Jecca Mehlota (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jecca_mehlota) wrote2008-04-15 11:35 pm
jecca_mehlota) wrote2008-04-15 11:35 pm
FIC: Transformers / Top Gear: GT Offshoot: On Names
Oh, yes, that rewrite's going spectacularly. By which I mean, whoops, I just accidentally typed up another Offshoot. I'll write something else eventually... I hope. I want to say this is Aniko's fault, but I can't remember how, so I might be confusing it with something else.
(Haha, after I posted this I finally get someone to tell me, "I like the past-tense version better." OH, WELL, I AM TOO LAZY TO REWORD IT ALL AND REPOST.) (Also, the past-tense one I have partially done is missing a few semi-important sentences, because I couldn't word them in a way that sounded right.)
Title: On Names
Author: Jecca Meitahn /![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
twilit_wanderer
Fandom: Transformers / Top Gear crossover
Rating: K+
Characters: Mirage, Jeremy Clarkson
Pairing: Take it as you will.
Wordcount: 1,542
Warnings: written in present tense for god-knows-what-reason. Left there because I am perhaps an idiot.
Summary: Mirage really wishes the human would address him as something other than "the car."
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything (or anyone) related to Top Gear, and this probably didn't happen.
Notes: This will not make sense if you haven't read "GT." This takes place after Jeremy jokingly remarks he should sell Mirage to James. I don't know what length of time it actually takes place over. ...Did you know that the first time Mirage is actually addressed by name in "GT" is when all three Decepticons are attacking near the end?
I'm not sure all of these conversations will make sense to other people. Also, this is completely unbeta'd and I am, of course, still not British, so if I've made some stupid mistake or another, please let me know. (The high usage of "the man" is actually intentional.)
Another morning. He suppresses a groan and hopes that maybe today he won't have to -
No luck. Clarkson approaches with obvious intent. "Let's go, car," he says as he pulls the door shut a little harder than is really necessary.
"Mirage," the car in question mutters darkly.
The man makes a dismissive sound and, after a moment, Mirage starts his engine and slowly heads out.
"You know," he remarks lowly as he drives, "it wouldn't kill you to use my name."
"I don't name cars," Clarkson informs him, again, and then, knowing the coming protest, adds, "And don't start. I don't care."
Mirage swerves slightly, just enough to make it clear he doesn't appreciate the sentiment. "You call other beings with proper designations by their name," he argues.
"I haven't purchased other beings that were supposed to not be alive and weren't, and certainly not twice, if we're going by what the records say."
The argument is old - it had grown old quickly - but Mirage still finds himself starting it up again every time Clarkson refers to him simply as "car." It doesn't bother him around other humans, as it maintains his cover, but when they're alone, he gets the distinct impression that the man is doing it solely to be insulting. Mirage isn't sure which he finds more annoying: that the man does it at all, or that it has so far worked every time.
He falls silent, deep in sudden thought, rather than responding again as he usually does. Clarkson's face pinches slightly in confusion and he shoots a glance first at the steering wheel and then towards the rearview mirror, but he doesn't comment on the lack of a reply.
Even after they've arrived and Clarkson has left him parked to the side, Mirage sits, still thinking. It's immature of the man to address him as if he's nothing more than a normal vehicle. It's rude! Such behavior would be unacceptable in most social environments, wouldn't it? And it certainly isn't as if Mirage has intentionally put them both into the situation, so why does Clarkson insist on acting as if he has? He's surely doing it on purpose, whatever the reason behind it is.
By late afternoon, he's managed to work himself into an indignant rage. When the man finally returns, Mirage ignores him. Let him try to start his stupid arguments up again. Mirage has decided he's having no part of such foolishness any longer, and if that means acting in such a manner for a while, well, so be it.
*
It isn't until the third day of his silence that Clarkson calls him out on it.
"I'm not acting like a child," Mirage denies, claiming steering solely because he knows it irritates the man.
"I'd know better than you," the man reminds him unnecessarily.
"My silence doesn't equal me to one of your young!"
"I didn't say you are one, car," Clarkson points out, smirking.
"Mirage," he corrects for what feels like the millionth time, nearly hissing it out.
Clarkson is silent a minute before exclaiming in disbelief, "That is not what this is about!"
"And what if it is, human?"
"Then I think you are exactly like 'one of our young,' car."
Mirage rumbles angrily. "Then I suppose it's entirely too bad for you that you're stuck inside until I see fit to let you out, isn't it?"
It's an empty threat, and he's sure the man knows it. He could keep him hostage, but they'd still have to deal with each other, and it wouldn't be in the spirit of Autobot protocol. Still, the moment before Clarkson can complete the thought process to remember it is a small, glorious victory. Mirage grins to himself in satisfaction as the arrogant man's smug expression melts into one of surprise.
The rest of the journey is made in strained silence, and Mirage again wishes that he could just go home.
*
"There's nothing wrong with my name!" Mirage snaps irritably, not even bothering to wait for the man to address him this time. Not even bothering to wait for him to get in.
He blinks once before responding. "It's ridiculous!"
"In case you've forgotten, then, I - "
"Turn invisible. Yes, I'm aware. You're a hallucination. Very clever. It's still ridiculous." Clarkson tugs at the door a moment and glares when Mirage holds it shut. He glances around and, satisfied no one is looking, kicks Mirage's side.
It doesn't hurt, of course, but Mirage does let the man in. After he's seated himself, Mirage's engine growls. "You think my name is ridiculous? At least it denotes some sort of function, some clue as to what I am! What is a 'Jeremy' supposed to be? It doesn't even mean anything!"
The man looks to be considering that, but Mirage barrels on. "And 'Clarkson,' really, I could almost understand that if either of your parents were named Clark, but that's not the case, is it? Your whole species arbitrarily slaps names on things when they're created, and you're expected to retain that designation throughout your entire existence. That is ridiculous."
"You named yourse-"
"Shut up," Mirage snarls. "Yes. I did."
"Why?" Clarkson asks.
The mood of the conversation is already tense, but at the question, silence descends in a way that is almost overtly hostile. Even the hum of the road sounds vaguely sinister.
Clarkson holds a hand up off the wheel momentarily. "I, wait, I meant, why did you rename yourself?"
Mirage considers not answering. "My purpose, position, and situation changed," he finally says, words bitten out short and forceful.
"Why?" He doesn't change his position or expression, but Mirage senses the man prepare to have another angry rant shouted at him. Part of him feels guilty got it, but thought of the cause is still too draining, and before he can even consider warding it off, numbness creeps in over everything else.
"When the," he starts, only to break off immediately as his vocalizer emits a burst of static that causes Clarkson to glance around his interior in surprise.
"Autobots recruited me," Mirage finishes lamely, half a minute later, voice still crackling slightly.
The look the man levels at the dash states plainly that he knows whatever sentence Mirage had started hadn't been the one he'd finished.
"When the Autobots recruited me," he tries again after another pause, "I took up a pseudonym to prevent the Decepticons from learning my true identity. Of course, things change, and after I started wearing the Autobot insignia, I adopted the fake name as my proper designation, as my responsibilities were different and my old name no longer made sense."
Clarkson doesn't reply, and Mirage can almost feel him debating which question he's going to ask next. Why did you need to keep the Decepticons from knowing your identity if you were already an Autobot? What, did you not wear that bot-face all the time before? Why not? Why do you now? How -
"What," Clarkson starts slowly, and Mirage fights the urge to stop and throw him out, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to even think about the Towers and what little remains of them now. But the man is speaking, and tossing him would probably kill him, and all he can do is wait for the rest of the sentence.
Mirage is certain he's never hated anyone more than he suddenly and, admittedly, irrationally, hates Jeremy Clarkson.
"What would happen if you stood up with me inside?"
"What?" The question is so unexpected that Mirage drifts half out of the lane before Clarkson shouts wordlessly and he pulls back. "What?" he asks again, unable to formulate any other response.
"Idiot. I asked, what would happen -"
"No, I heard you, but..." Mirage sputters for a moment before he settles on, "It would hurt?"
"Well, I'd guessed that."
"The seating folds up into my torso," Mirage continues mindlessly, "so you'd be crushed as the chair collapsed, and then I'd have to figure out a way to clean your organic remains out of my interior."
"That sounds messy."
Mirage wonders what had possessed the man, to cause him to even consider such a thing.
"You'd better not, then," he says conclusively.
"Obviously," Mirage agrees, then adds, "Though I suspect you'd be dumped out accidentally before I completed the process. I'd have to actively try to keep you restrained."
The man hums thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything more.
*
"So, car," the man says by way of greeting.
"So, human," Mirage returns, and is surprised at the lack of malice in his tone.
They're over halfway to their destination before either speaks again.
"I'd really rather not have to come up with a reason for why I've named the most troublesome car I've ever owned," Clarkson says absently.
"You don't want to be harassed about it," Mirage guesses.
"Someone has to set the example," the man replies, sounding just defensive enough that Mirage knows he was correct in his translation.
Mirage doesn't respond, letting the quiet speak for him.
"Shut up," Clarkson snarls after a minute. It's not hostile.
The silence resumes.
It occurs to Mirage that it doesn't feel as strained as he'd been thinking it ought to.
- END -
(Haha, after I posted this I finally get someone to tell me, "I like the past-tense version better." OH, WELL, I AM TOO LAZY TO REWORD IT ALL AND REPOST.) (Also, the past-tense one I have partially done is missing a few semi-important sentences, because I couldn't word them in a way that sounded right.)
Title: On Names
Author: Jecca Meitahn /
twilit_wandererFandom: Transformers / Top Gear crossover
Rating: K+
Characters: Mirage, Jeremy Clarkson
Pairing: Take it as you will.
Wordcount: 1,542
Warnings: written in present tense for god-knows-what-reason. Left there because I am perhaps an idiot.
Summary: Mirage really wishes the human would address him as something other than "the car."
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything (or anyone) related to Top Gear, and this probably didn't happen.
Notes: This will not make sense if you haven't read "GT." This takes place after Jeremy jokingly remarks he should sell Mirage to James. I don't know what length of time it actually takes place over. ...Did you know that the first time Mirage is actually addressed by name in "GT" is when all three Decepticons are attacking near the end?
I'm not sure all of these conversations will make sense to other people. Also, this is completely unbeta'd and I am, of course, still not British, so if I've made some stupid mistake or another, please let me know. (The high usage of "the man" is actually intentional.)
Another morning. He suppresses a groan and hopes that maybe today he won't have to -
No luck. Clarkson approaches with obvious intent. "Let's go, car," he says as he pulls the door shut a little harder than is really necessary.
"Mirage," the car in question mutters darkly.
The man makes a dismissive sound and, after a moment, Mirage starts his engine and slowly heads out.
"You know," he remarks lowly as he drives, "it wouldn't kill you to use my name."
"I don't name cars," Clarkson informs him, again, and then, knowing the coming protest, adds, "And don't start. I don't care."
Mirage swerves slightly, just enough to make it clear he doesn't appreciate the sentiment. "You call other beings with proper designations by their name," he argues.
"I haven't purchased other beings that were supposed to not be alive and weren't, and certainly not twice, if we're going by what the records say."
The argument is old - it had grown old quickly - but Mirage still finds himself starting it up again every time Clarkson refers to him simply as "car." It doesn't bother him around other humans, as it maintains his cover, but when they're alone, he gets the distinct impression that the man is doing it solely to be insulting. Mirage isn't sure which he finds more annoying: that the man does it at all, or that it has so far worked every time.
He falls silent, deep in sudden thought, rather than responding again as he usually does. Clarkson's face pinches slightly in confusion and he shoots a glance first at the steering wheel and then towards the rearview mirror, but he doesn't comment on the lack of a reply.
Even after they've arrived and Clarkson has left him parked to the side, Mirage sits, still thinking. It's immature of the man to address him as if he's nothing more than a normal vehicle. It's rude! Such behavior would be unacceptable in most social environments, wouldn't it? And it certainly isn't as if Mirage has intentionally put them both into the situation, so why does Clarkson insist on acting as if he has? He's surely doing it on purpose, whatever the reason behind it is.
By late afternoon, he's managed to work himself into an indignant rage. When the man finally returns, Mirage ignores him. Let him try to start his stupid arguments up again. Mirage has decided he's having no part of such foolishness any longer, and if that means acting in such a manner for a while, well, so be it.
*
It isn't until the third day of his silence that Clarkson calls him out on it.
"I'm not acting like a child," Mirage denies, claiming steering solely because he knows it irritates the man.
"I'd know better than you," the man reminds him unnecessarily.
"My silence doesn't equal me to one of your young!"
"I didn't say you are one, car," Clarkson points out, smirking.
"Mirage," he corrects for what feels like the millionth time, nearly hissing it out.
Clarkson is silent a minute before exclaiming in disbelief, "That is not what this is about!"
"And what if it is, human?"
"Then I think you are exactly like 'one of our young,' car."
Mirage rumbles angrily. "Then I suppose it's entirely too bad for you that you're stuck inside until I see fit to let you out, isn't it?"
It's an empty threat, and he's sure the man knows it. He could keep him hostage, but they'd still have to deal with each other, and it wouldn't be in the spirit of Autobot protocol. Still, the moment before Clarkson can complete the thought process to remember it is a small, glorious victory. Mirage grins to himself in satisfaction as the arrogant man's smug expression melts into one of surprise.
The rest of the journey is made in strained silence, and Mirage again wishes that he could just go home.
*
"There's nothing wrong with my name!" Mirage snaps irritably, not even bothering to wait for the man to address him this time. Not even bothering to wait for him to get in.
He blinks once before responding. "It's ridiculous!"
"In case you've forgotten, then, I - "
"Turn invisible. Yes, I'm aware. You're a hallucination. Very clever. It's still ridiculous." Clarkson tugs at the door a moment and glares when Mirage holds it shut. He glances around and, satisfied no one is looking, kicks Mirage's side.
It doesn't hurt, of course, but Mirage does let the man in. After he's seated himself, Mirage's engine growls. "You think my name is ridiculous? At least it denotes some sort of function, some clue as to what I am! What is a 'Jeremy' supposed to be? It doesn't even mean anything!"
The man looks to be considering that, but Mirage barrels on. "And 'Clarkson,' really, I could almost understand that if either of your parents were named Clark, but that's not the case, is it? Your whole species arbitrarily slaps names on things when they're created, and you're expected to retain that designation throughout your entire existence. That is ridiculous."
"You named yourse-"
"Shut up," Mirage snarls. "Yes. I did."
"Why?" Clarkson asks.
The mood of the conversation is already tense, but at the question, silence descends in a way that is almost overtly hostile. Even the hum of the road sounds vaguely sinister.
Clarkson holds a hand up off the wheel momentarily. "I, wait, I meant, why did you rename yourself?"
Mirage considers not answering. "My purpose, position, and situation changed," he finally says, words bitten out short and forceful.
"Why?" He doesn't change his position or expression, but Mirage senses the man prepare to have another angry rant shouted at him. Part of him feels guilty got it, but thought of the cause is still too draining, and before he can even consider warding it off, numbness creeps in over everything else.
"When the," he starts, only to break off immediately as his vocalizer emits a burst of static that causes Clarkson to glance around his interior in surprise.
"Autobots recruited me," Mirage finishes lamely, half a minute later, voice still crackling slightly.
The look the man levels at the dash states plainly that he knows whatever sentence Mirage had started hadn't been the one he'd finished.
"When the Autobots recruited me," he tries again after another pause, "I took up a pseudonym to prevent the Decepticons from learning my true identity. Of course, things change, and after I started wearing the Autobot insignia, I adopted the fake name as my proper designation, as my responsibilities were different and my old name no longer made sense."
Clarkson doesn't reply, and Mirage can almost feel him debating which question he's going to ask next. Why did you need to keep the Decepticons from knowing your identity if you were already an Autobot? What, did you not wear that bot-face all the time before? Why not? Why do you now? How -
"What," Clarkson starts slowly, and Mirage fights the urge to stop and throw him out, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to even think about the Towers and what little remains of them now. But the man is speaking, and tossing him would probably kill him, and all he can do is wait for the rest of the sentence.
Mirage is certain he's never hated anyone more than he suddenly and, admittedly, irrationally, hates Jeremy Clarkson.
"What would happen if you stood up with me inside?"
"What?" The question is so unexpected that Mirage drifts half out of the lane before Clarkson shouts wordlessly and he pulls back. "What?" he asks again, unable to formulate any other response.
"Idiot. I asked, what would happen -"
"No, I heard you, but..." Mirage sputters for a moment before he settles on, "It would hurt?"
"Well, I'd guessed that."
"The seating folds up into my torso," Mirage continues mindlessly, "so you'd be crushed as the chair collapsed, and then I'd have to figure out a way to clean your organic remains out of my interior."
"That sounds messy."
Mirage wonders what had possessed the man, to cause him to even consider such a thing.
"You'd better not, then," he says conclusively.
"Obviously," Mirage agrees, then adds, "Though I suspect you'd be dumped out accidentally before I completed the process. I'd have to actively try to keep you restrained."
The man hums thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything more.
*
"So, car," the man says by way of greeting.
"So, human," Mirage returns, and is surprised at the lack of malice in his tone.
They're over halfway to their destination before either speaks again.
"I'd really rather not have to come up with a reason for why I've named the most troublesome car I've ever owned," Clarkson says absently.
"You don't want to be harassed about it," Mirage guesses.
"Someone has to set the example," the man replies, sounding just defensive enough that Mirage knows he was correct in his translation.
Mirage doesn't respond, letting the quiet speak for him.
"Shut up," Clarkson snarls after a minute. It's not hostile.
The silence resumes.
It occurs to Mirage that it doesn't feel as strained as he'd been thinking it ought to.
- END -