey, wait! Where the scrap am I supposed to sleep?" Because his place is trashed. And you're here. And....you're not going to make him actually ask to stay with you, are you?

Which end would that be? Flashpoint's really not sure. Unless there's engex involved and then that's automatically better.

"That's wise. Before whatever's in there breeds." Because that's a thing organic stuff does. Just, rubs together and propagates itself. GROSS. (The propagation, not the rubbing. Mostly.)

Flashpoint looks back over her shoulder, optics narrowed suspiciously for a moment. Then she vents a sigh and jerks her helm. "C'mon." No nursing her ego in private after all. Maybe her shower will activate its magical powers and turn him nice again? "Let's get out of here before someone makes us clean this mess up."

That would be whichever end doesn't leave him either squealing in mortified, tickled laughter or feeling like an idiot. That's the end he wants. Which is the end he is currently not holding.

"Breeds?" Ugh gross. Thanks for taking a terrible situation and making it so very, very much worse. He did not need that. "Owe me a slaggin' new brain module, if you're gonna keep feeding it with nightmare fuel like that." Or he'll take another grenade, in lieu of.

He follows after her because he is the best hinter ever and she totally fell for his hint. Ha. Chalk up a point to Team Decepticon. "Make US clean this up? This is all your work."

What, she has done no such tickling and if anything it's a toss-up between who's more embarrassed. Flashpoint's just hiding it really well. See, he's all distracted by the super gross images in his head.

"You're in luck, I'm fresh out. Just energon here." Besides, if he gets a new brain module it might be an upgrade and then he'd be faster on the uptake. Can't have him wittier than she is, it's the one advantage she's got!

"Damn right it's all me. Maybe if you did more than throw your guns around then you could say the same." Her fists > Your guns. "All the more reason to beat a hasty retreat though. Least janitorial can sit pretty over the lack of property damages. Well. In the hall anyway." In his room? Apparently not so much. But none of that is her fault.

Flashpoint enters her quarters through the still open front door, dripping goop as she goes. "Don't forget to wipe your feet."