I was surfing the site the other day on my PS3 and I kept coming across stories that really got my attention, not as much for the subject or quality but for the things they made me think. Sometimes it was just, "Oh, I know this plot device – x happens next"; and sometimes it was "I've seen this so many times before"; and on a few occasions it was "Holy crap you have got to be kidding me; please tell me they didn't mean that seriously." But they did. Oh, they did.
So I thought about all of the requests I've had for a sequel to Optimus, Ant King and about how badly I wanted to be an idiot after my rather serious and a little depressing fic of late, so I pulled out my Handy Dandy Notebook (Why yes, I am Steve from Blue's Clues. However did you notice? No, I'm not at "college," my "brother" Joe cemented me in the wall) and made a list of all the things that had caught my attention, made me sigh in weary contempt, or just plain annoyed me. And then that list spawned this little portal to hell.
Yes, a lot of it is a narrative and gleefully breaks the fourth wall, and I'm fairly sure it's all just a guise so you can watch me insult Michael Bay and the character of Mikaela Banes while also marketing one of my OCs (you'll see). Be forewarned, this does CONTAIN SPOILERS for and references to Optimus, Ant King and my Dark Pasts 'verse. Read those now if you care, especially if you don't want the end of the latter to be ruined for you.
No, this is not nearly as funny as my last crackfic, and its theme is overused plot devices and things that just don't work no matter what you do with them. And most of it is just crack.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of its characters, nor do I own Doritos, Blue's Clues, the Weakest Link, K-Mart, Spiderman, Little Big Planet/Sackboy, or any of the other weird things that appear here. I do own Echo AKA the Waffle-Making Decepticon and Dark Pasts. The lyrics are from "Creepy Doll" by Jonathan Coulton.
The twins stared at the thing in shock. After all, it very much was an it. An it that just wouldn't go away!
"It scares me," Sideswipe whispered to his brother, who nodded slightly.
"Yeah, but do you want to be the one to tell it to go away?" Quickly the red twin shook his head.
"Then how do we get rid of it?" The twins looked at each other before summoning the only creature they knew who was scarier than it.
The CMO promptly appeared, as characters are wont to do when the author is too lazy to explain how they did so – in fact, let's just say he teleported there. Or he was already standing next to the twins. Aw, who cares, you choose. Anyways, Ratchet showed up eventually, somehow. And so he was there. Uh… yeah. Back to the story.
So anyways, Ratchet showed up and immediately whipped the Lambos upside the helm with a wrench in each servo, 'cause he was just that skilled. "Idiot younglings, don't you know better than to use all capitals in a word or excessive punctuation? That's its life-source! You're feeding the thing by doing so!"
Sideswipe quivered pathetically. Why, you may ask? Well, not only was it a really scary thing to watch, but hey, if Michael Bay can turn a beloved prankster into a stoic aft, then I can turn him into a frightened wimp simply because I want to. Because that's how we do things here, right Michael?
Sunstreaker frowned at his wimptastic brother and turned to Ratchet. "We need you to get rid of it, because we're a little too…unnerved to face it. Plus we don't want to be the ones to break it to it."
Ratchet sighed loudly through his vents and turned to the thing. "Listen, scary-OC-femme-thing, you aren't needed in this story."
"WHAT?" the thing screeched, using its powers of excessive capitals and punctuation, making Sideswipe cower behind his brother, who simply checked to be sure his paint was still pristine. "But I AM the story! Feel my wrath! When I die and come back twenty times through the power of Optimus's LOVE, only THEN shall you realize the GRAVE mistake you have MADE!"
"Okay, now you're just emphasizing every other word because you can," Ratchet called her-it out. The thing growled in indignation.
"I am NOT. THIS is HOW everybody TALKS, idiot MEDIC!"
"No, it's not, because you're trying to use emphasis to insult me, but considering I'm proud of being a medic, it was just a fail of epic proportions."
Sunstreaker watched Ratchet carefully. "Hatchet! Where did you learn to talk like all the cool people?"
"Internet," he replied sagely. The twins nodded soberly in return. "It's where I learn all of my cool, illiterate speech. Even if an epic is a long story or play, and most people who say 'epic proportions' don't even know what the word 'proportions' means, it still makes me feel all young and hip."
"EXCUSE ME? I am HERE! You SHOULD be WATCHING me!"
Ratchet shot an annoyed look at the femme-thing and took a threatening step forward, waving a wrench for emphasis. "Listen here, and listen well. You are not needed for this story. This one is putting emphasis on the Transformers fandom in general, not on bad fanfic writing. So unless you turn into a well-used cliché or beloved but gently overused plot device or idea, you're going to need to leave, because the OC-femme-Mary-Sue-lover-thing is so last story." The medic cocked his hip sassily and snapped his fingers a few times, because he was so fierce right now.
"Tell 'em, girlfriend!" shouted a random feminist who happened to walk by the heavily guarded top-secret base. A supposedly stray shot from one of Ironhide's cannons hit her, incinerating her automatically and saving Ratchet the stress of having to "accidentally" step on her. The weird thing was, though, that Ironhide was at the shooting range on the other side of the base. As in, the shot would have had to go through over a mile of stone and metal. Just in case, Ratchet checked for a hole and thankfully, there was none.
But then how had the shot gotten here?
There was a slight giggle from behind him, and Ratchet turned to see empty space. "Mirage, if you're giggling like that I will slap you silly, because I am such a sassy bitch right now."
"Ratch?" Sideswipe began, still a quibbling mess. "Mirage is over there." And sure enough, the invisi-spy was about a hundred yards away, being run into by a majority of the Ark's crew. Oh well, it was his fault for trying to walk invisibly through a game of Extreme Duck, Duck, Goose.
"Then what was that noise? And how did that shot get over here?" Sunny wondered, before glaring at the author for calling him "Sunny."
There was an insane cackling before a translucent figure appeared in front of the group; the femme-thing roared in frustration at the attention again being removed from her.
"Echo? What the Pit are you doing here? This isn't your story!" Ratchet scolded the dead Decepticon.
The short, see-through red figure nodded happily, giggly manically all the while. "Yep, but I'm here to represent how annoying it is when authors insert their own OC's into other fics they write because they love them a little too much and they want to market their other stories. So hey, did you know that Carlough is planning on continuing the Dark Pasts 'verse soon?"
Sunstreaker shook his helm somberly. "Sorry, mech, bad writing skills was last crackfic."
Echo frowned. "Was not."
"You are so immature!"
"So are you! And besides, it's not my fault I'm stuck at this age! I'm dead!"
Ratchet watched him with a raised optical ridge. "No you're not. You were brought back at the end of Dark Pasts, remember? It was another very clichéd thing, bringing back your own OC after they died."
"It is not clichéd! I was dead at the beginning of the story, so bringing me back was like a reverse of the cliché, making me completely awesome and original! You see, it would have been cliché to then kill me again – hear that, Carlough? No killing me off in the next installment! – because then it would be dead, live, dead, similar to how the normal cliché is live, dead, live. Get it?"
"No," everyone present responded flatly.
Ratchet explained to the other three, by which the author means the twins and femme-thing, "He's insane, don't worry about it."
Echo nodded matter-of-factly. "It's true. For some reason it made me extremely popular with the readers."
"So what, you just showed up to randomly redirect one of Ironhide's shots?" Ratchet asked; the 'Con nodded. "Speaking of which, how are you even a ghost again, and how can we see you?"
"Such is the power of the crackfic, Hatchet. It is a wonderful, scary thing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make waffles with my as-seen-on-TV waffle-maker. But please, get rid of that." He pointed disgustedly at the offended OC-femme-thing before whistling for his glowy-thing, hopping on it like a cowboy and riding off into the sunset. Which was really weird, because it was noon and the sun was still high in the sky.
"Don't question it!" Echo shouted over his shoulder before disappearing into the dusk that shouldn't exist.
Ratchet turned back to the femme-thing. "So, anyways you need to become necessary to the story or leave."
The femme-thing nodded with too-wide optics, which she then clenched shut as she screwed up her face, trying really hard to do something.
"Is she constipated or just giving birth?" Sunstreaker asked the medic.
"Probably both," was the reply.
Suddenly the Mary-Sue-thing had turned into a jet not so different from Starscream, but much prettier and less like a flying Dorito.
"Hey!" Starscream shouted at the author. "It's not my fault I was afflicted with the Curse of Bay! I was totally smexy before him."
"Smexy," Ratchet sighed. "That word is just so last story." He snapped his fingers a few more times like a truly sassy bitch.
"HEY!" It called. "See, I'M relevant!"
"How so?" Sunstreaker asked, though he was more interested in how Sideswipe had crawled up him to cling to his back like a frightened gorilla baby without him noticing, and more importantly how he was staying upright while being so top-heavy.
The jet suddenly turned back into the femme-thing and then transformed into a tank.
"Oooh," Ratchet said loudly in understanding. "She's representing how so many characters can transform into different things without the proper kibble!"
"EXACTLY!" the femme screamed in a very Megatron-esque way before returning to her, um, well I guess you could call it a root mode. She struck a pose to show off her kibble-less form.
Sideswipe threw up on Sunstreaker's helm. You know, just a little bit. And Sunstreaker was so horrified that he just reached behind him and patted his scared-panda-like brother on the helm.
Ratchet said with a flat expression, "But that is usually only relevant to Mary-Sue characters in the first place, because we're talking about fan fiction, not fan art. So your relevancy is nil. You are the weakest link. Goodbye." And with a wave of his crotchety, I mean rickety, er, Ratchety servo, the creature was gone.
"Is she gone forever?" Sideswipe whimpered, peeking out from behind his brother's helm.
"I don't know, Sideswipe. I just don't know." Ratchet shook his helm sadly before walking away.
In a completely unrelated situation, because the writer just isn't creative enough to know how to link these scenes and would just put a scene break here, Optimus Prime was stepping out of his shower.
No, I don't mean his wash-racks, I mean his shower. Because we all know that Transformers use human things.
So he stepped out of his shower, looking totally hot and all that shit even though he was just a more-wet version of himself that you could really just get after he's been driving in the rain or through a really big puddle, but that doesn't have the same effect as it does with the steam around him and all – okay, screw it. He was wet from the shower, are you happy? Come on people, did I even need to say it? Isn't it a given that you're wet after being in the shower? Do you come out of the shower completely dry? If so, and you don't do so by standing in the shower to air dry, please send me a message, I'd really love to hear about your amazing ability. But please, no pictures, I don't need to be burning my eyes out, they're bad enough as it is.
Ahem, anyways, Prime grabbed his silk bathrobe that he bought at K-Mart and wrapped it around himself, ignoring the fact that silk does nothing to absorb water because the silk made it sexy, and his terry-cloth robe was comfy but had unsightly holes in it and wasn't nearly as seductive. Because, you know he had a huge wardrobe of human clothing, as all giant alien robots do.
Now why was he trying to be seductive? Because he wanted to show Sam his true feelings, of course!
So he sauntered into the main section of his quarters all wet and sexy with his hips swaying like he was taking a page from Ratchet's "Sassy Bitch Book," and immediately made a beeline for his bed. No, not his berth, his bed with his Spiderman sheets and matching comforter. What can I say, he liked the quote "With great power comes great responsibility." It had been added to his pile of honorable quotes. That's it over there, that pile of paper scraps in the corner. Yes, paper, not datapads. Sensing a pattern yet?
On his Spiderman-clad bed sat Sam with a very perplexed look on his face. "Uh, Optimus?"
"Yes Sam?" the mech in question purred. "And please, call me Orion. It can be my bedroom name just between the two of us."
"Excuse me? Wait, you know what, never mind, I don't even want to know. I wanted to ask you why you felt the need to drag me to your room, dump me on your bed – by the way, how did you even get Spiderman sheets this size? – and then run off to take a shower. I mean, why did you bring me in here before you took your shower? Couldn't it have waited?"
"Well then you couldn't see me in all of my moist glory upon my exit from the shower."
"Moist? Dude, you're soaking wet. There's a puddle the size of a swimming pool at your feet."
"Yes, moist. Not wet, but moist. I glisten, see?" He did a little Primely twirl before looking back at Sam over his shoulder to see if he was staring lustily yet. Nope, it was still just nervous confusion. Damn, on to Plan B.
"Sam, I have something to show you," he began. Sam looked at him oddly and began to rapidly shake his head.
"If it has something to do with why you're wearing a robe, I really don't want to know-"
"No, it has nothing to do with my robe, my gorgeously sexy and revealing robe. I'm sorry to tell you that Mikaela has been using you."
Optimus Prime paused; this question had not been expected. He thrust a photo in Sam's face. Don't ask how he held onto a tiny picture with his giant stubby digits. Let's just say it was glued to his finger. Yeah, I like that.
"I have evidence that she has been seeing that boy Trent behind your back this whole time and insults you with him. She does not love you or want to be with your forever and ever. Not like I do." This last part was whispered, but because Prime was such a loud whisperer, everyone in a ten mile radius heard him.
In the distance, a waffle-making Decepticon shuddered. "Two much information, OP. Too much information." He looked at the other Decepticons in the rec room and held up his waffle-laden spatula, using his other servo to push his chef's hat back into its proper place atop his helm. "Waffles, anyone?"
Sam still watched Optimus in confusion. "But why would she keep me around, then? I mean, it's not like I have any real practical use for her. What, I can drive her around with Bee? Her boyfriend has a car; she has that wimpy moped thing. She has transportation. So why would she keep me around?"
Prime just didn't have an answer for this, so he responded a little candidly. "Stop questioning it! Mikaela using you is the perfect way to get the two of you to break up, and then the ability to comfort you in the aftermath of your relationship is the perfect set-up for a slash story! It's a fail-proof plan!"
The human male shrugged. "Oh, if that's what we're doing then I guess I'm alright. Here, let me break up with Mikaela in a text and we can get to the good stuff."
Optimus gasped. "Sam, how dare you have such lecherous thoughts! That's my thing! You're supposed to be all sweet and innocent while I ravish you!"
Sam shook his head. "I was talking about these." He held up a giant bag of ruffled potato chips that was about as large as he was. "They were on sale, two for one, and the dip was fifteen percent off." He gestured to an equally large bag of barbeque chips and a container of French onion dip the size of a bathtub. How Optimus had failed to notice that, the world may never know. Okay, I'll tell you anyway: he's really just not that observant.
So Sam and Optimus sat there eating chips and dip and – what do you mean, Cybertronians don't eat human food? Of course they do! I read stories about it all the time! What? They don't wear clothes either? Preposterous! Why, I can remember in all cartoons and movies they were wearing those neat little hats and those cute little scarves and – what? That was just my schizophrenia acting up again? Are you sure it wasn't mass hysteria, because I've read a lot of stories that show the Transformers eating human food, using human objects that aren't adjusted for them, wearing human clothes. Next thing I know you'll be telling me that they don't have human weddings, either.
Scene Break, everybody! Because once again, I'm lazy.
In the medbay, Mikaela was sitting on Ratchet's shoulder as she watched him do...something with mechanics that she thought was useful to learn. I know, I know, they were never close in the movie, but hey, she can mess with cars 'cause her daddy was a criminal and it's part of her cool, angsty past and – oh wait, my bad, Mary-Sues were last crackfic. I apologize.
But anyways, apparently if you know how to hotwire a car you automatically know how to repair them and are a good candidate to learn about repairing giant sentient robots who can actually feel what you're doing to them! Why? Damned if I know, go ask the fandom that seems to have made it so.
So Mikaela was hanging with Ratchet, because suddenly the girl in the slutty toddler's clothing is everybody's best friend and they confide in each other at their little sleepovers. Where do you think Ratchet learned to be a sassy bitch?
Mikaela had helped Prowl through Jazz's death and had been attached to him since Jazz had been brought back, which was really creepy because she seriously wouldn't give everyone's favorite pairing any alone time until Ratchet had to drag her away to "help" him in the medbay, and by help I mean sit around on her backside doing nothing. Like right now!
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to see that there was a text form Sam telling her that they were breaking up. Suddenly remembering that she had another boyfriend to go see now, she stood to leave, slipped, and fell from Ratchet's shoulder, hitting the ground with a satisfying splat. The CMO looked down and shrugged before deciding to continue with his valiant duty in the rec room, by which I mean he was going to try beating the twins' high scores in Little Big Planet just to piss them off.
It was to his great surprise that Annabelle Lennox, suddenly full-grown, wandered into the rec room. He made Sackboy put on a happy face with his tongue sticking out because it was the closest it could come to confusion.
"Hi Ratchet!" she squealed in a way that was reminiscent of a certain, ahem, thing. Ratchet looked at his Ratchety servo, wondering if he would need to be using his Ratchety powers to once again dispose of somebody.
"And how are you an adult? Have you been afflicted by Soap Opera Rapid Aging Syndrome?"
"Nope! Hey, have you noticed how sexy Ironhide and Barricade are?"
"They're just so dreamy. They're also two of the most popular pairings to put me with."
"But you're a toddler. And a human. Where the Pit are they getting these ideas from?"
"Well, considering I'm an infant I have no set personality and give the writers room to make me into their own OC with an already made explanation as to why I know about the Autobots. I'm like the undercover Mary-Sue OC."
Ratchet froze and his optics narrowed. "Excuse me? Repeat that for me."
Annabelle frowned. "I said that I'm like an undercover Mary-Sue OC."
"One more time now."
The girl growled in frustration. "I SAID that I'M like AN undercover MARY-SUE OC!11!"
The CMO snapped his fingers, but in triumph this time with only a side dish of sass. "Aha! I knew it! It's you."
The Mary-Sue-femme-thing appeared from Annabelle. "I TOLD you I could BE relevant!1"
"I terminated you. Do you know how embarrassing it would be if somebody saw that you were still here?"
Ironhide wandered into the room and shot the femme-thing dead.
Ratchet sighed. "That was abrupt but welcome, 'Hide."
"What?" asked the weapon's specialist, chewing a sandwich. "I always shoot off my cannons when I walk into a room. I'm the trigger-happy one, remember? It's my bit, like how you're the wrench-throwing angry one -"
"I'm a sassy bitch, dammit," Ratchet muttered.
"- And Prowl is the stoic logical one, and Jazz is the boisterous, music-loving one, and Bluestreak is the talkative one, and Red Alert is the paranoid one, and Inferno is the pyromaniac one, and Megatron is the nutty megalomaniac control-freak tyrant one-"
"Hey!" Megatron protested his extremely long description, but Soundwave, the monotonous one, stopped him.
"Question: Are you insane?"
"Question: Are you a megalomaniac?"
"Question: Are you a Control-Freak?"
"Question: Are you a tyrant?"
"And proud of it!"
"Question: Do you have lascivious dreams about Starscream?"
"Yeeaaaa – wait a minute, what does that have to do with anything?"
"Question: Do you sleep with a stuffed unicorn?"
"I don't see how Captain Fluffernutter is at all relevant to the conversation, Soundwave."
"Question: What's your dream alt mode?"
"Why does that matter, Soundwave? Oh, I see, you want me to say something like a newly created fast sports car, because everyone always throws around car names to make themselves sound cool! Lord Megatron does not stoop to their level! I wish I could be a Jalopy!"
"...Affirmative. Question: Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Yes. You're gorgeous, Soundwave. Are these questions going anywhere, or are we just having an interview now?"
"Question: Do you know what happened to Miles after the 2007 live-action movie?"
"Who the slag is Miles?"
"Question: Do you think Mikaela is sexy?"
"I don't even know who that is!...Oh, you mean the slutty toddler-clothing girl. Why would I ever be attracted to an organic, Soundwave?"
"Question: Are you attracted to organics?"
"Only ones that play hard-to-get and refuse to be my pet."
"You'll never get him! Never!" cried Optimus from his quarters – well, actually he whispered it, but we all know how that works out.
Ratchet and Ironhide and the smoosh that once was the femme-thing continued watching as Megatron and Soundwave had a Q&A session in the middle of the Autobot base. How they appeared there, the world may never know.
"Question: Why did Optimus Prime choose such a conspicuous paintjob?"
"Because he wanted to prove how superior I obviously I am."
"Question: How did the Autobots bring Jazz back to life?"
"Through the Power of Love, obviously. Isn't that what all the writers say?"
"Question: Why does the Autobot Bumblebee keep playing stupid songs?"
Megatron shot a look at the no-longer-mute scout who was indeed playing songs that weren't at all related to anything said to him.
When you come home late the doll is waiting up for you
And when you fix a snack the doll says it would like one too
The doll is in your house and in your room and in your bed
The doll is in your eyes and in your arms and in your head and you are crazy
"Because he's insane, Soundwave, because he's insane."
"Question: Is Starscream a sex-kitten?"
"The authors seem to think so."
"Question: Are you a sex-kitten?"
"I am a sex-panther, Soundwave."
"Cougar is more like it," Ratchet muttered sassily.
"Question: Will you hold me?"
"Why the slag would I do that?"
"Stop looking at me like that, slagger. I can't believe you really just used an ellipsis because the author is too lazy to tell the readers what the characters are doing."
"Oh Primus, are you crying?"
"Did you really just say 'tears?' What is wrong with you?"
"What's right with you?" Ratchet called. "Oh snap!"
"He's a sassy bitch," Ironhide informed the Decepticon ruler helpfully.
"This isn't going anywhere. Soundwave, stop crying, you're embarrassing me and you're completely out-of-character. Is this because you've been speaking more today than in your entire life cycle?"
"I think that's the point," Ratchet said. "He's trying to show us how annoying and strange out-of-character situations are. Like a talkative and crying Soundwave."
"Correction: Soundwave just wants Megatron's love."
"And what's this representing?"
"His love for you," the Autobots replied wickedly.
"Go get 'em, sex-panther," Ratchet snarked before grabbing Ironhide by the cannons – and yes, that was meant to sound like that, because they're like a reproductive organ to him – and dragging him from the room, locking the wayward Decepticons inside.
Starscream sat on the base's roof dejectedly. Not only had he had a minimal part in this sad excuse for a story, but his only appearance had been to be insulted. He was not a flying Dorito!
A giant truck went by the base with an oversized picture of a Dorito on it. For a moment Starscream thought he was looking in a mirror.
"Primus I'm gorgeous!"
Did I just waste at least seven minutes of your life? Why yes, yes I did. Was it really worth it? No, no it wasn't. Oh well.
And yes, Echo the crazy undead Decepticon is my own character, and yes he's right in that I do plan on continuing the Dark Pasts 'verse soon, which is Echo's storyline. But his marketing is only to prove a point, and because I do love him a little too much to be healthy - he's one of my favorite characters to write out of all of my OCs.