Fanfic -- Untitled (Death/Senility)
Jul. 26th, 2007 03:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dunmurderinTitle: Untitled
Originally Posted: April 12, 2007
Fandom: Transformers
Characters: Tailgate, Elise Presser
Prompt: Ages of Man -- Death/Senility
Word Count: 769 words (approximate)
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Tailgate and Elise Presser talk about death and moving on.
Author's Notes: The Keith Richards incident was something originally reported in the magazine NME, I first heard of it over at Fandom_Lounge. Apparently, Keith Richards has come forward and said that he meant it as a joke and he was really surprised people actually took him seriously. Figure this story takes place before Elise finds out it's fake. Or in this world, he really did snort his father. This completes my 7_Minibots Challenge! WHOOT! Takes place before Angsty Pipes.
# # #
"Okay, this is gross." Elise Presser looked up from her laptop, her face scrunched up in distaste.
"What is it?" Tailgate asked, lifting an empty packing crate onto the recharge berth he shared with Pipes.
"Keith Richards snorted his father." Elise looked expectantly at him, clearly waiting for his agreement about the grossness of the situation.
"Oh." Tailgate turned back to his packing. "Yeah, that's pretty horrible alright."
"Nice try, 'Gate; stop pretending you know what I'm talking about." Elise shifted her weight, pulling her legs up so that she could sit cross-legged on the already packed crate she was using as a combination table and desk.
"Then stop talking to me like you expect me to understand."
"Fair enough," Elise said. "Keith Richards is a musician in a band called the Rolling Stones, but his real claim to fame is that he's done more drugs than a lab rat. Cocaine, speed, alcohol -- you name it, and he's probably done it."
"Ahh, I understand now," Tailgate said. "Thank you for clearing that up."
"I wasn't finished, smartass!" Elise said. "Apparently, he just admitted in an interview that a couple years ago he actually mixed his father's ashes with cocaine and snorted them." Elise shuddered. "And that is what's gross."
"Why?" Tailgate pulled a box of power packs out of a drawer and putting them into the crate.
"Well, it's his dad's remains -- I mean, his dead body, after it'd been burned to ash -- and he sucked it up his nose." Elise said. "It's not quite as bad as eating him would have been but it's pretty close."
"You do realize me and Pipes were built from the remains of dead Cybertronians, right?" Tailgate turned to look at her.
It was typical of Elise that she managed to look sheepish and embarrassed even as her fingers flew over her keyboard. "Sorry," she said. "And I knew that but, well, I guess maybe humans have different taboos about death than Cybertronians do?"
"I know what you're doing, Presser," Tailgate said. "You think I could get a break? I've got stuff I've got to get done before Pipes and I catch the shuttle back home."
"C'mon, 'Gate, this is my last chance to really talk to you before you and Pipes leave for Nebulous." Elise's grin faltered. "I'm going to miss you, y'know that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you can find somebody else to talk to you." Tailgate turned away from her, voice gruff. "Sandstorm's pretty chatty."
"It's not the research, Tailgate!" Elise said. "Well, okay, not just the research. I've learned a lot from you, enough for decades' worth of papers, but I like to think of you as a friend too. It's going to be hard not being around you anymore."
Tailgate looked down into his packing crate, fingers flexing and unflexing in irritation. Even after fifteen years on Earth, he still didn’t like humans much, but Elise was...well, she was less irritating than most of them. “I’ll call,” he said. “And I’ll have access to the diplomatic shuttles once we reach Nebulous so I can write and you can write me back.”
“That, I can do. Just promise me you and Pipes will be careful okay? I know the Decepticons have been chased off, but nobody with any sense really thinks they’re gone for good.“ Elise removed her glasses and wiped at her face. “Damnit, I hate this -- my emotions all have to leak out of my eyes. God!”
“We’ll be careful,” Tailgate said. “Don’t worry about us. Worry about Nebulous. From what I hear they’ve got an even worse attitude about machines than you humans do.”
Elise laughed, the strange gulpy laugh that meant she was fighting back tears. “Oh, you are just an interplanetary incident waiting to happen, aren’t you?” she said. “Give ‘em hell, Tailgate.”
“I’m going to be nice and rational about things,” Tailgate said with wounded innocence. “I’m just going to make it clear to them that life is life regardless of whether or not it’s solid machinery or sticky mobile goo with hair. I’m going to be calm and collected and I’ll speak in small words so they’ll understand me.”
Elise snorted. “Righhht,” she said. “I’ll be watching the newsfeeds for word on how well you do,” she said. “Now, can I get in a few questions about Cybertronian views on dead bodies while you finish packing? I’m thinking I can get an article for Scientific American out of this.”
Tailgate sighed, long-suffering and dramatic. “Fine, but I’ve got a flight in twelve hours so keep it brief, okay?”
Originally Posted: April 12, 2007
Fandom: Transformers
Characters: Tailgate, Elise Presser
Prompt: Ages of Man -- Death/Senility
Word Count: 769 words (approximate)
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Tailgate and Elise Presser talk about death and moving on.
Author's Notes: The Keith Richards incident was something originally reported in the magazine NME, I first heard of it over at Fandom_Lounge. Apparently, Keith Richards has come forward and said that he meant it as a joke and he was really surprised people actually took him seriously. Figure this story takes place before Elise finds out it's fake. Or in this world, he really did snort his father. This completes my 7_Minibots Challenge! WHOOT! Takes place before Angsty Pipes.
"Okay, this is gross." Elise Presser looked up from her laptop, her face scrunched up in distaste.
"What is it?" Tailgate asked, lifting an empty packing crate onto the recharge berth he shared with Pipes.
"Keith Richards snorted his father." Elise looked expectantly at him, clearly waiting for his agreement about the grossness of the situation.
"Oh." Tailgate turned back to his packing. "Yeah, that's pretty horrible alright."
"Nice try, 'Gate; stop pretending you know what I'm talking about." Elise shifted her weight, pulling her legs up so that she could sit cross-legged on the already packed crate she was using as a combination table and desk.
"Then stop talking to me like you expect me to understand."
"Fair enough," Elise said. "Keith Richards is a musician in a band called the Rolling Stones, but his real claim to fame is that he's done more drugs than a lab rat. Cocaine, speed, alcohol -- you name it, and he's probably done it."
"Ahh, I understand now," Tailgate said. "Thank you for clearing that up."
"I wasn't finished, smartass!" Elise said. "Apparently, he just admitted in an interview that a couple years ago he actually mixed his father's ashes with cocaine and snorted them." Elise shuddered. "And that is what's gross."
"Why?" Tailgate pulled a box of power packs out of a drawer and putting them into the crate.
"Well, it's his dad's remains -- I mean, his dead body, after it'd been burned to ash -- and he sucked it up his nose." Elise said. "It's not quite as bad as eating him would have been but it's pretty close."
"You do realize me and Pipes were built from the remains of dead Cybertronians, right?" Tailgate turned to look at her.
It was typical of Elise that she managed to look sheepish and embarrassed even as her fingers flew over her keyboard. "Sorry," she said. "And I knew that but, well, I guess maybe humans have different taboos about death than Cybertronians do?"
"I know what you're doing, Presser," Tailgate said. "You think I could get a break? I've got stuff I've got to get done before Pipes and I catch the shuttle back home."
"C'mon, 'Gate, this is my last chance to really talk to you before you and Pipes leave for Nebulous." Elise's grin faltered. "I'm going to miss you, y'know that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you can find somebody else to talk to you." Tailgate turned away from her, voice gruff. "Sandstorm's pretty chatty."
"It's not the research, Tailgate!" Elise said. "Well, okay, not just the research. I've learned a lot from you, enough for decades' worth of papers, but I like to think of you as a friend too. It's going to be hard not being around you anymore."
Tailgate looked down into his packing crate, fingers flexing and unflexing in irritation. Even after fifteen years on Earth, he still didn’t like humans much, but Elise was...well, she was less irritating than most of them. “I’ll call,” he said. “And I’ll have access to the diplomatic shuttles once we reach Nebulous so I can write and you can write me back.”
“That, I can do. Just promise me you and Pipes will be careful okay? I know the Decepticons have been chased off, but nobody with any sense really thinks they’re gone for good.“ Elise removed her glasses and wiped at her face. “Damnit, I hate this -- my emotions all have to leak out of my eyes. God!”
“We’ll be careful,” Tailgate said. “Don’t worry about us. Worry about Nebulous. From what I hear they’ve got an even worse attitude about machines than you humans do.”
Elise laughed, the strange gulpy laugh that meant she was fighting back tears. “Oh, you are just an interplanetary incident waiting to happen, aren’t you?” she said. “Give ‘em hell, Tailgate.”
“I’m going to be nice and rational about things,” Tailgate said with wounded innocence. “I’m just going to make it clear to them that life is life regardless of whether or not it’s solid machinery or sticky mobile goo with hair. I’m going to be calm and collected and I’ll speak in small words so they’ll understand me.”
Elise snorted. “Righhht,” she said. “I’ll be watching the newsfeeds for word on how well you do,” she said. “Now, can I get in a few questions about Cybertronian views on dead bodies while you finish packing? I’m thinking I can get an article for Scientific American out of this.”
Tailgate sighed, long-suffering and dramatic. “Fine, but I’ve got a flight in twelve hours so keep it brief, okay?”
